The Cost of Motherhood
Thank you to all who mother (the verb), not just to those who are mothers (the noun).
Motherhood costs money.
The average cost to raise a child from birth to age 17 in America is around $300,000.*
This means finding a daycare that feels right but costs more than your mortgage.
It means paying for lessons and clothes and braces and dues with money that could’ve gone to your retirement account.
It means adding your kids to your work’s health insurance plan for hundreds of dollars a month.
It means going without so that they can have what they need. Sometimes it means working two jobs. Or three.
It means spending your paycheck on groceries — boiling a dozen eggs on Sunday only to have them eaten by Tuesday.
Motherhood costs your body.
When your abdomen expands to grow a human within a human, tethered to the womb by an umbilical cord.
When your breasts expand like cantaloupes with milk and then shrink and sag in defeat once the baby is weaned.
When your mental health takes a ride on the emotional and physical roller coaster of fertility treatments if necessary, or the winding road to adoption or fostering.
When your needs for exercise, rest and nutritious meals go by the wayside — and mac & cheese and chicken tenders move in.
Motherhood costs time.
It’s waiting for an hour on a Monday in a pediatric office so your baby’s ear infection will be treated before another sleepless night.
It’s sitting at the dentist office for sealants and a cleaning when you’d rather be working out.
It’s a lifetime spent in carpool and pick-up lines and toting humans back and forth.
It’s rushing from work to the choir concert or baseball game or PTO meeting — or waking up at 6 am for a Saturday swim meet.
It’s sitting through a three-hour spelling bee to see your child bravely approach the microphone and spell “inimitable.”
Motherhood costs sleep.
It’s being up every three hours to soothe a hungry newborn and assure her of your presence.
It’s sleeping like a stiff log on your side because you’ve got a toddler leg over your shoulder and a preschool head at your back.
It’s walking a child back to his bed 1000 times to soothe a bad dream or a fever or a night terror.
It’s staying awake to make sure your teenager makes it back to the house by her midnight curfew.
Or getting the 1 am call: can you come get me?
Motherhood can cost your career.
When you don’t move up the ladder because your loyalties are divided between work and home.
When you have to miss a day because your baby has a stomach bug. And then another day when you catch it three days later.
When you miss evening work events because you’re determined to be home to read the favorite bedtime book for the 100th time.
When you’d rather be a chaperone for the kindergarten field trip than to take on extra assignments that would get you that promotion.
Motherhood costs your heart.
When you have to walk away from them and leave them in someone else’s care for the first time.
When you see them get rejected. Or made fun of. Or dropped by a friend.
When they say “I hate you” for the first time as they stumble into adolescence.
When you see them struggling but a band-aid and a kiss will no longer make everything OK.
When you hear “I love you” and know that they do, and realize that in loving you, they are learning to love themselves.
Motherhood costs your soul.
When you have to look deep inside to whittle away what you don’t want to pass to the next generation.
When you give them your values but they choose their own.
When you have to spend energy and time and meditation to understand why this little person is triggering rage and frustration long dormant in your being.
When you want the very best for your child and realize what you think is the best may not happen for them.
The ultimate cost and risk of motherhood is to lose your very self in motherhood. But that’s not what motherhood is for. The best mothers don’t lose themselves in the process of mothering.
Motherhood should expand you, not shrink you down.
Motherhood is becoming less and less of a physical presence as your children go from newborn to infant, toddler to child, teen to young adult.
Motherhood then becomes, more and more, a soft landing space, a guiding hand, a listening ear with a quiet mouth. A warm embrace.
For some, motherhood is everything. For some, motherhood is unnecessary. For me, the cost of motherhood is high, but boy is it worth the ride.
*https://www.wsj.com/articles/it-now-costs-300-000-to-raise-a-child-11660864334
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.