It started, for Gemma, with a phone call she couldn't quite interpret. Her mum, Janet, had always been the unflappable one — the woman who could simultaneously manage a roast dinner, a grandchild on her hip, and a neighbour's crisis. But on this particular Tuesday evening, Janet was crying and couldn't really say why.
"She kept apologising," says Gemma, 38, from Leeds. "Saying she didn't know what was wrong with her. She wasn't sleeping. She'd had a blazing row with my dad over nothing. She'd stopped going to her book club."
Gemma had a four-year-old and a seven-month-old. She was on maternity leave, exhausted, and just about keeping her own head above water. And now this.
"I felt so guilty for even thinking it," she admits. "But my first thought was: I can't deal with this right now. And then immediately after that: what kind of daughter am I?"
The Sandwich Generation Gets a New Layer
The term "sandwich generation" has been around since the 1980s — describing adults squeezed between caring for ageing parents and raising their own children. But as women increasingly have children later in life, a new version of this dynamic is emerging: daughters in their late thirties and early forties, still in the thick of early parenthood, whose mothers are simultaneously navigating menopause.
It's a collision of life stages that nobody really prepares you for. Menopause typically arrives between 45 and 55, meaning that if you had children in your mid-to-late thirties, your mum may be hitting perimenopause just as you're hitting the sleep-deprived, emotionally raw early years of parenting. The timing is brutal.
And the emotional load lands primarily on women. Research consistently shows that daughters bear a disproportionate share of informal caregiving responsibilities within families. Add a breastfeeding baby and a preschooler to that picture, and the weight becomes extraordinary.
Recognising What's Actually Happening
One of the biggest challenges is simply identifying that menopause is the root cause of what you're observing in your mother. Perimenopause, in particular, can look like a lot of other things — depression, anxiety, relationship breakdown, personality change. If your mum isn't talking about it (and many women of that generation aren't, because nobody talked about it with them), the symptoms can seem baffling or even frightening.
Common signs to look out for include:
- Increased irritability or emotional volatility that seems out of character
- Withdrawal from social activities or hobbies she previously enjoyed
- Complaints about poor sleep, even when she's going to bed early
- Memory lapses, difficulty concentrating, or what she might describe as "losing her mind"
- Physical symptoms she mentions in passing — hot flushes, joint aches, headaches
- Anxiety that seems disproportionate to the situation
None of these are definitive, and it's not your job to diagnose your mother. But recognising the possibility of a hormonal cause can shift the way you respond — from frustration or worry to something closer to compassion.
Having the Conversation Across Generations
For many women, broaching menopause with their mum is genuinely awkward territory. Older generations were raised to keep these things private — menopause was something that happened quietly, stoically, and without much discussion. Your mum may not have the vocabulary for what she's experiencing, or she may feel embarrassed that it's showing.
Approach it gently and without agenda. Rather than "Mum, I think you're going through menopause," try something like: "You don't seem like yourself lately, and I'm a bit worried about you. How are you actually feeling?" Let her lead. If she mentions sleep, or feeling overwhelmed, or her periods changing, you can gently open the door: "I've been reading a bit about perimenopause — do you think that could be part of it?"
Some mothers will be relieved. Others will be resistant. Meet her where she is.
If she is open to it, sharing resources can be genuinely helpful — the NHS website, the British Menopause Society, or even just a podcast she can listen to alone. Encouraging her to speak to her GP, and perhaps offering to help her prepare for that appointment, can make a real difference.
Protecting Your Own Reserves
Here is the part that nobody says out loud but everyone needs to hear: you cannot pour from an empty cup. And right now, your cup has two small people drinking from it constantly.
Supporting a parent through menopause while raising young children is not a small thing. It requires emotional bandwidth you may genuinely not have in surplus. That is not a character flaw. It's arithmetic.
Some practical ways to protect yourself:
Set realistic expectations about what you can offer. Regular check-in calls, a standing Sunday visit, a WhatsApp message most evenings — these are sustainable. Being the sole emotional support for your mum's entire menopause journey while also being a full-time parent is not.
Bring in other people. Is there a sibling, your dad, a close family friend who can share the load? It can feel easier to carry everything yourself than to have the awkward conversation about redistributing it — but that conversation is worth having.
Name what you're feeling. Guilt, resentment, grief, love, exhaustion — all of it is allowed. Talking to a friend, a partner, or a therapist about the emotional complexity of this position is not self-indulgent. It's necessary.
Watch for your own symptoms. If you're in your late thirties or early forties, perimenopause may not be as far off as you think. Stress accelerates hormonal change. Pay attention to your own body in all of this.
The Unexpected Gift in the Middle of the Mess
Amid all the difficulty, there is something quietly remarkable about this moment too. Being present with your mother as she navigates one of the most significant transitions of her life — even imperfectly, even from a distance, even while you're covered in baby sick — is an act of love that matters.
And the conversations it opens up can be profound. Women who've been through this often describe it as the point at which their relationship with their mother shifted into something more equal, more honest, more real.
Gemma, now two years on from that Tuesday phone call, puts it simply: "We talk about things we never talked about before. She knows more about my postnatal experience than I ever expected to share. I know more about her marriage than I thought I would. It's been hard. But we're closer."
That doesn't make it easy. But it makes it worth something.
