No One Tells You Motherhood Begins With Grief

Motherhood begins with a seismic identity shift that nobody prepares you for. That moment they hand you your baby and you're suddenly "Mom"—before you've even had time to process the transformation happening inside you.

The raw truth? Becoming a mother often begins with grief. Grief for your independence, your rhythms, and the version of yourself who didn't calculate nap windows or feel constantly needed. This profound psychological and emotional metamorphosis has a name: matricence. Like adolescence, it reshapes your entire being, yet society rarely acknowledges its existence or provides grace for women navigating this terrain.

When expectation crashes into reality, the disconnect can feel earth-shattering. You thought you'd feel whole, blissful, and instinctively wise, but instead, you're cracked open, hollow, flooded with self-doubt. You're never alone yet never felt more isolated. Your partner watches helplessly as you transform, creating a new kind of distance when connection feels most vital. And for the 1-in-7 women experiencing postpartum depression or anxiety, the journey becomes even more complex, clouded by intrusive thoughts, numbness, or hypervigilance that have nothing to do with your capacity for love.

Throughout this deeply personal episode, I share insights from my therapy practice and my own unraveling as a new mother. We explore motherhood as three emotional "trimesters"—from the raw beginnings of ages 0-6, through the sweet spot of ages 7-12, to the bittersweet letting go of ages 13-18. Each phase requires a different version of you, different boundaries, different strengths.

Whether you're in the trenches of early parenthood or supporting someone who is, remember this: You are not broken. You are not failing. You are becoming. Subscribe now to continue these unfiltered conversations about the transformations that shape our lives.

Chapters

• 0:15 The Identity Earthquake of Motherhood
• 4:18 The Expectation Gap
• 5:50 Truth About Postpartum Blues
• 8:55 Relationships and Fatherhood Experience
• 12:04 The Three Trimesters of Motherhood
• 14:32 Letter to Your Former Self
• 17:19 Closing Reflection and Hope

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:15

They hand you your baby, people cry. You're supposed to feel bliss, right, but instead you're exhausted, raw, scared and a little hollow. Nobody told you it might feel like grief, that you'd miss yourself, that you'd wonder. Is this normal or am I broken? Hey friends, welcome back to Licensed and Unfiltered. I'm your host, lina Keneally, marriage and family therapist, mom and, in today's case, your very honest postpartum truth teller. Today I'm doing something a little different. This episode is deeply personal, deeply needed, and it comes straight from the inside of my own unraveling, because becoming a mom, it cracked me wide open.

Speaker 1: 1:14

If you've had a baby, are having one, or love someone who just did this one's for you, we're diving into first-time motherhood postpartum depression, identity loss, grief for your former self, partner disconnect. And, yes, we're talking to dads too. This isn't a highlight reel. It's the stuff no one warned you about. Let's go, the Identity Earthquake. Everyone prepares you for labor. No one prepares you for the existential unraveling that follows. Your body doesn't feel like yours. You're bleeding, leaking, aching. People are calling you mom before you even recognize yourself. Here's the thing no one says.

Speaker 1: 2:08

Motherhood often begins with grief Grief for your independence, grief for your old rhythms, grief for the version of you who didn't constantly calculate nap windows. And then there's guilt, because shouldn't you be blissfully in love with this new life? Here's a therapy couch deep dive Matricence plus IFS. Matricence is the psychological, hormonal and emotional transformation into motherhood. It's like adolescence, but without the cultural acknowledgement or grace. It's not just a role shift, it's an identity earthquake From an internal family systems lens. This transition activates a whole system of parts inside you A protector part that says hold it together, be the strong one. A manager part that wants to plan, organize, fix and get it right. An exile part that carries the grief of who you were before the carefree, confident, independent you. A people-pleasing part that fears judgment, especially from family, society or your own inner critic. These parts all mean well. They're trying to keep you safe in a season that feels wildly uncertain, but they can also conflict with one another and that internal chaos can feel overwhelming. When we acknowledge these parts, give them voice and approach them with compassion, we begin to integrate rather than fracture. Matrisense isn't about becoming someone new and abandoning your past. It's about inviting your whole self into the room, making space for all of you. You're not broken. You're evolving. You're not lost, you're layered. You are not alone in this inner tug of war. You are in transition, and that deserves reverence.

