A Year Into My Matrescence Journey
Becoming Mother.
A year ago, I became a mother.
After nine months of growing him beneath my ribs, he arrived—tiny and soft and sweet. That day marked the beginning of his life and my matrescence.
I first heard the word Matrescence while I was pregnant. I had no idea it was a journey I had already started. I had no idea how this word already lived inside me on a cellular level. It’s a word about becoming. And while there are many things I want to become in this lifetime, Mother has never felt so profound, or invisible.
I don’t say that with bitterness. Only observation.
It became clear early on that there are many cracks in the foundation meant to support new mothers.. You see this in the lack of changing tables in public bathrooms, the unreasonable price of childcare, an absence of affordable postpartum care, or any kind of postpartum care, and in the invisible weight so many mothers carry, silently.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
This past year has been one of remembering, shedding, learning. There are a few lessons in particular that have come into focus—pieces of truth I’ve gathered, like flowers from a garden.
Because while I’ve had access to support, I know so many don’t.And so, I offer these words as a hand held out, a small light on the path. For the mother in the middle of her becoming, wondering if anyone else feels this way—I hope this is the breath of fresh air you’ve been waiting for.
It Takes a Village
Women’s bodies are designed to hold life. But the world around us isn’t quite built to hold us.
The first year after a child is born matters deeply—for the baby, yes, but also for the mother. Her rest. Her healing. Her sense of being seen.
We worry about sleep schedules, swaddles, and if the baby is breathing. But we do we think to worry about the mother—how her risk of complications can linger for a full year after birth. How postpartum depression can return, quietly, months after it first lifts. How PTSD will occur for 6% of women. And even after the first year of matrescence is over, there is still learning and unlearning to be done. The transformation is an ongoing process.
This past year has been a weaving of stories—my own, those of friends, books, and short conversations with doctors. It reminded me that no one becomes a mother alone. Even when it feels that way.
It takes a village.
The concept makes sense when I think about raising a child. It never occurred to me that it takes a village to raise a mother too.
This year, a village raised me through matrescence.
There were pre-made meals to support us through the first days and weeks of becoming parents. There was free babysitting, weeding my garden for me, visits from friends and family afar. There were friends who have been where I am now offering support especially when the postpartum depression kicked in, and then when it came back right before his first birthday. There were calls, text messages, coffee dates, walks–a lot of walks. All in small ways to show I’m not alone.
This village kept me sane. This village helped me transform. And, it isn’t enough. It takes a village within our society too.
We need systems that truly support mothers—
Postpartum care that doesn’t end at six weeks.
Childcare that doesn’t cost more than a paycheck.
Changing tables in every bathroom–no matter the gender.
Guidance and education for all paths—whether medicated births, bottle-fed chidlren, or something else.
The village I’ve unearthed this year made all the difference in my matrescence journey.
Now I want to be that difference for someone else.
Transformation in Body and Soul
When I became a mother, every part of my person changed.
Every cell morphed into something new.
My hips moved outward.
My muscles relaxed.
My stomach softened.
Even my brain—undergoing its third major growth spurt in a lifetime—expanded. (No longer do I call this mommy brain, but simply inform people that my brain is growing)
Looking back now, I can see the depth of this journey. While I was in it, it felt impossibly hard. I wasn’t sure it would ever end. But each day came and went, I practiced, I learned, I grew in my confidence as a mom.
I think it’s also important to share that the weeks and months after giving birth were especially difficult for me. I was still having a lot of health problems postpartum and while I loved being a mother and found so much joy holding that sleeping baby, I also didn’t feel human. It was an out of body experience. On one of our daily walks my husband said to me “I can’t wait to have my wife back,” I thought, “me too.”
And she came back. Eventually.
I picked up a paintbrush again and found my muse. I started reading books again and got lost in stories. I moved my body. I ate whole foods. I soaked up the sun. I connected with friends. I built my village of moms.
It all took time.
Mother. Artist. Mother Artist
Creativity is how I process the world. Whether it’s a life milestone or the loss of a loved one, I process it through art.
But art takes time. And time, as every mother knows, is not something we have in abundance.
I had high hopes for what I could accomplish in my business during this time.
But the days moved differently than I imagined. The interruptions were constant.
The energy levels were ever changing. And somewhere between nap times and diaper changes time went into a black hole.
Looking back I now understood the facial expressions. The looks mamas would give me when I told them I would work and be a stay at home mom. I was naive.
I have had many panic attacks and hours of not sleeping thinking about how to balance it all. How to take care of myself, my son, my business, my home. When childcare is too costly for it to make sense for your family, how do you balance it all?
I have no answer for this.
I take it day by day, with the help of my mother who can babysit on a weekly basis to give me some much needed dedicated space for work. I redefine my definition of enough and success every single day (as suggested by my therapist, which is also a great tool to have always).
Some days I achieve more in the mother department, some days in the artist department, sometimes it’s a draw (between succeeding or failing at both).
That’s the best I can do.
Matrascene is Not a straight line journey
It became clear early on that this journey would be the biggest mountain climb of my life.
Each day was different from the last where schedules and emotions were concerned. And with each day I found a little more of myself.
Things ebbed and flowed. I took two steps forward and one step back. If I looked at this journey as a point from A to B, it was the messiest scribble of a line connecting the two. It was a line that created its own work of art.
I’m only a year into this. I still have so much more to learn and experience on this journey. Wisdom comes from experience and I gain a little more each day. In becoming mother, I am one step closer to becoming a wise woman, what I truly want to be when I grow up.
I’m still settling into this version of myself. But something about her feels steady. Like she was always waiting for me.
What was unexpected in your matrescence journey or in witnessing a loved one’s journey?
A beautiful reflection from one amazing person - mother, artist, mother artist 💛