{"id":922,"date":"2025-07-03T15:26:35","date_gmt":"2025-07-03T15:26:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/?p=922"},"modified":"2026-05-09T01:53:42","modified_gmt":"2026-05-09T01:53:42","slug":"postpartum-village-questionnaire","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/postpartum-village-questionnaire\/","title":{"rendered":"Postpartum Village Questionnaire"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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This questionnaire has been filled out with love and intention for Emily Race-Newmark.<\/p>\n\n

You can connect with Emily on Instagram here: https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/revillagingmama\/<\/a><\/p>\n\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n\n

What is your postpartum story?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

My healing journey didn\u2019t truly begin until I became a mother.<\/p>\n\n

The moment my first son was born, everything shifted. For the first time, I slowed down enough to truly listen<\/em>\u2014not just to the world, but to this tiny new being who had so much to teach me. I found myself attuned to his needs in a way I had never experienced before. And in parallel, I dove headfirst into books and teachings on child development and parenting, soaking up wisdom while immersed in the very real, raw, and tactile experience of the fourth trimester.<\/p>\n\n

In those first three weeks postpartum, I fully surrendered. Skin-to-skin, co-sleeping, bathing together\u2014I was all in. My partner took those three weeks off, managing everything around the house so I could be completely present. But the shift came when he went back to work.<\/p>\n\n

I wasn\u2019t quite ready.<\/p>\n\n

I was still half in, half out of what I now call the matrix<\/em>. A part of me wanted to get back to work as quickly as possible. I clung to the identity of the strong, independent woman who didn\u2019t depend on anyone and certainly didn\u2019t envision herself as a stay-at-home mom.<\/p>\n\n

And yet\u2014my body was telling me a different story. It wanted to rest. To be. To lie still and gaze into the soul of this new little human. But I had an agenda. And pressure. So at six months postpartum, I asked his dad to take him for one hour a day so I could return to the gym. By 12 months, I had already enrolled him in daycare, though my heart knew he wasn\u2019t ready. I still paid the fees, month after month, until finally, at 16 months, I let him start\u2026 one hour at a time. Then two. Then three.<\/p>\n\n

By the time he was almost two, he stayed long enough to nap there. But even then, I\u2019d ask them not to wake him. I\u2019d sit in my car outside, working, waiting for him to stir\u2014so I could be the first face he saw when he opened his eyes.<\/p>\n\n

The daycare itself was beautiful\u2014private, bilingual, nurturing. The only thing it lacked was nature. So every day after pickup, we\u2019d head to the woods. There was a path right by our home that led to a stream, and that\u2019s where we\u2019d go. We\u2019d throw rocks. Watch the water. Be fully present.<\/p>\n\n

I was there with him during those years, even while working full-time. And yet\u2014I carried the crushing mental load of it all. The debt I had accumulated before giving birth. The pressure to perform. To earn the income I once did. Multi six-figures had become my norm, and so had the lifestyle that came with it.<\/p>\n\n

But motherhood started to peel those layers away.<\/p>\n\n

The deeper I let myself sink into motherhood, the less aligned I felt with the hustle culture. I no longer wanted to be separated from my child just to chase old definitions of success. I started choosing presence<\/em> over productivity. Connection<\/em> over performance. Love<\/em> over legacy.<\/p>\n\n

And slowly, everything began to unravel\u2026 in the most beautiful, soul-reclaiming way.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n

Tell me anything you wish to share about yourself \u2013 where you live, your age, your family shape, # of children, partner\/no partner, etc.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

I\u2019m 32 years old and live in L\u00e9vis, Qu\u00e9bec, in a peaceful neighborhood that borders the woods, the St-Lawrence River and all the kids\u2019 activities (hockey, baseball, etc.). I share life with my partner, Alex, and we\u2019re the parents of two luminous little beings\u2014our six-year-old son and our two-year-old daughter.<\/p>\n\n

Our family life doesn\u2019t follow the usual path. We homeschool our eldest, and I\u2019m currently home full-time with our youngest. It\u2019s a rhythm built on presence, play, and deep connection\u2014with nature, with each other, and with ourselves.<\/p>\n\n

