Quotes About Motherhood

A woman knows her children's friends, hopes, dreams, romances, secret fears, what they are thinking, how they are feeling and, usually, what mischief they are plotting. Men are vaguely aware of some short people also living in the house.

Death which is the mother of the universe!—Now wear your nakedness forever, white flowers in your hair, your marriage sealed behind the sky—no revolution might destroy that maidenhood

I still remember the little boy who shouted with astonished joy when I told him I was leaving my job at EMF. Are you going to be a Real Mummy now? he asked. Had I not been a real mummy to him while I worked?

Can you be a success as a mother? People only notice when you're not doing it right.

The mind, the heart, the womb. Those three are all threaded in a sacred dance. A woman's pelvis is like an hourglass with the capacity to tell time. It both creates and shelters life. When a mother's diet in insufficient, nutrients are pulled from her own teeth and bone. Women are built to be selfless.

A woman's pelvis is like an hourglass with the capacity to tell time. It both creates and shelters life. When the mother's diet is insufficient, nutrients are pulled from her own teeth and bone. Women are built to be selfless.

My mother told me that when Jane and I were born, all her dreams had come true. I

MAMMALIA, n.pl. A family of vertebrate animals whose females in a state of nature suckle their young, but when civilized and enlightened put them out to nurse, or use the bottle.

Excuse me." The cold voice behind us made me cringe for reasons that had nothing to do with falcons or Rei's abdication. Danica turned with a smile, and I struggled to do the same. Despite how well the recent months had gone, Nacola Shardae still refused to believe that a serpiente man could possibly be the right mate for her only daughter. Because of that, she hated me as only a mother could.

If women lose the right to say where and how they birth their children, then they will have lost something that's as dear to life as breathing.

How a mother comes to love her child, her caring at all for this thing that's made her heavy, lopsided and slow, this thing that made her wish she were dead ... that's the miracle.

Mama stared at me not with sadness, but with pleading. She was thinner than I'd ever allowed myself to notice, looking more like a child than a woman. I wanted to believe she knew what was best for me. I wanted to believe she was like every other mother and that she loved me more than I loved her. I hoped, if I followed her wishes, I would finally make her happy.

If women lose the right to say where and how they birth their children, then they will have lost something that's as dear to life as breathing.

You can't understand! You're not...a man.' 'Had I been confused on that point, it was put beyond doubt when I pushed you out of my womb. Have you any notion how much you weighed as a baby? Spend two days shitting an anvil we'll talk again.

Savine had once felt nowhere more at home than here, flitting from one opportunity to another, hopes and dreams left wrecked in her wake. Now all she wanted was to slit the laces of her corset and sag down with her children, slap the stopper from the decanter and never put it back.

It was no good being a mother. She wanted to start a website, a public-awareness campaign, a newsletter, to get the word out that if you were a woman and you had a child, you lost everything, you would be held hostage by love: a terrorist who would only be satisfied when you surrendered your entire future.

She wanted to start a website, a public-awareness campaign, a newsletter, to get the word out that if you were a woman and you had a child, you lost everything, you would be held hostage by love: a terrorist who would only be satisfied when you surrendered your entire future.

Vic didn't have a car and probably spent a hundred and sixty hours a week at home. The house smelled of piss-soaked diapers and engine parts, and the sink was always full. In retrospect Vic was only surprised she didn't go crazy sooner. She was surprised that more young mothers didn't lose it. When your tits had become canteens and the soundtrack to your life was hysterical tears and mad laughter, how could anyone expect you to remain sane?

I wanted to explore this idea that the bogey man in the closet is scary, but being a mother is scarier.

It was no good being a mother. She wanted to start a website, a public-awareness campaign, a newsletter, to get the word out that if you were a woman and you had a child, you lost everything, you would be held hostage by love: a terrorist who would only be satisfied when you surrendered your entire future. The

A pergunta era: o que uma criança quer da mãe? Sua resposta era: Band-Aids para os machucados, uma música na hora de dormir, gentileza, algo doce para comer depois da escola, alguém para ajudar com o dever de casa, alguém junto a quem se aconchegar.

that if you were a woman and you had a child, you lost everything, you would be held hostage by love: a terrorist who would only be satisfied when you surrendered your entire future.

His own eyes prickle wetly. His blond hair darkens with sweat; pearls of water stand out on his smooth six-year-old forehead. The longer he stares back, the wider the gaze seems to get, like a grin. Her eyes radiate hard spines of heat, which drill into him. Timmy Babson feels punctured, "seen." "Jane!" Timmy screams for his mother, calling for her by her first name for the first time. "Jane, Jane! It's looking

Here I am referring to the types of books that thirtyish women devour at private swim clubs, often to the dismay of their drowning children.