Quotes about Motherhood

Just as a mother finds pleasure in taking her little child on her lap, there to feed and caress him, in like manner our loving God shows His fondness for His beloved souls who have given themselves entirely to Him and have placed all their hope in His goodness.

She looked up at him. She could remember holding him on her lap, reading a story, kneeling down beside him. Then came the years she spent on her knees because she was concerned how he might turn out. Those years were long gone.

All her questions, all the fatigue and nausea and swelling and pain, vanished the moment she held her son.

There is no greater power on earth than a mother's love, unless it is a mother's guilt.

The pain in my body could not match the pain her cry surfaced in my heart. They cleaned her, weighed her, wrapped her, and whisked her away. And it was then that I realized the much-greater pain is not in giving birth but in releasing your own child.

I make a lot of mistakes, too, and I'm constantly re-evaluating how I'm doing things and trying to be better every day, whether it's as a mom or taking care of myself.

I can't say I ever loved my mother; I admired her.

You want to give me chocolate and flowers? That would be great. I love them both. I just don't want them out of guilt, and I don't want them if you're not going to give them to all the people who helped mother our children.

Motherhood is far better than I expected. I love it with all of my heart.

No one is more sentimentalized in America than mothers on Mother's Day, but no one is more often blamed for the culture's bad people and behavior.

Sad as it was that she did not know where her children were buried or what they looked like if alive, fact was she knew more about them than she knew about herself, having never had the map to discover what she was like. Could she sing? (Was it nice to hear when she did?) Was she pretty? Was she a good friend? Could she have been a loving mother? A faithful wife? Have I got a sister and does she favor me? If my mother knew me would she like me?

Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love. The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit; everything, just a little bit, so when they brok its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one.