A Gift for Mom! 🤍

 

I was that young woman who graduated college and had my first baby a year later.

This meant I spent four years working my way through university, keeping down jobs, interning for no pay, and pushing every limit I had to graduate summa cum laude, only to become a stay-at-home mom.

Among all the marks against an educated woman, the choice to seemingly do nothing with one’s education ranks high. In those early years of motherhood, I’d frequently be asked if getting a college degree was worth it since I was “just” staying at home with kids. Did I really need to attend a university to be a stay-at-home mom?

These inquiries were framed as harmless curiosity, but I knew better, and like countless women, it was all too easy to feel diminished and insecure. However much I wanted to defend my decision, when I was honest with myself, I didn’t know how to answer.

Being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t the intention of my education. Although I never believed it, motherhood was often presented as a hindrance, even a barrier to advancement in many of my courses. Could all the resources, time and money that went into a college education really be justified when my days consisted of diaper changes and the alphabet song? Or was it actually a waste?

As time passed, however, and more of my friends became mothers, it became obvious that this scrutiny wasn’t exclusive to women who stayed at home with their kids. This same test of worthiness and adequacy was being pitted against every woman who had a child. I’d listen to the frustrations and tears of working moms and stay-at-home moms and hear the same insecurities.

You see, when it comes to women and education, our society loves to put us under a microscope and carry out an inquisition.

Will this woman, by virtue of her ability to be a mother, be productive, profitable, ground-breaking, reliable and ambitious enough to merit her education? Will she put it to good enough use?

Or will it go to waste? Will she just pop out babies?

Our society worries a woman will sacrifice too much for the sake of her children. She may prioritize care-taking over time dedicated to her profession. Her thoughts may be too wrapped up in a teething baby to make the same contributions as man.

And regardless of a women’s childcare choice or commitment to her profession, she spends an insane amount of energy fighting against these insinuations of inadequacy.

As these sweeping pressures became obvious, I realized I was in fact wasting my education. I was wasting my education by allowing this destructive nonsense to have any hold on me whatsoever. You see, it’s this constant testing against women that is the waste, not our choice to be mothers.

So here’s how women everywhere can ensure that we are putting to good use the education we receive.

We need to redefine exactly what society sees as “waste,” because caring for children, or any human for that matter, is certainly not waste.

We need to confront false ideas that women only be mothers and pressures that women cannot be mothers if they seek real success. Advocating equality in the office, lab and legislature is half the battle. The other half is elevating the value of care-taking to the same level as salaried pursuits. Young children need educated caretakers, and unless we value that care, we’ll go on committing the same injustices that have been perpetuated upon humans for millennia.

Ultimately, we need to acknowledge that raising children is a task worthy of a woman’s – or man’s education. Not only will our education enhance our ability to nurture and teach children, our experiences as parents furthers our knowledge of the world.

A short while ago, I was contacted by alumni relations of my alma mater. They wanted to know what I was doing five years after graduating. When I was a new mom, I would have shrank from that question. But in light of my education, I stated without hesitation that I was a stay-at-home mom.

 

** This essay was originally published on Things I Teach My Children

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Lauren Cunningham

Lauren is a wife, mother of three kids, thinker, and blogger. She and her family live in the middle of nowhere and pass much of their time digging in the mud and hunting for the perfect stick. Lauren is passionate about building a community of parents committed to raising compassionate, thoughtful children. You can find more of Lauren's writing at Things I Teach My Children and follow her on Facebook.

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

If You Give a Mom a Bouquet…

In: Motherhood
Woman arranging bouquet of pink flowers on table

If you give a mom a bouquet… She goes to grab a vase to put it in. As she grabs the vase, she also grabs the duster because she knows the spot for the vase is probably dusty and she has guests coming for dinner. As she begins dusting, she notices the stack of books that needs to go back on the shelf. When she gets to the shelf, she sees the bendy action figures in battle formation that need to go back in the bin. When she gets to the bin, she spots the toy food that needs to...

