Inner Child Work for Moms in Midlife
The kitchen is a mess. Dinner plates are still on the table, there's a permission slip to sign before morning, and somewhere under a dish towel your phone is buzzing with a work email you'll answer at 10 p.m.
Then someone turns on music.
Your child starts to move. No warm-up, no checking who's watching, no worry about doing it right. Arms out, spinning until she's dizzy, laughing at herself.
And something in your chest catches. It feels like recognition. You used to be like that. You used to have a thing that made you lose track of time, and you can't remember the last time you did it, or when you stopped.
Becoming a mother, especially later in life and right as perimenopause arrives, often brings the child you used to be back into the room.
Watching your own kids be fully themselves can show you, with uncomfortable clarity, what you set down to be good, safe and successful.
Inner child work is the part of therapy that goes looking for that younger part of you, learns why she went quiet, and gives her a seat at the table again.
You can do this work without tearing down the life you've built.
For me, it was my daughter. She is known for her dancing. She loves it.
As I sat with her one day, I was struck by an inner awareness: dancing used to be my big thing too.
Something about watching her woke something up in me, and I realized I needed to do my own inner child work.
I wanted to find out what happened to the little girl who loved to dance and somehow became a therapist.
I'm 48, a mom of two young kids, and in the middle of perimenopause, so I'm doing this work from the inside.
The Blessing and the Curse of Becoming a Mom Later in Life
More women are becoming mothers later. In 2024 the US birth rate for women ages 40 to 44 rose 2%, and according to the CDC's National Center for Health Statistics, the rate in that age group has risen almost continuously since 1985.
If you had your children later, you may be raising little ones at the same time your hormones start to shift.
The anthropologist Dana Raphael gave the identity shift of becoming a mother a name in 1973: matrescence.
When motherhood comes later, that shift can land right on top of the midlife one.
Two big identity changes at once, while you pack lunches and keep up at work.
The blessing is that you come to motherhood with more of yourself already formed.
You know what matters to you. You've seen how fast the years go.
And midlife, especially with perimenopause in the mix, can bring a reckoning that gives you permission to say: I think I want to clock out of the race.
I think I want to go back and find myself.
The curse is that motherhood also shines a light on what got lost.
Watching your child, you start to remember how you were treated, how you were told to do things, the times you were told not to talk about it or to be quiet.
Many of us were silenced for our own survival, and for the survival of the people caring for us, who were often doing what they could with what they had.
That can be hard to unpack, and hard to understand.
Remembering it doesn't turn your mother into a villain, and it doesn't make you ungrateful.
You can love the people who raised you and still grieve what you put away to be loved by them.
But the beautiful thing about motherhood is that your child can show you where you left yourself.
Where the Little Girl Went
I believe we're born with gifts.
Some kids light up when they move.
Some light up when they draw, sing, build or take things apart to see how they work.
Then the world teaches us how to operate.
It tells us what success looks like: the grades, the degree, the title, the house, the body, the kind of mother you're supposed to be.
We believe it, because we're new to the world and we trust the people who care for us.
We trust the commercials that sell us the best life.
And bit by bit, we start outsourcing our inner knowing to something outside ourselves: a parent's approval, a teacher's grade, a boss's review, a culture's picture of a good life.
Maybe the girl who loved to dance hears that dancing won't pay the bills, or that it's showing off, or that serious girls study.
So she goes quiet, and other parts of you step up: the achiever, the responsible one, the one who never needs anything.
Those parts got you far.
They may be how you built the career and the family you have now. (I wrote about how those roles form in I'm Tired of Being the Strong One.)
Your Watch Says You Slept Fine
Look at the device on your wrist or your finger.
Many of us now wear a smartwatch or a smart ring that grades our sleep.
It tells you whether you had a good night or a bad one, and whether today is for a hard workout or for rest.
And many of us let it overrule what we already know.
You wake up exhausted, you can feel it in your bones, and the app says you scored well, so you push through the hard class.
Or you know you need a slow day, and you only feel allowed to take it once the data backs you up: "Look, my recovery score is low."
Somewhere along the way, "My body is telling me I had a rough night, and I need a slower day" stopped counting as a good enough reason.
It doesn't sound acceptable, or even believable.
