Each pregnancy alters your body irrevocably. And we don’t mean the stretch marks or the scars. We mean the forever-changed DNA. Ask any new mother and she’ll list out a litany of things that are now different for her. Like a forgetful mommy brain that, according to science, makes the mother-child bond stronger.
We at Bright Side salute all moms and believe that they are real-life superheroes. To honor all mothers, we found some mommy facts proving there’s nothing like a mother’s love. Or the science behind it.
1. Motherhood changes you, and your DNA.
A chimera is a legendary beast made of different animals. And we are likening mothers to chimeras because every child that a mother carries leaves their DNA inside her. Basically, fetal cells enter a mother’s bloodstream and stay in her body forever. Researchers allege that these cells can affect the mother both positively and negatively. On one hand, it can speed up healing but on the flip side, it can increase the risk of cancer.
So when they say motherhood changes you, it does so at an elemental level as well. Jennifer Garner’s stunning countenance reflects just that.
2. The baby can taste what their mother eats.
Studies show that what a mother eats flavors the amniotic fluid. Something a baby gulps down several times a day. Basically, a baby can taste what their mother eats from within the womb.
A study showed that infants whose mothers ate carrots while pregnant seemed to enjoy cereal prepared with carrot juice more than others. So if you want to develop your baby’s palate for healthy, crunchy veggies, chow down on them while you are pregnant.
3. Kissing babies is more “healing” than we think.
Any new mom will tell you that the urge to kiss a newborn is intense. It’s innate and biological in nature. And science says that when mothers kiss their babies, it’s not just love, it’s medicine.
A mother’s body samples the pathogens found on the baby’s face, and more magic happens within her own body. Especially to her breastmilk, the main source of nutrition and immunity for the baby.
4. Pregnant women make enormous amounts of estrogen.
Pregnancy sends a woman’s body into overdrive. The uterus expands to 500 times its normal size and then shrinks back after birth. The blood volume increases and to tackle that, the heart expands a little too.
And it’s not just this, a woman makes more estrogen in a single pregnancy than she would in her whole lifetime if she never got pregnant. There’s a reason why women are exhausted when expecting and need sleep and rest for a healthy delivery and recovery.
5. A mother’s smile is near magical.
Moms are near magic, and so is their smile or affection. While you need your mother at all ages, it’s the helpless infant who is most dependent on their mom.
Studies show that when mothers smile, coo, and show affection to their babies, their heartbeats synchronize into the same beat. So if a baby is distressed, it calms them down. This is the reason why newborns need mothers the most when they are fussy and refuse to be calmed down by other family members.
6. Carrying boys can make you more nauseous.
There’s a reason why little boys are made of “snips and snails and puppy dog tails” or so goes the nursery rhyme. This is because mothers who carry boys are more likely to be nauseous in the first and second trimesters, a study shows.
This is not to say that women expecting girls cannot have morning sickness or that all women who carry boys have more nausea. It’s just that if you are expecting a boy, chances are you may experience more nausea or food aversions.
7. Babies name their mamas.
“Mom, mama, mummy, mamma, ammi, ma, me, emi, mimi.” There’s a pattern in the name for mother in all languages and this is because the “em” sounds are usually the first vocalization for a baby. It’s also the easiest sound a baby can make while babbling. And so it’s our babies who name us and call us mamas.
8. The mommy brain fog is very real.
If you see new moms looking lost, there’s a scientific reason for this. Each pregnancy affects a woman’s brain and makes her lose gray matter. The effects last for around 2 years. Science says that this temporary bewilderment makes mothers closer to their babies as well.
That said, the gray matter regenerates and any confusion or forgetfulness is passing. The bond between a mother and her child is permanent.
9. A mother’s voice is as soothing as a hug.
A study has shown that a mother’s voice, even on the telephone, is as calming as a hug. Researchers introduced stress to a group of girls and then had 1/3 of them hug their mothers, another 1/3 of them talk to their mothers, and 1/3 watched an emotionally neutral film. The girls who spoke to their mothers calmed down much faster, just like those who hugged.
This proves that if you are under stress, your mother’s voice can flood oxytocin into your bloodstream, making you feel better. And we think Jennifer Garner already knows that, pictured here with her mother.
10. Babies can cry in the womb.
The baby’s first cry is not post-birth, rather studies now show that they can express displeasure inside the womb. This can happen as early as 28 weeks gestation.
Researchers played low-decibel sounds on the mother’s belly and could see that the baby opened their mouth and exhibited crying-like behavior. But it’s a silent cry. Researchers also added that this in-vitro crying was nothing the mother should worry about.
