Why Holding Matters in the Postpartum Season

After having a baby, there’s a moment many of us don’t talk about.

A moment where you’re holding this tiny human you love more than anything… and yet something inside you feels unsteady. Disconnected. Overwhelmed. Sometimes even numb or panicked.

I’ve been there.

I remember sitting in those early days and thinking, I don’t recognise myself anymore. Why I could love my baby so fiercely and still feel lost. Why everyone around me seemed to think I should be coping better than I was.

And what I needed most in that season wasn’t advice. It wasn’t another strategy. It wasn’t someone telling me I was doing “a great job”.

What I needed was to be held.

Not physically but emotionally.

I’ve since come across a book that gave language to something I felt deeply but couldn’t name at the time: The Art of Holding in Therapy: An Essential Intervention for Postpartum Depression and Anxiety. It speaks about holding as an essential intervention for postpartum depression and anxiety and when I read it, I felt seen.

Because holding isn’t about fixing a mother. It’s about staying with her.

Being held means sitting with someone who doesn’t rush you, doesn’t minimise what you’re feeling, and doesn’t need you to be okay. Someone who can tolerate your tears, your silence, your circular thoughts, your fear, without trying to tidy them up.

As a mother, and now as someone who holds space for other mothers, I know how rare that can be.

So many of us grew up learning to be strong, to cope, to not need too much. I did. I learned early to self-soothe, to manage my feelings quietly, to not rock the boat. To put myself last. And motherhood has a way of bringing all of that to the surface.

Sleep deprivation. Hormones. Identity shifts. The responsibility of keeping another human alive. It can crack you open in ways you never expected.

Postpartum overwhelm felt like my nervous system was permanently switched on. And when I tried to talk about it, I often felt like I was met with reassurance instead of understanding.

“This is normal.” “You’re doing great.” “It will pass.” Those words are well intentioned. But they didn’t settle my body. They didn’t make me feel safer.

Holding would have sounded like:
That sounds really hard.
Of course your nervous system is tired.
You don’t have to make sense of this right now.
I’m here with you.

Holding looks like allowing a mother to cry without interrupting her. Letting her tell the same story again without pushing her forward. Letting her rant and rave and get her frustrations out. Sitting in silence without trying to fill it. Saying “that makes sense” instead of “try this”.

And when a mother is held like that, something changes.

Her shoulders drop.
Her breath deepens.
Her thoughts soften.

I’ve seen it in myself, and I see it in the mothers I support now. Once the nervous system feels safer, intuition returns. Confidence returns. Connection returns, not because someone taught it, but because the body finally feels supported enough to access it.

For many women, the postpartum period also stirs old childhood wounds. Feeling unseen. Feeling responsible for others. Feeling like your needs are too much or don’t matter. That was true for me. Motherhood didn’t create those feelings, it revealed them.

And being held, gently and consistently, is what allows those layers to heal without force.

This is what Intuitive Mummas is built on.

Not fixing mothers.
Not telling them how to parent.
Not pushing positivity.

But creating spaces where mothers can land. Where they can be honest. Where they can unravel without judgement. Where they can be held long enough to remember who they are.

Because when a mother feels held, She begins to trust herself again. She begins to soften.
She begins to mother, and live, from a place that feels more like home.

If this resonates, you’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re not behind.

You’re a mother who deserves to be held too. 🩷