We've shaped our lives around proving our worth and value to other people, and now we do it with data too.
Sleep researchers have noticed. In a 2017 case series of three patients, Kelly Glazer Baron and colleagues described people who became so focused on their sleep tracker numbers that their sleep and their worry got worse.
They called it orthosomnia.
In one case, a woman's tracker kept reporting poor sleep while a lab sleep study showed she was getting a good amount of deep sleep.
Three patients is a small sample, and the devices have improved since then.
The point still holds: the tracker gives you an estimate, and you're the one living in your body.
Moms get a double dose of this.
Mom guilt already asks you to justify every hour you spend on yourself.
A rest day that needs a chart to back it up is one more thing you have to justify, and you already justify plenty.
Trusting yourself includes trusting the part of you that says something is off and wants it checked.
If your device flags an irregular heartbeat, or your exhaustion doesn't lift no matter how much you rest, take that to your doctor.
Your own signals and good medical care belong together.
Check the Body First
Before we go looking for the little girl, start with your body, because in midlife it's changing.
Perimenopause can thin your sleep, shorten your fuse and stir up old feelings.
Some of what feels like losing yourself has a hormonal piece, and that piece deserves medical care.
HRT can be good medicine, and it belongs in that conversation with your doctor. (I wrote more about losing your sense of self in perimenopause here.)
Alongside the medical care, there's often a question that hormones were never meant to answer.
Fellow moms in midlife bring it to me again and again: Who am I? What lights me up?
How do I tell the difference between what society wants from me, what I'm good at, and what I'm truly meant to do here?
That question deserves time to answer, and inner child work helps to figure things out.
A Seat at the Table: Inner Child Work in Plain English
Much of my work with clients is rooted in Internal Family Systems, or IFS, a model developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz.
IFS sees the mind as a system of parts guided by a core Self.
Some parts are protectors. They run your day, keep you productive and pleasant, and step in fast to shut down feelings that seem dangerous.
Other parts are younger and more tender.
IFS calls them exiles: young parts that took the hit of hard experiences and were pushed out of the room so the rest of you could keep functioning.
When people talk about the inner child, this is usually who they mean.
Picture a family dinner table.
For years, the protectors have had the best seats.
The planner sits at the head of the table.
The people-pleaser passes the dishes and watches everyone's face.
The critic keeps a running list of everything you should be doing.
And the little girl who loved to dance was sent to her room a long time ago and told to be quiet.
In therapy, we go looking for her. We look at where she got lost: to trauma, to stress, to anxiety, to a world that told her she was “too much” or rewarded her for needing less.
The protectors get thanked, and they keep their seats, because they kept you safe.
The work is in reconnecting with her, earning her trust, and giving her permission to have a seat at the table again.
When the protectors see she's safe, they can often relax a little.
There's a nervous system layer to this too. Many protector parts are how your body learned to keep you safe: stay alert, stay busy, stay agreeable.
Inner child work gives your body new experiences of safety, so those parts don't have to work so hard.
What the Research Shows
The IFS Institute itself describes the evidence base as small. Pilot randomized trials and early studies suggest IFS may help with depression and PTSD, with consistent gains in self-compassion, and larger trials are still needed. I use IFS alongside EMDR and nervous system work, and I tell clients plainly what the research shows and where it stops.
What you might notice | What may be underneath | Who to talk to |
A pang while watching your child play freely | A younger part of you that set down something she loved | A therapist, or a journal to start |
You need a score, an app or someone's okay before you'll rest | Trust in your own signals was handed to outside judges | A therapist |
You say "I should" far more often than "I want" | Protector parts running the whole day | A therapist |
Old family rules ("don't talk about it," "be quiet") echo when you parent | Patterns from how you were raised, often learned for survival | A therapist. EMDR can help when reactions feel bigger than the moment |
Exhaustion that rest doesn't touch, poor sleep, low mood most days | Hormones, thyroid, iron, a sleep problem, depression, or several at once | Your doctor or OB-GYN first, with a therapist alongside |
When the People Who Love You Push Back
Listening to your inner voice can come at a price.
Imagine you've always been known as the breadwinner, or the steady one.
Then you say you want to take a break.
Or you say you no longer want to do the thing you're excellent at, the thing that pays well, and when people ask what you'd do instead, you answer, "I don't know yet."
