Worth the Weight

On Matrescence, stepping into a new self

Like the moment right before a first kiss, walking up to the salon, I had butterflies in my chest. As I opened the door, I felt my inner self wave goodbye. Not only to an era of comfort, familiarity, and reliability, but to one I had outgrown, gracefully and willingly. The words that came out were, “So long, long hair. You’ve been amazing. Time for the next page.” It was both light and whole-hearted.

It seems so cliche, but the desire to find a new look or chop off your hair as a new parent, deep in the postpartum season, is rooted in the essence of rediscovery. While I was of course hoping for a glow up in style, I wasn’t reinventing myself so much as wanting the outside to show what the inside feels: the version of me that is here, now, in the present. Accomplishing things in a day that might seem far less glamorous to some, but that embody my lifelong dream of becoming a mother.

What it carried

My long hair was tied to my first pregnancy and a postpartum period that led me straight into my next pregnancy. The hair loss and regrowth, twice over. The fractured sleep. The scrunchies and make-do buns, and the neat buns for when I had to be presentable but had no time to actually style sixteen-plus inches of tresses. And honestly, I wasn’t holding onto it. I was ignoring its role in my identity.

Because this was the hair that entered and left my college days. The hair that performed on stages for years and carried me into my early career. The hair donned by a dreamer who met and married her soulmate, who built an ambitious life alongside him, who had made the jump back across the pond and back again to dreamy California. A lot of life was lived with this hair.

But with my second baby at twelve months, and my last postpartum season just about wrapped (as breastfeeding continues), I was simply ready. Ready to shed the old skin and embrace the astronomical shift I’ve experienced in this phase of becoming a mother. My ascension of matrescence.

A quick word on that word, in case it’s new to you. Matrescence is, simply, the process of becoming a mother. The term was first coined by anthropologist Dana Raphael back in the 1970s and revived for the modern era by Columbia psychologist Dr. Aurelie Athan, who describes it as a seismic, developmental shift that reshapes a woman all at once: biologically, psychologically, socially, even spiritually. She likens it to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, and frames it not as something to fix but as a passage to move through, the way we all once moved through adolescence. Importantly, it’s meant to normalize this transformation rather than pathologize it. Athan even describes watching mothers’ shoulders drop with relief the moment they finally have a name for it. When I first read about it, I felt seen.

Why now

Somewhere along the way, I'd put my own worth in last place. It wasn’t purposeful, but in the pursuit of giving my children everything they needed around the clock and having little energy left to spend on myself. 

I speak to some new mums who, like me, can barely remember to take their daily supplements and others who seem to have it all down and never miss a workout or a nail appointment. I had forgotten to value the immense change and acknowledge the growth that multiplies in real-time when you become everything at once for two little humans.

And as I watch my daughter grow into a beautiful tiny lady, so intuitive and introspective, I have started to take more steps toward showing her, with reverence, that taking care of and pride in ourselves is the standard.

My sweet boy turned one on a Friday. I made my appointment for the Sunday.

In the chair

After screenshots and YouTube shorts and Pinterest-ing all the inspo I needed, I’d chosen a textured French bob with a fringe as my target. To me it read as tres chic, a bit sassy and an easy fit for my artist and professional personas. I shared the look nervously with Ash and my innermost circle, who affirmed it with encouragement. Then I ran a two-week search to find the right stylist, since my prior stylist-bestie had moved to the East Coast. I carefully selected Richelle after vetting her reviews and stalking her IG. Also a mum, and oozing effortless style, she listened and validated my vision. She calmed my frantic arrival almost instantly. We went over the brief, and she laid out her plan.

Feeling cold scissors against my neck and the butterflies heighten, I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be. When the length came off, I felt such an instant sense of release. It was resolute. “Ahh, I love it so much,” I said. And then, “I might get emotional.” Which, actually, was the only moment my eyes welled up as I quietly celebrated taking the plunge.

When Richelle finished and turned the chair for me to see, I felt instantly light and radiant. I saw myself beyond the fatigue, the spent nervous system, the overexertion from newborn-to-twelve months with two under three. And I felt happy.

Taking it home

I loved it for me. What a relief it was to walk out of the salon and float back to my car. I couldn’t wait to show my crew at home what we’d done.

When I walked through our front door, I saw all of their faces light up. Millie said with a smile, “Mummy, your hair looks like Boo,” an inside reference to Monsters Inc. which was acutely accurate in her world and a real compliment. Oscar welcomed me with his signature snuggle, his little fingers going straight to my hair and then to his own head, babbling his review. Ash's face said it all and a week later, he is still telling me how much he loves it, and how much it suits me. For the full circle, my mum was with us for Oscar's birthday weekend and saw the reveal in-person too, which was lovely. All of it confirming what I’d felt the whole way home.

I had made the right choice in more than a haircut. It was a symbol of confidence, and of love, to my whole, entire being. An ascension of matrescence.

The next page

The permission we need as new mothers isn’t just to “get the cut.” It’s to make a conscious, consistent motion to honor your whole self, new and past, in a way that you can appreciate and own.

For me, I’m reminded when I walk past my reflection or my babies reach up to touch my hair, that I’m a whole, new woman. I’ve shed the skin of uncertainty, and the negative self-critic who no longer recognized herself in the mirror. I see the beauty in all of it, the way my journey into motherhood has changed me for the better. I feel fully renewed, and yet more myself than ever before. I will show up fully for my family because I am finally ready to take care of me.

Here’s to the next page. The one where I know who I am, and I’m not afraid to proudly embody every part of her.

View the reveal below and the transformation in the reel on Instagram.

Hair by the wonderful @Richelle.Walden.Hair. If this stirred something in you, join me in The Village, our little corner for friends turning their own pages.