This Wilderness Our Home

Surfacing, Slowly

Somewhere around the four-month mark, things start to shift — not all at once, but in tiny, uneven waves. There are moments when I feel myself surfacing, and others when I’m still deep under.

I can laugh with my kids and my husband, joke with friends, and genuinely mean it — but sometimes I’m doing it while the dishes pile, the laundry waits, and my thoughts feel just so cluttered.

We’re still nursing constantly. He’s small, and after all the time we spent catching up after birth, nursing has become our comfort — our anchor. It’s how we reset, how we reconnect. But it also means my arms are rarely free, and naps still happen on me.

I’m staring down my return to work, and every time I think about it, my heart cracks a little. It’s not that I don’t want to work — it’s that this time together feels too short, too fragile.

When I had my first two babies, no one around me called it the fourth trimester. The idea existed, but it wasn’t part of everyday conversation yet — a newer way to describe what mothers have always lived: the tender, disorienting months when both baby and mom are still becoming.

My life looks the same in many ways — family, circle, home — but time has changed the landscape. I lost my mom in 2018, and my grandmother and grandmama not long after. They were such a steady part of my life and my kids’ lives, especially my mom. She would’ve adored Kai.

This time, there’s a quiet ache threaded through the joy — an awareness of who’s missing and gratitude for what’s here. Maybe that’s why I cry more now. I’ve never been someone who cries easily, but these days I find myself weeping at small things — a song, a photo, a laugh that sounds like my mom’s. It’s not depression; it’s a deeper understanding of how fast this time goes, and how love and loss somehow live in the same breath.

Still, there are glimpses of me returning. Little pieces.

I’ve started finding small ways to make my showers feel less rushed — turning on soft light, letting the water run a little longer, breathing again. Sometimes I even find the energy to make something special for dinner, even if it’s just roasted vegetables or a favorite sauce.

There are days I manage to get on top of projects, juggling baby and home and still feeling like myself. And there are days when the weight of it all keeps us wrapped in blankets, slow to rise, just surviving the morning.

So no, I haven’t surfaced completely. I’m surfacing sometimes.

And for now, that’s enough.

🌿 What the Fourth Trimester Really Means

The “fourth trimester” is a fairly new term — coined by pediatrician Harvey Karp in the early 2000s — but it names something mothers have always known: the first few months after birth are a continuation of pregnancy in their own way.

For baby: adjusting from the womb to the world — sleep cycles, digestion, and the deep need for contact.

For you: a recalibration — organs, hormones, and identity all settling into new patterns while you learn what life looks like now.

When the fourth trimester technically ends — around twelve weeks after birth — the calendar might suggest your recovery is over, but your body knows better. Even after bleeding slows and energy starts to return, deep healing is still underway. The site where the placenta detached is closing. Muscles and ligaments are rebuilding strength. Hormones are finding their new rhythm. And for anyone who’s had a C-section, layers of tissue are still knitting together beneath the surface.

So while the world may expect you to be “back to normal,” your body is still doing sacred, unseen work — not failing, just continuing.

In my early forties, I don’t think healing has been slower — just more visible to me. Age doesn’t change how the body rebuilds so much as how clearly you notice it happening. Maybe I have more awareness now of what recovery really is — how it’s not just rest and repair, but recalibration. The science says our bodies still heal, just as capable and resilient, though the process can feel different when you’re balancing more years, more history, and more perspective.

I didn’t realize how much the blood loss affected me until later. In those first two months, my strength and focus felt dimmer — like everything required more effort. Looking back, it was the anemia, the slow rebuilding of blood and breath. Once my levels began to rise again, I could feel my energy returning, my thoughts clearing, my self settling back in. It reminded me how invisible healing can be — that recovery is happening even when you can’t feel it yet.

This is the quiet, invisible work of postpartum — the integration of who you were, who you are, and who you’re still becoming.

🩷 Gentle Practices That Help Me Rebalance

These aren’t routines as much as touch points — small ways I steady myself when I can. Not every day, not even most days. Just often enough to remind me I’m still here.