Before motherhood, I was a high-performing real estate agent, deeply immersed in the hustle. Since then, I\u2019ve slowly dismantled that identity and rebuilt my life around what feels most true\u2014conscious parenting, emotional sovereignty, slowness, and simplicity.<\/p>\n\n

These days, I\u2019m passionate about creating a life that honors both my children\u2019s needs and my own\u2014one choice at a time, one breath at a time.<\/p>\n\n

How did you prepare for postpartum?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Honestly\u2026 I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n

I read the books. I prepared for birth. I packed the hospital bag. I had the stroller and the tiny clothes folded neatly in drawers.<\/p>\n\n

But postpartum? The emotional, physical, mental reality<\/em> of it? I had no idea what was coming.<\/p>\n\n

I didn\u2019t understand how raw, exposed, and tender I would feel. I didn\u2019t realize how much support I would need\u2014daily, hourly\u2014and how hard it would be to ask for it. I didn\u2019t anticipate the identity loss, the emotional rollercoaster, the complete rewiring of who I thought I was.<\/p>\n\n

I thought I\u2019d \u201cbounce back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n

Instead, I cracked open. Completely.<\/p>\n\n

And through that unraveling, I found something so much deeper. A softness. A slowness. A fierce kind of love that reshaped me from the inside out.<\/p>\n\n

If I could go back, I wouldn\u2019t prepare with more stuff<\/em>. I\u2019d prepare with more support<\/em>. More softness. More truth.<\/p>\n\n

And maybe just a reminder that this sacred messiness isn\u2019t something to fix\u2014just something to feel<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

What was your postpartum experience like? How were you supported? Who cared for you?\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

When our first son was born, I wasn\u2019t supported\u2014at least not in the way I truly needed to be.<\/p>\n\n

My partner, Alex, was the only one holding me up. And while I give him credit\u2014he is one strong<\/em> table leg\u2014I\u2019ve since come to realize that expecting one person to carry the weight of an entire transformation is too much for anyone. I\u2019ve learned to see support like a table: if it only has one leg, it becomes wobbly, unstable. At that time, our table was shaking.<\/p>\n\n

I was still carrying the identity of the strong, independent woman\u2014the one who doesn\u2019t need anyone, who\u2019s got everything figured out, who doesn\u2019t trust easily. At the same time, I was stepping into a deep healing journey that called for boundaries\u2026 but instead of healthy ones, I built walls.<\/p>\n\n

I fiercely protected my bubble.<\/p>\n\n

Because the world I came from\u2014the family, the work environment, the noise\u2014was going in a completely different direction than the one I was beginning to choose. So I cut almost everyone out. Even our parents. I kept only Alex inside that fragile little sanctuary.<\/p>\n\n

He supported many aspects of motherhood\u2014natural birth, co-sleeping, breastfeeding\u2014but the tension started when he realized my changes weren\u2019t temporary. In his mind, this was a season. A few months, maybe. But what I was experiencing was a rebirth<\/em>. A permanent shift. The woman he married\u2014a top-performing real estate agent earning multiple six figures\u2014was dissolving in front of his eyes.<\/p>\n\n

And he felt abandoned.<\/p>\n\n

Betrayed.<\/p>\n\n

Because everything he had planned for\u2014our lifestyle, our partnership, our shared ambitions\u2014was unraveling. And I wasn\u2019t coming back. Not anytime soon.<\/p>\n\n

When I later made the decision to homeschool, it was like a second rupture. In his mind, there was always going to be an endpoint: first postpartum, then school. But when I chose homeschooling, it was as if the road ahead stretched out endlessly\u2014and he couldn\u2019t see the finish line.<\/p>\n\n

That created immense financial pressure on him, and I made a mistake: I underestimated what that pressure would do to him. When people feel their needs are under threat, we often attack the needs of the other. It\u2019s primal. So he attacked my vision. And because I felt attacked, I defended it even harder. And slowly, painfully, I moved him outside the bubble.<\/p>\n\n

