Nikkundanna.

Għax it-tarbija oġġett, u jien għandi x'naghmel... nitfgħuhom fiċ-child care.

Materjaliżmu biex nixtru l-kamra tas-sodda.

Ma nieqafx nikkundanna.

While the Bishop's intentions were good, his choice of words wasn't. The undercurrents are very much about blaming mothers and condemning her decisions. As a reaction, it created an avalanche of social media posts telling us where a mother's place should be. Children are far from treated as objects, exchanged for material goods, just because she has no other familial child care support system and relies on professional services offered at child care centres.

Mothers' guilt is constantly being played out, sometimes indirectly, sometimes very explicitly. We toy with women's feelings of guilt for every possible choice: for not having children, for having them, for staying home, for working, for sending their children to childcare, or for not sending them at all. No matter the path a mother takes, there is always an expectation to feel she has fallen short in some way.

First, she was encouraged to join the workforce because too few women were economically active and we ranked lowest in EU statistics. Her contribution was suddenly needed, welcomed, even celebrated. Then, free childcares were introduced to make this participation possible, presented as support, as progress, as choice. Now, she is blamed for doing exactly that.

I respectfully ask the Bishop to place himself in a mother's shoes if he truly wishes to understand her journey. Not the mother he described, the one caricatured as chasing a luxurious bedroom, but the mother who has no real choice. The mother who works because the bills must be paid, food must be put on the table, and loans do not pause for "career breaks." The mother who seeks stability and dignity without having to depend on state benefits. This is not an exception; it is the daily reality for thousands of mothers.

Criticise the system for offering maternity leave that is too short and benefits that are insufficient to adequately support the care of an infant, not the mother, who is already doing her utmost under challenging circumstances. Mothers are often navigating physical recovery, emotional adjustment, and the pressure of redefining themselves in this new role, all while striving to be the best possible mothers. Advocate instead on how they should be offered affordable and well-supported options that allow parents to spend the first one or two years with their children without the fear of financial constraint.

The mothers I know carry their children at the centre of their lives. Their wellbeing guides daily decisions, often without recognition.  It is deeply shameful to suggest that mothers see their children as objects. These accusations wound women and reinforce harmful narratives that punish women for every decision they make. They do not "hand children off" carelessly; rather, they carefully choose the carers of their children. Balance responsibility, love, and necessity, always wanting more time, more presence, more opportunity to nurture.

Recently, I spoke to a pregnant woman beaming with excitement as she showed me scans of her unborn child. Her eyes were full of hope as she spoke about the future she was already planning with care and love. Yes, childcare was part of those plans, not as an afterthought, and certainly not as neglect, but as a necessity. She chose a centre close to her workplace, not because she wanted distance from her baby, but because her employer expects her to return to work. The system leaves her little room to choose otherwise. She was not careless. She was not "throwing" her baby anywhere. She was preparing responsibly for her child's wellbeing within the limits imposed on her. She was excited but equally anxious how this will work out for her. Condemning language serves no purpose other than to deepen the hurt these women already endure.

And let us be clear: these remarks do not only judge mothers, they also demean childcare workers. From my own experience, carers do exceptional work under demanding conditions. They provide safety, structure, emotional care, and stimulation. They nurture curiosity, confidence, and trust. For many children, they are an extension of the village that helps raise them.

It has never been the mother alone who raises a child, but the entire village that surrounds her. The longing for a past in which every mother's world revolved effortlessly around her children is, in many ways, an illusion. Beneath that nostalgia were crowded homes, stretched hands, and empty cupboards, where love coexisted with scarcity and exhaustion. Motherhood was often an act of endurance as much as devotion. In post-war Malta, when fertility rates soared, women's life and fertility decisions were at the hands of their husbands and following religiously the Sunday sermon. They brought children into the world, with little control over their own bodies. The past was not always about constant warmth or certainty; it was uneven, demanding. Childhood was not always easier. Nostalgia tends to get the better of us to cloud reality.

In light of the reactionary comments circulating on social media, it can feel like a case we are really throwing the baby out with the bathwater. We are dismissing decades of hard-won progress that have allowed women to achieve financial independence and provide security not only for themselves but also for their children. Mothers do not deserve suspicion for doing their best within a system that demands their labour while constantly questioning their choices. Advocate instead for working conditions that offer real flexibility, allowing parents to navigate the joys of parenthood without risking their financial security.

Mothers deserve understanding, fair conditions and flexibility, not condemnation. Caregivers deserve respect, not dismissal.