When exactly did it become presumed that we’d have children we didn’t raise? I am curious. When I became a mother, I accepted the hardest job I’ve ever had. Not only do I have to care for my dependent(s), but I have to respond to questions like “what do you do?” while my toddler runs out the door. I’ve traded in my high-wage jobs for low-paid labor in an effort to keep my people close by. I’ve learned how to do the equivalent of two full-time jobs, in addition, to raising an ornery toddler, homeschooling a kindergartner, and pretending like everything is okay.
Thankfully, I like diplomacy. I’ve learned how to keep my wits about me in navigating the deep waters of motherhood. Before motherhood, I spent almost a decade studying sociology and became well-familiarized with the sociological phenomenon of invisible labor à la Arlie Hochschild. I have read plentiful statistics about the negative impact the status motherhood inflicts upon the career trajectory. Back then, I was convinced I never wanted to be a mother. Until I was, supremely ready to become a mother (that’s what happens when you marry your dream guy).
But of all the nuances of life motherhood would bring my way, I was in no way prepared for the curious inquisition of my life postpartum. I was definitely not prepared to answer the inquiries that came from a handful of dare-I-say mothers in response to the fruit of…