11. Pregnancies leave women vulnerable to tooth decay.
Pregnant women are at risk for tooth decay and there are many reasons why. The changes in diet due to cravings may give some women a sweet tooth and the hormones that cause nausea, meaning more acidity on your mouth, to mention a few. This leads to gum disease and decay.
A simple way to prevent it all is by making oral health a priority, especially when you are pregnant.
12. The earliest milk bottle use came to be 7,000 years ago.
As it turns out, the breast/bottle debate is prehistoric. And mamas back then were pretty innovative too. Researchers have found little clay vessels, some shaped into mythical animals with hands and feet, with milk residue in them.
The earliest of them date back to 7,000 years ago and have been identified as prehistoric feeding bottles for babies. The dairy residue has been identified as breastmilk and milk from a cow, sheep, or goat.
13. The Ice Age made human breast milk more nutritious.
Human beings need sunlight to survive because our bodies only synthesize vitamin D in the sun. Allegedly, the last Ice Age should have wiped us out because newborns were not getting any vitamin D, considering the intense cold and lack of sunshine.
Scientists believe that a genetic tweak happened and mothers could transmit vitamin D and essential fatty acids to their newborn babies, and this may have ensured human survival.
14. Pregnancies can be contagious.
A study of more than 30,000 women conducted in Germany has indicated that pregnancy is contagious. It spreads from woman to woman in workplaces, in an endearing way. The results stated that “in the year after a colleague gives birth, transition rates to first pregnancies double.”
So if you are in the workplace and someone is pregnant, expect more pregnancies to pop up.
15. Most mammal moms carry their babies on the left.
Human mothers and even some mammal mamas cradle their babies on the left side of their bodies, closer to their heart. This is irrespective of a left-handed or right-handed mom. Science says that all the sensory information that comes from the left side of the body is processed on the right side of the brain.
The right side is where all the emotions are. And surprisingly enough, babies prefer to keep their moms on their left side as well, so it works for both mom and babe.
Bonus: Celebrity moms speak about motherhood.
Rosie Huntington-Whiteley
“I did start to feel this new sense of life. And now my confidence is so much greater.”
Lauren Burnham Luyendyk
“Breastfeeding is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’m in awe of the ladies that make it look so effortless, and even the ones who don’t, you are superheroes.”
Do you have any other experiences as a child or a mother that show us that moms are actual superhumans? Share your motherhood stories with us and spread the joy.
Please note: This article was updated in June 2022 to correct source material and factual inaccuracies.
Preview photo credit laurenluyendyk / Instagram
My Son Is Failing School After Moving in with His Dad — I Just Found Out What’s Really Going on in That House
After her teenage son moves in with his dad, Claire tries not to interfere, until his silence speaks louder than words. When she finds out what’s really happening in that house, she does what mothers do best: she shows up. This is a quiet, powerful story of rescue, resilience, and unconditional love.
When my 14-year-old son, Mason, asked to live with his dad after the divorce, I said yes.
Not because I wanted to (believe me, I would have preferred to have him with me). But because I didn’t want to stand in the way of a father and son trying to find each other again. I still had Mason with me on weekends and whenever he wanted. I just didn’t have him every single day.
A teenage boy sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
He’d missed Eddie. His goofy, fun-loving dad who made pancakes at midnight and wore backward baseball caps to soccer games. And Eddie seemed eager to step up. He wanted to be involved. More grounded.
So, I let Mason go.
I told myself that I was doing the right thing. That giving my son space wasn’t giving him up.
A man holding a stack of pancakes | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t expect it to break me quietly.
At first, Mason called often. He sent me silly selfies and updates about the pizza-and-movie nights with his dad. He sent me snapshots of half-burnt waffles and goofy grins.
I saved every photo. I rewatched every video time and time again. I missed him but I told myself this was good.
This was what he needed.
A stack of half-burnt waffles on a plate | Source: Midjourney
He sounded happy. Free. And I wanted to believe that meant he was okay.
But then the calls slowed down. The texts came less frequently. Conversations turned into one-word replies.
Then silence.
And then calls started coming from somewhere else. Mason’s teachers.
A concerned teacher | Source: Midjourney
One emailed about missing homework.
“He said he forgot, Claire. But it’s not like him.”
Another called during her lunch break, speaking in between bites of a sandwich, I assumed.
“He seems disconnected. Like he’s here but not really… Is everything okay at home?”
A sandwich on a plate | Source: Midjourney
And then the worst one, his math teacher.
“We caught him cheating during a quiz. That’s not typical behavior. I just thought you should know… he looked lost.”
That word stuck to me like static.
A side profile of a worried woman | Source: Midjourney
Lost.
Not rebellious. Not difficult. Just… lost.
It landed in my chest with a cold weight. Because that wasn’t my Mason. My boy had always been thoughtful, careful. The kind of kid who double-checked his work and blushed when he didn’t get an A.