Speaker 1: 4:18

The expectation gap here's something no one warns you about how different motherhood looks from how you imagined it. You thought you'd feel whole, blissful, glowing with maternal wisdom, but instead you're cracked open hollow, flooded with self-doubt. You pictured cozy snuggles and peaceful feeding sessions, not the frantic googling nipple, pain and tears that don't have a name. You thought you'd know exactly what to do, but instead you're navigating by instinct, moment to moment, breath by breath. And then there's the birth itself a rite of passage unlike any other. The birth itself a rite of passage unlike any other. You walk into the hospital scared, unsure, wide-eyed, and then suddenly you're a mother. Your body, in all its power and pain, delivers life and something in you is born too. It's profound in ways only other mothers can understand. It breaks you and builds you. And then, just when you're still trying to process what happened, they hand you, discharge papers and send you home. You look down at your newborn, your body stitched and sore, your heart raw and confused, and think wait, they're just going to let me leave with this tiny human. Am I actually qualified to take care of them?

Speaker 1: 5:50

The truth about postpartum and baby blues. Let's clear something up. Baby blues and postpartum depression are not the same. Not the same. Baby blues affects 80% of new moms. You can experience mood swings, overwhelm or irritability. It can begin a few days after birth and can fade in two to four weeks.

Speaker 1: 6:18

Postpartum depression affects one in seven women. It can show up any time in the first year one in seven women. It can show up anytime in the first year and symptoms include numbness, rage, panic attacks, intrusive thoughts and disconnection. Then there's postpartum anxiety and OCD. You can experience intrusive thoughts about harm, hypervigilance and compulsive checking or safety behaviors. If this is you, you are not a bad mom. You are not dangerous. You are not alone.

Speaker 1: 7:07

The loneliness is loud. You're never alone and yet you've never felt more isolated. No one texts you anymore. They text how's the baby? Your friendships shift. Your sense of purpose and identity are tangled in spit up and sleep schedules. And here's the hidden truth Loneliness and motherhood is a hollow kind of ape. It's not just the absence of people, it's the absence of being truly seen. Sometimes you're holding your baby, yet feel like no one is holding you. The silence in your own head can get deafening. The stillness in the middle of the night feels like it might swallow you, you question if you've disappeared completely.

Speaker 1: 7:53

Postpartum can be the most fragile time in a relationship. The baby arrives and suddenly everything feels unequal, off balance and unspoken. You're physically healing, emotionally drained and constantly needed In your partner. They're watching you go through something monumental, often feeling helpless. Emotional labor skyrockets. You become the default parent. You notice the bottles aren't washed. You feel resentment and then guilt for feeling it. You want help, but you don't want to have to ask. You want presence, not just tasks checked off. The intimacy gap grows, not just physically but emotionally. You look at each other across the room, both exhausted and wonder how to bridge the divide. Here's a thought. You won't always get it right, but naming what's hard and choosing each other again and again, that's the love story.

Speaker 1: 8:58

The first time dad experience, moms grow into motherhood. Dads are thrust into fatherhood overnight. Moms get nine months of prep. Dads show up to the hospital and leave with the baby. Dads often don't feel bonded right away, feel helpless or unsure or carry pressure to be strong and supportive. Did you know that 1 in 10 dads experience postpartum depression? Here's a thought. Dads need space too, and they need space to say I'm struggling.

Speaker 1: 9:44

The three trimesters of motherhood. Let's reframe motherhood not by developmental stages of the child, but by emotional trimesters of the mother. Think of it as a long journey through three distinct seasons, each layered with its own identity, identity shifts, grief and growth. This isn't a medical framework. It's a metaphorical one, a map for the emotional landscape that so many mothers walk.

Speaker 1: 10:18

First trimester of motherhood birth to age six. This is the raw beginning the fog, the sleep, deprivation and identity loss. You're thrown into 24-7 caregiving with no manual and an entire universe depending on you. Your body is healing, your brain is rewiring. You're adjusting to the constantness of motherhood, how it never ends and never pauses. You cry in the laundry room, you cry in the shower. You feel like you disappeared. You love this little human so deeply it aches. But you also grieve the version of yourself who had space to be anything else. This is the season of merging, where your life feels enmeshed with theirs and you're learning, often painfully, that you can't pour from an empty cup.

