Parenthood — and All the Parts of Us We Haven’t Met Yet

When we talk about parenthood, we often focus on what begins. A baby is born. A family expands. A new chapter opens. But in the therapy room, the conversation is often about something quieter and more complex: the reshaping of the self.

Because when we become parents or carers, parts of us expand, parts soften, and some parts can feel as though they’ve been quietly placed on hold.

And rarely do we acknowledge just how disorientating that can be.

The identity shift no one quite names

The developmental transition into parenthood often referred to as matrescence, a term popularised by anthropologist Dana Raphael in the 1970s and more recently explored by reproductive psychiatrist Alexandra Sacks, describes the profound psychological and biological changes that accompany becoming a mother.

“We still barely acknowledge the physiological and psychological significance of becoming a mother: how it affects the brain, the endocrine system, cognition, immunity, the psyche, the microbiome, the sense of self. This is a problem.

Everyone knows adolescents are uncomfortable and awkward because they are going through extreme mental and bodily changes, but, when they have a baby, women are expected to transition with ease - to breeze into a completely new self, a new role, at one of the most perilous and sensitive times in the life course.” (Jones, 2023).

We understand adolescence as turbulent. We expect identity confusion at 15.

At 35? Less so.

But psychologically speaking, identity is not fixed in adulthood. Developmental theorists such as Erik Erikson long argued that identity continues to evolve across the lifespan. More recent models of adult development emphasise that major life transitions; becoming a parent, caring for someone vulnerable, returning to work, navigating loss, loosen the structure of who we thought we were. Old identities no longer fit in quite the same way. New ones are forming, but not yet solid and that in-between space can feel unsettling.

The parts we miss

In the peer support groups I have run this month, we reflected on the parts of ourselves that feel less accessible right now.

• The spontaneous part.

• The independent part.

• The career-focused or ambitious part.

• The creative or carefree part.

For many parents, these parts haven’t disappeared but they can feel muted. Quieter. Waiting. And there is often grief here.

We can love our children deeply and still miss the version of ourselves who had more space, autonomy, or mental clarity. Both can be true.

If a part feels “on hold”, what does it need?

Rather than asking, “How do I get that old version of me back?” a gentler question might be: “What did that part of me need and is there a stripped-back way to meet that need, even temporarily?”

For example:

• If you miss your independent part — perhaps what is needed is autonomy. Is there a small, protected pocket of time each week that belongs only to you?

• If you miss your creative part — perhaps what is needed is expression. Could that look like ten quiet minutes of writing, sketching, or thinking, rather than an entire day?

• If you miss your ambitious or career-focused part — perhaps what is needed is growth or mastery. Is there a course, conversation, or project that keeps that thread alive in a sustainable way?

• If you miss your carefree part — perhaps what is needed is lightness. Where might playfulness be woven into your current season, even briefly?

Needs don’t vanish simply because circumstances change. But the way we meet them may need to evolve.

Sometimes identity integration isn’t about reclaiming the old structure in full, it’s about keeping parts ticking over until there is more space to embrace them fully again.

The parts that expand

Alongside what feels quieter, there are often parts that grow in ways we never anticipated.

The nurturing part.

The fiercely protective part.

The playful or imaginative part.

The deeply present part.

Parenthood can introduce us to qualities we may never have encountered otherwise. Or re-introduce us to younger parts that “adulting” had placed on hold.

Some people discover resilience they didn’t know they possessed. Others find boundaries strengthening, or compassion deepening — not only toward their children, but toward themselves.

We do not only lose in this transition.

We expand.

The parts we haven’t met yet

Perhaps the most hopeful truth is: there are still parts of you forming quietly beneath the surface.

Identity in parenthood is not fixed at the newborn stage, the toddler stage, or even the school-age years. It continues to evolve.

There may be strengths emerging you cannot yet see. Capacities building slowly through repetition and challenge.

The version of you parenting a teenager will not be the same version parenting a baby. The version of you at 45 will not be identical to the one at 35.

Some parts are resting. Some are growing. Some are waiting for a different season.

And some have not yet introduced themselves.

Development is lifelong. As Erikson suggested, each stage of life brings new psychological tasks. We are not meant to arrive fully formed and remain unchanged.

So if you feel in-between, that may simply mean you are in flux.

Charlie X

References

Erikson, E. H. (1963). Childhood and society (2nd ed.). W. W. Norton.

Jones, L. (2023). Matrescence: On the transformation of becoming a mother. Virago.

Sacks, A. (2017). What no one tells you about motherhood. The New York Times.