Quotes About Motherhood

Most painful of all, she mourned the time she could have spent with her daughter. She'd tried so hard to prove she was good enough. And now, with a few simple sentences, Harriett had explained it so plainly. Jo had been good enough all along. They'd made her feel like a failure, when the truth was, they just hadn't wanted her around. There was nothing she could have done.

Being a mother is quite tiring. There's not much time to do anything. You just rush around and it's hard work.

Only let the darkness inside her that she fears also be the darkness of infinite gentleness, the mouth for killing the same mouth that carries the babies safely away.

Having a baby doesn't make you a mother any more than buying a piano makes you fucking Beethoven

Being a mom is what life is about. I hope people realize what the priorities in life should be and know not everything has to be perfect.

I'm proof that, even after having a baby, you can look better and sexier than ever!

You never realize it until you're pregnant, or holding your baby in your arms, but your heart, soul and peace of mind will never be yours again. The tiny hijackers take over before they draw their first breaths, and you would do anything to keep them safe. Anything.

I was pretty sure that somewhere in the mother's handbook, it said your kids shouldn't have to bribe you to get hugged.

Nothing makes our mother happier than discussing the troubles of those around her—even her daughters, and sometimes especially us—so long as she can come out the winner.

I like my face. I have a few crow's-feet, sure. My skin's not as elastic as it used to be… I gained a lot of weight when I was pregnant, as one tends to do with three babies inside, and it shows. But this is the face of a woman who's been through a lot, a woman who has lost a lot and held on to a lot, too. This is the face my daughters love, the face they look to for comfort and unconditional love, for patience. For wisdom. For guidance.

I had thought, once, that I couldn't ever be a mother because I'd passed at the chance to raise my own son. But this summer had shown me--Matthew and Monica had shown me--that being a mother wasn't one thing. It was an indefinable, eternal state of love and acceptance, sacrifice and forgiveness. And hope. Because being a mother was nothing if not hope.

He was not Monica's biological child, and all the research said that no matter how good a mom she was, she would never be enough. Fathers didn't seem to be so accused in the literature.

I didn't raise my child, but I was still his mother, and the fact was both indescribably precious and painful.

You never realize it until you're pregnant, or holding your baby in your arms, but your heart, soul and peace of mind will never be yours again.

I hadn't wanted my child to be seen as a mistake. An accident. I knew how too many people looked at teenage mothers, contemptuous of our carelessness, viewing us as a drain on the system.

Our families were herded out of the room, and I snuggled little Ainsley closer, smelling her head, a smell I already recognized. I'd cheerfully kill for her, happily lay down my life for her without a second's hesitation and with a smile on my face. My beautiful baby. My gift.

I was a person who had suffered a trauma by giving up my baby, and this recovery process was necessary.

Your importance is dwarfed by their friends. Romantic interests. Cool professors and great coaches. A spouse, someday, and kids of their own, and you . . . you got left behind at a certain exit on the highway of their life, and all you can do is look down the road after them and remember when you were so needed, so loved, so sure of your place in the world, because you were Mommy, and that was everything.

I burnt myself out of skating. I was ready to focus on being a mom.

We women make choices for others, not for ourselves, and when we are mothers, we...bear what we must for our children. You will protect them. It will hurt you; it will hurt them. Your job is to hide that your heart is breaking and do what they need you to do.

You have a child, so you know. You are my heart, baby girl. You are everything I did right. And I want you to know I would do it all again, every wonderful terrible second of it. I would do years and years of it again for one minute with you.

The at-home mother's life: it was a race with no finish line.

Vianne didn't hesitate. She knew now that no one could be neutral—not anymore—and as afraid as she was of risking Sophie's life, she was suddenly more afraid of letting her daughter grow up in a world where good people did nothing to stop evil, where a good woman could turn her back on a friend in need. She reached for the toddler, took him in her arms.

No mother. Two small words, and yet within them lay a bottomless well of pain and loss, a ceaseless mourning for touches that were never received and words of wisdom that were never spoken. No single word was big enough to adequately describe the loss of your mother.