This seems to be an unpopular opinion in society though happily is gaining traction. I recently listened to an episode of Pints with Aquinas where Matt Fradd interviewed Nick Freitas. At one point in the conversation Nick made the observation that we have a tendency to ‘bubble wrap’ the world for every veteran we meet because we incorrectly assume they have all experienced trauma. I believe that we’ve done the same thing to motherhood in a way. 

For one thing, I think we put far too much emphasis on postpartum depression. When a woman becomes pregnant she can hardly turn around without hearing assurances that it’s okay if she doesn’t feel that instant connection when baby is born. Of course, postpartum depression is real and it by no means makes you a bad mother. I simply believe this is the exception and not the rule. We have turned pregnancy and childbirth into a medical condition bordering on a disorder when, in the past, it was always a beautiful and natural human process. Despite the exhausted struggling mothers we see on TV, I think most women are blessed as I was, with the overwhelming joy of motherhood upon giving birth. 

This leads to my second objection to the traumatic motherhood mentality. Although your body, your schedule and your life will never be the same after pregnancy and childbirth, these changes are generally for the better in my opinion. At no point have I found myself itching for an excuse to get away from my daughter. If anything, I adore her too much, sometimes to the exclusion of other important things. People are so eager to lend a hand with babysitting or simply by holding baby so mommy can have a break. While this is greatly appreciated and occasionally necessary, it’s never really been the kind of help I wanted. In truth, I was often far happier in the early days to accept a home cooked meal from a friend while I got to simply become acquainted with this beautiful new human God gave us. To this day I still don’t enjoy leaving baby girl with others, even trusted family members, when my husband and I go out. Our daughter is not someone I want a break from. 

My life did not end when she came into it. Quite the opposite. Likewise, I have never resented my stretch marks. Perhaps that does put me in a minority, but I look like a mom and it’s a fact that I am immensely proud of. My body now bears visible signs of the sanctifying work I have given my life to. My husband isn’t less attracted to me because my tummy has a few lines on it. I am still perfectly able to dress neatly and attractively, never having felt the need to resign myself to lumpy mom jeans. In short, I am not a victim of motherhood. I am not a slave to my baby. This is no more or less that the work that I signed up for, the work I believe God made me for. I am absolutely overjoyed to fulfill that purpose, the vocation of marriage and all it entails including the responsibilities of motherhood.