The Vanishing Village
Today, I came across a rather popular quote about how new mothers once had a village, but now that village is nonexistent. Now, new moms not only have to prepare for the arrival of their child but also brace themselves for a long and exhausting battle.
We are the village. Yet, the village that was supposed to nurture new mothers now either hunts them or shuns them. The very people—the elders, the parents, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the seniors in the family—whose age and experience should have made them more empathetic, often let their egos dictate their behavior. Instead of offering support, new mothers are met with judgment, control, and unsolicited advice.
It becomes a battleground—help is conditional, given only if the mother submits to their terms. Otherwise, they gossip, withdraw support, and choose to criticize from a distance. It is as if they are not family but like hired, imposing know-it-all consultants who believe their presence is a privilege, not a duty of love. When things go south, they are the first to step away and blame the situation.
Sometimes, the village just watches from the sidelines, observing her through the lens of toxic tradition and fake dogmatism, while she burns in frustration and pain.
The Maturity Paradox
Adjusting after marriage is challenging, but I won’t delve into that here. That phase is new for everyone. What stands out is that many adults—elders included—are as emotionally immature as children. They refuse to learn from their mistakes or take accountability for their actions. If elders don’t know how to handle their emotions during difficult times, how can they expect the younger generation to navigate major life changes like marriage and parenthood with perfect maturity?
Motherhood: A Sacred Duty
But motherhood is sacred. It is a celebration beyond the institution of marriage. Bringing a child into this world, whether within a marriage or outside of it, deserves respect. This child is the future. And as living beings, protecting the future is our collective responsibility. It is an unspoken yet fundamental duty that nature itself has given us.
Yet, somehow, parenting is treated as the mother’s burden alone. When a mother is left unsupported, everyone suffers—the child, the father, the extended family, society, and eventually even the country. After all, the baby who is overlooked today could grow up to be anyone—a saint or a sinner, a prime minister or a farmer. The baby always matters.
And if the baby matters, then the mother matters too. A child is as calm and healthy as their mother is, as peaceful as she nurtures them.
The Inverted System
We have gotten everything backwards. Yes, traditionally, patriarchal structures placed men as providers and protectors, but why? Because if the mother spent all her energy providing, who would nurture? Family is the center of humanity because healthy gene propagation is the purpose of life. It doesn’t matter who gives birth—what matters is that the young ones are nurtured. Because through them, civilization continues to live, not just survive. It is in interest of everyone to support parents while they put their heart and soul to raise the child.
It is our responsibility—yours, mine, everyone’s—to ensure that the future thrives, not just exists. We are all part of an ecosystem. We need each other.
A Mother’s Mental Health
It should be obvious, but a mother’s job isn’t just physical. If she is burning out while still handling all baby-related chores, she risks passing that exhaustion onto her child in ways she doesn’t even realize.
Core wounds—deep emotional scars formed before a child understands emotions—can develop when a mother is too drained to soothe, be present, or meet her baby’s attention needs. A child’s emotional well-being depends on the mother’s. A burnt-out mother can’t mother in a healthy way. A child mirrors their mother’s emotional state, sensing her distress subconsciously, which shapes their adult self.
A child can either have a healthy childhood or spend adulthood healing from unintentional wounds.
A birthing mother is different from any other caretaker of the baby because her body biochemically, physically, and psychologically changes, and it is completely out of her hands. Yet, it is left to her to handle her mood swings. She is shamed for a changing body, and she is shamed for feeling tired.
If she were the queen, she would receive the treatment of a slave.
Evolutionary Design
Maybe evolution made mothers this way—hormones taking years to regulate, the body needing time to feel like itself again. This way, the mother would spend more time with the baby, increasing the chances of survival for the baby from the caveman days. Maybe this is why oxytocin floods a mother’s system when she cuddles her baby, creating a bond that benefits both. Studies focus on the child’s needs, but the mother also benefits from the warmth and connection. Evolution designed this to increase survival chances—so why does society in the 21st century act as if the question is still about survival, not thriving?
