One of the most frequent points of frustration I hear from mums I work with is "my child won't listen to me". Listen, I get it. Sometimes from our point of view it's the most simple request that either seems to go completely unnoticed or purposefully rejected, and either of those outcomes can be highly infuriating! I wonder if you've ever thought to yourself, "it's really not that hard", or "things would be so much easier if they just did what I asked", or "I wouldn't have to get so angry or raise my voice if they had just listened in the first place". At some point or another, every parent will have resonated with one of more of these thoughts, no doubt. Because at the end of the day, not being listened to will happen, and naturally stir up some thoughts, emotions and beliefs in us, that aren't always comfortable to face, let alone know what to do with them then they arise. I believe that when we grow in awareness of a child's perspective, it enables us to soften and develop a skill which truly is a game-changer. Think of it as an ally or essential tool you can pull out when you're in need. As adults, we have capacity to have a most generous assumption of the people around us. When we jump to a conclusion (let's say in this case "my child is so difficult when they don't listen to me!") our brains have created a narrative, or story to try to help us make sense of what is happening. And if you look a little closer, there may also be something underneath that for you too. A need to feel heard. A need for cooperation. A need for things to feel easier. So it’s worth gently asking yourself… how helpful is that label in this moment? And is it actually moving you any closer to what you need? So much of ourself shows up in raising kids. Moments like rushing out the door while your child runs off in the opposite direction, or repeating the same bedtime request for what feels like the tenth time… they can be deeply triggering, especially when you’re already stretched. Toddlers seem to know how to push all the buttons and when they don't listen it can make you wonder how you haven't managed to pull all our hair out yet. Gosh, I so hear you and empathise with you! But for children, there is often a lot more going on beneath the surface that is contributing to the not listening than we realise. Here's the invitation. To pause long enough to wonder what’s going on for them, so you can support them towards what you’re asking, rather than pushing against them to get there. Parenting is leadership through connection- even in the tough moments and sometimes that means slowing down to tune in. When we take time to listen in and look through their lens, the whole picture changes and we get to make a decision on how to move forwards that supports our values that we feel grounded and confident in! For a moment I want you to zoom out with me. When your child is an adult, what do you hope to see in them? Someone who isn't afraid to say no? To question things and think for themselves? Or someone who bends to every request or demand made to them? Often we forget that adults are being shaped from day 1 - yet if it's inconvenient to us it needs to be squashed...what would it look like for you to support your child through push back, through the "NO!"s where they have room to safely challenge things that they're not in agreement with? They're looking for a coach to teach them healthy ways to communicate, learn problem solving and collaboration and compromise. Sometimes that requires a clear boundary or follow through that they won't like (which we can lovingly support them through!), and other times it will require you to get curious and wonder what might the most generous assumption of them be right now? For little ones this can show up in different ways, and maybe there's a need that has to be met first: -Are they hungry? -Is their connection cup full to the brim? -Are they tired? -Are they dysregulated? -Are you calling out an instruction from a different room where they need eye contact and someone on their level? -Are they deeply zoned in on play so other input isn't registering? -Was the instruction too complex? -Are they still needing more developmental understanding to adjust the way they're being asked? -Are they exercising their need for control and autonomy through a "no"? By expanding our interpretation of the situation through their lens we can find out the cause, and the narrative goes from "my child is so difficult when they don't listen to me", to "ah, this feels hard but I can see that my child is overwhelmed and I know that following instructions whilst they're dysregulated won't be effective". Notice how this changes the whole trajectory?! Instead of repeating yourself or raising your voice, you meet them where they are first. You help them come back to a place where they can listen. You won’t always get it right. No one does! But each time you pause, get curious, and choose a more generous assumption, you’re building something far bigger than immediate compliance. You’re building understanding. Trust. Emotional safety. And over time, that becomes the foundation that makes listening feel less like a battle… and more like something you grow into together.

