Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Chapter 7: Our Growing Modesty

A motherliness which dominated society, which influenced every art and industry, which absolutely protected all childhood, and gave to it the most perfect care and training, did not seem motherly - to Terry.

I hated to admit to myself how much Terry had sunk in my esteem. Jeff felt it too, I am sure; but neither of us admitted it to the other. At home we had measured him with other men, and, though we knew his failings, he was by no means an unusual type. We knew his virtues too, and they had always seemed more prominent than the faults. Measured among women - our women at home, I mean - he had always stood high.

But here, against the calm wisdom and quiet restrained humour of these women, with only blessed Jeff and my inconspicuous self to compare with, Terry did stand out rather strong.

“But does not each mother want her own child to bear her name?” I asked.
”No - why should she? The child has its own.”

Here, as in so many other instances, we were led to feel the difference between the purely maternal and the paternal attitude of mind. The element of personal pride seemed strangely lacking.