Every mother is different, but in my practice I keep seeing the same themes come up with a particular type of woman: the ambitious woman who became a mother.
Before the baby, they had their lives well in order. Their career was going well, their relationship too. They were used to performing, solving problems, and staying in control.
And now they're sitting across from me. Exhausted, uncertain, and with the feeling that they're doing something fundamentally wrong. When they're really not.
What I tell them: it's not their weaknesses that are getting them into trouble. It's their greatest strengths. The same three themes come up time and time again.
Control
You were used to hard work paying off. The more you immersed yourself in something or dug your heels in, the better the results.
And then the baby arrived. No logic, no KPIs, and every parenting book you were handed — and read cover to cover — seems to have nothing to do with your baby.
For this group of women, that loss of control is often the hardest part of the newborn phase and the challenging years that follow. Not the caregiving itself, but the fact that you can't manage it. You can do everything right for a week and still have a terrible night.
What helps: learning to distinguish between what you can and can't influence. That sounds simple, but for perfectionists and control freaks, it's a genuine skill you have to relearn. Start small. What can I actually steer today? The rest can just be for now.
Ambition and Identity
This is one that catches many women off guard. Before the baby, they knew exactly who they were. Someone with clear goals and, usually, an enormous drive that had taken them far.
And then suddenly there's a phase where those ambitions start to shift. Note: they don't disappear (something I hear far too often), they shift. For example, from status to impact. Or from thinking big to thinking focused. I've met women — and men, for that matter — who developed completely different values after becoming parents, because they suddenly became aware of the world they're leaving behind.
What I often hear: I miss myself. Not my old life, but the feeling of knowing who I am and what I want.
What helps: recognising — and saying out loud — that this is normal. Your ambition and your identity are not fixed. You're not the same person you were at 6, 16, or 26. Who you were before motherhood and who you're becoming now are not opposites. They're both you, and that will keep evolving.
Asking for Help
As millennial women, we were told: you can do it all! Asking for help always felt like weakness. No, you handled things yourself.
And now you suddenly need someone for everything. A sleep tip. A listening ear. A shoulder to cry on. And that chafes, because it doesn't fit the image you have of yourself.
What I unfortunately see far too often are women who wait until things are 'bad enough' before they seek help. Who only give themselves permission when they've truly hit a wall. Meanwhile, the women who reach out earlier get through it faster and more easily. On top of that, asking for help when you've already hit rock bottom is so much harder — you no longer have the clarity to even know what kind of help you need.
None of this is failure, or being a bad mother. This is what happens when your greatest strengths suddenly stop working the way you're used to. There's a name for it: matrescence — the transition from woman to mother. Every woman goes through it, but it looks a little different for everyone.
About the Author
This article was written by Lianne, Matrescence Coach and Counsellor at The Motherhood Movement. In her practice, she guides mothers through the identity shift that early motherhood brings. Want to know more about matrescence and identity? Follow Lianne on Instagram.
