No visitors in Postpartum is a lie...

Women need companionship.

Women thrive in community.

But not all visitors = support...

I sketched up this image a few moons ago and have circled back to it many times.

I realised it may be a bit tricky to decipher so I wanted to use this blog post to expand on it.

The top arrow pointing north represents a supported postpartum in which both visible and invisible visitors play a role. These are represented in the top half of the diagram.

We thrive when we are surrounded by community. It is biologically ingrained to be so.

Especially in postpartum.

Postpartum is a vulnerable time of great transformation and integration. A woman should not be left alone in this portal but rather she requires visible visitors who show up and tend to her body, to her home and hearth and most importantly provide spiritual companionship.

Not all visitors, not all people you know, will be able to show up with the level of discernment, reverence and capacity needed to create a supportive healing environment.

Some people may still be able to contribute to a supported postpartum in other ways by showing up as an invisible visitor. This is where they aren't in your postpartum space/home, perhaps not even in direct contact with you, but they are showing up with a cooked meal or taking older children out or take care of some other thing so you may relax.

Then there are people who, mostly blissfully unaware of the significance of the sacred postpartum window, show up as a visible visitor but create an unsupportive environment (bottom right hand section of diagram). These are the visitors you wish you never had.

People who bring their own baggage, perhaps from their daily lives, work stress or even from their own personal birth and postpartum experience. They may project expectations onto your space; how you should be feeling, what you should or shouldn't be doing, how you should be mothering.

There are also the visitors who are not visitors but guests...

They expect a drink and food served but make no effort to bring something or put the kettle on. Most likely they are not there for you, the mother, but to see the baby.

If we move to the bottom left hand corner we see the final type of visitors.

The invisible ones.

I would venture to say that most of our friends, family and extended circle end up falling into this category. And most of the time it sounds like this:

"Let me know if you need anything"

It is well intentioned but it lacks... well intention.

What can you help with? (can you cook, would you feel comfortable doing laundry etc.)

When can you help? (are you on holiday the next two weeks, are you currently sick etc.)

Do you really want to help?

Offering help that is not concrete is passivity.

It creates a new mental load for the mother to think about who to reach out to for what kind of help and when.

An example of a concrete offering is:

"I am going grocery shopping on Tuesday so I can pick up anything you need. On Friday afternoon I would love to bring a meal over, would that be ok?"

or

"I am taking the kids to the park on Saturday afternoon I could pick up your child at 2pm"

Postpartum is a collective effort.

A healthy, thriving society requires us to show up for mothers.

Even if it is uncomfortable or inconvenient.

It requires us to question our beliefs around postpartum and possibly to seek help to heal our own wounds from our births and postpartums.

A nourished humankind begins in the womb of a woman.

When I reflect on my own postpartum I thought I was doing myself a massive favour by saying no to guests in my first forty days. I had no visible visitors in my space but also no invisible visitors bringing food or helping with other tasks.

I ended up feeling incredibly lonely and with no wise women mentors to turn to, I wasn't able to source as much healing, creativty and spiritual growth out of the sacred window.

Postpartum requires layers of support.

For your home, for your belly, for your baby, for your body, for your spirit.

It is time we revolutionise postpartum care.

With love,

Scout