Fourth Trimester Logbook
Day 1/42 in fourth trimester.
The universe shifted
and changed,
made space and formed
a new being
within my old self
and now
I too am remade
Happy Birth-Giving Day!
Day 2/42 in fourth trimester
When I pushed toward Amos’ birth
I vocalized so loudly
I had to suck throat lozenges
for the next three days.
During that time,
each child met this new, little brother.
Levi asked, “What should his nickname be? Amy? Momo?”
Eva gazed on lovingly for a moment,
then curled up on daddy’s lap
needing reassurance that all
will be surrounded
by love.
The flowers
friends brought us
were so fragrant
everyone kept asking—
“what is that smell?”
When they walked in.
“Lilies,” I’d say.
Day 3/42 in fourth trimester.
Home. We are so much about physical needs at the moment—back to thinking only about the mouths, bodies, bums checklist for the three small humans and two adults in the family.
As we came in the front door, I immediately spotted my beige armchair and felt a sense of relief. If I’m going to spend the foreseeable future breastfeeding, I will need her support. She has accompanied me through almost seven years of mothering and, now, is preparing to hold me close while I nurture, sustain, and nurse my third little one.
I shrouded her in the quilt we constructed from ten years of family fabric and swaddled her seat in the green blanket my sweet friend and partner carried with him since college (so she won’t feel alone). These two serve as the perfect all-purpose throws, picnic ground covers, and campfire cuddle-unders. Now I need them to be my colorful security blankets.
This motherhood thing is an outpouring of time and attention. Right now, I see myself using these physical objects to remind myself I am surrounded by love and color as I journey.
Day 4/42 in fourth trimester.
Today, I found myself present to the gift that is a partner. As I watched my husband wearing our baby in a pouch while we took our first walk around the block, it hit me that I am no longer the only one carrying this little person. Another is literally holding him. My solitary gestational duties are over.
The first two times I gave birth, circumstances didn’t line up for my husband to enjoy much of a paternity leave. We felt that lack of support heavily. In this fourth day, I have witnessed my brain catch up to the reality that my child’s other parent can help me adjust to this fourth trimester.
This is a dream come true, but it shouldn’t have to be. Parents of every variation should have the right to paid family medical leave.
Day 6/42 in fourth trimester.
There are stories we tell our children and myths we pass along. Yet a third category exists—the stories they tell themselves.
A scrawled message on an index card came home from school stating, “They have baby.” As I pondered this strange missive, I realized I was catching a glimpse of the story my firstborn has begun to tell himself and the world about this fourth trimester. He experienced “they have baby” this week and all the shifting and changing that brings. As a first-grader, he can actually write about it, explain it, and ponder the mysterious parts.
He also can tell a story about the new role he has as big brother to two younger siblings—but the other parts of the story are still evolving. As his parents, my partner and I have the chance to influence how he tells himself about this period of change. Will we help him form a story about how love expands us? Will the story be remembered for the way change challenges us to learn new roles? Or will he learn a story about himself that we don’t intend?
My job is to listen and pay attention to all three of the little people coming to know themselves and their worth. Sometimes I feel inadequate. It’s hard to know if they hear how much they are loved. I long for this period of welcoming baby three to be a family legend in which unshakable bonds grew the foundation for security and care in our family. Because “they have baby”—not just one person—I know this isn’t just my story.
Day 7/42 in fourth trimester.
This time last week, I was wandering around a cemetery with my partner, taking in the fall colors, feeling the breeze, and pondering whether my contractions were “practice” or real labor pains.
About twelve hours later, I finally met my littlest love.
Day 8/42 in fourth trimester.
“How are things going in your
world today?”
“Extrovert loneliness creeping in
a little.”
“I miss creating.
Feeling like a cow.”
“Is there comfort in knowing
you’re not alone?”
“There’s comfort, but there’s also
the reality setting in that we are
just providing care for the kids
some of the time—
it’s lonely.
I sit with a baby
and nurse independently
through night and day
because I have the milk.”
“For sure.
It’s a job you can’t share.”
Day 9/42 in fourth trimester.
Parenting and mothering requires so much. We:
Nourish
Love
Comfort
Attend to
Soothe
I am remembering now that I must allow myself to receive:
Nourishment
Love
Comfort
Attention
Soothing
Someone brought us a meal today. This rainbow of roasted vegetables on my plate serves as a reminder to look for the colors of care in and around my community. I can choose to be grateful. Where are there rainbows of love you can spot when it’s overcast and gray?
Day 11/42 in fourth trimester.
I’m watching my daughter write “notes” in pink marker, her rainbow stickers and kitty coloring book close at hand. She’s got so much to say. She works to write and draw and build her truth into visible realities. She’s three.
One of the coolest things about bringing a new, little person into the world is watching my daughter become a big sister. New sides of her personality and artistry have emerged in response to her new-found identity.
