The ones who mother

When does someone become a mother?

People often act like the answer is simple. The moment you give birth. Or maybe when you adopt. When there's a legal document, or a hospital bracelet, or a child calling you “mama.”

But I don’t think it works like that.

I’ve seen too many people in my life who never had kids of their own. Some by choice, some not, who still mother in the truest sense of the word. They care deeply. They look out for others. They notice what someone needs before it’s even said. They show up. They hold space. They nurture.

And yet, society rarely calls them mothers.

Because somewhere along the way, we decided that motherhood has to be tied to biology or ownership. You have to have a child. Raise a child. Be officially responsible for one.

But that’s not how I see it.

A mother is someone who mothers. It’s a verb before it’s a title. It’s something you do, not just something you become through a specific life event.

And that matters, especially on days like Mother’s Day. Because there are so many women ... and yes, men too ... who aren’t acknowledged, even though they spend their lives doing the very things we say we admire in mothers.

I think about stepmothers, co-parents, foster carers. I think about friends who’ve stepped in when someone needed care. I think about people in same-sex relationships who don’t fit the traditional mold, but who carry just as much emotional weight. I think about those who wanted to be mothers and didn’t get the chance ... not because they weren’t willing, but because life didn’t make space.

And honestly, it frustrates me that we draw the line so narrowly.

It’s not about pity or inclusion for the sake of being nice. It’s about being honest.There are people out there doing the work of mothering. The real, hard, beautiful work, and we don’t always see them. We should.

Let’s stop acting like motherhood begins and ends with giving birth. Let’s pay attention to the ones who mother, whether or not the world calls them that.