The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness. When you become

In the profound and timeless words of Jessica Lange, “The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness. When you become a mother, you are no longer the center of your own universe. You relinquish that position to your children.” we find a truth that resonates through the ages—a truth older than language itself. These words do not merely describe an act of care, but a transformation of the soul, a sacred passage from self-centered being to self-giving love. To become a mother is not simply to bring forth life, but to surrender one’s own orbit so that new stars may rise. In this surrender there is pain, yes, but also transcendence. For the mother, in relinquishing her throne, ascends to a higher form of love—the love that asks for nothing, yet gives everything.

Jessica Lange, a woman of deep emotion and artistic spirit, spoke from experience—not as one idealizing motherhood, but as one who had walked through its complexity. Known for her fierce independence and depth of character, she discovered in motherhood a force greater than ambition, fame, or desire. The origin of her quote springs from this awakening—the realization that in nurturing another life, one’s own priorities are forever transformed. Her words are not of regret, but of reverence, for she speaks of the unselfishness that is not imposed, but chosen. In her reflection, we see that motherhood is not a duty but a devotion, not a loss of self but a redirection of purpose.

The ancients would have understood this deeply. In every civilization, from the temples of Egypt to the hearths of Greece, the mother was seen as both mortal and divine—a being who embodied sacrifice without bitterness, strength without pride. Consider Demeter, goddess of the harvest, who allowed the earth itself to grow barren when her daughter Persephone was taken from her. Her grief was the grief of every mother who has ever lost a part of herself in the name of love. And yet, when her child was restored, Demeter brought abundance once more, proving that the heart that suffers for others also holds the power to restore the world. Such is the unselfish rhythm of motherhood: to give, to lose, to give again—never ceasing, never asking in return.

Lange’s words remind us that motherhood redefines the center of existence. Before, one’s desires, fears, and ambitions might orbit around the self; but with the birth of a child, a new sun is born. The mother’s heart turns outward, revolving around the fragile being she now protects. This is no small change—it is a revolution of the spirit. The sleepless nights, the silent worries, the forgotten dreams—these are not burdens, but acts of love’s purest expression. For in them, a mother’s soul learns the highest virtue: to live not for herself, but for another.

Yet this unselfishness is not weakness; it is heroic. The mother who rises before dawn to tend her family, who labors unseen, who sacrifices her ease for the sake of others—she is no less a warrior than those who march with swords. Her battlefield is the heart; her weapon, endurance. And though her victories are quiet, they shape the destinies of nations. For every great thinker, every leader, every artist was once a child cradled in the arms of such a woman—one who gave without counting the cost. This, then, is the power of motherhood: to change the world not through domination, but through devotion.

Consider, for instance, the life of Abraham Lincoln, whose mother, Nancy Hanks Lincoln, died when he was young. Yet her influence endured beyond her years. Lincoln would later say, “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” Though her time with him was brief, her love had reshaped his soul. It was her unselfishness—her quiet faith, her steady nurture—that laid the foundation for his greatness. Through her, we see how even the simplest acts of motherhood—teaching, guiding, comforting—become the roots from which history grows.

Let this truth, then, be passed down to all who walk the earth: to give oneself in love is the highest form of strength. Motherhood, in its essence, is not a diminishing of the self but its expansion. It teaches that fulfillment comes not from what we claim, but from what we offer. To live unselfishly is not to vanish, but to become vast—like the sky that shelters the earth, unseen yet essential.

So, to all who nurture life in any form—whether through children, through compassion, or through acts of service—remember the wisdom of Jessica Lange: that true joy begins when we cease to stand at the center and instead let love become our axis. For when we give of ourselves without measure, we do not lose our light; we multiply it. And in that giving, we touch eternity.