I always wanted to be "just a mom." Growing up, that phrase held a certain magic for me—growing up with a stay-at-home mom who (from what I saw, loved it) it was a picture of joy, purpose, and a life centered around love.
It was the goal. The dream. The role I couldn’t wait to step into. But when I finally became “just a mom,” something shifted. Instead of feeling valued, I felt belittled. Reduced. The world I lived in didn’t celebrate or respect motherhood the way I thought it would. It was as if the role I’d always idealized wasn’t enough.
I loved my kid. I loved being a mom. But it felt like I wasn’t enough.
How did that happen? How did this role—one that had felt so significant—become something so minimized?
The answer, I think, lies in how society talks about motherhood versus how it treats it.
The Pedestal of Motherhood
Before you’re a mom, motherhood is painted as the ultimate achievement. People gush about how noble and selfless mothers are. It’s romanticized to the point of mythology: the mom who gives endlessly, loves unconditionally and holds everything together without breaking. From the time we are old enough to hold a doll, being a mom becomes the standard of womanhood. The perfect mommy myth starts forming as we build up the image of what a "good mom" looks like. We start to imagine who we will be (who we are supposed to be). It’s this pedestal we’re told we’ll stand on as mothers—the highest honor, they say.
But the moment you become a mom, the pedestal gets kicked out from under you.
Suddenly, you’re on your own. The support dries up, the admiration fades, and you’re left in the harsh reality of a society that doesn’t back up its reverence for moms with actual care. You’re not celebrated anymore. You’re not honored for the work you do every single day. Instead:
You’re less than human, defined by the needs of everyone else.
You’re a burden when you ask for help or advocate for yourself.
It’s not about you anymore—it’s about the kids, the house, the family.
And just like that, you’re reduced to a single phrase: just a mom.
“Just a Mom” as an Insult
When people say, "Oh, you’re just a mom," it’s rarely a compliment. It’s dismissive as if motherhood is a passive choice or an easy default. It’s a title that implies limitation, as though everything you were before is now irrelevant.
But what’s wild is how fathers are treated in the same breath. Have you heard of the fatherhood premium? Studies show that men who become fathers are often viewed as more competent, reliable, and worthy of promotions. Fatherhood is seen as a professional and personal asset.
Now compare that to mothers. Mothers face a penalty. Women are statistically less likely to be hired, promoted, or paid equally once they have children. Motherhood is seen not as a strength, but as a detractor.
Even as a working mom, I felt this penalty. At work, I was viewed as less competent or committed because I was a mother. It felt like no matter where I turned, motherhood was a shadow that diminished my value in the world’s eyes.
And yet, I was doing the most demanding, more life-altering work at home. My "job" was the easy part.
The Word “Mom” Shrinks Us
There’s something deeper happening here too, and it starts with language.
We used to be called mothers. There’s a weight to that word, a seriousness. Mother evokes a sense of authority, respect, and depth. It’s timeless. But now, we’re “moms.”
Mom is playful, casual, even trivial. It’s a nickname, not a title. And while it’s often used with affection, there’s an undertone to how it gets applied in society that diminishes the role itself.
We’re not “mothers” anymore—keepers of wisdom, strength, and guidance. We’re moms: the women who bring snacks and wipe noses.
Motherhood has been packaged, softened, and stripped of its gravity to the point where it’s easy to dismiss.
It’s not that I don’t love the term "mom." It’s warm and familiar. But we need to think about how it’s used to downplay the depth of what we do. It’s as if calling us "moms" turns motherhood into something light, frivolous, even insignificant.
Motherhood as an Evolution
Here’s the thing: being “just a mom” isn’t a reduction. It’s an evolution.
Matrescence—the process of becoming a mother—is one of the most transformative experiences a person can have. It reshapes your identity, your priorities, and your relationships. It doesn’t make you less than—it transforms you into someone more.
You gain skills in empathy, patience, and problem-solving.
You become more attuned to the world, more resilient, and more connected.
You learn to hold space for yourself and others in ways you never had to before.
You become more efficient, more thoughtful, and more capable because you have to.
Motherhood doesn’t erase who you were; it adds layers to who you are. It’s not a “just.” It’s not a limitation. It’s an expansion.
But society doesn’t see it that way. Instead, it strips motherhood down to its most basic, surface-level view: the mom. The one who does all the invisible labor and still gets asked, “What do you even do all day?”
Reclaiming “Just a Mom”
Here’s where I’ve landed: I want to reclaim the phrase “just a mom.” Not as something small or insignificant, but as something powerful.
When someone says I’m “just a mom,” I want to say:
Yes, I’m a mom, and that’s where my power lies.
Motherhood has made me capable of more than I ever imagined.
I’m not “just” anything—I’m everything my family needs and then some.
And to the moms reading this: I see you. I know how hard it is to feel invisible in a world that downplays the hardest, most important work you’ve ever done. But you’re not less-than. You’re not a burden. And you’re not on your own.
You’re not “just a mom.” You’re a mother. And that’s magic.
A Final Note: What Needs to Change
It’s time for society to shift its view of motherhood. We can’t just put moms on pedestals before they give birth and then ignore them afterward. We need to back up the talk with action:
Paid family leave for both parents.
Affordable childcare.
Workplace policies that recognize the value of caregiving.
A cultural shift that sees motherhood as an asset, not a setback.
Because motherhood is not a burden. It’s not a detraction. It's a super power.
And I think just a mom is a movement. I hope you'll join me in it by sharing this message and welcome, mama.
Thank you for being here.
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