Not Rising

Casey Keen | Author of The Alchemy of Motherhood

1. Tell us about you.

I’m a mother and a fiction writer who didn’t expect to pivot into writing about childbirth and postpartum, but it turns out real life was like, Oh, you like intense plot twists? Try this.

I wrote my memoir, The Alchemy of Motherhood, after my own experience with birth trauma, postpartum preeclampsia, postpartum depression and anxiety, and the realization of just how many gaps exist in maternal care.

I’m building a space—a kind of ecosystem—where community, information, and advocacy all exist in one place because the current model of postpartum support feels fragmented, if not nonexistent.

I want to help women walking into postpartum by providing a clearer picture of what’s ahead, as well as support the woman already in it, trying to find words for what she’s feeling. It’s also for the woman looking back, realizing her experience didn’t sit right, and wanting to understand why. Just as importantly, I hope to reach healthcare professionals and show how significant their role is in supporting (or not supporting) a woman during childbirth and postpartum, and how that can shape the rest of her experience in motherhood.

I don’t take my position in this space lightly. I’m not a physician, and I’m not speaking from behind a clinical title. I hold a Bachelor of Science in Psychology and a Master of Science in Forensic Medicine, so technically, I was trained to work more closely with the deceased than the living (I interned in a coroner’s office and assisted with autopsies, which tends to end conversations quickly at dinner parties).

I value lived experience because it carries a depth of understanding no textbook can fully capture. Paired with a strong grasp of systems, patterns, and what happens when they fail, it’s where I’ve found—and earned—my voice.

I write from having lived it, questioned it, and chosen not to stay quiet about it. That’s also part of who I am. I’m a disruptor. I’m willing to challenge what’s been accepted for too long.

The goal of my work is to move the conversation around maternity care forward, to give women language and validation for their experiences, and, if nothing else, to make even one woman feel less alone.

2. How does the cover photo capture who you are?

This isn’t going to be a poetic answer. I’m just not photogenic. Like, how did my face gain five pounds the second the camera clicked?

I had professional headshots done, and after going through them with a very humbling level of honesty, this was the one where I thought, Okay, this is the best we’ve got right now.

3. In one sentence, what are you trying to change?

I’m working to change a system and narrative that asks women to endure childbirth and postpartum in silence into one that prepares, supports, and listens to them.

4. What did you notice was broken that made you start writing?

The current maternity care model isn’t working. It’s a model built around efficiency and liability, not the actual lived experience of women.

It moves women through, checks the boxes, and calls it care without much room for nuance, real preparation, or honest conversations about what happens in childbirth (from a psychological and emotional lens) and in postpartum.

What I went through isn’t rare, it’s part of a systemic pattern, and that’s hard to ignore.

5. If you could manifest a brighter tomorrow, what would be different by 2030?

Ideally, by 2030 we’ve collectively agreed that trauma-informed education is vital for professionals working in maternity, and that zero postpartum prep (including the one, six-week follow-up) is not a comprehensive care plan.

Also, women would be prepared for recovery, with clear guidance on what to expect physically, emotionally, and mentally.

There would be consistent follow-up, more frequent and meaningful mental health screenings, and real monitoring for complications.

Ideally, fewer insurance-driven constraints shaping what care is allowed to look like.

Culturally, there would be a shift too. Less pressure to love every moment, more space for honest experiences.

The ultimate goal would be to have fewer stories like mine.

6. How would your closest friends describe you?

My closest friends would probably describe me as a great mom, loud, loyal, fun, witty, outspoken, and maybe a tad too tenacious.

This is starting to sound a little too flattering, right? Like, I’m one sentence away from a true crime intro. Thankfully, I don’t light up a room.

7. What’s a challenge that changed how you see the world?

My experiences in maternity care changed how I see the world.

They forced me to look at systems more closely: how they’re built, who they’re built for, and what gets lost in the process.

I saw firsthand how efficiency, liability, and money can shape care in ways that overlook the actual human experience, especially in moments that are anything but routine.

I stopped assuming that standard care meant adequate care. I became more aware of how easily important needs can be minimized, how quickly you are expected to move on, and how much responsibility gets placed back on us to recognize when something isn’t right.

It made me more questioning, more vocal, and less willing to accept things at face value. 

8. What are you most proud of right now?

I am not great at tooting my own horn so here goes.

Other than my beautiful son, I’m really proud that my memoir was picked up by a publisher, Cynren Press. It’s still feels like a pinch-me moment.

It’s one thing to write a story like this, and another to have someone say, “This matters. Let’s put it into the world.”

I have an upcoming book signing at my local Barnes & Noble, which feels both surreal and a little full-circle.

Also, I’m in conversations about potentially sitting on a panel about postpartum mental health at a local hospital which would mean being able to bring these conversations directly into the spaces that need them most. So, TOOT TOOT! 

9. On hard days, what kind of signal from your readers keeps you going?

On the harder days, it’s always the messages from other mothers.

When someone tells me my writing helped them feel less alone or gave them language for something they hadn’t been able to explain, that makes everything I do worth it.

Those moments remind me why I’m doing this in the first place.

10. For people who haven’t seen your work yet, what article would you want them to read first and why?

I’d probably point them to You Prepared for Labor. Did You Prepare for the System?

It gets to the heart of the disconnect between what we’re told maternity care looks like and what it actually feels like to move through it.

Childbirth is where it all begins. If a woman leaves that experience feeling deflated instead of supported, or carries birth trauma, something went wrong, even if everything looked “fine” on paper.

That distinction matters more than some would like to admit.

How a woman enters postpartum isn’t neutral. It can shape her mental health, her relationships, and the way she experiences motherhood long after the birth itself, in turn shaping those around her.