The Buried Martyr

Redefining a mother's love

A few days ago, I saw this image on Facebook along with a caption that made me feel instantly ill. Of course, I immediately created my own post:

I saw this photo with the caption, “Mom’s not a human; she’s a legend,” or something like that, and it bothered the shit out of me.

I am so sick of the word “selfless” being thrown out like a compliment. What’s so fantastic about being devoid of self?

I am so sick of “good” mothers being lauded as “always being there for me; dropping everything to listen; working two jobs to support us and always having dinner on the table; always put our needs ahead of hers.”

Is this what we should aspire to? Is this what we want for our daughters? To be praised when we abandon our sense of self in the service of others? No fucking thank you.

I will always love my children more than anything. I will always be proud of the gifts I gave them—namely, I was open to them, loved them fiercely, saw them truly, laughed and connected and taught and modeled—but I will never brag about being a selfless, needless, bottomless pit of giving. Because I wasn’t; I didn’t.

I expressed resentment at the tower of laundry baskets and pressure and trash and dishes piled on my back. I said, “no,” when I wasn’t in a place to give endlessly. I set boundaries and kept my own needs on the table. I loved myself wildly; I did not deny my own existence.

To me, this photograph is not a celebration of the endless giving and tireless abnegation of motherhood.

It’s a warning.

It’s a cry of outrage.

It’s a call to change.

I would love for you to read the actual post, simply so you can read the thoughtful, powerful commentary from the women who replied. They shared their own experiences of motherhood, examined generational patterns, described what it felt like to try to compare themselves to other women who were “doing it better,” and shared their own efforts to break these cycles in their own families. It was inspiring. One reader friend, the talented

Karen T. Smith

, even suggested we do an essay series about this topic, and I instantly lit up.

This topic is so vast and deep, so worthy of exploration, and I think Karen had an amazing idea—I would love to hear more voices, ideas, perspectives, and stories around the subject of motherhood and martyrdom. Because it’s been my favorite thing to write about for years.

Ambivalence around motherhood is what drew me back to writing 17 years ago. My maternal identity crisis was jarring, and I hadn’t expected to feel so conflicted or struggle so much with what being a mother was supposed to mean to me, what it required of me. I felt a cognitive dissonance, which immediately spiraled into guilt—not just any guilt, but the worst variety, “mommy guilt” (perhaps rivaling Catholic guilt in its magnitude?)—and the only way I could combat it was to write about it.

All these years later, with my firstborn heading to college and my youngest heading into her teen years, I still wrestle with feelings of inadequacy around motherhood and sacrifice. Specifically, I feel like a failure for not being willing to sacrifice more. Even though my metacognition around the issue tells me that if there is a “right way” to do motherhood, mine is closer to it than the sculpture of the mother bent under the weight of everything, cradling her child with whatever strength she has left to give.

A reader asked if I knew the origin of the sculpture, and I didn’t. I put it in a Google search, and this is what came up:

A powerful message indeed. And the title—“Mother’s love”—made me shudder. And while I do not know anything about the artist or story behind the sculpture, I can’t imagine that this was created as a way to applaud maternal servitude and celebrate the cultural model of motherhood that results in so many women becoming bent and broken under its weight.

I have hated the word “selfless” for years, and I refuse to use this adjective as a positive description or compliment to anyone. I adore the Alicia Keys song “Good Job,” and put it on my playlist after my divorce as a reminder to bolster myself when I felt depleted and helpless. But I change one of the lyrics when I sing it at the piano, “Honest and selfless, not sure if it helps, but you’re doing a good job.”

I sing it this way: “Honest and self-full, not sure if it’s helpful, but you’re doing a good job.”

I believe all of us—men, women, mothers, fathers—should be “self-full” instead of selfless. Years ago I created an alternative to the word selfish with “selfist,” and I still love the concept. When we bring our fullest selves to relationships, that’s when the magic happens; that’s when we teach and connect and create change. And that self energy should include our roles as parents.

What happens to the children who watched their parents (typically mothers, yes, but I know some incredible fathers and single dads who bring their all to parenthood) give far past the point of depletion, set unrealistic standards, and ultimately deny any true sense of self? What will those children grow up to emulate?

I have walked this talk for years, but if I’m being entirely honest, it has come with a price, and that price is guilt. But it’s a price worth paying. My motto has always been, “Feel the guilt and do it anyway.” Because while I believe our children need to see us as whole people—not selfless, not servants, not bottomless pits without limits—I still cringe when I compare myself to the mothers who put their children’s needs ahead of theirs regardless of the circumstances or cost.

I will of course prioritize my children’s health, safety, and happiness over pretty much anything. But sometimes I choose myself, even when it makes their path more difficult. Frequently, when I am working or talking on the phone or in conversation with someone else, I tell them to wait. I do not drop everything. I did not stay married to spare them the chaos and painful transition of divorce. I have not abandoned my dreams or sense of self, and I feel good about that—partly because I do not want them to grow up to be martyrs, and partly because I want to have a full, happy life, and I believe I deserve that, regardless of the fact that I am also raising children.

I am also a mediocre housekeeper at best. I make my children put their own laundry away, prepare their own lunches, clean their own rooms. Particularly since the divorce, mealtimes have been more “grab and go,” forage the fridge, Charcuterie Shunday (say it out loud; it’s fun), takeout, leftovers; the “made from scratch” sit down dinners are fewer and far between. (See my post from December: Fed Is Best.)

A close loved one told me recently that his family member wasn’t sure whether she wanted to have children. I instantly sensed the conflict—would motherhood mean she had to abandon her career and business and dreams and sense of self? I jumped on my soapbox and told him to have her reach out to me if she needed a TED Talk on “How to be a mother who loves her children and still knows who she is and has a full life.” But even if I presented this young woman with an alternate path to motherhood, one that deviates from the generations outdated “martyr model,” we all know it’s easier said than done.

Very few mothers arrive on the scene with the confidence, courage, and conviction to say “Fuck that,” when presented with the dynamic depicted in the sculpture. (See also: The Suffering Club, shudder.) Sure, those moms are out there, but I suspect many more are like me, women who “feel the guilt and do it anyway.” And perhaps even more go along with the norm they grew up with—give endlessly; give tirelessly; give everything.

I am asking for readers to join in the conversation—please share in the comments what you think about this sculpture, the discussion around it, and your own experiences with “selfless motherhood.” And if you’re interested in contributing an essay, a poem, or even a few lines sharing your ideas, please comment or message me—I would love to hear from you.

One reader (thank you, Megan!) left the following comment, and it gave me chills.

“And then, Atlas shrugged.

Voice is being given to this issue now and I believe there is hope for real change on the horizon.”

And then, Atlas shrugged: it is time for us to put this burden down. What might happen if we do?

XOXO,
Steph

• I have two Moms Unhinged Comedy shows coming up, CO locals! One on July 14th in Louisville and I’m hosting my first ever show at the Bug Theater on July 17th in Denver. I would love to see you there! These shows are SO much fun!

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