Rediscovering Joy in Motherhood

On a recent podcast, Jen Fulwiler—a comedian and mom of six—shared something that really hit home for me. She said, “God, I love being a mom,” with a kind of genuine pleasure that we don’t hear often enough. She mentioned how she finally found friends and a community, and that struck a chord.

Jen has always inspired me. When she had her sixth child, I was expecting my first, so in a way, she was already well ahead on a path I was just beginning to consider. She made it seem not just doable, but fun. There was no pretense of her having dreamt of a big family since childhood; she was practical and honest, and that joy she expressed really resonated with me.

Three Unconventional Ways to Celebrate Motherhood

For me, motherhood wasn’t about fixing any past wounds, though I did have reservations about what it might stir up. My childhood lacked stability and warmth. I had a single mother who battled illness most of my life, and she passed away when I was just 16. By the time I was 19, my father was gone too. Losing my family at such a young age made me adept at carving out my own path. I learned survival skills, decision-making, and how to stand on my own two feet in a world that felt… well, a bit empty. It’s lonely, really, and that sense of longing can become a constant hum in the background. I never thought that might change.

Then I became a mother.

It wasn’t instantaneous, but something inside me started to transform. Where there once were voids, warmth and connection began to fill in. I started to feel the rhythm of life, a sense of home.

You know, in today’s culture, declaring “I love being a mother” almost feels wrong. Motherhood is so often depicted as a struggle or a burden. But, and this is essential: I don’t expect my children to mend me—that’s not their role. Yet, if I’m honest, they did heal a part of me. They taught me how to love more deeply.

When Jen spoke of finding friends, community, her “squad,” I couldn’t help but smile. I feel that way now too.

This doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a freewheeling parent. I set rules, draw boundaries, and I say “no” quite a bit. It’s not about being the “cool mom.” I’m here to raise amazing individuals, and most days, we genuinely enjoy one another’s company.

We share laughter, take walks, weave inside jokes into our days, and turn up the music in the car. My home is bursting with life and energy. There was a time I dreaded returning to my empty space. Now, I find myself lingering in the car before stepping inside, savoring the peace—because love fills the rooms now.

Sure, our culture talks a lot about how exhausting motherhood can be. Believe me, some days feel overwhelming. The constant mess, the noise—it can get to you. But what often gets overlooked is how fun and joyful it can truly be. How rewarding it is to nurture and comfort.

Yes, it’s almost taboo to say “I love being a mother” in today’s world. The narrative generally leans toward the gritty details of how tough it is, how wine becomes a necessity to survive bedtime, and how the mental load can feel suffocating. Sure, that aspect is real. But it isn’t the whole story.

Honestly, I cherish the time spent with my kids. I look forward to them coming home from camp, and I eagerly await the end of summer—not because they dislike camp, but because I miss them. As the fall approaches, I can’t wait to have them back for homeschooling.

Motherhood has given me so much more than just a new title. It has restored a sense of family I thought I’d lost forever, something I didn’t even realize I needed. It’s provided me the chance to build a loving home, a space filled with stability and safety—something I longed for during my upbringing.

It’s curious how we often downplay the joys of parenting, almost as if we’re embarrassed to admit how fulfilling it can be. It seems necessary to break that silence, to celebrate the positive along with the challenging. It’s crucial to let women know that motherhood doesn’t only revolve around sacrifices—it can be downright enjoyable.

Jen’s comments reminded me that I’m not alone in this experience. For those of us who came to motherhood bearing our own scars, there can be unexpected healing. Maybe, like Jen, we spent a long time feeling isolated, only to find our children aren’t just part of our next chapter but our tribe.

They help not only to tend to old wounds but also to create new stories—where laughter takes precedence over loss.

My squad—my little team.

And they do more than just heal; they give life a new narrative.