Speaker 1: 11:18

Second trimester of motherhood is ages 7 to 12. This is where you start to find your footing again. Your child is more independent. They dress themselves, they have friends, you can breathe, even if only slightly. This is the sweet spot for many moms. The bond is strong, the laughter comes easier, you start to see glimpses of the woman you used to be and the woman you've become. There's room again for your dreams, room for work, hobbies, relationships outside of parenting. But even here there's tension, guilt, the push and pull between needing space and fearing you're missing something.

Speaker 1: 12:05

Third trimester of motherhood is ages 13 to 18. This is where it all starts to loosen. They push back, they pull away, they try on independence like a new outfit and you become this slow process of letting go. You find yourself nostalgic for the mess, the noise, the chaos. You start counting the lasts. Last time you pack a lunch, last time they ask you for advice, last time they fall asleep on your shoulder, and even though your job is to raise them to leave, you grieve again, but this grief comes with pride, with awe. You realize your motherhood is no longer about keeping them close but about releasing them. Well, this final trimester is about preparing to birth them into the world, not from your body but from your daily life. And, like the first time, it's painful, beautiful and transformative.

Speaker 1: 13:07

Motherhood is not one long season. It's a cycle of becoming again and again, and each trimester requires a different version of you different boundaries, different softness, different strength. You are evolving as they are, and every version of you deserves to be honored. Healing isn't linear. Some days you'll feel unstoppable, others you'll fantasize about disappearing for 24 hours. Let that be okay. Small wins count. A walk, a deep breath, a text to a friend and asking for help.

Speaker 1: 14:02

Here's some bad advice of the week be present for every moment sounds lovely, right, but here's the truth. It's impossible. You are not a machine. You're a human. You will miss moments, you'll zone out, you'll be tired, distracted or simply trying to survive, and that's okay. The pressure to soak in every single second can actually steal the joy from the present. What matters is that you show up with love, not perfection.

Speaker 1: 14:31

Here's a journal prompt for you. What part of me do I miss and what part of me is trying to emerge now? Letter to the woman you were. You can either rewrite this one or write your own.

Speaker 1: 14:52

Dear you, I know you're tired, not just physically, but soul tired, the kind of tired that comes from being everything to everyone and feeling like you've somehow lost the map back to yourself. I see you. I see the way you hold it all together. The bottle feeds see you, I see the way you hold it all together the bottle feeds, the bedtime routines, the silent tears in the bathroom. I see how you smile and nod, even when you feel like you're unraveling inside. You miss her, the version of you who laughed easily, who danced in the kitchen, who wore her confidence like a second skin, the one who didn't second guess everything, the one who didn't carry guilt like a backpack. But here's what you don't always see she's still there. She's just layered now, wrapped in wisdom, softened by love, sharpened by pain.

Speaker 1: 15:54

You've grown in ways you don't give yourself credit for. You've learned to love with the ferocity that rewired your heart. You've shown up on days you wanted to quit. You've stayed when it was hard. You've evolved. You are not less. You are more, more compassionate, more resilient, more tuned in to what really matters. You don't have to do this perfectly. You don't have to prove anything. You just have to keep showing up with grace for yourself and softness for your story. Let the tears come when they need to. Let the laughter return when it's ready. Let the dreams you shelved whisper to you again. You're not gone. You're becoming, with love and honor for every version of you. Me Closing Reflection you are not broken, you are not failing. You are becoming. Thank you for showing up for this conversation and, most importantly, for showing up for yourself.

Speaker 1: 17:09

If this episode stirred something in you or made you feel even slightly less alone, I hope you know that that was the point. You're not the only one navigating this messy, beautiful, terrifying transformation. Motherhood isn't a destination. It's a lifetime of becoming, and every season you walk through reshapes you in a new way. You will outgrow old versions of yourself. You will grieve who you were, celebrate who you are and sometimes question who you're becoming.

Speaker 1: 17:41

But here's what's constant your strength, your softness and your ability to begin again. So if you find yourself crying in the car, staring at the monitor at 3 am or wondering if anyone else has ever felt this hollow and this full at the same time, please hear me when I say you are not alone. If this resonated with you, share it with a friend who might need it too. Let this be the conversation that opens another door. Until next time, be kind to your nervous system, give your inner parts space to speak and remember you don't have to do this perfectly. You just have to keep showing up. You've got this, mama. See you next week.