She encourages me, “WOW, Mom! You make so much milk.”
She adores her little sibling, “He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.” And, “His belly button is weird.”
She grabs the water bottle, the blanket, the book, and still smiles and snuggles.
But she also does the strong work of finding moments to create, swing like crazy, crow like a rooster, and run like wild.
I need to mimic my child’s philosophy of life and find the time to be me.
Day 14/42 in fourth trimester.
“Love is hard work.”
In the middle of the night.
When you’re breastfeeding.
With a two-week-old.
“Love is hard work.”
In the neighborhood.
When your community is marginalized.
With an election pending.
“Love is hard work.”
In seasons of change.
When you’re feeling uncertain.
With a commitment to create.
No matter what.
Even if it’s hard.
Day 15/42 in fourth trimester.
I believe the choices we make on the ballot affect my home, community, neighbors, and family. I believe in our collective ability to protect the rights of LGBTQIA+ people, women, and public school teachers. Your vote can support public schools and provide healthcare to the most vulnerable. As I wander through the first few weeks of being a mom of three, I sense the power and importance of opportunity on Election Day. So, this mom voted.
Day 16/42 in fourth trimester.
You are here.
And, now, I wear a
Mama necklace
with three little stars
surrounding my moon
Day 17/42 in fourth trimester.
Sometimes, I inhabit the words and worlds of others. Over and over again, books have provided comfort. As baby blues start to sneak in on this rainy November morning, I have scanned the shelves.
I’ve ventured into the sentences and settings of many authors. Today, I moved into everything from personal essays to science fiction to young adult literature.
Day 18/42 in fourth trimester.
All the leaves seemed to fall at once. They rained down and hit the ground from all directions. Some leaves are so big they make my baby feel small. Small hands, small feet, but he can make my heart feel big.
Day 20/42 in fourth trimester.
The rhythm of a rocking chair, my heartbeat, the music, the baby’s breath—Rest Comes.
My newborn models the way restorative rhythms lead to growth as he dozes on and off all day. He focuses on periods of quiet alertness between naps instead of wakefulness unbridled. He allows his body and brain to adjust to a world of stimulation gradually. Over the next five months, this is the pattern that will aid him in safely doubling in size.
When my children quiet and nap, it feels hard to set aside work and, instead, rest while they are in repose. But Sabbaths help us adjust and grow.
Today, I was reminded of the importance of stillness and stasis. Sometimes, the nap we take in the middle of the afternoon is a radical act of resistance and reclamation affirming our universal need to slow down and regain rhythms of peace. Other times, passing the day in Sabbath, without consumption or production, becomes a path toward letting go of toxic reliance on the market.
We are wired for patterns of peace, rhythms of recovery, and cycles of Sabbath from the moment we are born.
Rest easy.
Day 21/42 in fourth trimester.
We’ve made it to three weeks postpartum and the general mood is perfectly summed up by a hand-stitched art piece by Ciara LeRoy hanging in my dining room near the tea rack. It’s emblazoned with “tired BUT HOPEFUL.”
I’m tired from nursing and waking every two and a half hours to feed my newborn, but hopeful when he allows us to experience a four hour stretch without interruption every once in a while.
I’m tired of injustice and oppression weighing heavily on my mind as I experience bouts of postpartum anxiety, but hopeful when I can call upon my resources as a craftivist and community member to creatively resist and support those who are actively fighting injustice.
I’m tired when I think of all the barriers and limits, obstacles and challenges obstructing the paths of women, female-identifying, and gender non-binary humans but hopeful as I observe shifts and changes in power dynamics within our neighborhoods, communities, and societies.
Staying tired BUT HOPEFUL today.
Day 23/42 in fourth trimester.
I’ve long been an admirer of Fred Rogers’ loving kindness and, from an artistic perspective, the impeccable cardigans knit for him by his mother. In honor of World Kindness Day, I slipped into my favorite red sweater and put baby into the hand-knit cardigan made by his dad. Then, I took a minute to think, meditate, and write about kindness while breastfeeding.
It seems to me that Mister Rogers had a knack for explaining how, by nurturing the need for love and kindness in ourselves, we can extend love and kindness into the world. This was his gift to us.
The first few months of a new human’s life need to be so full of love and kindness. I see the way my newborn requires love and kindness. My family goes about the business of showering him with loving kindness right alongside the friends and neighbors who have kindly brought meals and muffins to our door. However, I struggle to extend love and kindness to myself, my postpartum body, my wobbly moods, and my scattered brain.
So, in the name of all those who struggle to extend loving kindness to themselves, pause for a moment. Imagine sending friendly wishes to yourself, to loved ones, to those neighboring you, to all beings. This was healing work for me today.
Day 28/42 in fourth trimester.
Four weeks ago, I saw this little person for the first time and finally held him in my arms. Sometimes, it’s still hard to believe he’s here. How is it possible that four weeks have gone by? It feels like we are still just getting to know each other.
