Motherhood in a Divisive World

I’ve always used the metaphor of being a ship’s captain for motherhood. Although you might have wonderful first-mates (I see you, helpful partners) and a crew that helps the ship sail smoothly (nannies, teachers, grandparents, and your village), ultimately the responsibility of getting that ship safely to its destination is in your hands, mama. The planning, the decision-making, the “map-drawing,” the designation of roles, tasks and responsibilities almost always lands on Mom. And when I look around at all the incredible mothers I’m surrounded by, I’m always inspired and proud at how well they are handling getting their families to the metaphorical dock — whether that be into bed, to soccer practice, or to the umpteenth birthday party of the month.

But in the last few years, us captains have been faced with an extra challenge: navigating our ships through what seems to be a never-ending storm of political divisiveness, which has evolved into a Hydra-like monster with each of its heads (gun violence, policing our bodies, xenophobia, racism, lack of resources to those who need it most) taking a bite at us with each passing day. So now, not only are we dealing with our usual and already overwhelming responsibilities, but we’re doing it with a heavy blanket of fear around our children’s futures shrouding our view.

It’s easy to lose hope in these moments. To believe there is nothing we can do, and sink into a dejected, deflated state of sadness, anger, and dissociation. And many of us do, understandably, for a brief period when the news cycle has just hit one too many of our weak spots. But it’s in these moments, where I feel like letting go completely of the captain’s wheel and just allowing my ship to drift, that motherhood anchors me back into action, control, and purpose. While many might see the responsibility of parenting during today’s political climate as just an extra burden to carry, I’ve actually come to reframe it as a huge reprieve from the sick and scary world that exists outside of my ship.

I studied mindfulness and the healing powers of present-moment awareness for many years in my pre-motherhood days. I traveled to places like India and Bali to learn about the gift that being fully immersed in what’s right in front of you can give to a group of modern humans who are constantly distracted. Yet, motherhood is easily the thing that has most brought this to life for me. Forcing myself to put my phone down because my son wants me to join him in reading his latest book on sea animals is a welcome distraction. Needing to reorient my attention to tidying his stuffed animals or setting up his bath offers me a chance to pull my attention into sweeter, calmer activities. His requests for a pool day or for me to pretend to be a tiger in the jungle and chase him around our living room is a much-needed reminder that there are much more important things to be done other than scrolling through the same angry voices on my phone. My son calls me to the present moment time and time again — in the classically demanding three-and-a-half-year-old kind of way — but right now, for this I am deeply grateful.

Grateful I get to turn away from the violence, hatefulness, and screams of either sides of the internet, and towards a sweet, loving energy that actually needs my presence. Grateful for the reminder that what’s most important, most deserving of my energy is actually right in front of me, living and breathing. And not on Instagram or in the comments section of the latest viral video. My son reminds me that my highest value in this particular chapter of my life is being a present, loving, grounded mother for him.

This is not encouragement to stick our heads in the sand. It is essential to stay informed and be aware of the state of the world in order to ask ourselves how we can help, and how to be part of the change we want to see for ourselves and our children. And to teach them what being a good, empathetic human means, especially now. But when I start to feel the fatigue in my eyes, the cramping in my hand, the heaviness in my heart after scrolling through the endless images of suffering, my son and his calls for me are the biggest gift I could’ve ever asked for.

He’s a reminder for me to put the phone down and grab hold of the wheel again. To remember the importance of my post. To steer with intention and mindfulness, and turn my eyes, ears, and attention back to what actually matters most to me, and remember that the biggest thing I can offer right now to a world that sometimes feel like it’s crumbling right in front of us, is to raise and nurture a kind, strong, intelligent little human. And how this, and the power of all good mothers, will have one of the greatest positive impacts on the future of our world.

So, to all the mothers out there: when you start to feel small, lost, hopeless, and like you have nothing to offer towards the suffering going on outside of your home, please remember your post. You are captaining one of millions of ships towards the Dock of Good, Kind Adults. A dock you won’t know you’ve arrived to until you see that tiny human evolve into a grown-up who thinks of others, offers kindness where they can, and thinks outside of themselves and about the good of their community when choosing what they do (or who they vote for).

And I hope, mama, that in those moments many years in the future, when you catch a glimpse of them being good, kind people, that you’ll recognize just how important your role was. And also I hope you stop even now, and recognize how wonderful of a captain you’ve been so far. And how even captains deserve a port day to let go of the wheel, and breathe in their successful journey so far.