I tried calling him that night. No answer. I left a voicemail.
A boy sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
Hours passed. Nothing.
I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at the last photo he’d sent—him and Eddie holding up a burnt pizza like a joke.
But it didn’t feel funny anymore. Something was wrong. And the silence was screaming.
I called Eddie. Not accusatory, just concerned. My voice soft, neutral, trying to keep the peace.
A close up of a concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
I was careful, walking that tightrope divorced moms know too well, where one wrong word can be used as proof that you’re “controlling” or “dramatic.”
His response?
A sigh. A tired, dismissive sigh.
“He’s a teenager, Claire,” he said. “They get lazy from time to time. You’re overthinking again.”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Overthinking. I hated that word.
It hit something in me. He used to say that when Mason was a baby and colicky. When I hadn’t slept in three nights and sat on the bathroom floor crying, holding our screaming newborn while Eddie snored through it.
“You worry too much,” he’d mumbled back then. “Relax. He’ll be fine.”
A crying baby | Source: Midjourney
And I believed him. I wanted to believe him. Because the alternative… that I was alone in the trenches… was just too heavy to carry.
Now here I was again.
Mason still crying, just silently this time. And Eddie still rolling over, pretending everything was okay.
But this time? My silence had consequences.
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
This wasn’t a newborn with reflux. This was a boy unraveling quietly in another house.
And something deep inside me, the part of me that’s always known when Mason needed me, started to scream out.
One Thursday afternoon, I didn’t ask Eddie’s permission. I just drove to Mason’s school to fetch him. It was raining, a thin, steady drizzle that blurred the world into soft edges. The kind of weather that makes you feel like time is holding its breath.
A worried woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
I parked where I knew he’d see me. Turned off the engine. Waited.
When the bell rang, kids poured out in clusters, laughing, yelling, dodging puddles. Then I saw him, alone, walking slowly, like each step cost my baby something.
He slid into the passenger seat without a word.
A pensive teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
And my heart shattered.
His hoodie clung to him. His shoes were soaked. His backpack hung off one shoulder like an afterthought. But it was his face that undid me.
Sunken eyes. Lips pale and cracked. Shoulders curved inward like he was trying to make himself disappear.
I handed him a granola bar with shaking hands. He stared at it but didn’t move.
A granola bar on a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney
The heater ticked, warming the space between us but not enough to thaw the ache in my chest.
Then, he whispered, barely above the sound of the rain on the windshield.
“I can’t sleep, Mom. I don’t know what to do…”
That was the moment I knew, my son was not okay.
An upset boy sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
The words came slowly. Like he was holding them in with both hands, trying not to spill. Like if he let go, he might shatter.
Eddie had lost his job. Just weeks after Mason moved in. He didn’t tell anyone. Not Mason. Not me. He tried to keep the illusion alive, same routines, same smile, same tired jokes.
But behind the curtain, everything was falling apart.
An upset man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
The fridge was almost always empty. Lights flickered constantly. Mason said he stopped using the microwave because it made a weird noise when it ran too long. Eddie was out most nights.
“Job interviews,” he claimed but Mason said that he didn’t always come back.
So my son made do. He had cereal for breakfast. Sometimes dry because there was no milk. He did laundry when he ran out of socks. He ate spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar and called it lunch. Dried crackers for dinner.
A plate of crackers | Source: Midjourney
He did his homework in the dark, hoping that the Wi-Fi would hold long enough to submit assignments.
“I didn’t want you to think less of him,” Mason said. “Or me.”
That’s when the truth hit. He wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t rebelling.
He was drowning. And all the while, he was trying to keep his father afloat. Trying to hold up a house that was already caving in. Trying to protect two parents from breaking further.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Midjourney
And I hadn’t seen it.
Not because I didn’t care. But because I told myself staying out of it was respectful. That giving them space was the right thing.
But Mason didn’t need space. He needed someone to call him back home.
That night, I took him back with me. There were no court orders. No phone calls. Just instinct. He didn’t argue at all.
The exterior of a cozy home | Source: Midjourney
He slept for 14 hours straight. His face was relaxed, like his body was finally safe enough to let go.
The next morning, he sat at the kitchen table and asked if I still had that old robot mug. The one with the chipped handle.
I found it tucked in the back of the cupboard. He smiled into it and I stepped out of the room before he could see my eyes fill.
A sleeping boy | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” he asked a bit later. “Can you make me something to eat?”
“How about a full breakfast plate?” I asked. “Bacon, eggs, sausages… the entire thing!”
He just smiled and nodded.
A breakfast plate | Source: Midjourney
I filed for a custody change quietly. I didn’t want to tear him apart. I didn’t want to tear either of them apart. I knew that my ex-husband was struggling too.
