Someone posted on Facebook about how she became pregnant by a man who promised to marry her, detailing her reasons for having a legal abortion in Canada, where she resides. Her valid points got me thinking about the cost of being called a mother. I’ve always been intuitively aware of motherhood’s toll and its permanent effects on life—which is why I wanted to wait a few years after marriage to know and enjoy myself before having children. Yet, I’m grateful for the privilege of motherhood, and I also understand and respect the choices of those who know it’s not for them, as well as those who embrace it fully.
Motherhood is often romanticised as a beautiful, fulfilling journey—a woman’s highest calling, her greatest joy. The image of the self-sacrificing mother, the one who gives everything for her children and asks for nothing in return, is venerated. But beneath the curated photos of happy families and the endless praises showered on mothers lies a reality few are willing to discuss.
Motherhood, for all its joys, is costly.
It drains women emotionally, financially, and physically. It limits them in ways that men rarely experience. It is a journey of love, yes!!! but it’s also one of loss—of self, of opportunities, of freedoms that were once taken for granted (like the use of the bathroom in private). And yet, despite the undeniable toll it takes, women are expected to embrace motherhood as an obligation, not a choice, and those who resist are questioned, judged, and often labeled as selfish, or abused as “childless cat ladies”. But the truth remains: not every woman wants, or can be a mother and not every woman should be one.
Few experiences push a person to the limits of their emotions like motherhood. The constant demands of a child, especially in the early years, leave little room for rest or personal fulfillment. From pregnancy to childbirth and beyond, a mother is expected to be available—physically, mentally, and emotionally—24/7.
The exhaustion is not just physical, many mothers experience postpartum depression, a condition often dismissed or misunderstood. Imagine growing a human inside of you for nine months, desiring to see that baby, enduring the pain of childbirth, only to feel completely disconnected from the baby you were supposed to love unconditionally. I remember vividly a friend’s elder sister who suffered from postpartum depression. It was all hush-hush at the time, but I remember that rather than being happy she was mostly sad and unresponsive to her baby. I can only imagine the guilt, the shame, the fear of admitting that you’re not okay because you’ve gone through a process many have gone through with joy. The sad fact is that society has little patience or understanding for mothers who “complain” or who are depressed after childbirth.
Beyond postpartum depression, there is also the sheer emotional burden of raising a child. The fear of making mistakes, the pressure to provide the best life possible, the worry about illness, education, and safety—it never ends and if a woman is raising her child alone, as many do, the weight of responsibility can be crushing.
Motherhood is expensive. The cost begins with prenatal care and childbirth, and from there, it only escalates—diapers, formula, school fees, medical bills, clothing, extracurricular activities. The list is endless. In many parts of the world, including Nigeria, mothers bear the bulk of the financial responsibility, even when a father is present. Many women work full-time jobs only to spend all their earnings on their children, with little left for themselves.
For women in careers, having a child often means making difficult choices. Maternity leave is rarely long enough, and in some cases, a woman’s career takes an irreversible hit. Opportunities for promotions dwindle because employers assume a mother will be less committed. Some women are even fired or subtly pushed out after becoming mothers.Single mothers, in particular, face an even harsher reality. With no partner to share financial burdens, many are forced to work multiple jobs just to keep their children fed and educated. And what does society say to these women? Instead of offering support, they are often shamed for “choosing” single motherhood, as though the circumstances leading to their situation were entirely in their control.
Childbirth is often spoken about as a natural process, but that does not make it any less dangerous. Maternal mortality remains a major issue, particularly in developing countries. Women die from complications during and after childbirth, from lack of proper medical care, from conditions that could have been prevented with better healthcare systems and even when a mother survives childbirth, her body is never the same. The effects of pregnancy—weight gain, hormonal changes, loss of bone density, weakened pelvic muscles—often last a lifetime and many women suffer from chronic pain, hormonal imbalances, or even lifelong disabilities because of childbirth.
Perhaps one of the greatest, yet least spoken about costs of motherhood, is the loss of self. Women are expected to morph entirely into the role of “mother,” leaving little room for personal dreams, ambitions, or even simple pleasures. Friendships fade because time is no longer a luxury. Hobbies are abandoned. Spontaneous outings become near impossible. Many women struggle to recognize themselves after years of putting their children first. Some manage to reclaim parts of their former selves as their children grow older, but others never do.
And for women who dare to voice out these struggles? They are quickly reminded that they “chose” this path, that they should be grateful, that motherhood is a blessing. And it is—but that does not mean it isn’t hard. Despite the high cost of motherhood, society still assumes that every woman should aspire to be a mother. Women who say they do not want children are met with disbelief, as if they are broken or incomplete. They are told they will change their minds, that they will regret it when they are old, but motherhood is not the only path to fulfillment. A woman’s worth should not be tied to her ability to bear children and there are many ways to nurture, to create, to contribute to the world beyond having children.
It’s Mothering Sunday this weekend, and my advice to women, especially young women is: before making the decision to become a mother, ask yourself—do I truly want this at this time, or do I feel pressured by society? Please understand that motherhood is not just about cuddles and cute baby clothes, it’s not about having someone who would love you back unconditionally, it’s not about having someone to twin with or someone who will take care of you in old age. It is a lifetime commitment, and while it brings immense love, it also comes with challenges that can be overwhelming. If you choose motherhood, do it because you want to, not because the world expects it of you. And if you do not want children, stand firm in your decision. You do not owe anyone an explanation.
To those who are mothers already who may have chosen that path because you wanted to and maybe it was also what society expected of you, well done and a big thank you for your sacrifices. Please know that it is okay to acknowledge what motherhood has cost you without a sense of guilt or betrayal and savor the joys of motherhood as they come. My prayer is that the rewards far outweigh the cost.
To members of the society , it is time to stop forcing motherhood on every woman. A lot of young women are beginning to opt out of motherhood and we must understand their fears and concerns and let them be. Also, it is not enough to be pro- life and urge women to give birth to replace dwindling populations, we must actively support those who eventually become mothers, not just with words but with policies—paid maternity leave, affordable childcare, better healthcare etc.
Motherhood is beautiful and noble, but it comes at a cost.
Happy mothering Sunday Photo credit