Dear Me,

You’ve been here before. You know what this season feels like, the blur of nights, the softness of new skin against your chest, the sudden swell of tears that come without reason, and the quiet, holy awe of holding new life in your arms.

This is the fourth trimester, and while it feels fragile and endless in the moment, remember: it is only temporary.

There’s a word for what you’re living through: matrescence. Coined by medical anthropologist Dana Raphael, it describes the process of becoming a mother, the physical, emotional, hormonal, and psychological shifts that happen during this transition. Just as adolescence reshapes a teenager into an adult, matrescence reshapes you into a mother. It is not a single moment, but a passage. And like any passage, it is both challenging and transformative.

The last time, you didn’t know what to expect. You wondered if you’d ever feel like yourself again. You didn’t trust that the exhaustion would pass, or that the heaviness in your chest would someday soften into confidence and calm.

But you know better now. You know that the nights are long, but mornings always come. You know the waves of emotion will rise and fall, and you will find your balance again. You know your body feels unfamiliar now, but it will return to you in new and surprising ways. You know every low moment will eventually give way to light.

And this time, you also know the weight that relationships carry in these fragile months. When you and your partner are both exhausted, it’s easy to point fingers, to wonder who’s giving more, who’s to blame. But the truth is you both want the same thing, for your baby, for each other, for your family. You’re on the same side. Keep your eyes on that shared goal, and give one another grace.

You also know that intrusive thoughts may come. They can feel unsettling, but they do not define you. They are part of this passage, part of matrescence. In fact, the very fact that you question yourself, that you worry about being a good mother, is proof that you already are one.

So breathe. Be gentle with yourself. Let the house stay messy, let the dishes wait, let others care for you. This season is not forever, it’s a tender passage, a bridge from one version of yourself into another.

Remember: you are not lost. You are becoming.

With love,
Me