Reclaiming Rest, Resourcing, and Real Support in Modern Motherhood

You’re Not Meant to Do This Alone

Reclaiming Rest, Resourcing, and Real Support in Modern Motherhood

I used to think I was "resourced".

I had a baby carrier, my fridge was full, my partner was helpful, and I had a handful of postpartum visits on the books. 

But when I really slowed down—when I paused between the pumping sessions, the late-night feeds, the dishes, and the diaper changes—I realized I was still doing A LOT on my own.

And not because I had to, but because I didn’t yet know how to receive. 

I didn’t even know what true resourcing looked like.

How We Got Here: From Villages to Isolation

Historically, the postpartum period was held. 

In most cultures, new mothers were surrounded by women—grandmothers, sisters, aunties, neighbors—who cooked, bathed, massaged, rocked the baby, and reminded her of who she was becoming.

Then came industrialization.

As families moved into cities and the nuclear family replaced the village, mothers became isolated. Tasks that used to be shared across a community suddenly fell on one woman. 

Capitalism praised productivity, and the postpartum period—once honored as sacred—became a countdown to "getting back to normal."

Even now, so many of us think we’re fine because we’re functioning. But functioning isn't the same as being held.

What I Learned / Am Learning: 

Resourcing Isn’t About Doing More—It’s About Doing Less

I feel like I need to say it again for myself and the moms in the back:

Resourcing Isn’t About Doing More—It’s About Doing Less

And trust me—as a mama of three, a CEO, and a creative—I often convince myself I’m doing well simply because I’m holding it all together. But here’s the truth: when I finally pause and rest, do I actually feel full? Or do I feel bone-deep exhausted?

That’s the question I’ve started asking myself—daily.

In the middle of the chaos—work deadlines, messy kitchens, quick-fire cleanups, and the relentless rhythm of parenting—I take a moment. I close my eyes and gently ask:

“Do I feel full right now… or just depleted?”

If the answer is tired—if my feet ache, if my breath feels shallow—I take that as my cue. I walk to the kitchen, pour a glass of water, and sit down. (Which, honestly, still feels wildly uncomfortable.)

Sometimes I sit for five minutes—which feels like time I don’t have. Other times I stay for thirty. No phone. No Instagram. Just me, sitting in the discomfort of not doing anything… and slowly remembering I don’t have to earn my rest.

We live in a time of endless checklists. 

But resourcing isn't a new task to add, it's permission to subtract.

Here’s what resourcing might actually look like:

• Old Way: Folding laundry while ALSO chatting on a phone call.
  
• Try Instead: A friend / child / partner / mother / neighbor!!! folding laundry while you lie on the couch and do nothing.
  
• Old Way: Rushing to school pick up / being late because I have a work mtg. 
  
• Try Instead: Asking a parent from school to pick up my kid and be with them until I can get there or dropping them off at home.
  
• Old Way: Staying up late to work on meals / food ideas
  
• Try Instead: A meal group where mama friends in your community nourish each other 1-2x week.
  
• Old Way: Rushing to get dishes done between dinner and bed time.
  
• Try Instead: Finding a fun way to get the whole family involved in clean-up (OR using compostable plates and tossing everything every once in a while :)
  
• Old Way: Feeling exhausted and overwhelmed with a crying baby.
  
• Try Instead: Asking someone to sit with you—not the baby—so you can cry, process, or just exist.
  

Resourcing means making space to feel like a person again, not just a caretaker. And ironically, it’s often the things that seem “small” that create the biggest shift.

A New Definition of Strength

You are not weak for needing help.

You are not failing because you feel overwhelmed.

We were never meant to raise babies alone. And the real strength isn’t in how much you can juggle—it’s in allowing yourself to receive.

Whether you're preparing for birth, in the thick of it, or supporting a new mother, may this be your invitation to reclaim a rhythm that honors your body, your lineage, and your real needs.

Let your postpartum be sacred.
Let it be slow.

Let it be shared.

P.S. We’ve created a line of postpartum essentials designed to resource you through the fourth trimester—because support isn’t just nice to have, it’s necessary. These are the things that help you feel held, nourished, and a little less alone. You can explore them here.