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There is a word for what happens to you when you become a mother. Most people have never heard it.
Matrescence.
It was first coined by medical anthropologist Dana Raphael in the 1970s and has only recently started making its way into mainstream conversation. The matrescence definition, at its simplest, is this: the physical, psychological, emotional, and identity transformation a woman undergoes when she becomes a mother. Think of it like adolescence, a profound, sometimes disorienting, always permanent shift in who you are.
And just like adolescence, it is messy. It is not a single moment. It does not end when you leave the hospital. It unfolds over months and years, quietly reshaping everything you thought you knew about yourself.
We talk a lot about what babies need. We talk almost nothing about what happens to the woman who suddenly has to give it.
This Mother’s Day, we want to change that. And if you are celebrating your first Mother’s Day as a new mom, this one is especially for you.
You Are Not the Same Person You Were Before
Not in a sad way. Not necessarily in a triumphant way. Just different. Fundamentally. The woman you were before is still in there, but she is sharing space now with someone new. Someone who feels things more intensely, loves more ferociously, and worries more deeply.
This is not a crisis. This is matrescence.
Research from neuroscientist Elseline Hoekzema found that pregnancy actually changes the structure of a woman’s brain, reducing gray matter volume in regions associated with social cognition in ways that likely enhance a mother’s ability to read her infant’s needs. These changes persisted for at least two years after birth. Your brain literally rewires itself for motherhood.
And yet, almost nobody prepares women for this. You’re told to prepare for the birth. To prepare the nursery. To download the apps that tell you what size fruit the baby is each week. But the transformation happening to the mother, the one that will outlast the newborn phase by decades, gets almost no airtime.
Why It Feels So Disorienting
Matrescence can feel like grief and joy at the same time, which is confusing because we are not supposed to grieve anything when we have just created the thing we wanted most.
But many mothers grieve. They grieve their old life, their old body, their old sense of self. They grieve the spontaneity, the sleep, the version of their relationship that existed before. And then they feel guilty for grieving it, because they also love their baby.
Both things are true. The grief and the love are not in conflict. They are part of the same enormous transformation.
Dr. Alexandra Sacks, a reproductive psychiatrist who has written extensively about matrescence, describes it as the push and pull of wanting to be your own person and also wanting to be everything to your child. That tension, the desire for both independence and total immersion, is not a sign that something is wrong. It is a sign that something profound is happening.
It is also worth saying plainly: matrescence is not postpartum depression, though the two can overlap. Postpartum depression is a clinical condition that requires support and treatment. Matrescence is a developmental passage. Both deserve to be taken seriously. Neither should be dismissed.
The Moments Nobody Warns You About
Nobody warns you that you might feel like a stranger in your own life for a while.
Nobody warns you that you might scroll through old photos of yourself and feel a strange distance from that woman, like looking at a photograph of someone you used to know well.
Nobody warns you that you might be sitting at a birthday party surrounded by people who love you, laughing at something funny, and suddenly feel completely alone inside the experience of being a mother, especially among friends who aren’t mothers themselves.
Nobody warns you that your relationship with your own mother might shift completely, that you might suddenly understand things she never said out loud, or find yourself needing to call her more.
Nobody warns you that you will discover capacities in yourself you did not know existed. Patience you never had. Courage you did not know you could access. A kind of love so large it has no good comparison.
All of it is matrescence.
The Identity Question Nobody Asks
One of the strangest parts of early motherhood is the question of who you are now.
Your identity before children was built over decades. Your career, your friendships, your interests, your values, your sense of humor. All of it assembled slowly into a person you recognized as yourself. And then, almost overnight, someone new arrives who needs everything.
Many mothers describe feeling like they lost themselves. And they are not wrong exactly. Something did change. But lost is not quite the right word. Expanded might be closer. Complicated, maybe.
The mothers who seem to move through matrescence with the most grace are not the ones who figured out how to stay exactly who they were. They are the ones who allowed themselves to become someone new without abandoning who they had been.
You are still the woman who loves the things you love. You are still funny, capable, interesting, complex. You are also someone’s mother now. Both are real. Both deserve space.
What Matrescence Asks of the People Around Mothers
Understanding matrescence is not just something mothers need for themselves. It is something partners, families, and communities need to understand too.
When a new mother seems distant, or tearful, or like she is struggling to articulate something she cannot quite name, she might be in the thick of this passage. She might be grieving and grateful at the same time. She might be trying to find herself in a landscape that looks completely different than it did a year ago.
What she needs is not to be fixed. She does not need someone to point out that she should be happier. She needs to be seen. She needs someone to say: I know this is big. I know this is hard. I know you are changing and I am not afraid of who you are becoming.
She needs the people around her to understand that her transformation is not a detour from real life. It is real life. One of the most significant things that will ever happen to her.
A Note on the Early Years And Why They Matter So Much
There is a reason we’re talking about matrescence at Little Sunshine’s Playhouse.
We spend our days with children in the most formative years of their lives. But we also spend our days with mothers. We see them at drop-off, sometimes with mascara they forgot to finish putting on. We see them at pickup, rushing from work with their hearts already ten steps ahead of their feet. We see them at parent nights, asking thoughtful questions and taking notes and quietly wondering if they are doing enough.
They are doing enough. They are doing more than enough. They are in the middle of one of the most extraordinary transformations a human being can go through, and they are showing up every single day.
We believe that a supported mother is one of the greatest gifts a child can have. When a mother has a partner, a community, and a school she trusts—when she has even a small amount of space to breathe and remember herself—her child feels it. The research is clear on this. A mother’s wellbeing and her child’s wellbeing are not separate things. They are deeply, beautifully intertwined.
This is part of why we take the whole family seriously, not just the child. Because you matter here too.
The woman on the other side of this passage is not less than who you were before. She is more. She has been cracked open and put back together with something extra in the seams. She knows things she could not have known before. She loves in ways she did not know she was capable of.
She is still you. She always will be.
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