“I don’t know anyone who’s happy and has children.”

Is it true that I don’t know anyone who is happy that has children? No.

So, why would I say that? Well, I didn’t and turns out the person who allegedly said it, had their words grossly taken out of context. Who said it? Before I say that, I want to quote what the person actually said:

“All of my friends who have kids are in hell… I don’t know anyone, I actually don’t know anyone, who is happy and has children at this age. Like, a 1-year-old, like 3-year old — 4 and under, 5 and under. I literally have not met anyone who is happy, anyone who has, like, light in their eyes. Anyone who has slept.”

Now, when you read the statement in full context, not chopped and screwed to accommodate rage baiting conversations, how could any of those words be offensive? I’ve been a mother of a wonderful child for almost 16 years and nothing about what this person said was offensive. So, who said it? 27-year-old Chappell Roan. Why are her words causing such an uproar? Because on one side of the coin, you have a gang of women intentionally misinterpreting what was said in an effort to romanticize motherhood and ignore the lived experiences of the other side of the coin. The other side of things has another gang of women agreeing that motherhood is no walk in the damn park and it’s okay to share that opinion, whether you have children or not.

And then there are people who actually listened to what the fuck Chappell said and fully acknowledge that she was speaking of HER experience. Which is 100% valid and doesn’t require anyone to agree with it; this isn’t about her being right or wrong either. A big part of this, for me, is hearing what isn’t being said.

She’s 27 and all of her friends with children are in hell. What’s not being said? Her friends aren’t having the mothering/parenting experience a lot of people hope for or even are convinced they will have. She specifically says SHE doesn’t know anyone… she didn’t say there were no people with toddler aged children who were happy. She wasn’t generalizing all parents. She was only speaking about the people she knew.

Did I know any happy mothers when I was 27 years old? No. Even if someone who knew me then was to say “hey! you knew me! I wasn’t miserable, sad, depressed, etc.,” they would have every right to claim that for their experience. Did I know that? No, because I didn’t really see any happy mothers until long after I had The Bug. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t recall seeing any happy mothers when I was growing up either.

I can recall the ONE time I saw my mother genuinely happy. I was about 19 or 20 years old, so that would have made my sister 20 or 21 and my brother about 14 or 15 years old. She was separated from my dad (this is important) and doing whatever the hell she wanted during that time. She smiled more; I can remember seeing her dimples flourish from happiness more during that time than any other period in my life. She glowed. When she talked, her voice kept its melodic ring but it was soaked in what sounded and felt like happiness. Her laughter was contagious and she even had pep in her step. Why? Because mothering wasn’t her priority at that moment. She had time to herself, despite still needing to parent my brother; I saw her be a different person than the miserable, depressed, chronically annoyed person I lived with for 16 years.

Watching my mother and the women she associated with, the women in my family, and then seeing my sister become a mother at 19 years old, solidified for me that motherhood was not a milestone I wanted to claim. My mother had been with my father since she was 16 years old, married at 18 years old, and had her first child at 21, second child at 22, and third child at 27/28. She’s spent most of her life being of service to other people. I said it was important after stating that I saw her genuinely happy when she was separated from my dad because despite being married, the weight of parenthood can become debilitating even when you are married AND living with your spouse. Mothers tend to do most, if not all, of the emotional labor involved in parenting. Society has socialized people into believing the role of fathers is relegated to being the provider and protector. This socialization removes the father’s responsibility to develop their emotional intelligence and cultivate emotional regulation in their children. It’s often an unstated expectation that it’s the mother’s job to deal with all of the emotions and feelings, which contributes to the exhaustion, misery, and deep regrets associated with motherhood.

Have I been happy the entire time I’ve been a mother? No. It’s a flat ass “No” because it’s a flattened , fucking reality. This lived experience in no way, shape, or form cancels out the joyful, fulfilling experience other mothers are living. I love that for them; I love that THERE ARE mothers who are supported in the ways beneficial to them; I love that THERE ARE mothers who have mothers who love them AND their grandchildren enough to be and stay present; I love that THERE ARE mothers who have loving husbands/partners/co-parents that want to see them well-rested, loved, and supported so they take their roles serious too; I love that THERE ARE mothers who are able to allocate time in their 24 hours to be fully present to their children and it isn’t just what’s leftover after most of their day and night has been eaten up by commuting, employment, housekeeping, and being of service to others.

As much as I love that for other mothers, since a lot of them can’t imagine a life less than their own, they seek to push reframing any experience that doesn’t look and/or feel good to acknowledge. What does that do to mothers with a different lived reality? It erases us; it makes us invisible to damn near everyone, including the people who see our struggle. It makes people say things like, “why aren’t you talking to each other about what you’re going through?” All the while knowing that every time we have, we are met with toxic positivity, insensitivity and the psychological warfare of gaslighting, pushes to find the silver lining, and misunderstanding our frustrations to be about our children… when the grief, stress, and difficulties are directly attached to society, lack of resources, and non-existent sustainable support systems.

So, do I know anyone who’s happy with children? Sure, I do. However, I ALSO know people with children who are unhappy. I will always point out that 10 times out 10, it isn’t the children that are the problem. More often than not, it’s us adults who are at the root of parenting, specifically motherhood, being a hellscape for a lot those who mother. So, let’s address that…how many conversations are we having about what we can collectively do to support mothers? And not just in ways that are convenient to us but in ways that are most helpful to each mother? Imagine if THAT was the majority of conversations that spawned from Chappell Roan’s comment… because THAT is what we should be discussing and then acting on. Parenting/motherhood isn’t one of those things that are 100% terrible but I’m never willing to overlook the percentage that is for the sake of presenting an unrealistic picture of bliss.

What I want is for us to paint realistic pictures. These views should allow for more informed choices to be made before bringing another life into this world. I say this full and well knowing we live in a country that’s trying to remove this choice from those who can birth children. However, we don’t have to be complicit in this brushing aside of lived experiences that aren’t appealing or in favor of what is wanted. If you are a happy mother, great. Talk about that shit all the fucking time. If you are an unhappy mother, not great but STILL talk about that shit because nothing about parenting is perfect… and it’s about time we all stop acting like the ideal experience is achievable for everyone as long as we have a positive attitude.

Some of us don’t know anyone who’s happy and has children. Full stop. Even though this is not my current ministry, I know that it is true. Parenting isn’t the thing that fuels my happiness and I don’t feel bad saying this outloud. It’s just my reality because of things I have no control over. Admitting to it isn’t what makes this a bad thing; it’s a bad thing that support for mothers is conditional and circumstantial. Address this instead of polarizing the motherhood experience.