I knew what I wanted. I was clear. I was attuned to my children, to the life I wanted to create. But each time I shared that vision, and he pushed back\u2014not out of malice, but from fear and pressure\u2014I had to protect it from him, too.<\/p>\n\n

That created more distance.<\/p>\n\n

Less support.<\/p>\n\n

More isolation.<\/p>\n\n

And the worst part was the in-between. The space between the life I had and the life I was trying to build. The longing for something different. The absence of what I deeply desired.<\/p>\n\n

That\u2019s where I was. That\u2019s what happened..\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Where were there gaps in your care (if anywhere?) What support do you wish you had?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Between my first and second child, something changed.<\/p>\n\n

I began to understand that the gaps in my postpartum experience weren\u2019t within me<\/em>\u2014they were around me. The cracks weren\u2019t a lack of strength or capability. They were a lack of support<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

With my firstborn, I wasn\u2019t supported by anyone outside of my partner. And while Alex showed up as best as he could, he was just one leg holding up the entire table of my life. That\u2019s not sustainable\u2014not for a partnership, and not for a new mother navigating the seismic shift of birth and identity.<\/p>\n\n

So I made a choice.<\/p>\n\n

I let the house go. I allowed the chaos to exist. For six months, I didn\u2019t care about the mess, the dishes, the laundry. Because I had something infinitely more precious in my hands: this baby. Skin-to-skin, breastfeeding, bathing together, long eye-gazing moments. That was my fourth trimester. My version of heaven. And looking back, even if I had to do it all over again without support, I\u2019d still make the same choice.<\/p>\n\n

But now, I also understand how much our environment affects our nervous system\u2014especially the female brain. A crooked pillow or a cluttered counter sends a primal signal to our cavewoman: the nest isn\u2019t safe<\/em>. And when the nest doesn\u2019t feel safe, it hijacks our mental bandwidth. That\u2019s why, if I could change one thing, it would be to ask for more help<\/em>\u2014not with the baby, but with everything else<\/em>. So I could stay in that dreamy, oxytocin-rich bubble without<\/em> the weight of the world creeping in through a dirty floor.<\/p>\n\n

Another piece I\u2019ve come to understand is the hormonal side of postpartum bonding. Oxytocin\u2014the love hormone\u2014doesn\u2019t just help with birth and breastfeeding. It rewires our bonds. It overwrites<\/em> previous attachments. And that\u2019s exactly what happened. After birth, my babies became my world. The rest\u2014my parents, my friends, even my husband\u2014faded into the background.<\/p>\n\n

Alex was slowly pushed out of the bubble.<\/p>\n\n

Not intentionally. But because of how our bonding systems work. And the thing is, if a couple\u2019s intimacy is based on all-or-nothing sexual interaction\u2014rather than a spectrum of closeness, cuddles, naked resting, touch\u2014then the partner can quickly become \u201cother.\u201d Outside. Separate. And that\u2019s what happened to us.<\/p>\n\n

If I could offer one piece of wisdom to a new mom, it would be this: invite your partner into<\/em> the bubble. Not just as a helper or provider, but as someone to share skin-to-skin with\u2014not just the baby, but you<\/em> too. Cuddle. Bathe together. Rest naked under the covers. Create that oxytocin bridge with them<\/em>, too. So they don\u2019t get left behind.<\/p>\n\n

Because you can rebuild it, yes. You can bio-hack your way back to connection. But when you\u2019re in the thick of it and you don\u2019t even understand why you feel so distant, so protective, so fused with your baby and disconnected from your partner\u2014it\u2019s easy to feel like something\u2019s wrong.<\/p>\n\n

But nothing is wrong.<\/p>\n\n

This is biology.<\/p>\n\n

This is love.<\/p>\n\n

This is the invisible architecture of the postpartum world no one teaches us to navigate.<\/p>\n\n

