I was once the cool girl. The quintessential chill girl. Dare I say, the chillest girl.

She died, but her death was written about here and so in some ways, will live on forever. Cause of death? Matrescence, the process of becoming a mother.

Turns out, becoming a mother requires you to not be the most laid back person in the room. It demands that you stop answering with a “Whatever is easiest” or “I don’t have an opinion!” and instead speak your truth and stand your ground .

In other words, becoming a mom puts the proverbial nail in the cool girl coffin.

For those that tune into the experience of pregnancy, whether as a birthing parent or support person, it becomes fairly obvious as the months go on that this experience of growing a life and creating a human is the closest we get to our animal nature.

Like the caterpillars that transform into butterflies without conscious thought or control, our bodies build another human from the cellular level without instruction from our human minds. The wisdom innate to our bodies builds a human. Wild, I say.

The physiological changes that occur within a birthing parent’s body trigger an emotional, spiritual, and psychological metamorphosis of self. From maiden to mother, from caterpillar to butterfly. Change is inevitable.

How could it not be when mothers quite literally transform on a cellular level as the cells from the growing baby pass through the placenta and into the mother’s body where they will remain for decades to come? Perhaps remain their for the rest of her life in a process known as michrochimerism?

In the words of Lucy Jones, “From the moment I was pregnant, I didn’t just feel different. I was different. I am different. On a cellular level. I would never be singular again.”

Never singular again. No longer is your body just yours to move or your time just yours to spend or your day just yours to plan or your thoughts just yours to spin.

Inevitably, and necessarily, we change. If we were to stay the same before and after pregnancy, we would not be parents. We become parents at the same time that our children are growing. Our first babies, those that make us parents, come into the world with an immense task of holding space for their parents as they make their metamorphosis from singular to other.

The metamorphosis is different for everyone and unique to your own individual journey of parenthood. It might begin at the first site of a positive pregnancy test or may slowly start at the birth of your child. It will ask different things of different people.

But if I could draw a through line through all birthing people and newly born parents, the metamorphosis requires we examine one area of our life without fail: boundaries.

Boundaries, similar to the silky cocoon of the caterpillar, are necessary for the transformation to take place. They will evolve through pregnancy in response to the ever-evolving needs of our changing bodies, identities, and lives. What we once allowed, what we once needed, will change in order for you to thrive in your postpartum journey and into parenthood.

In the Mesoamerican tradition, uteruses are often illustrated as vessels (similar to those that hold wheat and grains and legumes). These vessels are tightly sealing containers that protect what is inside it, much like the uterus does with the baby inside of it.

The uterus is the mother of all boundaries, so it’s only fitting that we turn to her as our embodied teacher. It knows what will serve you and your baby and what won’t. Anything that won’t gets pushed out and rejected. Easy peasy.

Towards the end of pregnancy, our boundaries begin a process of transformation. As the uterus grows with your baby and the skin around your belly gets taut, you enter a state of in-between. In this in-between, you straddle the life and identity you knew and the life and identity you don’t yet know. Sitting in between these two worlds while your body and baby grow faster than they have at any other point in pregnancy, the boundaries between you and the world around you begin to become more porous in preparation for stepping over the threshold of parenthood.

This may look like crying every time you see a commercial with an animal, desiring more cuddles with your partner, more coddling from your parents, a sudden hatred for the couch you helped pick out with your partner (or is that one just me?).

Or it may look like an enhanced connection to the earth beneath your feet and the plants and animals you see daily.

“The boundaries between myself and the rest of life here were thinner and more porous. I felt open to the processes around me, as if the membrane of my consciousness was stretching like the taut skin of my stomach…I was starting to find more of a mirror or a sense of kinship in the natural world,” writes Lucy Jones in Matrescense.

This increased sensitivity is often attributed to hormonal changes and that certainly plays a role. Our physiology reflects our energetic states and vice versa but just looking at hormones would be leaving out a massive piece of the puzzle.

We become porous, soaking in the world around us with new eyes, ears, and noses. Our consciousness blends with the world around us as we sit in between states of being. These new eyes, ears, and noses are those of our new selves as parents. This new awareness asks you to look at your boundaries honestly and determine what needs to change in order to thrive as this new version of self and within this new ecosystem of life.

There are inevitably conversations that need to be had with partners, family, siblings, and providers. It requires radical honesty, with yourself and others, as you navigate the massive metamorphosis of self inherent to parenthood.

The following questions are meant to help guide you along this journey of honest inquiry. And as always, the questions are asked through a lens of embodiment as the body is often willing to share wisdom that the mind is not aware of:

Where in your life is a boundary being crossed? Notice where feelings of anger or resentment arise in your day. Those are usually clues that a boundary has not been respected or communicated clearly.
How does a boundary being crossed show in your body? What feelings and sensations arise in the moment and stick with you thereafter.
What dynamic do you hold with this person or people? Is there a difference in power that affects how you interact with them?
1. If you answered yes to a difference in power, ask yourself if this difference is real or imaginary?
What has held you back from expressing that your boundary has been crossed? This could relate to question 3 or may have more to do with your relationship to expressing your needs, receiving help, giving feedback, etc.
What 3 steps can you take in the coming week to help create this boundary?