Day 30/42 in fourth trimester.
My newborn has a body held in my arms for hours and hours each day. Yet hours can go by before I remember that I, too, have a body that has a need to extend and accept meaningful touch.
I have moments when it flashes into my mind that I am as hungry for hugs as I am thirsty while breastfeeding. I need lots of water to produce milk. Perhaps I need lots of hugs to continue carrying and caring for a newborn needing constant connection.
It surprised me today when the hairstylist who trimmed my hair asked if she could give me a hug before I returned to mothering. I don’t know if it was the wild look in my eye or the crazy hair that caught her attention, but it was an immensely kind and unexpected gesture that filled my cup a bit.
Hug your friends. Hug your loved ones. Or, if you’re seeing a need, hug an acquaintance you’ve never hugged before.
Day 32/42 in fourth trimester.
There have been many times over the last seven years of parenting where I have encountered a strange sense of déjà vu. Standing in the cafeteria line with my son at the school’s “Thanksgiving dinner” was one.
The familiar muted neutral colors on the plate. The smells of highly processed food. The cacophony of children clattering cafeteria trays and cutlery while they laugh and converse.
It felt like I had stepped into a time machine and travelled back to the nineties, except for one small detail—my son’s hands clutching the small tray instead of mine.
With my firstborn, I tend to experience this phenomenon repeatedly. Seeing my child encounter things for the first time triggers memories of my own childhood. With my third child, I have experienced visceral remembrance of previous parenting moments. Baby three reminds me of one and two, yet remains entirely unique.
All of this gets me to thinking—How can our minds hold such complex layers? In what ways are my personal timelines interconnected? Does Thanksgiving bring up memories for you? Do your children trigger you to dredge up childhood memories?
Being a mom of three is creating an interesting flow in my mind between the past and the present. Sleep deprivation is breaking down the barriers between memories of my youth and memories I have of my children. Perhaps this is a new superpower of perception.
Day 35/42 in fourth trimester.
It’s been five weeks since my littlest love was born. Five weeks of watching my body recover from pregnancy. Five weeks of nurturing my physical self so that I can provide nourishment to my child. Five weeks of letting my feelings rise and fall as they adjust to the new reality of life with three kids.
Hormones, pelvic floor, breasts, arms, abdomen, and eyes have all been hard at work. It may be invisible to the naked eye, but I see my body doing so much. My body keeps a human alive and well as it figures out how to reestablish balance on the other side of bringing a new human into the world.
If you haven’t noticed, let me just remind you—it’s amazing what women quietly accomplish without asking for acknowledgement. A woman made you possible.
Day 36/42 in fourth trimester.
There’s something about
a mother’s eye
For detail
For obstacles
For value
She sees
The complexity of things
The risk of things
The sacredness of things
So, when I wanted to chronicle our journey becoming a family of five, I made sure to find a mother photographer. She found the beauty of our real life.
Day 41/42 in fourth trimester.
We’ve almost made it through the fourth trimester and, for much of the last six weeks, we’ve been encircled by family, friends, and community caring for and supporting us. I am thankful for this experience of postpartum care.
The little person at the center of all this care is becoming more aware of the world around him.
As I thought about all the circles of love surrounding us, I was reminded of this Fred Rogers quote: "From the time you were very little, you've had people who have smiled you into smiling, people who have talked you into talking, sung you into singing, loved you into loving."
Yes, yes, yes.
Day 42/42 in fourth trimester.
Expressions drift across your face freely. You move from chuckling in your sleep to grimacing and, then, crack your eyes open while a grin spreads across your face.
You reach out to sense the textures around you and caress my side, hold on to grandpa’s overalls, clutch daddy’s lapel, grab the fingers of your siblings and friends. You are learning to hold on.
You gaze lovingly back and forth between your brother and sister as they crouch low to talk to you, bounce you, murmur to you. “Hey, Mr. Bright Eyes,” Granddad remarks to your wide eyed expression. The point of contrast between light and dark draws your attention.
We converse. The “o” and “ahh” between us is the beginning of a lifelong conversation.
You nurse and sigh and lose your breath from the effort. All your nutrition, sustenance, and hydration comes from the same place—me. I think you might be able to smell me. You seem to smell the Christmas tree, the bread in the oven, the candle snuffed out.
You are waking up into your self and I am starting to remember my self.
-Felice Salmon
Felice Salmon is a community artist, youth empowerment educator, and Radical Homemaker connecting, creating, and contemplating in Lexington, KY since 2010. She is currently producing work through an Artist Residency in Motherhood as she cares for her newborn, preschooler, and first grader. She works as a teaching artist at neighborhood after-school programs, local universities, and community organizations while balancing radical domesticity and art-making for social change within and around her home. Throughout her artistic practice, writing and storytelling have blended with embroidery, quilting, and textile work.