Quotessence
Home / Topics / Motherhood Quotes

Motherhood Quotes

Browse 1829 quotes about Motherhood.

Related topics

Motherhood Quotes

“A single day is not enough, to honor all that’s you; You gave me a lifetime, a gift to which none can compare. A million stars, with all their might, could never shine so true; As your pure heart, and lovely smile, when speaking words of care. Nurturing hands, you brought up life, maternal sacrifice, When days of darkness set, you help to see the dawn gleam. You’re the strength I lean on, when my own does not suffice, Wisdom laden grace, you’ve shown the light for much to be seen. So I’ll take this day, to speak loud from heart, of all that’s true; I love you, mom. Is all I’ll say, for nothing more will ever do.”

“A BLESSING FROM MY SIXTEEN YEARS’ SON I have this son who assembled inside me during Hurricane Gloria. In a flash, he appeared, in a tiny blaze. Outside, pines toppled. Phone lines snapped and hissed like cobras. Inside, he was a raw pearl: microscopic, luminous. Look at the muscled obelisk of him now pawing through the icebox for more grapes. Sixteen years and not a bone broken, not a single stitch. By his age, I was marked more ways, and small. He’s a slouching six foot two, with implausible blue eyes, which settle on the pages of Emerson’s “Self Reliance” with profound belligerence. A girl with a navel ring could make his cell phone buzz, or an Afro’d boy leaning on a mop at Taco Bell— creatures strange as dragons or eels. Balanced on a kitchen stool, each gives counsel arcane as any oracle’s. Dante claims school is harshing my mellow. Rodney longs to date a tattooed girl, because he wants a woman willing to do stuff she’ll regret. They’ve come to lead my son into his broadening spiral. Someday soon, the tether will snap. I birthed my own mom into oblivion. The night my son smashed the car fender, then rode home in the rain-streaked cop cruiser, he asked, Did you and Dad screw up so much? He’d let me tuck him in, my grandmother’s wedding quilt from 1912 drawn to his goateed chin. Don’t blame us, I said. You’re your own idiot now. At which he grinned. The cop said the girl in the crimped Chevy took it hard. He’d found my son awkwardly holding her in the canted headlights, where he’d draped his own coat over her shaking shoulders. My fault, he’d confessed right off. Nice kid, said the cop.”

“Hindi Poem on Motherhood- माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई आखो में ममता का सागर बातो म जीवन कहानी है माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई माँ तो धरती की जिंदगानी है रहकर माँ के करीब भर जाता हर एक घाव है ज़न्नत के हर सुख से सुंदर माँ के आचल की छांव है पूछो माँ से राहे कामयाबी की हर राह उसकी जानी पहचानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ ही है जो धरती पर जीवन निर्माण करती है सहते सहते हर दुःख को ना जाने कितनी बार जीती मरती है हर फरिश्ते से माँ होती है बड़ी माँ तो कोई चमत्कार रूहानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ सबसे ऊपर विराजित माँ से जग में, नहीं कोई बड़ा माँ है सब से अद्भुत ताजमहल माँ है मुकुट कोई,कोहिनूर जड़ा कुछ न मांगे रब से, खुद की खातिर माँ तो सिर्फ औलाद के सुख की दीवानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है जो महकाता घर के हर कोने को माँ वो सुगन्धित इत्र है बेहिचक बता सकते जिसे सारे राज माँ वो शानदार मित्र है माँ का नाम ही सहजता, सुलभता माँ का नाम ही आसानी है आखो में ममता का सागर बातो में जीवन कहानी है माँ सिर्फ शब्द नहीं कोई माँ तो धरती की जिंदगानी है”

“But this day he was lost in the story he made of their bodies. The men were in the midst of saving a six-inch Mickey Mouse trapped in a prison made of black VHS tapes. ...Before he could make out his mother's face, the backhand blasted the side of his head, followed by another, then more. A rain of it. A storm of mother. The boy's grandmother, hearing the screams, rushed in and, as if by instinct, knelt on all fours over the boy, make a small and feeble house with her frame. Inside it, the boy curled into his clothes and waited for his mother to calm. Through his grandmother's trembling arms, he noticed the videocassettes had toppled over. Mickey Mouse was free.”