How would you describe the postpartum experience?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Postpartum is a portal.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s the unraveling and the becoming, all at once.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s like falling into the deepest part of yourself, stripped bare of everything you thought you were, while holding the most sacred, raw, and beautiful piece of life in your arms.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s hormonal chaos, identity rebirth, aching bones, leaking breasts, full hearts, and empty energy reserves.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s both the most natural thing in the world\u2014and the most shocking.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s waking up in the middle of the night not knowing if it\u2019s day or night or if you\u2019ve slept at all. It\u2019s crying for no reason. Crying for every<\/em> reason. Feeling touched-out, loved-up, fiercely protective, and totally alone\u2014all in the same breath.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s navigating the wild edge between love and depletion.<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s a time that asks for everything<\/em> and gives back in the softest, most soul-expanding ways\u2026 if you\u2019re supported.<\/p>\n\n

Without support, postpartum can feel like drowning in invisible waters while everyone around you asks if you\u2019re okay.<\/p>\n\n

With support, it becomes something else entirely: a sacred cocoon. A space where you don\u2019t have to be anything but present. Where you can fall apart and be held. Where you can disappear into your baby\u2014and find yourself all over again.<\/p>\n\n

Postpartum isn\u2019t something to \u201cget through.\u201d<\/p>\n\n

It\u2019s something to be honored. Held. Witnessed.<\/p>\n\n

Because it\u2019s not just the birth of a baby\u2014it\u2019s the rebirth of you<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

What about your postpartum experience was unexpected or caught you by surprise (if anything)?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Honestly, the whole postpartum experience caught me completely off guard.<\/p>\n\n

I remember having conversations with my mom while I was still pregnant, and at one point, she gently said, \u201cI really recommend you take at least six months off. These moments won\u2019t ever come back.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n

And I shrugged.<\/p>\n\n

I really didn\u2019t know if I even wanted to stop working. I had every intention of continuing as usual. I truly believed, \u201cIt\u2019s just a baby. Life goes on. I\u2019ll adjust.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n

I had no idea.<\/p>\n\n

No one could have prepared me for the way motherhood would break me open and rearrange everything I thought I knew about myself, my values, and my pace.<\/p>\n\n

Nothing stayed the same.<\/p>\n\n

Not my body. Not my relationship. Not my ambitions. Not my energy. Not my heart.<\/p>\n\n

I thought I was just adding a baby to the life I already had.<\/p>\n\n

But instead, I entered a whole new world.<\/p>\n\n

Honestly, the whole thing caught me by surprise because I remember having conversation conversations with my mom Wear. I didn\u2019t even know if I wanted a \u00a0<\/p>\n\n

What were some of your favorite parts of the postpartum experience (if any)?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

My favorite part of postpartum wasn\u2019t something anyone warned me about or even talked about.<\/p>\n\n

It was the remembering<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

The way my body\u2014this body I had lived so disconnected from\u2014suddenly became my compass, my guide, my sanctuary. For most of my life, I was pretty numb. Detached from emotions, sensations, instincts. I lived in my head, managed life from the neck up.<\/p>\n\n

And then, motherhood.<\/p>\n\n

Suddenly, I was in<\/em> my body in a way I had never experienced before.<\/p>\n\n

I felt everything.<\/p>\n\n

My sense of smell sharpened. My hearing became bionic. I would flutter awake the moment my baby\u2019s breathing shifted\u2014then fall instantly back asleep in micro-moments of rest. It was primal, mammalian, miraculous.<\/p>\n\n

The design of it all left me in awe\u2014how finely tuned we are, how perfectly wired for connection and survival.<\/p>\n\n

Even physically, I changed. I had been stiff for years\u2014couldn\u2019t even touch my toes. But with prenatal movement, yoga, and the softening hormones of pregnancy and postpartum, my body stretched in ways it never had. It was like my body finally invited me in<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

Postpartum became a portal. A reawakening.<\/p>\n\n

A gateway to deeper being<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

It taught me that when we fully surrender to the experience\u2014when we stop fighting the mess and lean into the mystery\u2014there\u2019s a kind of magic that reveals itself. The kind that reshapes you not just as a mother, but as a human.<\/p>\n\n

