When Matrescence Meets Grief

When I married my husband, we spoke excitedly about our imagined future. The season was dominated by weddings and pregnancy – the family-growing era. I had set my ducks in a row: finished university, secured a job with parental leave entitlements, and our big new house was nearly built. We were ready for the pitter-patter of little feet.

I thought my husband was on the same page, that this would be our next big adventure. I felt a shift – as though a new part of me had opened up and started growing.

But our trajectory suddenly pivoted.
My husband's world of work changed, and he decided to retrain at university. Looking back, perhaps this was his way of herding ducks, too. His new chosen career was much better suited to family life. But at the time, I was devastated. He didn't want to begin growing our family while adjusting to the pressures of tertiary education, and I was suddenly carrying the weight of our new mortgage.

It felt like my imagined future was slipping out of reach. Of course, I enouraged him to take the leap of faith. But I also felt so sad.

Looking back, I can see that a process was occurring within me long before any positive pregnancy test. The part of me that opened up when I decided I wanted to become a mother had created a space that could not be filled with anything other than a child. My priorities shifted. My thoughts and emotions changed. Even my body seemed to yearn for what was yet to come.

For me, matrescence had begun long before a baby was conceived.

Matrescence is a transition of becoming. Like all transitions, its beginning and end are difficult to define. It is a slow seepage of change that begins in the subtle corners of our being, gradually reshaping how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Traditionally, matrescence is thought to begin during pregnancy. But I would challenge that.

Of course, there is no golden rule that fits everyone's experience. For some, the transition may begin with pregnancy. For others, it may begin with the decision to become a parent – or even earlier, as we start imagining a different kind of future.

For some of us, we begin changing our lives, our imagined futures and our identities well before pregnancy ever begins.

Pregnancy can then accelerate the biological and psychological aspects of matrescence. Hormonal and neurobiological changes help prepare us for the arrival of a newborn. Neural pathways adapt in ways that support skills important for motherhood, including attunement to and bonding with our baby.

But what happens when pregnancy ends abruptly? Or when it doesn't crescendo with a living baby?

Matrescence meets grief.

Our transition has already begun. The changes that have taken place within us don't simply disappear, and we don't immediately revert to the person we were before.

We are forever changed.

Parenthood doesn't stop when our baby dies. It just looks different.

We nurture their memory. We grow their legacy. We mark their place in our family. And we gently carry them with us, holding them in our hearts.

We are mothers still.

Tommy's Mum x