Why Modern Motherhood Doesn’t Work….and What We Can Do About It

The quiet crisis behind the smiling photos

You’re only a few months in, and already you’ve learned how to smile through the ache.The hours stretch endlessly, yet somehow vanish. You feel invisible, yet scrutinised. You scroll past other mothers who seem to have found a rhythm, wondering why you can’t. Everyone says “you’re doing amazing,” but inside you’re quietly breaking.

Loneliness. The invisible labour. The loss of identity. It’s not just you. It’s not that you’re doing it wrong. It’s that the way we mother — the way society expects us to mother — was never built to work.

Why modern motherhood feels so lonely

For most of human history, raising children was shared work. Babies passed between many arms. Food prepared collectively. Care was woven through daily life because that's what our species require to not only survive but thrive.
Today, most mothers are home alone — physically or emotionally — trying to do the work of what was once a whole village.

We’ve been told that independence is strength. That being able to “do it all” alone is success. But that message isolates us from the community that humans — and especially new mothers — are designed to need. Research repeatedly links postnatal loneliness to higher rates of anxiety and depression, yet our culture frames connection as a luxury, not a necessity.

And so you find yourself holding a baby in one arm and your phone in the other, scrolling for signs of other women awake at 3 a.m. The search for solidarity becomes digital, fragmented, and fleeting — when what you needed all along was someone at your kitchen table, saying, “you’re not broken, this is.”

The invisible labour no one counts

Motherhood runs on unpaid, unseen labour. Not just the physical work of feeding, washing, tidying, soothing — but the endless mental calculations that run in the background of every mother’s mind.
Who’s outgrowing their clothes? When’s the next vaccination? Do we have enough wipes, enough patience, enough of me to go around?

This work is invisible because it doesn’t produce profit. In patriarchal cultures, value is measured by productivity — and caregiving is considered “non-productive.” We praise mothers for multitasking but rarely pay attention to the cost.
We call it “just staying home,” yet it’s the foundation on which every functioning society rests. The economy depends on women quietly holding the world together — unpaid, uncounted, unthanked.

The system isn’t broken; it was designed this way. It was designed to keep caregiving cheap, emotional labour private, and women too exhausted to protest.

The loss of identity that no one warned you about

You used to know who you were — your work, your friendships, your energy.
Now, you catch yourself wondering if you’ll ever find her again.

Modern motherhood asks women to disappear. You’re told you can “have it all,” but what that really means is: do it all. Without dropping a ball, without looking tired, without losing your composure.
The identity of “mother” expands until it fills every inch of space, and everything else that made you you gets squeezed out.

And when you start to resent it — when the rage bubbles up — you feel guilty for even feeling it.
But that rage is sacred. It’s information. It’s the body’s way of saying: something is deeply unfair here. I feel its worth mentioning at this point you are capable of holding more than one emotion at a time.
You can feel love and gratitude for your baby while also feeling resentment, anger, or grief for what you’ve lost. Both can be true — and neither makes you a bad mother.

The idea that mothers should only ever feel happy, thankful, or “blessed,” and that anything else is a sign of being ungrateful, is another quiet tool of control. It keeps women silent, ashamed, and disconnected from one another. It’s not maternal failure — it’s societal conditioning, born from the same misogyny that tells women their value lies in how well they serve others. 

It’s not you — it’s the system

Every time you think you’re failing, pause. You are living inside a structure that devalues care and glorifies exhaustion.

We have medical systems that discharge women hours after birth and call it “efficiency.” Workplaces that measure commitment by how fast you return. Media that celebrates self-sacrifice while offering no support.
We tell mothers they’re “the heart of the family,” but we build societies that keep them isolated and under pressure.

When women say “it’s not working,” they’re right — but not because they’re not coping. Because the system is not built to care for carers.

Redesigning motherhood (gently)

You don’t have to overhaul your whole life. You don’t need to fix the system on your own. But you can begin to redraw its boundaries within your home — tiny acts of resistance that protect your energy and your worth.

1. Speak the invisible aloud.
   Name the mental load. Write it down. Let your partner or family see it. Invisible work only stays invisible when we carry it silently. Have the hard conversataions.

2. Share the weight, even if it gets uncomfortable.
   Ask for help — and when someone offers, say yes. Let the discomfort of being supported soften over time. It’s not weakness to need; it’s human.

3. Redefine success.
   Not the spotless kitchen, but the gentle moment of connection. Not the to-do list completed, but the nervous system soothed.

4. Protect your identity.
   You are still you. Read the book. Go for the walk. Take the nap. Your child needs the whole of you, not the exhausted outline.

5. Rebuild community where you can.
   Find the other mothers who are willing to speak honestly. Share meals, share childcare, share truth. You may not rebuild the whole village, but you can start a circle — and sometimes, that’s enough.

These steps won’t make you popular in a culture that thrives on self-sacrifice. But they will make you freer.
And this matters not just for you, but for your children.

Every time a mother draws a boundary, rests instead of overextending, or says, “I deserve support,” she rewrites the script for the next generation. We recycle, we teach kindness, we protect the planet — and this, too, is a form of care. We mother for tomorrow when we protect ourselves today.

Remember you were never meant to do this alone

You are not lazy. You are not failing. You are responding appropriately to an impossible set of demands.

If motherhood feels heavy, that’s because it is. But when you start to see the weight for what it is — not a reflection of your weakness but a reflection of what’s been placed on you — something shifts.

Learn more with Unique Births.

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