Among all stay-at-home parents (in the United States), 82 percent are mothers.
In heterosexual relationships, women are roughly 3.7 times more likely to be at-home parents than their male partners, according to Pew Research Center’s analysis of U.S. Census data. (About 60 percent of Americans say children are “better off” when a parent stays home to focus on family.)
Growing up as a young man in small-town Ohio, with some religious-influenced beliefs about how valuable it was for parents to be the primary caretakers through the early developmental years, I saw it as a privilege—a good thing—if a parent, almost always mom, was able to stay home with babies.
For a variety of reasons, when two working professionals decide it makes more sense for one parent to stay home with kids rather than hire a nanny or use daycare, mom ends up being the stay-at-home parent the vast majority of the time. And when mom stays home, the primary reason is usually caregiving.
Interestingly, at least to me, of the 18 percent of stay-at-home parents who are dads, only 23 percent are doing so to be the primary caretaker for their children. Most cite disability, retirement, school, or unemployment as the reason for being home with kids.
The point of this is NOT “Look how much more often women stay home with kids than men!”
I was simply trying to establish that it’s not just kind of true. This is absolutely our lived reality. Only 4 percent of all stay-at-home parents are fathers whose primary reason for staying home is caregiving.
All of these mothers used to be little girls and young women with dreams and visions for their future.
Attorney. Nurse. Marketing executive. Doctor. Newsroom producer. Veterinarian. Teacher. Chef.
An entire identity of I’m going to grow up and be this thing.
And they work, and they work, and they work, and they work toward it individually, and then after meeting their partner, alongside them.
Then—boom—pregnancy.
I understand the cynical or less-compassionate pushback that mothers are ALSO responsible for their decisions, and choosing to get married and have a family tends to not be done in isolation.
Multiple things can be true at the same time.
A mother can believe: “This is the most important thing I want to be doing,” about staying home and caring for children.
And that same mother can believe: “This is isolating, exhausting, and emotionally difficult.”
These simultaneously held beliefs and experiences are not contradictory.
But now something is missing. Something went away. Something was left behind.
Like moving to an exciting new place far away, it may be super exciting and something a person is looking forward to while also feeling sad at saying goodbye to friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers.
She lost something.
She used to be an individual, and her identity was whatever her pursuits and dreams were.
But now it has been replaced with Mother. And grieving the loss of an old life, or feeling lonely and uncertain doesn’t mean a mother can’t still fiercely love and protect her children, and embrace the role.
It just means something was lost. Something was sacrificed.
Often, in these relationships, their husbands/partners sacrificed less from a purpose and identity standpoint.
Not nothing. That’s important. Men often take enormous pride in going to work every day in service of their families, and they should. There is love in that. There is sacrifice in that. There is pressure in that. This isn’t about pretending one person’s contribution matters and the other person’s doesn’t.
It’s about noticing that one person’s contribution often remains visible and socially understood. There are paychecks, promotions, job titles, performance reviews, colleagues, clients, and other adults saying: “Great job.”
Meanwhile, the other person’s contribution can become so embedded in the machinery of family life that it disappears into the walls.
(article continues below)
I’m opening a small number of two-week guest passes for people who are seriously considering joining The Relationship Repair Workshop, but want to experience the room before committing.
This is for people who know something in their relationship needs to change.
People trying to rebuild trust.
People who want to communicate without every hard conversation turning into defensiveness, shutdown, or another painful loop.
People who don’t just want more information, but want a place to practice repair, accountability, emotional safety, and the habits that help relationships feel better over time.
I’m opening five two-week guest passes in each group:
Five men.
Five women.
Five couples.
No pressure. No obligation. Just come see what it feels like to do this work in real time with other people who are trying to repair trust, communicate better, and build safer relationships.
First come, first served.
If you’re interested, reply to this newsletter or email me directly at mf@matthewfray.com.
Workshop schedule:
Men’s Workshop
Tuesday nights at 7:30 p.m. ET for 90 minutes.
Limited to 15 participants.
Couples Workshop
Wednesday nights at 7:30 p.m. ET for 90 minutes.
Limited to 15 couples.
Women’s Workshop
Thursday nights at 7:30 p.m. ET for 90 minutes.
Co-led by my friend and colleague Erin Clancy Weant, LCSW.
Limited to 15 participants.
The rooms are intentionally small so there’s space for real conversation, practice, and support.
The appointments get scheduled. The clothes get purchased. The snacks get packed. The sick days get absorbed. The birthday gifts get remembered. The school forms get filled out. The emotional temperature of the home gets monitored. The children are safe, fed, comforted, transported, bathed, loved, regulated, and alive.
And because it all keeps happening, it can start to look easy.
Like the absence of disaster is evidence that nothing hard is happening.
But that’s not how family life works. Sometimes, the reason everything feels okay is because one person is quietly carrying more than anyone is calculating for.
That’s the noticing part.
I don’t think most women in this situation are asking for a medal. I don’t think most are saying: “My life is harder than yours, and yours doesn’t count.” And I don’t think most of them are secretly hoping someone will swoop in with the perfect childcare arrangement that magically solves the ache.
Often, the longing is much more human than that.
I want you to see what this cost me.
I want you to understand that your life is partly being made possible by parts of mine that I had to set down.
I want you to know that I can love our children more than anything, and still miss the person I used to be.
I want you to understand that this is grief, not ingratitude.
That’s the thing I think many couples miss. Because when one partner names grief, the other partner often hears accusation. She says, “I feel like I lost myself,” and he hears, “You’re a bad husband.” She says, “I miss working,” and he hears, “You don’t appreciate what I do.” She says, “I feel invisible,” and he hears, “Nothing you do matters.”
What she may need most is not a defense, or a fix, or a spreadsheet proving the arrangement is rational. She may simply need the person she loves most to sit inside the discomfort of what she is saying long enough for her to feel less alone in it.
To notice.
To understand that being a stay-at-home parent can be beautiful and meaningful and chosen, while also being lonely and disorienting and full of loss.
To understand that motherhood did not erase the woman who came before it.
To understand that being grateful for the life you have does not mean you are forbidden from grieving the life you left behind.
Being seen doesn’t erase the sacrifice. It doesn’t give someone their old life back. It doesn’t automatically restore the identity that got swallowed by diapers, school pickups, grocery lists, and everyone else’s needs.
But it does something.
It puts the sacrifice back into the relationship where it belongs.
Not as resentment or scorekeeping.
As truth. As love. As the story of what this family cost, and who helped make it possible.
Sometimes, that’s where repair begins.
Not with one person finally proving they had it harder.
But with one person finally realizing:
I have been living inside a life that could not have been built without you, and I’m not going to let it stay invisible anymore.
Matthew Fray is the author of “This Is How Your Marriage Ends: A Hopeful Approach to Saving Relationships,” a relationship coach, and formerly the blogger at Must Be This Tall To Ride.
I spend most of my time helping people navigate conflict, communication breakdowns, repair, trust, and long-term relationship pain.
My book, This Is How Your Marriage Ends (1,000+ Amazon reviews, 4.6 stars)
1-on-1 coaching (If you need more flexible time or day options than my scheduling calendar allows, simply reply to this email newsletter that you’d like to schedule a time to meet.)
The new evening-hours Relationship Repair Workshop (seats are limited to 15 per group). This is a small-group coaching experience for people serious about making lasting changes.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.