07/18/2026
Going through my photos from my recent trip to Newfoundland, I keep coming back to this one. It reminds me of how I felt going into birth and postpartum.
Now, you may be asking yourself, "Sarah, what does a ship on the ocean have to do with birth or postpartum? Have you lost your ever loving mind?" And while you'd be correct (not being self-deprecating, but perimenopause is something else, folks), stay with me.
Even for my fourth time around, the way through birth and postpartum felt like something I couldn't quite grasp. I knew where I was headed, but I couldn't always see what was right in front of me. There were moments of excitement, of joy, of uncertainty, of confusion, of feeling utterly lost, and more moments than I can count when I wondered if I was doing any of it "right."
Just like this ship needs its captain to guide it safely through the fog, I needed someone to help guide me through birth and postpartum. To hold space for me when things felt overwhelming. To show me the way when I couldn't see through the fog. Someone to remind me that I wasn't lost, even I forgot who I was.
That's what support can be. It's not someone taking over or coming in to "fix" everything. I mean, most of the hard stuff isn't something that can be "fixed" the way we imagine. There's no magic snap of the fingers that can make things "right" again. Instead, postpartum support can help you navigate when the path ahead feels a little foggy. It can be a steady presence, holding space for the hard parts and celebrating the good parts with you.
If you follow me over on , you may have seen this photo already. Sorry, not sorry. Feel free to hop over there for others from the trip (and a lot of basketball recently, but also postpartum and birth photos).