But You ARE doing it

Matrescence. What I forgot, and what I remembered

I was in the shower, mentally composing, like I do. This time I managed to get both legs shaved, but I did have to wash my hair twice because I couldn’t remember if I shampooed before I conditioned the first go round.

Anyways, what got stuck in my head was remembering much I enjoyed a hot shower after my babies were born. I remember stepping into the warm water, letting it pour over my heavy breasts, a welcome letdown and immediate relief. I recall feeling more myself in those moments, when I didn’t have to listen for the baby. I wouldn’t shower unless someone else could watch him, at least at first. I needed to have a few minutes to rinse myself of all the various liquids that covered me, spit up, breast-milk, who knows what else, without listening for his cries. He seemed so needy, and I just wanted to disappear into the cascade steam for a few moments. It was probably five minutes but it felt like a full vacation.

When I got out I would put Carmex on my raw nipples, and then cover my body in thick lotion. I would brush my hair and leave it to air dry. Finally I would put on fresh clean pj’s, a welcome change from a crusty nursing bra. It was my sacred ritual, it felt like the only time I was my old self and everything was under control.

That memory got me thinking. You see, I’ve fallen down a Substack hole lately, in the best way possible. So many beautiful narratives of new moms and matrescence fill my screen when I open the app. I’ll be honest with you, I had to google matrescence. I couldn’t find the definition in the Merriam-Webster, but the AI summary, referencing the Cambridge Dictionary stated, “Matrescence is the profound developmental process of becoming a mother.” Wow, there’s a word for it! Who knew? I guess, many of you did. Here are all these amazing women writers, just using it casually. Well ladies, you make me feel my age and slightly ignorant, but I’m not holding it against you. I’m truly grateful. Grateful there is a word and you’re using it, thankful you are sharing your experiences.

I keep seeing notes asking what I’d wish I’d known, or what advice would I give new mothers. It’s been hard to come up with a good answer. I hate to be cliche, but I don’t remember that season very well. I remember asking the same question myself, and the seasoned moms saying to me, “I don’t really remember. It’s been so long.” I do recall thinking that was so dumb, how could you possibly forget such a life-altering experience. My whole sense of reality, sense of self, both completely unraveled. How does one just forget?

I don’t have a good answer for you. Of course I have lots of specific memories about my babies. Adorable antics like pulling off their socks and crawling around the house with them in their mouths. All three did this, I can only assume it was the influence of our two Boston Terriers. I remember when my son fell and hit his head, three separate times, each scaring me to death. I remember my daughter, the eternal night owl, in her bouncer facing me while I binge-watched Army Wives. I remember my youngest falling asleep anywhere and everywhere because, third baby.

I remember the midwives, after my home-births, surrounding me and singing For All the Beauty of the Earth. I remember the kind and wise words of a nurse telling me, “but you are doing it,” when I said I couldn’t during my first labor. I remember my mom making me a panko breaded chicken breast and homemade mac and cheese when I came home with my son. I swear to this day, it was the best meal I’ve ever had. The first meal without a baby inside me after 40-plus weeks of nausea, nothing could be more satisfying.

As I type, my body remembers a feeling in my belly. An ancient, deep, primal knowing, I only experienced after giving birth. Sometimes I still think I feel phantom baby kicks in my womb. Occasionally my breasts still tingle if a baby cries too long nearby.

It’s so strange, I can recall all of this, but I couldn’t give you a list of do this or that. I wish I’d known A, B, or C. Sure I have a few tips like nipple shields, encapsulating my placenta, and so on, but nothing that seems profound or wise enough for this transformational time in a woman’s life.

What I’m really trying to say is this. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten so much. Don’t ask me when they rolled over, when they started solids, or when they slept through the night. How I managed all those milestones and the sleep regression. I don’t remember.

I don’t remember because motherhood isn’t new anymore. I don’t think about missing my old self, she is a distant memory, and I don’t mourn her like I used to. I know now, she’s not gone. She’s just completely integrated with the me today. I’m not new to life as a mom, the disruption happened many years ago, I don’t really compare life now to life then like I used to. Life with the kids is just natural, the norm. The diaper years have passed. We made it through, and so will you. I can’t tell you how, but you will. You miss the old you, I know. She’s not gone, she’s just merging with the mom your becoming, and you both will grow together.

One more thing I do remember, and it’s important to name, the feeling that I’d ruined my life during the next several months following the birth of my first child. I was unprepared for how much would change and how little control I would have over it. I’d read the books, studied hard. I was ready. I had a plan, of course I did. I didn’t know about postpartum anxiety. I didn’t know about matrescence. I didn’t know I was normal. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone.

Please don’t hear, in any of this, that you are crazy or overreacting. You’re not. Everything you feel is real, you’re just not going to feel it at this intensity forever.

I still take a long, hot shower once and while. Motherhood still keeps me busy, that doesn’t change! I’m just writing in there now instead of recovering. And while I might not remember much, I remember what’s most important, being told “but you are doing it.” I didn’t believe her. I thought she was just saying what I needed to hear to make it through, but actually, she was reporting the facts. So I’ll pass it along, since it’s the only thing I’ve got that isn’t a nipple shield recommendation.

You are doing it.

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P.S. This brings me back to all of you, the women writing it down in real time. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for being that raw and that honest, even when you’re exhausted and depleted. Thank you for being there for each other and for future mothers. You’re doing the thing I didn’t know I was allowed to do in that season. I didn’t have the word for it. You do. Keep using it loudly.