The first forty days after the birth of a child are an essential – and frankly - fleeting period of rest* and recovery. (*please note, that here rest doesn’t necessarily mean sleep).
During this time, you're expected to welcome a new family member with wide open arms, immediately after you've basically just run two marathons during the process of giving birth, your heart has expanded tenfold (and so has somewhere else) or you just underwent major abdominal surgery, sleep is a distant but welcome memory; your breasts (after a life of general solitude) are now learning that they are the sole providers of someone's entire nutritional intake, and your emotions and hormones oscillate between some of life's highest highs and its lowest lows. These statements are not meant to elicit fear or dread, rather they seek to normalize the intensity of the postpartum experience. We are inundated with images of blissful euphoria, effortless breastfeeding in a field of hypoallergenic daisies and placid, milk drunk newborns, which can be incredibly discouraging when our experience differs from what is projected as the norm.
All around the world, cultures have their own specific ways of caring for the evolving family after the birth of a new baby. In China, for example the first month postpartum is referred to “zuo yue zi, which literally translates to “to sit a month,” wherein the birthing person and baby are “confined” to their home and taken care of by a pui yuet. The pui yuet is often a female family member or a hired professional, who moves into the home and supports with baby care, special meal preparation, and overall well-being (think herbal baths and massage). In Mexico, the cuararenta (which sounds a lot like quarantine!), also lasts for a month and the birthing person's role involves getting to know and nurture their baby, as well as learning how to breastfeed. These new parents are not expected to “wing it” or that “nature will take its course,” and there is no assumption that the fourth trimester comes easily or without outside help.
These are but two examples, though amalgamated studies from around the world have revealed some universal themes, all of which focus on healing the gestational parent's body after enduring the demands of childbirth and softening the baby's transition from womb to world. Unfortunately, modern parents are pushed to prematurely “bounce back” after delivering their babies, and are often left alone to face the physical and emotional challenges of this wildly new chapter of their lives. As such, the practice of committing to one’s new ‘babymoon’ is a mode of resistance, of radical self-care, and can be a lifeline from which you can draw on as you transition and transform on your personal journey as a new parent.
Next week, we’ll share some practical strategies to help soften this season of massive transformation.
Talk soon,
Mothership