Or you say, "I want to quit my job and travel for a year."
What often comes back is shock, disappointment, and resistance from a partner, from parents, from friends. Some of it might even be jealousy that no one wants to acknowledge or admit.
Even when you have the privilege and the means to make that kind of choice, the people you love and the culture around you often don't support it.
I understand the resistance.
People depend on you, and a change in you means a change for them.
The fear underneath usually sounds like this: it feels like I'd have to blow up the life that I know and rebuild a whole new life with no guarantee of how things will turn out.
The fear of the unknown is a real thing. But the reframe is to recognize that you are in a transition, and you get to decide how small or how big of a pivot you want to make.
Sometimes the pivot is just acknowledging that you want something different, without knowing what that something is.
The way I work with this is adapted from William Bridges' transition model.
Bridges described three phases: an ending, a neutral zone and a new beginning.
The neutral zone is the in-between, where the old way no longer fits and the new one isn't clear yet, and he saw it as a seedbed for whatever comes next.
Hearing from your inner child often drops you right into that middle stretch.
The work there is usually smaller than the fear. Maybe it's stepping back, for a season or for good.
Maybe it's working out how to make space for the girl who loved to dance while the outside world still needs you at work and at home.
Often it's building capacity in your nervous system, so you can stay steady through the shock and resistance that may show up when you say out loud what you want.
Much of that work can happen in therapy, and much of it you can start on your own.
The scary part is sitting with yourself long enough to trust what you know.
Try This: Three Small Experiments in Trusting Yourself
Treat these as experiments. Pick one this week, notice what happens, and don't try to fix anything you find.
Listen to yourself before the data. When your watch or ring gives you a result, and you feel the opposite, go with yourself first. If your ring says you slept great and you can do the hard workout, and your intuition says you don't want to, listen to your intuition. Notice if guilt and shame make you feel bad for going in a different direction.
Choose what you want for dinner. You defrosted the chicken because you know you should be eating protein, and you just don't feel like it. You'd rather have a salad or tacos. Can you give yourself permission to choose what you want over what you should be doing? (This is for small, ordinary choices. Keep any plan you've made with your doctor.)
For one day, notice every time you say "I should," "I have to" or "I need to," and compare that with the times you say "I want to." Where is there room for "I want to" next to all the "I have to"s? My rule of thumb: if you catch yourself saying "I should" more than 10 times a day, that's an invitation to reflect. Ask yourself, where am I losing myself? Where am I getting lost?
If these feel hard, or stir up more than you expected, that's useful information too. It often means the younger part of you has been waiting a long time, and she may need more support than an experiment can give.
Is This You? Four Direct Questions
Has watching your child do something they love stirred up a feeling about something you used to love?
Do you need a reason, a score or someone else's okay before you let yourself rest, even when you're running on empty?
When you're worn out with your kids, do you hear old family rules come out of your mouth, like "don't talk about it" or "be quiet"?
Is there something you want that you keep talking yourself out of, because you can't picture how your family would react?
If two or more of those landed, you're not ungrateful. A part of you that has been quiet for a long time may be asking to be heard, and motherhood may have opened the door.
That's worth exploring.
Why This Work Needs More Than 50 Minutes
I learned long ago that a 50-minute session often isn't enough for this work.
When you go looking for the inner child, you're taking apart years of armor, layer by layer.
Many women spend the first part of any appointment doing what they do everywhere: giving a tidy update, checking that I'm following, staying composed. In a 50-minute hour, by the time the armor loosens, it's nearly time to leave for school pickup.
Two hours gives us room to settle in, do the main work, take a break, go deeper, and land before you walk out the door. (Here's what happens in a two-hour session.)
In that time, we can find the younger part, listen to what she needs, and aim to close with you steady enough to drive home. That's why I offer extended sessions.
EMDR has its place here too.
When a reaction is much bigger than the moment, like when your child's meltdown or one comment at a family dinner sends you straight back to feeling small, that often points to older memories your body is still holding, and EMDR is one way to help your brain process them when understanding alone hasn't moved them.
A longer session gives us time to open that work and aim to close it in the same sitting. (Here's more on how EMDR differs from talk therapy.)
A good place to start is a Midlife Transition Session: one two-hour session, $495, which is also how every new client begins with me.
