Thoughts on Motherhood from a Non-Mother

Musings found from my weekday runs in the neighborhood park where mothers go for a walk with their kids

She was sitting on the bench facing the wider, muddier part of the river. Next to her was a stroller, and I could see the shape of a baby, unmoving and sleeping inside. She was wearing a typical running outfit. On her lap was an open laptop. She was staring at it, oblivious of what’s going on around her, unknowing of the passing stranger staring at her who asked herself, would I be that kind of mom?

Yep, the passing stranger was me.

One of the paths in my morning run. Photo by the author

I did not know her circumstances, I did not know who she was, but instantly I thought she was the image of a wonder mom — juggling several tasks at once — trying to be fit, an engaged parent, and career-oriented. She was on top of everything.

The image of a wonder mom in my head looked very tiring. And I don’t know if I’m up for that kind of responsibility.

It reminded me of a reel circulating on Instagram, when a woman does her laundry, knows how to cook, pays her bills, the whole she-got-her-shit-together shebang, she is literally inches away from having a nervous breakdown.

That reel resonated so well with me. I am not even a mother.

I’m 36.