Forever Postpartum
A reflective series exploring the tender, transformative seasons of motherhood, nourishment, and what it means to care for ourselves and others.
This month, we’re honoured to feature Eleanor Cripps - mother of four, author, and stylist - whose creative life has unfolded alongside seventeen years of motherhood. She’s the author of eight books and six online courses, yet she still delights in pottering around her kitchen at home, turning everyday moments into something quietly romantic.
You have been a mother for 17 years, welcoming four children in that time- How has this experience shaped your sense of identity, and was there a particular season or transition that shifted how you see yourself?
With each child, I’ve crossed a quiet threshold into a new version of myself. Just when I think I understand motherhood, a new child arrives and gently (or not so gently) unravels what I thought I knew. They’ve mirrored to me the areas I needed to soften: patience, presence, the art of not rushing through challenging times and wishing for them to be over. Having my fourth baby, Bernie, seventeen years after my first has been particularly poignant. I’m holding a baby in my arms while also watching my eldest daughter step into her own womanhood, preparing to fly the nest. It’s a tender juxtaposition… beginning and becoming, side by side. It has slowed me down in a way nothing else could.
I think that these days, I see myself as being more grounded with who I am. I feel less pressure to have it all figured out, and more permission to be in the process. Motherhood has taught me that I’m allowed to keep evolving, and that becoming more myself, in small and quiet ways, is all part of the beautiful process.
Much of your creative life has grown alongside motherhood, beginning at home and evolving over time. How did becoming a mother influence the way you approached creativity and work, especially in the earlier years?
My first proper ‘job’ began very simply and intuitively, at the kitchen bench. I was teaching myself how to cook gentle, nourishing meals for my daughter Bella, who was four at the time and navigating a myriad of health challenges. I started a blog called Petite Kitchen, named after the tiny retro kitchen in our Art Deco apartment - a quiet online journal of simple, wholesome recipes. I never expected anything to come of it. It felt more like a personal archive, a small domestic record of learning and care. And then, almost imperceptibly, without warning I suddenly landed a cookbook deal, a thriving café, a large readership, and a career I hadn’t consciously planned. It unfolded less like a strategy and more like a series of gentle accidents that, in hindsight, felt deeply aligned. The blogging era feels very nostalgic to me, and writing about the early days, well it feels like a lifetime ago, now!
I guess food was my doorway into creativity, but after being in the food world for most of my adult life, I felt a gentle pull toward something else. Dressing well, and choosing clothes with care, became unexpectedly transformative for me, especially after having Bernie. In postpartum, when everything can feel unfamiliar, clothing became a way to return to myself, to feel held, and quietly beautiful, no matter what the day had planned for me.
As a stylist, I feel I’m still working with the same creative thread - finding joy in the everyday, tending to the small rituals that shape how we feel. Helping mothers, especially postpartum, rediscover pleasure and agency in getting dressed.
Daily routines can feel both grounding and demanding in motherhood. How have your rhythms and routines evolved over time, and what supports you most in this season caring for yourself and your family?
My rhythms have become simpler, and far more forgiving. With four children, life is layered and loud and wonderful all at once, and I’ve learned that rigidity rarely serves me in this season. I like the feeling of a loose rhythm to the day - something to return to - but I hold it lightly, knowing that motherhood is always in flux.
I come back, again and again, to these particular rituals: slow walks with the stroller, pausing to flower gaze (and sometimes take photos). Enjoyment in simple, vegetable-filled meals, plated with extra care (old food-styling habits die hard), instead of scrolling, getting lost in a really good novel - sometimes read in full chapters, sometimes only in fragments… and gentle piano or jazz playing in the background. This would be my number one tip for when the house feels overwhelming: I love how music has a way of softening the edges of a busy home; it magically shifts the energy almost instantly, for all of us! And then there’s dressing of course. Taking a few extra minutes for myself to put on something lovely, even for a quick trip to the supermarket with a baby on my hip - a quiet but powerful act of self-respect.
How has your relationship with clothing changed over the years, and when did getting dressed begin to feel more like an act of care than something to manage?
I’ve always adored clothes - I remember the joy of rearranging and curating my wardrobe as a teenager, spending hours hunting for vintage pieces in op shops. My first little business was sourcing, styling and selling vintage clothing online! It’s always felt like a love language for me.
For years, I unofficially helped friends declutter and rediscover the joy in their wardrobes, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I stepped into styling professionally. It felt scary… imposter syndrome still visits! but it also felt like a natural unfolding of who I was becoming creatively. Getting dressed became an act of care most profoundly after having Bernie. In postpartum, when your body and identity feels tender and confusing, clothing can be a gentle companion rather than another demand. I love witnessing this shift in my clients… the moment they realise getting dressed can be nurturing for them - It’s beautiful!
You often write about living simply and finding beauty in everyday moments. What drew you to this way of living, and how do you return to it when life feels full?
There was a season where I was running a café, writing books, raising the kids, and hurriedly ticking off all the things I thought a successful, creative life was meant to look like. From the outside it seemed full and abundant; from the inside, I wasn’t coping at all. I remember realising that, while I was so grateful for the opportunities, I didn’t actually want to live at that pace.
That season inspired one of my books The Art of Simple, but more importantly it became a personal commitment to soften my days - to choose less noise, less urgency, more presence. I don’t think simplicity is something you “arrive” at and stay in. Some days feel slow and romantic; others feel chaotic and undone. But I’ve learned to treat simplicity as a practice: pausing, noticing, editing gently, returning to what matters. Often it’s as small as stepping outside, lighting a candle, or putting my phone away for an hour.
I love the empowerment in remembering that we’re allowed to shape the texture of our days - that even in the midst of motherhood and work and responsibility, we can choose to see the little things differently.
The idea of ‘forever postpartum’ speaks to an ongoing transformation. What does that phrase mean to you now, as a mother and creative still unfolding?
To me, it’s an invitation to keep tending to the mother, long after the newborn haze has lifted. Motherhood can be a place where we lose ourselves in caring for others, but it can also be the place where we meet ourselves again, perhaps more honestly than ever before. I’ve experienced both.
Forever postpartum speaks to rebellious self-love: choosing to care for ourselves, to nourish our bodies, to dress with tenderness, to rest, to create, to have fun! I love that my children witness me doing this. It quietly teaches them that caring for oneself is not selfish, it’s foundational.