Quotes About Motherhood

My mother was beautiful but so very young. Too young to have me, but she did, and she loved me.

If I had known, do you think I should have let her get away with this mad plan? That I should have let her rob me of my child? No, I should have taken you myself and hidden with you in some far-off land and never seen her again rather than agree to such an unnatural scheme

Ik benijd Benedetta di Chimici haar plekje onder de grond, waar ze niet langer voor het leven van haar kinderen hoeft te vrezen. - Graziella Nucci

Motherhood, Letty reflected, was the most exhausting thing she'd ever done. She adored her niece, but bearing sole responsibility for another human's well-being was overwhelming. Not to mention terrifying.

It takes twenty or so years before a mother can know with any certainty how effective her theories have been--and even then there are surprises. The daily newspapers raise the most frightening questions of all for a mother of sons: Could my once sweet babes ever become violent men? Are my sons really who I think they are?

Motherhood is perhaps the only unpaid position where failure to show up can result in arrest.

In motherhood, where seemingly opposite realities can be simultaneously true, the role of nurturer invariably conflicts with the role of socializer. When trouble came as it surely must, was I the good cop who understood, the bad cop who terrorized, or both?

The naive notion that a mother naturally acquires the complex skills of childrearing simply because she has given birth now seemsas absurd to me as enrolling in a nine-month class in composition and imagining that at the end of the course you are now prepared to begin writing War and Peace.

My son John was just under a year old when I collapsed with a life-threatening kidney disease. The shame and guilt resulting from my unplanned pregnancy had continued to fester to the point that my toxic feelings literally poisoned my body.

The only time a women wishes she was a year older is when she's expecting a baby.

A baby is something you carry inside you for nine months, in your arms for three years, and in your heart until the day you die.

No one else, ever, will think you're great the way your mother does.

Raising a child, managing a household, and being a good wife, all the while focusing on expressing herself in ways that had never been done before, took an enormous toll on Morisot

Let me take this opportunity of thanking you, mother, for all the sacrifices you have made for us

My mother is a beauty.

And yet the irony was that she soon placed herself in the margins voluntarily, giving up work for family, because she imagined that when she eventually arrived at her deathbed, she would feel more regret about unborn children than unwritten books.

She'd been petrified of motherhood. The fear of a deeper depression. She couldn't look after herself, let alone anyone else.

She'd been petrified of motherhood. The fear of a deeper depression. She couldn't look after herself, let alone anyone else.

A sudden thought struck me. Wouldn't it be odd if my mother got old! ... It is only natural that when your children are big you must be older but somehow I had never thought of its happening to my mother... What a peculiar thing to think of in the bright sunshine of the afternoon!

Society places enormous responsibility at the feet of mom without giving her the financial support, prestige, and acclaim due to a job of such momentous import for the entire culture.

Only mothers can think of the future - because they give birth to it in their children.

MALAYA ENJOYED a good mystery. It wasn't the triumph of solving that compelled her. It was the sifting through—the discovering of new layers and textures, unthought-of twists and turns that thrilled her. One of the greatest mysteries in her life was her mother.

Mam) ignorant as a thistle, married to a drunk and pushing out baby after baby, each of which had to be clothed and fed until it grew up and left, or died.

No one had told her this would happen, that her girlishness would give way to the solid force of wifehood, motherhood. The choices available were all imperfect. If you chose to be with someone, you often wanted to be alone. If you chose to be alone, you often felt the unbearable need for another body - not necessarily for sex, but just to rub your foot, to sit across the table, to drop his things around the room in a way that was maddening but still served as a reminder that he was there.