What I mean by postpartum return & other musings
As I was sitting with my pup watching the bees cover the flowering tree in my front yard, my mind began to flow with thoughts about the postpartum return.
What do I mean by postpartum return & why does that phrase feel so right to describe that period?
Pam England, author of Ancient Map for Modern Birth, creator of Birth Story Medicine & Birthing from Within, & someone I greatly admire speaks about birth as a heroic journey through the labyrinth. Following the twists and turns & moving forward one step at a time even when things get confusing. Doing what needs to be done in the moment and nothing else. That’s the path of the Birth Warrior.
Labor/birth is the journey to the center of the labyrinth & from the center back out is the postpartum journey or postpartum return. This resonates with me deeply. The ancient symbolism of the labyrinth is so powerful. It’s all part of the journey from maiden to mother (or maybe now as parent to multiple), stepping into your new role in the community, & returning from the depth of the liminal space that is birth with new wisdom & a new sense of self. The transformation isn’t complete the moment the baby is born. This “becoming” can take weeks, months, or even years.
Postpartum return is certainly not about bouncing back or returning to the pre-pregnancy “you.” It’s not about getting back to your pre-pregnancy weight or your pre-pregnancy anything. You’ve crossed the threshold into parenthood (for the first time or maybe again). You’ve given certain things up & gained others. Releasing what no longer holds true, what no longer serves you. Picking up gems along the way. What have you learned about yourself?
After I had my son I felt like a completely different person. I mistakenly thought I’d just pop this baby out and continue on with life as I knew it. Birth changed how I wished to exist in the world. Priorities shifted. Things that used to matter no longer did. I gained compassion for myself & others. The woman I was before giving birth was long gone. Despite things gained, things must also be shed, sometimes reluctantly. I think it’s important to make room for grief for that loss of the maiden self. Give yourself time to embrace the shift. Finding your footing can take a bit and that’s ok. You can simultaneously embrace your entry into motherhood while still grieving the loss of the maiden. Let’s make space for that duality. Likewise it can be equally as challenging and important to provide space for the complexity of emotions that arrive if this is a subsequent child. Dynamics are changing; there’s no one “right” way to feel. Each & every birth is a rite of passage; the journey will not be the same.
Let’s take it one step further & celebrate the birth of the mother each and every time. Not focusing on our idealized version of what we think a “good mother” should be - always happy & smiling, self-sacrificing, etc. - but the mother in all her complexity. The returning hero emerging from the labyrinth, armed with new wisdom & still in the liminal space which is ripe for self-discovery. Let’s honor that journey with care & kindness.
The postpartum return is a tender time. Mothers are still reeling from the psychedelic experience that is birth. Psychedelic in this way to be understood in the original Greek meaning of “mind manifesting” or “soul manifesting.” Grappling with the experience, turning it over in their mind, & weaving a story. And they’re doing all this while all while physically healing & tending to a child (or children). Sometimes these reflections on the birth experience can mutate into self-judgments &/or negative self-beliefs (Birth Story Medicine can help). We can be so very hard on ourselves. With time, tenderness, & care, the medicine of the birth story can present itself. This is all part of the postpartum return.
Perhaps that’s a big part of why we like to share our birth stories - not to recount every minute detail, not to brag, not to compare & contrast, or recount where things went “wrong” or “right” - but to mark our entrance into our new role/our new self - like a banner or a beacon announcing “I’m not who I once was” so please see me, respect me, hear me, & love me for who I am now & who I am still becoming. Perhaps we yearn for this rite of passage & new self to be witnessed & acknowledged as part of the long line of those who’ve come before us. We want to whisper the secrets we’ve learned in the labyrinth to those who are truly listening with compassion & an open mind.
Birthing from Within came up with a few questions to ask when someone is sharing their birth story to really get to the heart of it all. These include: what was your favorite moment?, what is one thing that your partner or loved one did that really made a difference for you?, what would your baby say was something special or important you did for them during or after birth?, how did you surprise yourself? These sort of questions inquire into the experience of birth versus the concrete details which I think is profound. This feels like a celebration of the mother & the rite of passage. And yet that’s not what is generally shared when telling our stories; people ask & we might tell where it happened, how long, how big was baby, what interventions did you have, etc - those are just details not the story born from the heart of the mother. That just skims the surface.
What rituals do we carry out in modern American culture to witness & celebrate the birth of the mother? I’m not talking a baby announcement on social media or a “push present”; the former is announcing the birth of a baby not the birth of the mother and the latter is material. Do you know of any such rituals? I’d love to hear about them.
I believe traditional postpartum care can fill this void with the focus on rest, nourishment, recovery, etc. Care worthy of tending to a weary returning birth warrior. Providing space to heal mentally, physically, & spiritually without the push to “bounce back” ASAP because there is the understanding of the sacredness of the rite of passage. and the acknowledgement that this takes time. Being witnessed, cared for, & nourished so that your cup is full. This mother-centered care in the postpartum period (traditionally about 40 days) ensures the mother’s health and happiness which ripples out into the family and ultimately the community as a whole. This is the respect, listening, & loving that all mothers need and so few get. This is the kind of thing that can change the world.
Unfortunately however, I’d venture to say that most women in the U.S. would not say that they felt supported in their postpartum return. Our society is not set up to do so. Be it short maternity leave &/or lack thereof, state of healthcare &/or lack thereof, our tendency to live in nuclear households with little familial &/or community support, complexity of our food systems, etc. which is all part of the deep cultural lack of understanding of the importance of honoring the mother and the resulting impact on society as a whole. A pitfall of the American glorification of individualism. I acknowledge that financially &/or structurally this traditional postpartum care may be inaccessible to many women at this time and I truly wish that wasn’t so. I hope that by more people speaking out the importance of the postpartum return that change may inevitably occur. A cultural shift which surely takes time.
With love,
Allison