Yet, modern life refuses to acknowledge a mother’s healing. Many mothers experience lifelong pain that started after childbirth, yet it’s normalized. Women are treated as if they were born with skills to be a mother, pre and post-partum both. Instead of focusing on aftercare, people romanticize how women in hunter-gatherer societies gave birth alone and resumed survival tasks immediately.
But if every industry today is optimizing for comfort and efficiency, why must motherhood remain brutal?
The Dilemma of a New Mother
A new mother is not just overwhelmed with the responsibility of being a perfect parent—she is also battling for her identity.
Unlike previous generations, manipulated into believing child-rearing was their sole purpose, the modern mother has worked hard for her independence. Yet, when she takes time off to focus on her child, she is pressured to maintain her pre-motherhood career at full force. Society pushes women to have children before the biological clock runs out, but once they do, it shames them for taking a break, lest they become obsolete.
People remind her how much money and opportunity she is losing. They insist that no matter how good a mother she is, her worth is still measured by her body and career. She is made to feel guilty—both for stepping back and for wanting to return. She is expected to do it all, to prove that all the years spent building her career weren’t wasted.
I wonder what a woman thinks in those moments—holding her child, feeling the width of her new body, doubting how she will be ousted from the job she slaved for years to earn. And there is no break for her, neither at work nor at home.
And if she does return, she faces skepticism. Employers hesitate to trust a mother. They assume she won’t be as dedicated because her mind will be elsewhere.
Meanwhile, men—expected to be unshakable worker drones—aren’t even allowed to enjoy fatherhood. Why are corporations so emotionless? Who are we making money for if it prevents us from experiencing the beauty of being human—from watching our children grow, from cherishing the years when they first start making sense of the world through us?
A Spiritual Perspective
My limited understanding of Sanatan Dharma tells me that a wife receives half of her husband’s good karma, yet none of his bad karma affects her after death. A woman can achieve spiritual liberation more easily than a man. God listens to her prayers sooner. Even divinity acknowledges the struggles of a woman—but we, the people, fail to see the struggles of the women among us.
The human who brings and nurtures another human into this world is sacred—not just because she can, but because of what it takes to raise a young one. It requires everything. And if she is willing to give that, she deserves everything in return.
At this point, I extend this sentiment to anyone raising a child alone—including single fathers. But since society reserves a special kind of cruelty for mothers, the focus remains on them.
The Warrior Without Armor
So why do families choose to hurt new mothers when they are already at their most vulnerable? Yes, new moms are superheroes, but why have we normalized their suffering? Why do we glorify their struggle instead of making their journey easier?
We admire a warrior who fights even while bleeding, but would we ever send a warrior into battle without armor? Without a shield? Without a sword,especially a king?
In chess, the queen is powerful, but the king is protected at all costs. He represents the bloodline, the knowledge, the survival of his kingdom. And in our family system, who is the king? The mother. And who is her armor? Her family, her partner, the people who are supposed to stand by her.
Yet, instead of standing as her armor, society becomes another battle she must fight.
A mother’s armor is not a diaper bag or a bassinet. It is the people she can rely on without guilt. The ones who tend to her wounds—not the physical ones, but the emotional ones, the silent tears hidden beneath the storm of hormones.
A mother is not just a caretaker; she is the foundation of the family. Her body, mind, and emotions are forced to change beyond her control, yet she is expected to manage it all alone.
The Final Question
Living with a new mom is not easy. She is emotional, unpredictable, and overwhelmed. She is trying to be perfect yet constantly feels guilty. And, instead of helping her, we judge her. Instead of protecting her, we make her feel unworthy.
But at what cost? What do we gain by breaking the very person who is shaping the next generation? What kind of world are we building if we neglect the hands that raise it? Can we not strive to be more patient and empathetic towards her while she learns the ropes of motherhood?
It is imperative—urgent—for society to reassess its priorities. Is it people or tradition? Is it kindness or ego?
And as a mother, I ask again: Where is the village?
