Becoming, Again: On New Motherhood, Menopause, and the Spaces We’re Not Prepared For

There are certain seasons in a woman’s life that reshape her—not all at once, but steadily, quietly, until she looks up and realizes she is no longer who she once was. We often know and expect change in these moments. What we don’t expect is how little we’ve been prepared for what that change actually feels like.

Recently, I had the opportunity to be part of a conversation with Kate Chappell on NBC Chicago about menopause—a life stage that, much like new motherhood, carries profound physical, emotional, and identity shifts. While the details of these experiences differ, their emotional undercurrent is strikingly similar. Both are seasons of becoming. And both are, too often, navigated in silence.

The Conversations We Haven’t Fully Had

Only recently did I formally document (via my book, Swaddled) my surprising—at least to me—experience with new motherhood. And now, more than 20  years removed from that untethered season, I’ve found myself surprised by another.

For all the ways we’ve advanced in how we talk about women’s lives, there are still entire chapters that remain under-discussed—spoken about in fragments, brushed over, or shared only in hindsight. Women enter these transitions having heard of them, but not truly understanding them—not in a way that prepares them to feel grounded, supported, or reassured that what they’re experiencing is normal. Even with books, resources, and information, there is something uniquely powerful about firsthand, honest conversation—the kind that says, this is what it really felt like for me. Without that—and even with responsible information gathering—the experience can still feel startlingly unfamiliar.

When Silence Turns into Minimization

And layered on top of that silence is something else: a cultural tendency to minimize or even mock these stages. Jokes about “losing yourself” in motherhood. Casual dismissals of menopausal hot flashes as something to endure quietly or laugh off. While often unintentional, this kind of messaging only deepens the sense that what women are experiencing isn’t worthy of real attention or care. And that is not only unhelpful—it’s isolating.

So when the changes begin—whether it’s the disorientation of caring for an entirely dependent new life while trying to recognize yourself, or the unexpected emotional and physical shifts of menopause—many women find themselves asking quiet questions: Is this normal? Why didn’t I know it would feel like this? Why do I feel so alone in it? The absence of open, honest dialogue creates space for fear to take hold. When we don’t have language for what we’re experiencing, uncertainty fills the gap. And with uncertainty often comes insecurity—about our bodies, our identities, and our ability to navigate what lies ahead.

The Part We Don’t Name: Loss

Because alongside the idea of becoming someone new is another, less talked about truth: there is often a sense of loss. A version of yourself that felt known. Capable. Certain. Whether in early motherhood or in menopause, there can be moments of grief for who you were before—even as you move toward who you are becoming. These two realities can exist at the same time, even if we rarely give women permission to name them both.

But what if these experiences weren’t shrouded in quiet? What if they were met with openness, shared stories, and a collective sense of me too? Because the truth is, these transitions were never meant to be navigated alone. Honest, truth-telling—real women sharing real experiences—is what bridges the gap between isolation and connection. It’s what replaces fear with recognition.

What Women Actually Need in These Seasons

In many ways, both new motherhood and menopause call for the same thing: to be held. Not fixed, not rushed through, not minimized—but supported. Witnessed. Understood.

Swaddled.

When I think about the heart of Swaddled, it’s not only about the early days of motherhood. It’s about the universal need, across all seasons of life, to feel gently held as we move through something new and unfamiliar. To be wrapped in reassurance instead of left to untangle the experience on our own. Women at the beginning of motherhood deserve that kind of care. Women at the threshold of menopause deserve it too.

And perhaps what connects these stages most is this: both ask us to let go of a previous version of ourselves, while stepping into one we don’t yet fully know. That in-between space can feel tender. Vulnerable. Unsteady. But it can also be softened—through conversation, through storytelling, through the simple act of saying, this is happening to me, too.

The more we speak openly about these seasons, the less alone they become. The more we normalize not just the transformation, but also the grief within it, the more supported women will feel as they move through it.

If you find yourself in a season of becoming, may you be reminded that uncertainty doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong—it means you’re in the midst of change. And you don’t have to move through it alone.

Hugs!