That deep, primal remembering\u2026 that was my favorite part.<\/p>\n\n

If you were sitting down for tea with a new mother or mama-to-be, what would be your words of wisdom you would share with her?\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

If I could share one thing with a mama-to-be, it would be this:<\/p>\n\n

Let yourself go fully<\/em> into the experience.<\/p>\n\n

Trust your instincts. Trust your body. Trust your baby\u2014more than anyone else\u2019s voice<\/em>, no matter how well-intentioned. The cultural narrative around postpartum is so disconnected, so disembodied, so wrong for what new mothers and babies truly need. So instead of looking outward, turn inward. Your body already knows.<\/p>\n\n

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was: Sleep when the baby sleeps.<\/em><\/p>\n\n

It sounds simple. Obvious, even. But most of us don\u2019t do it. We try to tidy up, do the dishes, cook, answer emails, get back to work. But if there\u2019s one thing to prioritize above all else in the early postpartum days, it\u2019s sleep<\/em>. Sleep fuels everything else\u2014healing, milk production, mental clarity, emotional regulation. If your baby isn\u2019t sleeping through the night, then neither are you\u2014and every opportunity for rest is sacred.<\/p>\n\n

And please, skip the coffee.<\/p>\n\n

Don\u2019t override your tiredness. Don\u2019t push past what your body is asking for. Follow your baby\u2019s rhythm: feed often, snack often, drink water, rest, bathe. Let your baby teach you how to care for yourself. Let your days be about being<\/em>, not doing.<\/p>\n\n

If you want to give from a place of overflow\u2014not survival\u2014you need help<\/em>. Lots of it.<\/p>\n\n

More than you think. More than the world says is \u201creasonable.\u201d Because raising a human from scratch is not<\/em> a small thing. It\u2019s a full-time, full-body, full-soul job\u2014and yet we\u2019ve been conditioned to think we should be able to do it alone. That asking for help is weakness. That we shouldn\u2019t need<\/em> that much.<\/p>\n\n

But I say: ask for more than enough.<\/p>\n\n

Ask your friends. Ask your family. Hire someone. Get creative. Move in with someone. Let someone move in with you. Find your village\u2014or build it.<\/p>\n\n

Because the truth is, the invisible labor of holding a newborn, a home, a partnership, and yourself is massive<\/em>. And when we try to carry it all alone, we break.<\/p>\n\n

And here\u2019s the part no one says out loud:<\/p>\n\n

You don\u2019t need to produce<\/em> anything to justify that support.<\/p>\n\n

You don\u2019t need to write a book, launch a business, or change the world while your baby naps. You are allowed to paint just for you. Write just for you. Dance just for you. Cook beautiful food just because it nourishes your soul.<\/p>\n\n

Motherhood is enough.<\/p>\n\n

And if your soul feels called to create, build, expand\u2014then yes, absolutely follow that spark. But not from pressure. Not from productivity addiction. From overflow. From fullness. From joy.<\/p>\n\n

You are allowed to be in the cave.<\/p>\n\n

For a month. For a year. For two. And you are allowed to be fully supported<\/em> while you\u2019re there. That\u2019s not too much to ask. That\u2019s what it takes to mother from a place of deep love and self-connection.<\/p>\n\n

So rest.<\/p>\n\n

Ask for help.<\/p>\n\n

Let it be sacred.<\/p>\n\n

Let it be slow.<\/p>\n\n

Let yourself be held, so you can hold the world in return.<\/p>\n\n

Are you partnered? If so, how did your partner experience and navigate the fourth trimester? How was this experience different from yours?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

My partner and I have been together for eight years, and married for two. We got married after both of our children had already arrived\u2014after we\u2019d already weathered the storm of two fourth trimesters, two births, and the seismic shifts that come with them.<\/p>\n\n

And while he experienced those early postpartum phases with grace and presence, the harder part came later.<\/p>\n\n

Not with the babies\u2014but with me<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

You see, he fell in love with a version of me I had carefully constructed: a confident, top-producing real estate agent with six-figure drive, ambition, polish, and independence. That version of me looked good on paper. And I was good at being her.<\/p>\n\n

