I Was Mominfluenced—But Not in the Way You’d Think

In the fall of 2020—seven months into the pandemic—my husband and I decided to get a dog. Many people were happy for us， though others urged us to proceed with caution. “It will destroy your clothes and poop all over your apartment，” they said while forecasting months of sleep deprivation and astronomical vet bills. Most depressing was the belief that a dog was just a temporary stand-in for a baby—a drain on our resources that we’d eventually lose interest in long before he or she died， inevitably from cancer. When I then got pregnant with said baby—our first—last November， I began consuming a lot of content about motherhood that followed a similar refrain of “buyer beware.” Much of this is for very good reason. Relative to the rest of the developed world， parenting in the United States tends to be a more stressful and precarious experience marked by prohibitively expensive childcare， minimal parental leave， and heightened anxiety and depression—particularly for mothers， a huge portion of whom are forced to leave the workforce. Added to new pressures surrounding “intensive parenting，” the country’s youth mental health crisis， and existential concerns about climate change， it is no wonder why 62 percent of American parents say that parenthood is at least somewhat harder than they expected it to be. Over the past decade， this mismatch between expectation and reality has led to a rich and essential dialogue about the stresses of motherhood， including how these stresses are shaped by geography， class， and race. Yet recently， some have begun to question whether the pendulum has swung too far. For prospective moms today， the general consensus seems to be that motherhood is a miserable experience that has less to do with structural issues around privilege and access—consistently it is white， wealthy women who report the highest levels of dissatisfaction with motherhood—and more to do with what one writer calls “the quotidian torture of parenthood”: the sleepless nights， the diapers， the clutter， and the hours of mind-numbingly boring play.

ELLE sent this email to their subscribers on April 21, 2024.

In the fall of 2020—seven months into the pandemic—my husband and I decided to get a dog. Many people were happy for us, though others urged us to proceed with caution. “It will destroy your clothes and poop all over your apartment,” they said while forecasting months of sleep deprivation and astronomical vet bills. Most depressing was the belief that a dog was just a temporary stand-in for a baby—a drain on our resources that we’d eventually lose interest in long before he or she died, inevitably from cancer.

When I then got pregnant with said baby—our first—last November, I began consuming a lot of content about motherhood that followed a similar refrain of “buyer beware.” Much of this is for very good reason. Relative to the rest of the developed world, parenting in the United States tends to be a more stressful and precarious experience marked by prohibitively expensive childcare, minimal parental leave, and heightened anxiety and depression—particularly for mothers, a huge portion of whom are forced to leave the workforce. Added to new pressures surrounding “intensive parenting,” the country’s youth mental health crisis, and existential concerns about climate change, it is no wonder why 62 percent of American parents say that parenthood is at least somewhat harder than they expected it to be.

Over the past decade, this mismatch between expectation and reality has led to a rich and essential dialogue about the stresses of motherhood, including how these stresses are shaped by geography, class, and race. Yet recently, some have begun to question whether the pendulum has swung too far. For prospective moms today, the general consensus seems to be that motherhood is a miserable experience that has less to do with structural issues around privilege and access—consistently it is white, wealthy women who report the highest levels of dissatisfaction with motherhood—and more to do with what one writer calls “the quotidian torture of parenthood”: the sleepless nights, the diapers, the clutter, and the hours of mind-numbingly boring play.