|2| The Hidden Cost of Ignoring Mothers

The Invisible Line We Keep Asking Mothers to Cross

There’s a line that mothers are expected to walk — one that is impossibly thin. It’s the tightrope between strength and silence. Between resilience and invisibility. Between being everything to everyone and asking for absolutely nothing in return.

We don’t see this line. But mothers walk it every single day.

We ask them to give birth, then bounce back. To show up, but not speak up. To raise the next generation while quietly letting parts of themselves fall away.

And the cost of this silence?

We are losing mothers — not just to burnout, but to systems that have forgotten their worth. Systems that celebrate productivity over humanity. Systems that believe postpartum ends at the hospital discharge.

"A mother’s body is expected to recover while her soul remains unspoken for."

The Real Aftermath Begins After Birth

Modern motherhood often feels like performance art. You’re handed a baby and expected to carry on with the same pace, purpose, and polished smile. But no one talks about what happens when the lights go down and the audience goes home. No one warns you that postpartum isn’t six weeks. It’s two years. Maybe longer. No one tells you that you’ll feel joy and grief in the same breath — and that both are valid. The healthcare system? It checks in on the baby. Rarely on the mother. The workplace? It might offer leave. But not healing. The culture? It worships sacrifice — but not support.

My 40 Days: An Ancient Ritual, A Modern Reality

When I had my son, I was fortunate enough to practice my family’s ancient tradition of 40 days of confinement — a sacred Javanese ritual passed down through the royal lineage of women in my family. I had a "pantang" lady come in daily to nurture me through my recovery.

She massaged my full body and uterus to reposition and heal what had shifted through birth, brewed hot herbal soups to replenish my nutrients, and bound my belly with cloth to guide my organs back to their place. It was a sacred cocooning of the mother, rooted in years of ancestral reverence and wisdom.

And yet, even with all of that care — I was not okay. My mental health was quietly unraveling. Society still expected me to “bounce back,” to show up with grace, to smile and glow — and I did. But behind the glow was grief.

I didn’t yet know who I was before becoming a mother — and overnight, I was thrust into this identity without a roadmap. No one spoke about that shift. No one acknowledged the grief of your old self, or the chaos of this new one.

"There’s no handbook for the most important job in the world. Just the pressure to pretend you’ve mastered it overnight."

The expectations were heavy. Not just from society or culture — but from other mothers too. We project, we perform, we compare. All while silently breaking.

We are all just surviving.

The Silent Epidemic of Postnatal Depletion

There is a silent epidemic sweeping the modern world — and it’s not contagious, but it’s everywhere. It lives in the woman crying in her closet, wiping her tears before returning to soothe a baby. It lives in the boardroom where she’s expected to present like nothing’s changed, while she leaks milk through her blouse. It’s called postnatal depletion — and it affects far more mothers than we care to admit.

It's more than exhaustion. It’s an erosion of spirit. A slow depletion of vitality. A breakdown of hormonal, nutritional, emotional, and spiritual resources that aren’t replenished because the world still expects her to carry on as if nothing happened.

Millions of mothers are expected to be everything — and nothing — at the same time. To raise their children while racing back to work. To meet KPIs while their core is still healing. To give endlessly without ever being asked: how are you, really?

And the truth? Many are not okay.

"She holds the world on her hip and a storm in her chest. And somehow, still shows up."

The Numbers We Don’t Talk About

  • Over 1 in 7 women experience postpartum depression — but this number is likely far higher due to underreporting.

  • The majority of mothers return to work within 12 weeks — before their bodies, hormones, and nervous systems have recovered.

  • Single mothers now account for over 15% of families globally, and that number continues to rise.

  • In some regions, over 60% of mothers report feeling unsupported post-birth, leading to anxiety, depression, and physical health issues.

And still, the motherload continues — cooking, cleaning, working, soothing, performing. It doesn’t clock off. It doesn’t get sick leave.

Where the System Works: Global Models of Postpartum Care

Some countries are already doing better:

  • Sweden offers 480 days of paid parental leave, and parents are encouraged to share it. The system not only acknowledges but supports the sacred time after birth.

  • Japan provides postpartum care rooms in hospitals for up to two weeks, with full support from midwives and mental health professionals.

  • The Netherlands sends a maternity nurse (kraamzorg) to new mothers' homes daily for the first 8–10 days after childbirth.

These aren’t luxuries. They are policies rooted in respect.

We need to stop acting like care is a privilege. It is a right. And it's time every nation honored it.

The Ripple Effect: Children, Families, and the Cycle of Life

When a mother suffers in silence, the ripple affects everyone. Her children absorb the anxiety she hides. Her relationships stretch thin under the pressure. Her workplace loses out on her genius.

This is not just a maternal health issue — this is an everything issue. Because when mothers are forced to pour from an empty cup, society becomes brittle.

But when we invest in her healing, when we recognise her divinity, when we honour her rest and support her return — the whole system begins to change.

Building a New Definition of Strength

Strength is not the absence of struggle. Strength is choosing to stay soft in a world that’s gone hard. Strength is saying, I need help, and not being punished for it.

We need to build a new framework — one where maternal wellness is not an afterthought, but a foundation. Where workplaces, governments, and communities ask what do you need? and actually listen.

Because the survival of mothers is the survival of the human race. And that’s not a metaphor — it’s a biological, spiritual, and societal truth.

To the mothers who are barely hanging on — I see you.
To the fathers who want to help but don’t know how — keep showing up.
To the policymakers and CEOs reading this — let’s do better. Not tomorrow. Now.

Because no mother should have to choose between raising her child and surviving the system.

And to every mother crying in silence, this is your call back to yourself:

You are not invisible. You are the vessel of creation. You are the change the world needs to heal itself.

Seed of Change:


If motherhood is the foundation of life itself , why is it the one structure we continue to ignore?

Next
Next

| 1| We Treat Mothers Like They Don’t Exist — Then Wonder Why the World Feels Broken