But once motherhood cracked me open\u2026 I couldn\u2019t hold up that image anymore.<\/p>\n\n

I didn\u2019t want<\/em> to.<\/p>\n\n

Something deep inside me\u2014soul-level deep\u2014wanted to tear the whole thing down. And so I did. Joyfully. Messily. Completely.<\/p>\n\n

But to him? It was terrifying.<\/p>\n\n

He wasn\u2019t tearing it down. He was standing on the sidelines, watching the woman he knew disappear into something new and unknown. And it shook him.<\/p>\n\n

I get it now.<\/p>\n\n

I get how scary that must have felt. How destabilizing. Like loving someone who set fire to your shared home and then smiled while it burned\u2014because for me, it felt like freedom<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

For him? It felt like loss.<\/p>\n\n

That shift created clashes\u2014when he returned to work, when I<\/em> returned to work (especially since we work together), and when I started speaking a new language he didn\u2019t understand yet. A language of softness. Of embodiment. Of slowness. Of being, not doing.<\/p>\n\n

He had fallen in love with a tower.<\/p>\n\n

And I tore it down.<\/p>\n\n

But here\u2019s the part I hold close: I believe our souls already knew. On a deeper level, beyond the ego\u2019s shock, his soul chose mine<\/em>\u2014not for who I was pretending to be, but for who I was always becoming.<\/p>\n\n

Still, on the human level, that didn\u2019t make it easy.<\/p>\n\n

When one person initiates the transformation, the other can feel like life is happening to<\/em> them instead of through<\/em> them. And when you\u2019re in survival mode, feeling threatened, the instinct is to fight. To resist. To protect.<\/p>\n\n

So for a while, we became adversaries.<\/p>\n\n

And yet\u2014here we are.<\/p>\n\n

Seven years postpartum from our first, nearly three years from our second\u2026 and something is shifting again. But this time, it feels like we\u2019re shifting together<\/em>. There\u2019s new love here. New respect. New soil. A sense that maybe, just maybe, the dust has finally settled\u2014and what we\u2019re building now is real.<\/p>\n\n

The tower\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n\n

But the roots are deeper than ever.<\/p>\n\n

Is there anything specific about your healing from birth that you\u2019d like to mention (i.e. C-Section, tearing, PPH, PPD, etc.)\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

Physically, my body healed from birth quite well. I had almost no tearing. No major complications. On the surface, I recovered beautifully.<\/p>\n\n

But inside? Everything changed.<\/p>\n\n

I had been a high-level athlete most of my life. Strong. Fast. Grounded in my body in a very specific way\u2014one built on power, performance, and self-protection. I moved through the world with a quiet sense of invincibility. I could outrun a man. I could hold my own. I felt tall, capable, secure.<\/p>\n\n

And then I gave birth.<\/p>\n\n

And suddenly, my pelvic floor was soft. Weak. My body felt hurt\u2014not broken, exactly, but like an injury I never saw coming. One I had no tools to measure or train through.<\/p>\n\n

I hadn\u2019t expected this. Not from birth. Not from my<\/em> body.<\/p>\n\n

There was a deep sadness in that. A quiet grief for the woman who could sprint and lift and win. Who felt safe in her own skin because of what she could do<\/em> with it. That woman felt like she had vanished.<\/p>\n\n

I didn\u2019t fully heal my pelvic floor before my second pregnancy. It took until after my second birth to really restore it. But even before the healing, something else began to shift\u2014my whole relationship<\/em> with my body.<\/p>\n\n

Movement stopped being about speed and performance. It became about presence<\/em>. About pleasure. About healing. I traded workouts for barefoot walks. Training for dancing. Yoga. Breathing. Softness. Slowness.<\/p>\n\n

At first, it felt like loss. But over time, I realized: it was also a return.<\/p>\n\n

I had been hard on my body for years\u2014pushing, performing, proving. And now, my body was asking me to listen<\/em>. To trust her. To feel<\/em>. And in doing so, I started to rewire how I understood strength.<\/p>\n\n