Keep Reading

Here In the Liminal Space of Parenting

In: Motherhood
Woman in tunnel

It’s Friday night at 8:00. The intermittent snoring of an 80-pound lap dog is the only thing slicing through the silence of my home. It feels empty, and there is a stillness in the air. I have nowhere to be; there is nobody waiting to be picked up. I’m staring at the empty takeout boxes from dinner sitting on the coffee table. There was no need to cook a big meal; it was just the two of us, my husband and me, sitting together wistfully in this liminal space of parenting. It is the quiet place between an empty nest...

Keep Reading

Mothers Are the Givers

In: Motherhood
Mom embracing young daughter

As we were decorating the tree last Christmas, my son dug to the bottom of a box and pulled out a Snoopy ornament. He set it off to the side quickly and continued his rifling. But I noticed the faint crack along the red jukebox that Snoopy stood beside. In an instant, I was standing back in the kitchen of our first home watching my son wander in to ask, in the cutest toddler voice, if he could “pwess” the button on the ornament to play the music. With gleeful excitement, he pressed too hard. The ornament slipped from his...

Keep Reading

Hyperemesis Gravidarum Means I Survived Something No One Could See

In: Motherhood
Pregnant woman lying on couch with hand on forehead

My hands were trembling as I reached for the pregnancy test developing on the bathroom counter. It had been three months since we lost our second pregnancy to miscarriage, and I was cautiously optimistic that this was our month. My heart tried to leap out of my chest when I saw the two lines. Our rainbow baby had been conceived. Let me preface the rest of this story by saying I knew my pregnancy wouldn’t be magical. My pregnancy with my son, who was 22 months old at the time, hadn’t been, and the short weeks leading up to my...

Keep Reading

I’m Learning To Feel Like I Belong In a Room Because I Want Her To Know She Always Does

In: Living, Motherhood
Little girl looking in the mirror

It took me 39 years to like myself. I mean really, honestly look in the mirror and say, “You go, girl.” I understand the concept of progress, not perfection, but the idea of always working on myself became a tiring and unrelenting objective. Here I was shrinking that waist, smoothing my skin, studying hard, working way too late, and often burning the candle at both ends to yield results that were still less than the ideal. It’s all well and good to be a doer who sets reasonable and sometimes unreasonable goals, but throughout my teens and into my early...

Keep Reading

Soon There Will Be No More Breakfasts To Make

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Ten boy eating breakfast at kitchen counter

T-minus 44 days until a new beginning- Math has never been my strong suit or my favorite subject, but it will be about 19 years spent rising and trying to shine in our house. Nineteen years of prepping one, two, or all three of our sons to get up and ready for school. Nineteen years of making breakfast. Nineteen years of making lunches. For those of you in the thick of it right now, you know exactly what I mean. I think my husband Steve and I have it down to a science now. If we had to do it...

Keep Reading

I’m Going to Tell You the Things Your Mom Should Have Told You

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother with three grown daughters

During my oldest daughter’s freshman year of college, I started being haunted by a recurring dream of an old-fashioned suitcase—one of those hard-sided ones that’s as big as they come. In the dream, when I open the suitcase, it’s overflowing with clothing, shoes, and all kinds of stuff that belongs to me and each of my three daughters. Everything in the suitcase is all jumbled together. Nobody else in the dream is worried about sorting through everything, but I am totally stressed about it. To top it all off, I have to deal with this suitcase while preparing for a...

Keep Reading

The Half-Dressed Mom and Love in the Details

In: Motherhood
Woman sitting with coffee cup and book on bed

I am a proper mom. Not fancy, not prim—practical. I am dressed for the time of day, always. That is simply who I am. Except for this morning. This morning I was in a towel, bracing the bathroom counter, writhing in pain, and trying not to scream loud enough to disturb the neighbors. I had seen a specialist just the day before. He’d said I needed six weeks to heal before they could do further exploration. What he hadn’t said—what I hadn’t understood—was how much the healing itself would hurt. My 23-year-old daughter, Aislyn, found me like that. Panicked. Half-dressed....

Keep Reading