What Is Matrescence? The Adolescence of Motherhood
Updated: 6 days ago
Part 1 of a 3-part series on the radical, disorienting shift into motherhood.
I recently came across the work of Alexandra Sacks, an American psychiatrist specializing in women's mental health, particularly the pregnancy and postpartum period. She uses adolescence as a way to explain how becoming a mother is clumsy, awkward, unknown territory — where mind, body, and hormones are shifting drastically, and you're left grappling with the unfamiliar (her original piece is linked at the end of this post).
That comparison resonated so deeply with me. I've been trying to find words for how it's felt to become a mother, how much newness I've had to navigate, often feeling underprepared and unsupported by society at large. I know this is true for so many new parents, not just mothers.
Why Adolescence Is the Best Comparison I've Found
Processing my own experience has been genuinely hard, and comparing it to adolescence is the most helpful framework I've come across. I've actually noticed myself revisiting my own teenage years during this time — reminiscing on struggles I faced back then.
Sacks points out that adolescence is a contentious life stage, but one that science and culture both acknowledge — there's real depth of knowledge and support around what to expect: the physical and psychological changes, the hormonal shifts, the relationship changes, the identity crises. Women go through equally radical transformations across pregnancy and postpartum, yet without the same education or acknowledgment. The support is largely missing.
What Is Matrescence?
The term "matrescence" (coined in 1973 by anthropologist Dana Raphael) refers to exactly this — the radical shift a pregnant or birthing person goes through, the rebirth of a maiden into a mother. Even with a name for it, research remains limited and support for new parents navigating this phase is often lacking.
Many women, in the midst of it, wonder if something is actually wrong — if this is postpartum depression or anxiety, given the scale of the emotional challenges and hormonal surges involved. I want to share a little of my own experience through this phase, in case it helps put things in perspective for anyone in the middle of it.
My Own Experience with Matrescence
I, too, had moments of questioning whether my mental health was okay. Each time I measured myself against diagnostic criteria, I'd reassure myself it wasn't that — but then find myself asking why I still felt so out of sorts. The simple truth: it's a drastic life transition, touching your body physically, your mind mentally and emotionally, and your hormones all at once. Everything feels different and new, and that newness is genuinely hard to navigate.
There's a real shift in identity — a need to recognize all the parts of your old life that once felt safe and familiar. There's a grieving process for that past life, moving through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, though not in any neat, linear order — more randomly, at the most inconvenient moments. All of this is normal. But if you're genuinely struggling, if something feels wrong or you're not coping, please do reach out for support from a trained professional. Even without a formal diagnosis, that support can make a real difference.
For me, the awkward adolescent phase of motherhood started to dissipate around the time my daughter turned 10 months old — when I began to feel more confident in the role, more accepting of everything that had changed. That gave me room to start exploring my emotions more deeply. But it was only after a full year that I felt ready to really feel my grief and start working through it.
I also carried some trauma around my daughter's birth, which I've been working through — not only emotionally, but physically too. I've had to explore different modalities of healing and ways to release trauma held in the body. It hasn't been easy, but it feels profoundly settling to reconnect with myself and let myself be held gently by my own heart — something I'd missed deeply, since so much of early motherhood had been focused entirely on my baby. If any of this resonates, I hope it gives you permission to lean toward yourself more, and trust yourself to show up for your own needs.
The Shame I Didn't Expect
It feels important to name the shame I felt around struggling with this phase too. Part of me was too proud to admit I was finding it hard, until I realized how completely normal that struggle is. As Brené Brown would put it, it was an FFT — a "fucking first time" experience — and of course I struggled. I'm only human, and I'm allowed to find it hard to let go of the old and accept something entirely new.
I think mothers put far too much pressure on themselves to hold it all together — which is probably more a reflection of what society expects of us than anything else. What's helped me most is intentionally making space to fall apart within the safety of support — dedicated time to feel the big feelings, and to let healing actually happen.
Why This Matters Beyond Ourselves
Doing this work is our responsibility as mothers — not only for our own sake, but for our children's too. What we don't heal in ourselves, we tend to pass on to them in some form. So we don't only owe ourselves the time to heal; we owe it to them as well. This is part of accepting the emotional responsibility of becoming a parent — recognizing that how you handle your own emotional weight will shape your children too.
So take the time. Do the inner work. Feel the feelings, big and small. Ask for the support you genuinely deserve.
If you'd like to work with me individually on this, I'd love to hold space for you to feel safe and find your own healing. Whenever you're ready, don't hesitate to reach out.
Read Alexandra Sacks' original piece on Psychology Today: "Matrescence: The Developmental Transition to Motherhood"
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