1️⃣ Simplify Meals

The meal train ends, the freezer stock dwindles, and suddenly it’s back to you — figuring out what’s for dinner between feedings and bedtime. Right now, it’s less about cooking and more about feeding everyone. The rhythm that keeps me grounded is simple: a full belly for the kids and my husband, something warm for me, and a moment to breathe before bed. When everyone’s fed, I can exhale.

2️⃣ Protect the Evening Wind-Down

The nights run long — swim practice, homework, bedtime — but I try to carve out a few quiet minutes once the house goes still. Sometimes it’s another shower with the egg light I use for nighttime feeds, just to let my muscles relax and the noise fade. Other nights, it’s simply sitting in the dark, letting the day fall away.

3️⃣ Move for Connection, Not Routine

I haven’t found a steady rhythm yet. Some days, it’s a short walk or a few stretches while the baby plays beside me. Other days, I think about the pool and feel that pull again — the water still feels like home. I’m not there yet, but I want to be.

4️⃣ Redefine Progress

Progress isn’t what I cross off a list — it’s how I move through the day. Some mornings I juggle baby, house, and the work I’ve chosen to do and feel strong. Other days, I stay wrapped in blankets longer than planned. Both count.

5️⃣ Reconnect Through Creativity

If you’re somewhere between exhaustion and wonder, between healing and rediscovering who you are, I hope you find a bit of calm here.

Writing has been my steady thread — it helps me make sense of things when everything feels like too much. Singing helps too, in a different way. I’m not back to woodworking yet; I’m waiting to see which creative love surfaces first. Maybe it’s food. Maybe it’s this.

🌸 Gentle Reminder

If you’re here too — not quite steady, not quite new — please know:

The fourth trimester doesn’t really end. It just shifts.

You’ll surface slowly.

You’ll rediscover yourself piece by piece.

And that’s still healing.

🌿 Gentle Resources for the Fourth Trimester

These are a few places and tools I’ve leaned on — slow, steady supports that meet you where you are. Nothing urgent, just things that help.

For Understanding Postpartum Healing

The Fourth Trimester by Kimberly Ann Johnson — grounding, body-centered wisdom for recovery and reconnection.

The First Forty Days by Heng Ou — nourishing recipes and rituals that honor postpartum rest.

For Emotional Grounding

Motherhood: Facing and Finding Yourself by Lisa Marchiano — thoughtful insights for rediscovering identity in early motherhood.

The Momwell Podcast — gentle, evidence-based conversations about postpartum mental health and relationships.

For Gentle Body Care

Expectful — guided meditations and mindfulness practices tailored to pregnancy and postpartum.

Earth Mama Organic Nipple Butter — a simple comfort that soothes through the long days and nights.

For Connection + Community

Postpartum Support International (PSI) — free, confidential support and local resources worldwide.

Your local library’s parenting section or new-mom group — because sometimes what we need most is simply not feeling alone.

🌿 Related Posts

C-Section Recovery Essentials

[Postpartum Meals That Heal → coming soon

[Finding Comfort in Motherhood →coming soon

[When the Schedule Doesn’t Stick → coming soon

The fourth trimester may not have a clear end — it simply softens with time.

You’ll wake one morning and realize you’re breathing a little easier, laughing a little more, finding pieces of yourself again.

Not all at once. Not perfectly. But beautifully, in your own way.

You’re not behind. You’re becoming.

🕊️ Author’s Note

I write these reflections as a mother still in it — not from the other side, but from the middle.

If you’re here too, reading in the quiet between feedings or during a rare moment alone, I hope this helps you feel seen, not advised.

I’m not a medical professional, just a mom sharing what this season feels like. Please take what resonates and leave the rest. If you ever feel lost, sad, or unsure, you’re not alone — gentle support is out there, and it’s okay to reach for it.

For immediate postpartum or emotional support, you can contact Postpartum Support International (PSI) — they offer free, confidential help and connection to local resources.