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When we finish high school, we have a party, a special graduation outfit, presents, cake and photos. In some cultures, Quinceañeras mark the passage out of girlhood to womanhood. We celebrate the end of our single days with bachelorette parties, heading out on the town before tying the knot. But when it comes to the end of one of the biggest changes in a woman’s life — having babies — the phase fades into the abyss without a second look. But it shouldn’t.
I started having babies at age 27, one year into my marriage. My husband and I were only children, so we wanted to build a big family with lots of love, noise, laughter and memories that would outlast us. Days from now, I turn 37 and am closing the chapter on my pregnancy and postpartum years after giving birth to four sons, then a daughter, and two miscarriages along the way. It’s been a decade to remember.
My daughter’s first birthday isn’t just hers. It symbolizes the end of my official baby-making, birthing and breastfeeding years, which have made up the majority of my adult life. These became central to my identity, and as they move into the rearview mirror, I have to reconsider who I am again. The strange stage beyond having babies was foreign to me.
Our culture needs to mark and celebrate the end of matrescence (transforming into a mother) as it does other milestones. But, in many ways, the journey into motherhood has been forgotten. As soon as the baby is born, all eyes shift from the mother who just endured the most physically, emotionally and spiritually taxing event of her life to the sweet, squishy baby, where that attention stays from then on.
A quick look into any postpartum social media group reveals post after post of moms talking about the grief they carry with the end of their time having babies. It comes in many forms and at unexpected times, as I’ve experienced myself. “I just can’t bring myself to get rid of the crib.” “I can’t decide if I should have just one more.” “I’ll never smell that sweet newborn baby smell again or feel a baby’s kicks in my stomach.”
Why are these moms turning to chat boards rather than marking the end of an era with family and friends, as we do for so many other occasions? Because, like many other parts of motherhood, we don’t talk much about this tough transition. A 2023 report of 3,600 mothers in multiple countries revealed that 75 percent of women feel invisible in their journey, and 94 percent feel unappreciated, unacknowledged or unseen.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
So, alongside my daughter’s first birthday, I’m having a party for myself. I am buying myself a meaningful piece of jewelry, which I will then pass down to my daughter, which marks the end, the exclamation point, of my years of growing babies, bringing them into the world and nursing them into toddlers. It will acknowledge the sacrifice and joys but also celebrate life moving on, without diapers and midnight wakings, trying to conceive charts and pelvic floor therapy. I will take a picture of myself and my five children, as I did when I first found out I was pregnant with my oldest, proudly cupping my little baby bump with my hands. I will also finish a wall of photographs that displays not only my newborn babies along with their times of birth, weights and names but also my first photo with each of them — because each time I was reborn as a mother as well.
With a lack of an official conclusion date, for many moms, when is “after?” It might not be obvious to all moms when that official “end” is, and it will likely be different for everyone. After my doctors confirmed I medically shouldn’t carry any more babies (and the chaos in our house downright forbade it), I felt grief, like I’d lost something. My husband’s vasectomy afterward felt so final, like the abrupt end of motherhood. For others, it might be the end of their breastfeeding or bottle-feeding time when they go back to work or when they finally decide not to have any more children. Talking about these moments and emotions is a must for postpartum mental health — which is already a growing issue, with one in seven moms experiencing Postpartum Depression. Yet it’s not common to do that.
Here are some ways that I, along with women in postpartum groups and my own life, celebrate this moment:
Clean out the closet and go shopping.
While they served their purpose, the maternity, nursing and postpartum clothes can head on out to another mom who needs them. In their place, it’s time for some fun pieces that feel great on your current body (no need to “bounce back,” am I right?). Treat yourself to a little shopping spree.
Plan a girls’ night with other moms who get it.
It doesn’t have to be elaborate, but marking the moment with your mom tribe over margaritas and cheers-ing to your motherhood journey is a memorable way.
Have a quiet moment with your last baby.
Sitting on the porch with your last baby, rocking at sunset, is a quiet and peaceful way to acknowledge the gratitude you have for your motherhood journey and the strength you needed to endure the difficult parts.
Ask your partner or family to get involved.
Who wants to plan their own party? Don’t be ashamed to ask your people to get involved with celebrating you.
Share your feelings about parenting and the end of having babies with your children.
I set up an email address for my daughter with these thoughts so she can read them when she’s a mother if she wants to be. When my own daughter’s last baby is too old to hold, and she’s wondering what’s next with menopause on the horizon, I want her to feel like it’s normal to mark the occasion and celebrate the era of bringing life into the world.
We celebrate pregnancies, so let's celebrate their finale. To all the invisible mothers — you’ve earned a damn party.
What do you think of the above idea to celebrate the end of your pregnancy years? Let us know in the comments below.
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Follow Article Topics: Lifestyle