Because yes, I no longer had that masculine edge. That fierce, independent, untouchable vibe I used to wear like armor. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. Not just because of the softness in my body, but because of this tiny new life I suddenly needed to protect with everything I had.<\/p>\n\n

And I knew I couldn\u2019t do it alone.<\/p>\n\n

That was the turning point\u2014the moment I had to let go of being my own protector. To open up to receiving<\/em> protection. Masculine strength. Support. Something I had never allowed before.<\/p>\n\n

So while my body healed well, the transformation ran much deeper than muscle or scar tissue.<\/p>\n\n

It was a shedding.<\/p>\n\n

A softening.<\/p>\n\n

A sacred surrender into a strength I never knew I had.<\/p>\n\n

How long did you rest for? What did rest look like?\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

After the birth of my second child, I did something radical.<\/p>\n\n

I rested<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

Truly rested. Not just physically\u2014but emotionally, spiritually, energetically. I slowed everything down with deep intention. I didn\u2019t leave the house for weeks. Our baby was born in November, and for all of December, I didn\u2019t even go to my family\u2019s Christmas. It was winter in Qu\u00e9bec. Cold, still, quiet. And I chose to stay in that stillness.<\/p>\n\n

For three weeks, it was just me and the baby, curled up in bed, moving between sleep, breastfeeding, and skin-to-skin contact. The fourth trimester, as it should be: sacred, slow, uninterrupted. I stayed close to home for six months. That\u2019s what my body asked of me. That\u2019s what I said yes to.<\/p>\n\n

And this time, I wasn\u2019t alone.<\/p>\n\n

With my first baby, I had no support. I poured from an empty cup, living in chaos, choosing presence with my child over everything else, even if it meant a messy home and mental overload. But with my second, I did it differently. I allowed help. I received<\/em> help. Enough support so that I didn\u2019t have to do anything except be<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

Be with my children. Be with myself. Be in the now.<\/p>\n\n

I wasn\u2019t producing. I wasn\u2019t creating. I wasn\u2019t accomplishing. I was just living<\/em>\u2014and for the first time, that felt not only enough, but sacred.<\/p>\n\n

That kind of rest changes you.<\/p>\n\n

It fills places that were never given time to heal. It shows you how little you\u2019ve been mothered. It rewrites your relationship with time, productivity, and worth.<\/p>\n\n

And what I\u2019ve realized is: not enough people go all the way there.<\/p>\n\n

Most women stop short, because they feel guilty. Or restless. Or pressured. We are conditioned to swing the pendulum toward overwork, self-sacrifice, and endless doing. But I swung it in the opposite direction. Fully. Without guilt. And in doing so, I discovered something powerful:<\/p>\n\n

When your cup is truly<\/em> full\u2014overflowing\u2014you don\u2019t need to force<\/em> anything. Creation becomes effortless. Desire returns. Vision awakens.<\/p>\n\n

Now, I feel the itch. The spark. The more<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n

But it\u2019s not coming from depletion\u2014it\u2019s rising from deep, cellular enoughness<\/em>. I want it all. The juicy marriage. The epic homeschooling life. The barefoot-in-the-mud days. The sacred business that moves hearts and generates massive, meaningful wealth<\/em>. I want to live lit up, not drained.<\/p>\n\n

And I know now: that kind of ambition\u2014the kind rooted in truth, softness, wholeness\u2014can only rise after rest.<\/p>\n\n

So my invitation to every mama is this:<\/p>\n\n

Don\u2019t rush your return. Don\u2019t question the time it takes to simply be<\/em>. Let yourself receive help. Let yourself heal. Let yourself go all the way into rest without apology.<\/p>\n\n

Because when you do?<\/p>\n\n

Something extraordinary is waiting on the other side.<\/p>\n\n

If you have multiple children, how did each of your postpartum experiences differ? What did you learn, integrate, and adapt from one child to the next? What were some of the unique challenges from one postpartum experience to the next? What made it easier?\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n

