Quotes About Motherhood

For me, I always nurse out in public. It never crossed my mind, because I was taking care of my child, and I was living my life. We need to know as women that that is normal and great and beautiful and OK. And I want to be part of that conversation - not making anyone feel wrong if they don't do it.

I'm on my own so I do everything. I think with any mum, guilt is a major factor. You feel guilty dropping your kid off at nursery and going off to work all day. It's so tough to juggle everything, to get it right all the time.

We should be encouraging moms to breastfeed their infants, not discouraging it by unfairly judging and discriminating against nursing mothers.

In my generation, except for a few people who'd gone into banking or nursing or something like that, middle-class women didn't have careers. You were to marry and have children and be a nice mother. You didn't go out and do anything. I found that I got restless.

I love nursing my babies. It's such a special bond for me.

When you're nursing and you're working 18-hour days, that's pretty hard.

I'm not the kind of person who needs to be a mother no matter what. Life brings you people. Maybe I'll nurture someone who's not my child, like a friend, or an actor I'm working with who needs some love.

I had such a nurturing team of midwives looking after me with my first little girl, and their support gave me so much confidence as a mother.

I wanted to make a late-night-type show that happened to be in the morning for moms. Bravo was more interested in a blend of my books 'Momzillas' and 'Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut,' which is a collection of nonfiction essays.

I'm obsessed with being a mom.

It is probably true that I would not have had as many children or mothers in my books without being a mother with children. It is definitely true that I would not have written about the Civil War without having a little guy who was obsessed with it.

It was better than floods of misery that a son of her flesh had killed the sons of other mothers. That burned in her heart like the pain which flared in the arthritis of her knees. Pain was a boring conversationalist who never stopped, just found new topics. Bess

And with it all, he was proud of himself. He had brought his mother to tears. "Let her cry for once. Not me. It is time for her to learn.

The meanest girl who dances and dresses becomes something higher when her children look up into her face and ask her questions. It is the only education we have and which they cannot take from us

In every garden, on every street, we see mothers holding tightly to their children's hands (fifty years later, Théophile Gautier posited that Melling preferred painting women with children, finding them less unsettling and more deserving of respect than women walking alone).

Women were more complete inside themselves. They were also better at living in their children. They were never as solitary as a man alone.

are more to a woman than any man can be. We pretend otherwise. We pretend we bear them for him, that we raise them for him. But it's not true. We raise them for themselves. We stay with our men for the children's sake.

Every woman becomes their mother. That's their tragedy. And no man becomes his. That's his tragedy.

A beautiful woman risking everything for a mad passion. A few wild weeks of happiness cut short by a hideous, treacherous crime. Months of voiceless agony, and then a child born in pain. The mother snatched away by death, the boy left to solitude and the tyranny of an old and loveless man. Yes, it was an interesting background. It posed the lad, made him more perfect as it were. Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.

They watched her sit, holding the bundle up before her, the lamp just at her elbow belabored by a moth whose dark shape cast upon her face appeared captive within the delicate skull, the thin and roselit bone, like something kept in a china mask

If Paradise lies beneath the feet of the mothers -those tender feet of Dodola- then it's Hell that waits beneath mine.

I love you Hiccup, although my stiff lips will not let me make the kind words I hear other mothers speaking... I cannot change or regret the wandering Warrior I am. But by Thor's thunder, I can fight for you, with all my Warrior heart, and this is one thing that I truly excel at.

Did I used to think being pretty was my primary obligation because I was in some way delusional? Or was it that I'd absorbed the messages I was meant to absorb with the same diligence with which I studied? As the mother of a daughter, I hope she won't judge herself as harshly as I judged myself, but her personality is so unlike mine - she is boisterous and outspoken - that I'm not inordinately concerned.

Since Liz's adolescence, when viewing television commercials that celebrated the ostensibly unconditional love of mothers for their children, or on spotting merchandise in stores that honored this unique bond with poems or effusive declarations—picture frames, magnets, oven mitts—she had felt like a foreign exchange student observing the customs of another country.