If you want a steadier container, the Midlife Transition Series is four two-hour sessions over eight weeks, $1,850, moving through four steps: Name It, Grieve It, Untangle It, Build It. I also offer weekly 50-minute sessions. (Full rates are here.)
I see clients in person in Bordentown City, a short drive from Hamilton, Robbinsville, Chesterfield, and Princeton, and online anywhere in New Jersey.
A Life With Room for What You Now Know
Somewhere tonight there's a kitchen with music on and a child dancing who has no idea anyone might ever tell her to stop.
You can't go back and protect the girl you were.
You can still find her.
What waits at the end of this work is a life with room for what you now know, maybe even for the dancing.
If you live in New Jersey and you're ready to go looking for her, I would love to work with you.
Not sure yet?
Frequently Asked Questions
What is inner child work in therapy?
Inner child work means getting to know the younger parts of you that learned to go quiet, often to stay safe or keep the peace. In therapy, we find where she got lost, understand what she needed, and give her a voice in your adult life, at a pace your nervous system can handle.
Why does becoming a mother bring up my own childhood?
Watching your child be fully themselves can remind you what you set down, and parenting can bring back how you were raised: the rules, the silences, the praise. That's common, and it isn't a sign something is wrong. It can be a good moment to look at what you want to carry forward.
Is inner child work the same as IFS?
Not exactly. Inner child is a plain-language term. Internal Family Systems (IFS), developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz, is a therapy model that works with protective parts and younger, wounded parts called exiles, guided by a core Self. Many therapists use IFS for inner child work. Its research base is still small but growing.
Can perimenopause make old feelings come back?
It can. Perimenopause can thin your sleep and your patience, and old feelings often feel closer to the surface. Start by checking the hormonal side with your doctor or OB-GYN. Therapy can work alongside that medical care on what was stirred up, including old patterns from childhood.
How do I start trusting my intuition again?
Start small. Before you check your sleep score, ask how you feel. Notice how often you say "I should" compared with "I want to." Make one small choice a day based on what you want. If trusting yourself brings up fear or old memories, a therapist can help you work through it.
Why are two-hour therapy sessions helpful for inner child work?
Getting past years of armor can take most of a 50-minute hour. With two hours, there is time to settle, work, rest, go deeper, and land before you leave. That lets us aim to open something tender and close it in the same sitting, so you walk out steady instead of halfway through.
Is there a therapist for inner child work near Bordentown or Princeton, NJ?
Yes. I'm Edwige Theokas, a Licensed Professional Counselor and EMDRIA Certified EMDR therapist. I see women in person in Bordentown, a short drive from Hamilton, Robbinsville, Chesterfield and Princeton, and online anywhere in New Jersey. You can start with a two-hour Midlife Transition Session or a free 15-minute call.
About me
I'm Edwige (Eddie) Theokas, M.Ed, LPC, a Licensed Professional Counselor in New Jersey, a Nationally Board Certified Counselor, and an EMDRIA Certified EMDR therapist. I run Planting Seeds Counseling in Bordentown, where I work with women, most of them mothers, in perimenopause and midlife.
Last reviewed: November 6, 2026. This post is general information, not medical advice. Decisions about medication belong with your prescriber. I work with clients who live in New Jersey. If you're in crisis, call or text 988 or call 911.
Sources
Martin JA, Hamilton BE, Osterman MJK. Births in the United States, 2024. NCHS Data Brief No. 535. National Center for Health Statistics, 2025.
National Center for Health Statistics. U.S. Births Increase by 1% in 2024 (press release). April 23, 2025.
Sacks A. Matrescence: The Developmental Transition to Motherhood. Psychology Today, 2019 (on Dana Raphael's 1973 term).
Baron KG, Abbott S, Jao N, Manalo N, Mullen R. Orthosomnia: Are Some Patients Taking the Quantified Self Too Far? Journal of Clinical Sleep Medicine, 2017;13(2):351-354.
Rush University. Sleep trackers can prompt sleep problems.
IFS Institute. What is Internal Family Systems?.
IFS Institute. Research and Bibliography.
Bridges W. Transitions: Making Sense of Life's Changes. (Book; the transition model in this post is adapted and paraphrased.)
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