If I could sum up parenthood in one word, it would be “surrender”.
The act of surrender begins in pregnancy. It’s challenging to not try to control all the changes and outcomes. The unknown. The waiting.
It intensifies the last few weeks as we prepare for baby’s arrival. Letting go of deadlines, dates, and expectations. Surrendering to our baby and God’s perfect timing.
It peaks during birth as the contractions are relentless. Like a train coming towards us and we can’t get off the tracks. Nothing and no one can stop it.
And then the baby is here. And a new phase of surrendering begins.
Is the baby okay? Are we doing this right? Will we get to sleep tonight?
Once again, we find ourselves letting go of deadlines, dates, and expectations. Putting personal to-do lists on the back burner and holding all external commitments loosely.
Maybe this is why parenthood is so beautiful. This constant act of surrendering. This daily practice of faith. We surrender ourselves, over and over again, so we can stand back in awe at the faithfulness of our God.
Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh said it best, “The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.”
Too often, the cultural conversation around new motherhood focuses on “bouncing back.” When are you going to fit into your clothes again? When are you going back to work? When are you going to return to the person you were before you had the baby? And the answer is, you’re not. But the good news is, you’re not supposed to.
The term Matrescence, coined by Dana Raphael, Ph.D. (1973), remains a largely unexplored area of study that refers to this process of becoming a mother. The developmental passage where a woman transitions through pregnancy and birth, to the postnatal period and beyond. Of course, we all know that during pregnancy, a woman’s body is rapidly changing, and inside a tiny life form is taking shape to be a completely unique and individual human being. But what we often forget, is that the woman herself is also rapidly changing and taking shape. Not just in a physical sense, but in a bio-psycho-social-political and spiritual way. Yes, the mother gives birth to a child. But the child also gives birth to a mother.
I recently gave birth to my first child and I’ve spent the last twelve months researching and documenting my experience of matrescence. As I scoured the internet, I was amazed to find that not a single, descriptive, first-hand account of matrescence exists. Until now.
I’ve divided the poem into five parts, one for each of the three trimesters, one for labor and delivery, and one for what’s often referred to as, “The Missing Fourth Trimester,” or postpartum.
My hope is that women will see themselves in these words. That women who have yet to embark on the journey of motherhood, will have a roadmap of sorts, helping them to better understand what support they may need along the way. I love how the experience of pregnancy and motherhood is so unique for each individual, and yet so universal at the same time.
I can’t catch a break. // Everything falls apart without me. // I’m grateful to have a family that needs me. // It feels so good to be needed. // I have no time to get anything done. // My to do list just keeps growing. // It’s so nice to be present with my baby. // Everything else can wait. // I’ve never known a joy like this. // I’m so tired I could cry. // Her needs are so constant. // One day she won’t need me. // I hate how fast time is going. // It’s so wonderful to watch her grow. // I don’t want to miss a single moment. // All I want is a moment to myself. // I killed it today! // Today nearly killed me.
I heard so much fear mongering about pregnancy before I ever became pregnant. “You’re going to be really anxious.” “You’re going to have insomnia.” “You’ll feel like crap all the time.” I was legitimately frightened about the prospect of it all.
Turns out, none of those comments have been true for my experience. Not even one bit. Now do I feel as energetic and vibrant as I did before pregnancy? Of course not. Certainly not every day. But honestly, it’s like every other transition in life. You adapt.
There’s definitely a difference between friends and family wanting to give advice, and the more generalized fear mongering comments regarding pregnancy and parenthood. I’m not referring to the former. And I like to think the latter are well intentioned, just perhaps not well thought out.
The point is, every one’s experience of parenthood is so inherently unique, that we would be remiss to make any comments as if they were a one size fits all. Besides, fear mongering around parenthood doesn’t end with pregnancy. That’s half the problem. There’s always room for more. “Just wait until your first ER trip.” “Just wait until you have a raging toddler.” “You think this is hard? Try having two.” Etc.
It makes sense that people want to share their experiences. And historically, it’s easier to bond over negative ones. I’m all for the bonding. But we really should be careful with what I call our, “You’ll See” songs.
Rather than share horror stories, why not share lessons? Maybe instead of, “You’ll never sleep again,” we could say something like, “If you’re struggling with lack of sleep when the baby gets here, feel free to reach out to me. I can share some tips that worked really well for us.”
Remember, “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7) When faced with the choice to spread a message of either love or fear, let’s choose love. Let’s always choose love.
