Slowing Down, Opening Up: Reflections in the Third Trimester

At The Loom Collective, we hold space for the full arc of parenthood—the transformation, the tenderness, and everything in between. As the founder, I’ve always believed in the power of personal storytelling to deepen our understanding of ourselves and each other. Today, I’m writing from a personal place, as I step into my third trimester of pregnancy.

Lately, life has been asking for a slower rhythm. A groin injury has made stillness more necessary than optional, and in that stillness I’m reminded of how much my body—and my very spirited toddler—need rhythm, predictability, and home. We’ve been staying close to what’s familiar, to the comfort of our routines, to what keeps us grounded.

Now, as autumn approaches, I find myself reflecting on postpartum—what it looked like last time, and what I hope it will feel like this time around. With our first child, everything was in motion—moving, shifting jobs, navigating newness. I carried so much. This time, I’m asking what support might truly look like—before, during, and after birth. And how I can lay the foundation for it now.

I’ve been returning to movement, to writing, to quiet connection with my breath. I’m trying not to over-plan what this birth will look like, while still holding hope for what I’d love: a peaceful birth at home, supported by a midwife.

But hope and grief often walk together. I remember my midwife telling me, “With each birth, there is grief.” And I’ve come to understand that more deeply each day. I feel it now—grieving the changes my son will face as our family expands. Grieving that my own father, who died less than a year ago, will not meet this new little one. Holding both sorrow and sweetness as I imagine what’s to come.

There is love. There is loss. And there is the quiet trust in change.

Grief and birth, death and new life—these threads are closely woven. They pull us open. They remind us of what matters.

This season also brings something new and unexpected: I recently accepted a role as Development Manager at the Food Bank of Nevada County. It might feel a little wild to step into this while pregnant, but it also feels grounding—an opportunity to nurture my own passions while contributing to my community. It’s a chance to show Jasper what it looks like to be involved, to care, and to help weave a more connected and compassionate place for all of us.

At the same time, I’ve been reflecting on how personal healing and collective care are deeply intertwined. We don’t need to be fully healed to show up for others. The act of showing up—whether for ourselves or someone else—is part of the healing. One can deepen the other.

This is at the heart of what we do at The Loom Collective. We believe in the transformative power of sharing, processing, and witnessing our stories.

If you’ve given birth—recently or many years ago—and are looking for a place to begin, our Birth Story Reflections™ journal is now available for purchase online. It’s a powerful stand-alone tool that can meet you wherever you are in your parenting or healing journey. Whether you journal alone or share your reflections with a trusted listener, this guided companion offers a gentle structure for revisiting and reclaiming your story.

I’m also excited to share that new offerings are unfolding: a pregnancy journal and postpartum journal are on their way, each designed to support reflection and connection through these tender seasons. And coming soon, a self-paced online course for pregnancy, created to help you move through these months with grounding, creativity, and care.

In this season of both stretching and stillness, as the days shorten and autumn draws us inward, we’re reminded: our stories matter. They are bold. They are essential. And they hold the power to heal—not just individually, but collectively.