“Mothers might be characterized as “uncaring” when they resume paid work “too soon” after birth, or as “giving up on themselves” when they return to work “too late” or never; when they do not breastfeed as well as when they do so for “too long” or “too publicly”; when they turn to homeschooling their children, or when mothers—single parents or not—must work long hours outside the home and are therefore accused of neglect. In addition, single mothers, mothers receiving welfare, immigrant mothers, and lesbian mothers—circumstances and identities that also often overlap—tend to be looked at even more critically.”

“When someone dies they can be any age you remember can't they ' she asked. As I tried to think of a reply she continued 'You probably think about the grown-up Tess because you were still close to her. But when I woke up I thought of her when she was three wearing a fairy skirt I'd got her in the Woolworth's and a policeman's helmet. Her wand was a wooden spoon. On the bus yesterday I imagined holding her when she was two days old. I felt the warmth of her. I remembered all her fingers clasped around my finger so tiny they didn't even meet. I remembered the shape of her head and stroking the nape of her neck till she slept. I remembered her smell. She smelled of innocence. Other times she's thirteen and so pretty that I worry for her everytime I see a man look at her. All of those Tesses is my daughter.”

“When Tanya thinks about the kind of mother she wants to be, she knows she wants to be different from her own. She wants to be the kind of parent who never lets her child see any of her own sadness or anger or loneliness, because she knows how much it hurts to see that in your own mother. How stifling it can be; how impossible it becomes to have any of your own feelings. She knows it's impossible, though. That if she tries to mask all of that from her child, she'll just be hiding. And the truth is–children are smarter than that. They'd see right through her. Really what she wants to be is a mother who isn't in pain. She wonders if such a woman exists.”

“Let us question why we are losing so many teenage girls and young women to an ideology that encourages them to discard all things that represent womanhood and motherhood. Moms are often thrown out, along with the young women’s healthy breast tissue. Being a woman is a gift if not rejected.”

“I advocate for fatherhood because of the trauma I experienced as a father. When I separated from my daughters mother, she literally tried to destroy my relationship with my daughter. She did everything she could to jeapordize me and my daughters daddy-daughter relationship. She prioritized maternal control over the presence of paternal love. She was willing to hurt her own daughter in an effort to hurt me because she was jealous that I got married and was happy with my new family. I want to help create a world where no father and no daughter ever has to suffer the way me and my daughter did because of a divorce or separation.”

“There are many women who think that being a mother means contradicting a child, and later they beat them, and order them about for the sake of giving orders, to see herself obeyed, ordering the child not to run, not to jump, not to yell, in sum, a whole bunch of ignorant things, the truth is, to prohibit a child from doing all this is to prohibit them from being healthy. They act like this with girls precisely because they are girls, as if a girl's organism did not have to develop, so that they can grow up beautiful and strong, and not scrawny and pale, nor become mothers full of pains and ailments. They think that being a mother authorizes them to mistreat and order the children at whim, and oblige them to do things against their will, that is an error.”

“Juliet was determined to remain strong for them. She was the pilot of her family's little plane and no matter the indecision she felt, the questions that suffocated her when she turned off the lamp at night and lay awake in the slow-passing dark, the worry that she would make the wrong choice and in so doing ruin them, it was her responsibility to make them feel safe and secure the next day.”

“when a woman herself becomes pregnant, it is as if she links directly back into an intact matrilineal network where all the mothers, all the wombs, all the foetuses and infants are connected. This does something peculiar to maternal temporality: it has the ability to stretch time out in linear directions to the distant past and future, and equally to concertina in upon itself to a point that is always in the present. Folding out, folding in, the past and the future, hinged together like delicate butterfly wings. In the way that matryoshka dolls can be opened out and displayed in a long line from smallest to biggest, or packed one inside the other, becoming one body, one space, one time.”