But I didn’t send Mason back. Not until there was trust again. Not until Mason felt like he had a choice. And a place where he could simply breathe and know that someone was holding the air steady for him.
It took time. But healing always does, doesn’t it?
At first, Mason barely spoke. He’d come home from school, drop his backpack by the door and drift to the couch like a ghost. He’d stare at the TV without really watching.
A boy sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Some nights, he’d pick at his dinner like the food was too much for him to handle.
I didn’t push. I didn’t pepper him with questions or hover with worried eyes.
I just made the space soft. Predictable. Safe.
We started therapy. Gently. No pressure. I let him choose the schedule, the therapist, even the music on the car ride there. I told him we didn’t have to fix everything at once, we just had to keep showing up.
A smiling therapist sitting in her office | Source: Midjourney
And then, quietly, I started leaving notes on his bedroom door.
“Proud of you.”
“You’re doing better than you think, honey.”
“You don’t have to talk. I see you anyway.”
“There’s no one else like you.”
Colored Post-its stuck on a door | Source: Midjourney
For a while, they stayed untouched. I’d find them curled at the edges, the tape starting to yellow. But I left them up anyway.
Then one morning, I found a sticky note on my bedside table. Written in pencil with shaky handwriting.
“Thanks for seeing me. Even when I didn’t say anything. You’re the best, Mom.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and held that note like it was something sacred.
A pink Post-it pad on a nightstand | Source: Midjourney
A month in, Mason stood in the kitchen one afternoon, backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, Mom? Would it be okay if I stayed after school for robotics club?”
I froze, mid-stir, the sauce bubbling quietly on the stove.
“Yeah,” I said, careful not to sound too excited. “Of course. That sounds great.”
Students at a robotics club | Source: Midjourney
His eyes flicked up, almost shyly.
“I think I want to start building stuff again.”
And I smiled because I knew exactly what that meant.
“Go, honey,” I said. “I’ll make some garlic bread and we can pop it in the oven when you get back.”
A tray of cheesy garlic bread | Source: Midjourney
Two weeks later, he brought home a model bridge made of popsicle sticks and hot glue. It collapsed the second he picked it up.
He stared at the wreckage for a second, then laughed. Like, really laughed.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll build another one.”
God, I wanted to freeze that moment. Bottle it. Frame it. I wanted this moment to last forever. Because that was my boy.
A model bridge made of popsicle sticks | Source: Midjourney
The one who used to build LEGO cities and dream out loud about being an engineer. The one who’d been buried under silence, shame, and survival.
And now he was finding his way back. One stick, one smile, and one note at a time.
In May, I got an email from his teacher. End-of-year assembly.
LEGO blocks on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
“You’ll want to be there,” she wrote.
They called his name and my hands started shaking.
“Most Resilient Student!”
He walked to the stage, not rushed or embarrassed. He stood tall and proud. He paused, scanned the crowd, and smiled.
A smiling boy standing on a stage | Source: Midjourney
One hand lifted toward me, the other toward Eddie, sitting quietly in the back row, tears shining.
That one gesture said everything we hadn’t been able to say. We were all in this together. Healing.
Eddie still calls. Sometimes it’s short, just a quick, “How was school?” or “You still into that robot stuff, son?”
Sometimes they talk about movies they used to watch together. Sometimes there are awkward silences. But Mason always picks up.
A close up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
It’s not perfect. But it’s something.
Mason lives with me full-time now. His room is messy again, in the good way. The alive way. Clothes draped over his chair. Music too loud. Cups mysteriously migrating to the bathroom sink.
I find little notes he writes to himself taped to the wall above his desk.
A messy room | Source: Midjourney
Things like:
“Remember to breathe.”
“One step at a time.”
“You’re not alone, Mase.”
He teases me about an ancient phone and greying hair. He complains about the asparagus I give him with his grilled fish. He tries to talk me into letting him dye his hair green.
Grilled fish and asparagus on a plate | Source: Midjourney
And when he walks past me in the kitchen and asks for help, I stop what I’m doing and do it.
Not because I have all the answers. But because he asked. Because he trusts me enough to ask. And that matters more than any fix.
I’ve forgiven myself for not seeing it sooner. I understand now that silence isn’t peace. That distance isn’t always respect.
A happy teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, love is loud. Sometimes, it’s showing up uninvited. Sometimes, it’s saying, I know you didn’t call but I’m here anyway.
Mason didn’t need freedom. He needed rescue. And I’ll never regret reaching for him when he was slipping under.
Because that’s what moms do. We dive in. We hold tight. And we don’t let go until the breathing steadies, the eyes open and the light comes back.
A smiling woman sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply