Before I had kids, I assumed that becoming a parent meant going from “me” to “me with a baby”. I was good with kids, had years of babysitting experience, and was working as a preschool teacher during my first pregnancy. My life would be different, but mostly just because I would be feeding my son, changing his diapers, playing with him, and putting him to bed.
Imagine my shock as a first-time mom, spending whole days alone with my son in our apartment with nothing to do besides keeping both of us alive, and feeling completely overwhelmed. Sleep was a challenge, unsurprisingly, but that didn’t seem like enough to explain why I felt so adrift.
My husband’s life continued on more or less the same. He would go to work, come home, continue with his regular activities, and sometimes take care of the baby. He helped with some of the added responsibilities, but they were something extra to do, not something that turned his life upside down. Meanwhile, I would sit (or lie awake) in the same room unable to find the words to fully express my feelings, the transformation that made me feel like an inhabitant of another planet. Sometimes this bubbled over into anger and frustration, but this was not really his fault. As a culture, we have lost the sense of transformation that comes with motherhood to the point where we can no longer conceptualize it, let alone understand what we need during this time.
Another transformation that used to go unacknowledged in the past but is now assumed to be normal is adolescence. The concept of a “teenager” may not have been understood in societies where even children were treated like miniature adults, but now we can all relate to the feelings of inner turmoil that come with the rapid body, mind, emotion, and identity changes experienced during the transition from kid to adult.
If we can apply the same framework to what happens when we have a baby, we start to see the patterns of “matrescence” a term coined by anthropologist Dana Raphael. Once we have the vocabulary, we can start to talk about our experiences more openly and fully, understanding them as part of a distinct developmental phase that takes years and affects all aspects of our lives. When you don’t feel seen or heard, you can feel lonely in a room full of people, even people you love. When you can share your story and find support, you will find healing and growth that will enrich not only your own life, but future generations as well.
Our current culture can leave us blind to our own experiences, or feeling aware of our needs but helpless to meet them. But there are many things we can do to move in another direction- sharing our stories, changing our mindsets, reaching out for connection, reflecting on our experiences, educating ourselves, encouraging each other, taking baby steps to nurture ourselves even when it feels hard or impossible. I created Untangling Motherhood as a container for small groups of mothers to do this together, learning, connecting, and growing in ways both unique and universal. Click here to learn more and join the waitlist for the next session.
Infant Concierge 