When You Feel Different and Can’t Quite Explain Why If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, “Why do I feel so different?” while also staring at a tiny human you love more than anything - this is for you. Becoming a mother doesn’t just change your schedule or your sleep. It changes you. And no one really sits you down beforehand and says, “By the way, your entire internal world is about to reorganise.” We talk about nappies. We talk about feeding. We talk about sleep (or the lack of it!). But what we don’t talk about enough is the quiet yet significant identity shift happening underneath all of that. And sometimes, woven into that shift, is grief. When we hear the word grief, we tend to think of it in the biggest or most obvious sense, like losing a loved one. But grief, at its core, is simply a response to change and loss. Sometimes the thing we’re grieving isn’t a person - it’s a version of ourselves. It might be the woman who could leave the house without packing half of it first. The one who said yes to dinner plans without checking nap schedules. The one who drank a cup of tea while it was still hot - remember that luxury? None of this means you regret motherhood. None of it means you’re ungrateful. It simply means something has shifted. And change, even good change, can feel wobbly. How could it not? For many women, early motherhood can feel like the rug has been pulled from under you. One day you've got a pretty good sense of who you are and how you operate in the world. Then one minute next, you’re functioning on broken sleep, trying to remember the last time you finished a thought uninterrupted. You can prepare somewhat practically, but there is no real way to fully prepare for the internal recalibration that happens unless you’ve lived it before. I encourage you to approach this change with so much compassion on yourself; adjusting to your new rhythms, getting to know your baby (and yourself all over again), and settling into your parenting role solo or with a partner takes time. Enter Matrescence If the above resonates at all, allow me to put a bit more language to it which might invite some helpful clarity around the topic for you. Often when we think of pregnancy and motherhood, a lot of the focus is placed on the baby- and quite right for so many reasons! But for now let's look at the emotional, psychological and physical changes a mother goes through during pregnancy and post birth. This is a process called Matrescence. Think of it like adolescence, which teenagers go through, that is similar in a way where a significant identity shift is taking place. I often find myself thinking "how come adolescence is so much more spoken about than matrescence?!". Maybe you're now thinking the same. It's comforting for many mums to be able to make sense of the rollercoaster, so they feel less alone and isolated in the transition into motherhood, and I hope this brings you some comfort too. Studies continue to show measurable changes in the maternal brain, particularly in areas linked to empathy, bonding and emotional processing. Psychologists describe identity reconstruction as a core part of this stage. Aurélie Athan, PhD clinical psychologist talks on the process of matrescence by saying, “It’s much like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, it undergoes a ‘gooey’ period in which there’s a sense of a breakdown, just like in adolescence”—and you might come out a completely different person." Many mothers find even being able to put a name on how they're feeling a huge weight off their shoulders. A huge part of finding some comfort in the transition comes with being able to normalise it, recognise that it's a process and that they're not alone in it. Matrescence and grief Grief is often woven into matrescence because becoming a mother isn’t just about gaining a child, it also involves letting go of parts of your previous life. As your identity shifts, it’s common to feel the loss of who you once were — your independence, your spontaneity, even the version of yourself that felt more predictable and known. Your body has changed, your relationships may look different, your career might have paused or taken a new direction, and your sense of self is being reshaped in real time. Psychologically, your brain is adjusting to a new role and responsibility, while physically, hormonal changes and tiredness can intensify emotions, making everything feel closer to the surface. When you understand that this sense of loss is a natural part of matrescence, it stops feeling like something is wrong with you and starts to feel like something you’re moving through. Grief in motherhood doesn’t stay fixed in one place. It changes shape. It attaches itself to milestones. It evolves as they grow. And alongside that grief is something else entirely. There’s the wonder of watching them taste their first food. The way they light up at something you’d forgotten was magical. The skipping down the street like it’s the most important mission on earth. The muddy puddles. The belly laughs. The moments that make you stop and think, “I get the privilege of being able to witness this.” Motherhood is an invitation to hold both. The ache and the awe. The nostalgia and the excitement. The longing and the joy. There is room for all of it — even when it feels contradictory. Matrescence or grief isn’t weakness. It isn’t failure. Naming it doesn’t make you dramatic. It makes you aware. And awareness gives you options. You are not weak for missing who you were before motherhood. You are not flawed for occasionally thinking, “Wow, this is a lot.” You are not broken if parts of this feel bigger than you expected. And two things can exist at once; maybe for you that means acknowledging the overwhelm, and knowing that you could burst with love at the sight of your baby at the same time. One doesn't cancel out the other. With that said, there are always options for more support should you need it. Perhaps taking some moments for yourself where you can for some self-care, building community, getting outside for gentle walks or seeking professional support if that feels like something you would benefit from. If you’re reading this and thinking, “Actually, I don’t feel that way,” that’s completely okay too. Not every mother experiences this period in as much depth or shows up as grief. The beauty of motherhood is how personal it is, no mother will experience it the same - but the good news is you get to be exactly where you are in your motherhood journey without judgement. And reminding yourself that this is a season can help. It will change. There may one day be more space to revisit parts of your “old” self - passions, rhythms, spontaneity - even if they look different now. They are not gone forever. They may simply be paused. You can love your children and miss who you were. You can feel gratitude and grief in the same breath. There is space for all of it.