It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon when my husband finally announced something I had long sensed was true.

“We’re grumpy because you’re grumpy,” he said.

I had a good reason for being grumpy, I thought. I had an article due the next day and planned on finishing it while my husband was home to watch the kids. He thought he was helping by taking the two older boys out of the house, but I was left with a fussy, teething 1-year-old who wanted to be held constantly. When they finally came home, I had gotten zero work done. Yes, I was aggravated. As had happened so many times before, as soon as they all sensed my mood, they mirrored it.

“Why is it my job to be happy and peppy?” I asked him. “I’m never going to be happy and peppy.”

“We just wish you’d stop being so grumpy all the time,” he sighed.

I’m not sure if I was angry because he noticed my emotional influence on the family, or because he felt it warranted bringing up. Why — on top of all the other things I am expected to do and be as a mother — must I also constantly model positivity? As someone who struggles with anxiety and depression, this expectation feels especially unbearable.

My depression began after giving birth to my first child nine years ago. I didn’t realize I had postpartum depression until months afterward because it mostly manifested as rage — I was an entirely different person. Since then, I've managed feelings of agitation and disinterestedness that wax and wane with intensity.

Women often bear the brunt of setting the emotional tone of the household.

My anxiety has me always imagining the worst possible outcome that could happen to my kids in any given situation: In a yard full of clover, I see only bee stings. I get stuck inside my own head, ruminating on existential and everyday worries. Then add in planning meals and activities, cleaning the house or myself: It all feels overwhelming. My anti-depressant medication helps, but it’s by no means a happy pill.



Remember Branch, the cautious, disgruntled survivalist from the children’s movie Trolls? “I don’t do happiness,” the little gray creature declares near the start of the film. “Why don’t you try a little positivity?” hippie troll Creek suggests. Then he turns to the insufferably perky and pink troll, Poppy, and tells her to “tune out these negative vibrations. They’re toxic.”

Am I really toxic because happiness doesn’t come easily for me? Science says yes!

A large body of research points to the virality of feelings — emotions, apparently, are contagious. And women often bear the brunt of setting the emotional tone of the household. In different-sex relationships, studies repeatedly find a woman’s stress affects her partner’s happiness more than his stress affects her. Husbands reported lower relationship quality and overall life satisfaction when their wives were unhappy in their marriage. And a happy wife even translates into a longer life, as people with unhappy spouses die sooner.

The picture you post on Instagram. Olivia Campbell

And for mothers, it goes much deeper. Society demands women must smile, but moms have to mean it. Even in utero, a mom's chronic stress can affect baby's stress-hormone levels. A mother’s stress continues to be contagious once her baby is born, with her tone of voice, touch, and even smell influencing her baby's mood. Maternal depression can hinder child development and even affect a child’s psychological health well beyond infancy. Truly, your emotional influence doesn’t stop once your kids get older. A mother’s wellbeing is the basis of her child’s wellbeing: Depression and stress in mothers is associated with more emotional, behavioral, and self-regulation difficulties in their children. Maternal stress in pregnancy may significantly increase the child’s risk of developing a psychiatric disorder in adulthood.

The picture that shows reality. Olivia Campbell

All of these studies are presumably meant to illuminate the importance of identifying and treating mental health issues in mothers, which I know is important. But when I read them, but all I hear is: “You’re ruining your children. You’re failing as a mother.” Now, I’m worrying about worrying.

A trip down the parenting aisle in the bookstore reinforces my emotional responsibility as I scan titles like ; ; and . Then there are the articles regularly splashed across my newsfeed urging me to adopt the “17 Habits of Very Happy Moms,” offering to let me in on the “10 Secrets of Happy Moms,” and informing me where I’m going wrong with “4 Things Happy Moms Never Do.” One magazine hit close to home when it warned, “millions of children are caught in the web of maternal depression.”

Danish babies cry less. Researchers believe it may be because their parents are less stressed out thanks to high levels of social support and liberal parental leave programs. Here in bootstraps America, happiness is a state many moms find difficult to achieve. What we need is better support systems, medication, and therapy — with on-site childcare. What we’re getting is a chorus of wagging fingers telling us we are just not trying hard enough to be happy.



I want to be able to express a full range of emotions without being derided for possibly infecting my family with them.

This leaves many mothers feeling forced to hide behind fake smiles. Not letting your feelings out means they’re left to fester and ooze deep down, eventually bursting out in unhealthy ways at seemingly minor annoyances. To you, it feels like the final straw, but to everyone else, it just looks like a really out-of-proportion reaction. Like when your husband only sees that you’re angry because he took the two older kids out for a few hours.

It’s not that I want to be unhappy — I love laughing and cuddling with my kids — I just want to be able to express a full range of emotions without being derided for possibly infecting my family with them. Positivity is not a prerequisite for motherhood, as much as our culture may demand otherwise. It’s fine for my kids to see that moms get angry and overwhelmed; it’s good for them to know that I sought treatment for my mood disorder. I am trying to be more open with my family about my emotions before they bubble over, and in return I hope they can render compassion over judgement. Then we can all be a little less grumpy.

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Olivia Campbell Olivia Campbell is a journalist and author specializing in medicine and women; her work has appeared in The Guardian, The Washington Post, and New York Magazine/The Cut, among others.

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