The Luteal Phase and the Beauty of the Unknown

The Dance Between Creation and Release

Hello.

I’ve had this article title sitting in my drafts for months, feeling drawn to explore and share it, but knowing the time wasn’t right. Now, as I approach the end of my own luteal phase, I can truly feel what I’m about to share, realizing that the time was always meant to be now.

The luteal phase occurs after ovulation and before the menstrual cycle, our bleed. It’s a time of uncertainty, representing either the potential implantation and beginning of life in the womb, or the upcoming shedding and renewal. To me, this phase feels like a period where the body sits with the unknown, uncertain of which path it will take. For a woman to sit with the possibility of being pregnant—or not—in a sovereign, wholesome way requires a great deal of capacity, awareness, and embodiment.

As women with a normal, healthy cycle, we go through four phases, or seasons:

Menstrual: winter ❄️
Follicular: spring 🌷
Ovulatory: summer ☀️
Luteal: autumn 🍂

In the mainstream, the luteal phase is often seen in a negative light, with women portrayed as wrapping up in robes, eating junk food, and binge-watching TV, wanting to push everyone and everything away. But this view misses what’s really happening in our bodies. During this phase, a woman is preparing for her menstrual 'cocoon' and hibernation. Instead of tuning in, we sometimes numb out by watching too much Netflix, scrolling through Instagram, and missing out on the nourishment, wisdom, and beauty of this phase.

It’s also when we might experience PMS symptoms, but it’s important to understand that these symptoms aren’t caused by the luteal phase itself. They actually reflect the biological conflicts we experienced earlier in the month, giving us clues about what those conflicts are.

A lot of times, I’ve referred to the luteal phase as my 'don’t talk to me, don’t look at me' phase. And honestly, that can feel true. But what’s really happening beneath the surface? Those phrases signal something deeper, like, 'I need space.' Perhaps we just need more quiet and room to tune in during this time.

I’m not above scrolling through social media or binge-watching a show on Netflix, but I don’t always feel great afterward. It’s when I honor that feeling and shift my focus to something more nourishing that I start to feel more embodied and present. Simple things like listening to classical music, taking a bath, reading a book, light movement, or even napping.

When we take the time to go a little deeper and truly connect with our bodies, we realize there’s a lot of magic swirling in this phase—it’s majestic, mysterious, and almost unexplainable.

Mysterious is one of the best words I have to describe what this phase can feel like—the mystery of what’s being born anew or reborn. We want to hold space for this mystery, seeing it as joyful and meant for us, as part of our soul's path and experience. It’s our birthright to sit in the mysteriousness of the unknown, with the question 'What’s next?' remaining unanswered.

After embracing the mystery of what’s next, there’s the potential to carry something even deeper—the heaviest yet most beautiful unknown: literally carrying the potential for life. To sit with this unknown may be some of the deepest waters a woman wades through, as she holds space for something she must patiently await—whether it’s a bleed or a baby.

Standing in the waters, wading alone, my body reminds me that I am already home.

How incredibly beautiful is this? It stuns me each time I think about it. The beauty and mystery that a woman’s body holds is the closest thing we have to magic. In fact, it may very well be magic. Pregnancy is magic. And the renewal and shedding we’re meant to experience each month—with ease and delight—is magic. It is our birthright to bleed and to conceive. There are things we desperately want to understand and make sense of, but we’re often asked to rest in the peace of not having all the answers, and to embrace the pure bliss of the unknown, in any circumstance.

Sitting through this phase in stillness, peace, trust, and acceptance is a skill that must be cultivated—it’s not a one-time thing, and even I am still learning. As women, we are ever-changing through these seasons, and it requires us to check in with ourselves regularly to understand our needs. Those needs will shift with every phase, every season. These are skills every woman must develop—skills that can guide her through the next phase of womanhood: becoming a mother, if she so desires.

This phase translates to so much more in our lives—so many other unknowns and mysteries.

The unknowns of our day-to-day.
Our professional journey.
Where we will settle.
Whether we’ll build or buy a home.
How many babies we’ll have, and whether they’ll be healthy.
The unknowns of death. And rebirth.

It’s a reflection that the grip and control we sometimes seek are illusions of peace and safety. True safety must be cultivated within us—within our womb, our container. To hold this is to hold possibility. When we can sit in the unknown, we are truly resting and trusting. And this is part of the pure bliss and beauty of being a woman.

So, in your next luteal phase, I invite you to take a moment of silence and stillness—in both body and mind. Honor this period of the unknown, and allow that honor to ripple through the other unknowns in your life and day-to-day experiences.

And now, I’m curious—are you a full moon bleeder, too?

In health,

Abigail