What I learned from Dr. Molly Millwood: Emotional Ambivalence and Motherhood

Motherhood is often painted in sweeping strokes of joy, fulfillment, and unconditional love. And while those are certainly part of the picture, they don’t tell the whole story. What happens to the parts that feel raw, exhausting, and even maddening? This is where Dr. Molly Millwood’s work comes in, offering a necessary and deeply validating perspective on what it means to become a mother.

When Caroline and I had the privilege of speaking with Molly on The Moms Are Alright, she offered insights that were not only intellectually compelling but also profoundly human. As a clinical psychologist, author, and mother, she has spent years exploring the intersection of maternal well-being, identity, and relationships. Our conversation was a masterclass in acknowledging the messy, often contradictory realities of motherhood—and why embracing those contradictions is the key to survival.

Ambivalence is Not a Problem—It’s a Given

One of the most powerful takeaways from our conversation was Molly’s reframing of maternal ambivalence. Ambivalence isn’t the same as indifference; it’s the simultaneous coexistence of 2 (or more) conflicting emotions. The paradox of motherhood isn’t a sign that you’re failing—it’s a sign that you’re in it.

Motherhood, she explained, is full of paradoxes: craving space from your baby and missing them the moment you step away, feeling both intoxicated by their presence and bored by the monotony of their care, longing for the self you were before while embracing the transformation that’s underway. The problem isn’t ambivalence itself, but the fact that we aren’t told to expect it. Instead, we’re sold a narrative that equates maternal joy with maternal success, making any experience outside of that feel like failure.

The Invisible Weight of Shame

One of the most striking moments in our conversation was when Molly described how shame magnifies maternal distress. Women aren’t just struggling—they’re struggling in silence, wondering what’s wrong with them for feeling anything less than radiant joy.

She pointed out that when mothers encounter the full spectrum of emotions—anger, resentment, grief, even fleeting moments of hatred toward their baby or partner—they often interpret these feelings as evidence that they’re bad mothers. But in reality, these emotions are simply a reflection of an impossible balancing act. Motherhood demands that we constantly negotiate our own needs against those of our children. And yet, we exist in a culture that tells us we shouldn’t have needs at all.

The antidote to shame, Molly emphasized, is connection. When we hide our struggles, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to receive validation. The illusion that other mothers are doing just fine is just that—an illusion. Breaking that illusion requires radical honesty and a willingness to admit, out loud, that we’re all fumbling our way through this.

The Myth of Happiness as a Baseline

Another critical insight that we uncovered was how our culture mistakenly frames happiness as the default state. We’re conditioned to believe that if we aren’t perpetually grateful, something must be wrong. This is especially true in motherhood, where any complaint is often quickly met with, But you’re growing a human! or At least you have a healthy baby etc.

This relentless push toward gratitude leaves no room for the real, complicated emotional experience of becoming a mother. Molly argues that true mental health isn’t about eliminating discomfort—it’s about increasing our tolerance for the full range of human emotions. The goal isn’t to feel only joy, but to expand our capacity to hold both the joy and the struggle without feeling broken by it.

Redefining What it Means to Be a "Good Mother"

If there’s one message I hope readers take from our conversation with Molly, it’s this: Your worth as a mother is not measured by how effortlessly you navigate it. Struggle is not a sign of failure—it’s a sign of motherhood itself.

So, if you find yourself questioning whether you’re doing it right, remember that the discomfort you feel is not a personal failure. It’s the inevitable, transformative process of becoming. The more we talk about it, the more we normalize it, and the less alone we all become.

For anyone who hasn’t yet read To Have and to Hold, I can’t recommend it enough. It’s a book that doesn’t just inform—it validates, reassures, and reminds us that we’re not broken. We’re just human.