It’s Not Just A Mother’s Duty

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Before I had kids, mornings were my nemesis. I’m not a morning person—never have been, never will be. The snooze button and I had a love affair that lasted well into my adult years. But motherhood changed everything.

Now, when the clock strikes too early, I’m up. Not because I’ve suddenly developed a love for sunrises, but because little feet are padding down the hall, and little voices are calling, “Mommy!” My day begins before I’ve had time to protest, coffee in hand, ready—or as ready as one can be—to tackle it all.

Coffee has become my lifeline. Not the fictional “12 cups a day” I joke about (it’s really just two, but still). It’s the ritual that keeps me grounded in a life that doesn’t offer pause buttons. Motherhood is relentless. There are no breaks, no time-outs, and certainly no rewinds. Once you’re in, you’re all in.

When I became a mom, my habits shifted, not because I wanted them to, but because they had to. My kids depend on me, right now, for everything—diapers, meals, cuddles, and wisdom. One day, that dependency will shift to carpools, late-night heart-to-hearts, and emotional support as they navigate their own lives.

But today, they need me to guide them through the confusing world of emotions. They need me to name those feelings, help them process them, and teach them how to handle the big ones without breaking.

And yet, in the midst of giving my all to them, I sometimes wonder: What about me?

Image Credit: @huanshi

Mothers are conditioned to put their needs on the back burner. The good ones, at least. (Because, yes, bad ones exist, and we all know them.) We pour from an empty cup, convincing ourselves that this selflessness is part of the job.

But here’s the irony: to be a better mom, we need to take care of ourselves. It’s not selfish. It’s logical. A mom who’s burned out emotionally and physically isn’t serving anyone, least of all her kids. And yet, how often do we actually pause to do it?

More often than not, we stretch ourselves thin, not just for our kids, but for our partners too—partners who may or may not be carrying the same load.

And why? Because society quietly insists: It’s a mother’s duty.

But is it, really? Is it a mother’s duty to do it all without help, without complaint, and without falling apart? Because that’s the message we’re sent every single day.

We’re told that if we complain, we’re ungrateful. If we express our frustrations, we’re dismissed as emotionally unstable. And if we break under the pressure, we’re seen as burdens to the very people we support.

How does this make sense? How can someone be expected to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, yet never crack under the strain?

The pandemic laid bare the impossible demands placed on mothers. When the world shut down, it wasn’t fathers who overwhelmingly left their jobs to care for children—it was mothers. Women lost their careers at unprecedented rates, not because they wanted to, but because they had no choice.

And as the world stumbles toward recovery, the pressures on moms haven’t eased. Cost of living is skyrocketing. Job markets are unstable. Emotional support is scarce. And judgments are everywhere. Mothers are still being fired. Still being judged. Still being told to “figure it out.”

And yet, we’re expected to keep smiling, keep functioning, keep giving.

Here’s the truth: it’s not just a mother’s duty to do it all. It’s not just her responsibility to make life work, especially not in a world that demands so much yet offers so little in return.

We need help. And we need to be heard. So let’s ask the hard question: Why are mothers still expected to bear these impossible burdens alone?

This isn’t just about mothers; it’s about humanity. Because if the backbone of the family is crumbling, the entire structure is at risk.

It’s time to acknowledge that it’s not just a mother’s duty—it’s everyone’s responsibility to ensure she’s supported.

So tell me—how do you feel about the weight society places on mothers? Do you think it’s fair? Do you think it’s sustainable? Or do you think it’s time for a change?

Let’s talk about it. Because the first step to changing the narrative is starting the conversation.