A Tribute to Postpartum Mothers

She’s tired. Her heart is full but her body is depleted. She’s torn between two worlds of intense gratitude while silently reminiscing on who she was. The days are long but the nights are longer. 

Her womb aches from the vacancy of where her baby used to snuggle inside. Her breasts leak liquid gold while feeling raw, engorged, and overused. Her wrists feel like they are going to break each time she feeds the newest love of her life.

Postpartum mothers are unbreakable and utterly fragile at the same time. The first two weeks they run on a high of endorphins stating bold claims such as “I don’t need sleep” or “I don’t need help. I’ve got this.” Only to feel the inevitable hormonal crash just above the horizon that makes them wonder how they ever thought those thoughts. 

Postpartum means after birth.

Technically, once a woman gives birth she will forever be postpartum. She will never be who she was before growing a baby inside of her. No matter the incredible, or unfair, outcome. 

Postpartum women are expected to let visitors hold her baby upon arrival like her child is a new trophy to be passed around all while silently aching for her baby to be back exactly where they are supposed to be. In her arms. 

We are expected to invite family or close friends over to dote on our child while all we crave is for those visitors to take care of us instead. Weren’t we the ones who just grew a child? Weren’t we the ones who just birthed a baby? Aren’t we the ones whose tissues, womb, and organs are in all of the wrong places? 

In the West, we have postpartum completely backwards. The babies are taken care of while the mothers fend for themselves. We are expected to keep our vaginal bleeding, birth trauma, or the icky feeling of being over touched quiet because ‘we should be grateful’. Well-intended guests, hold our baby while the mother unloads the dishwasher and folds the laundry because thank goodness – she finally got a few minutes to herself. 

I’m going to make a bold statement that I firmly stand behind.

This is wrong.

In cultures such as Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican, and indigenous tribes consider the 42 days postpartum to be the Sacred Window. This is a time where grandparents and the community come together to take care of the mother. Their job is to arrive at the birthers home and get to work!

Visitors are in charge of cooking, cleaning, dishes, laundry, errands, and chores so the mothers only job is to rest and bond with her newborn. In some cultures, the mother isn’t allowed to even leave the house during her Sacred Window and is asked to remain home to focus on healing. 

How often do we attend baby showers and not one gift, not one, is for the mother? 

Truth be told, a newborn doesn’t need much. They need their mother, breastmilk or formula, clothes for warmth, and diapers. But a mother? She deserves the gifts, the lotions and potions, the warm meals, the comfy lounge onesies, and books to keep her company. 

What if instead we flipped the script. What if instead of asking ‘How is the baby?” we instead ask “Mama, how are YOU doing?. What do YOU need? How can I help YOU.”

What if we focused on healing mothers? How do you think that would ripple out for generations to come?

I know. It would heal the world. 

Holistic Postpartum Doula Services

Kate Lumpkin is a Postpartum Doula in Wilmington, NC offering holistic postpartum services to care for the mother. Check out my services here.