One of the most unexpected challenges when my second child was born was grieving the kind<\/em> of presence I had been able to give my firstborn.<\/p>\n\n

I had to let go of the ideal: the one-on-one, slow-paced, deeply connected moments\u2014like reading together on the couch, fully present\u2014without a baby rolling across us, chewing on the book, and tearing out pages. That was hard.<\/p>\n\n

But eventually, I realized: this<\/em> version\u2014chaotic, imperfect, beautifully messy\u2014is enough too. It\u2019s different, yes. But it\u2019s not less<\/em>. It\u2019s just life with two.<\/p>\n\n

The truly hardest moments were rare, but real\u2014those times when both kids needed something at the same time<\/em>, and I had to triage emotions, hunger, and chaos with only two hands and an exhausted brain. In those moments, I felt powerless. Defeated. Human.<\/p>\n\n

But the age gap helped. With four years between them, my eldest had enough emotional range and language to understand<\/em>. To be reasoned with. Not perfectly, but enough to soften the edge.<\/p>\n\n

Still, if I could do it all over again only for myself<\/em>\u2014to protect the quality of care for each child, and to ensure my first had what he needed without compromise\u2014I might wait seven or eight years between children. That \u201cage of reason,\u201d where the older sibling can grasp, deeply, that a baby\u2019s needs being urgent doesn\u2019t mean theirs are unimportant. But even then, I know it\u2019s not just about the age\u2014it\u2019s about the ecosystem.<\/p>\n\n

And that\u2019s the biggest lesson between baby one and baby two: I needed help.<\/em> But more than that, I needed to stop controlling what \u201chelp\u201d looked like.<\/p>\n\n

With my first, I expected my partner to be everything<\/em>. When he couldn\u2019t be, resentment followed. But now I understand\u2014he can be an amazing father and husband, and still not be the one to meet every postpartum need. That\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n\n

So I stopped expecting support to come from one place.<\/p>\n\n

I opened the doors.<\/p>\n\n

Now, I have a full system of support\u2014layers of people who help in different ways. One person lives in our home and offers 20\u201325 hours of help weekly. My aunt comes once a week. My mom takes the kids for sleepovers. A babysitter comes a few times a week. My partner has one intentional block of time alone with the kids weekly. I even have backup babysitters for emergencies.<\/p>\n\n

The magic of this? Redundancy.<\/p>\n\n

If one person is sick, traveling, or unavailable, I still have options. I no longer collapse if Plan A falls through\u2014because there\u2019s a Plan B, Plan C, and Plan D.<\/p>\n\n

I also learned to split the help<\/em>. I don\u2019t expect one person to do it all. One person might help with the house. Another just plays with the kids. And because their time is short and focused\u2014two hours here, three hours there\u2014they can give their full<\/em> attention, which is so much more nourishing than exhausted multitasking.<\/p>\n\n

That kind of help doesn\u2019t just serve me\u2014it serves my children<\/em>. They get to be with people who are present, energized, and emotionally available. And that matters.<\/p>\n\n

And yes, I\u2019ve learned that sometimes the best care comes from people with no kids. Other times, like when my kids need long stretches of care or overnight stays, I know my mom can handle it\u2014because she\u2019s calm, capable, and gives them a sense of deep safety.<\/p>\n\n

So here\u2019s what I now believe:<\/p>\n\n

Postpartum is not a solo act.<\/p>\n\n

Mothering is not meant to be done in isolation.<\/p>\n\n

And help\u2014abundant, layered, and unapologetically received<\/em>\u2014isn\u2019t just a luxury. It\u2019s a strategy. It\u2019s a lifeline. It\u2019s a love language.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This questionnaire has been filled out with love and intention for Emily Race-Newmark. You can connect with Emily on Instagram here: https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/revillagingmama\/ \u00a0 What is your postpartum story? My healing journey didn\u2019t truly begin until I became a mother. The moment my first son was born, everything shifted. For the first time, I slowed down […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"elementor_theme","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-922","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-non-classe"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=922"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":926,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922\/revisions\/926"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=922"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=922"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/raphaellenormandin.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=922"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}