Today we’d like to introduce you to Francesca Fondevila Lucero
Hi Francesca, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for taking the time to share your story with us – to start maybe you can share some of your backstory with our readers?
The seeds of Mother Bones were planted long before I had the language for it. I had always been drawn to the intersection of beauty, ritual, and nourishment—whether through cooking, design, or the quiet details that turn everyday moments into something more meaningful. But it wasn’t until I became a mother that these instincts crystallized into something larger than myself.
My own postpartum period was a reckoning. I had expected exhaustion, but not the bone-deep depletion. I had prepared for the baby, but not for the way I would disappear into the background. What I longed for wasn’t available in the standard offerings—it wasn’t about help, exactly. It was about being held. Nourished. Witnessed. Remembered.
So I began to follow that longing. Into the kitchen, where I experimented with deeply restorative meals. Into books and histories, tracing the rituals that once marked this threshold as sacred. Into practice—first quietly with friends, then with clients—offering a form of care that honored the mother as deeply as the child.
Mother Bones emerged not as a brand, but as a response. A reimagining of postpartum as something textured and alive. Not clinical. Not lonely. Not another to-do list on the road to ‘bouncing back.’ But a season worthy of ceremony. Of salt and steam and softness. Of beauty as balm.
This work is not about filling a gap in the market—it’s about creating what I once needed and couldn’t find. A place where the mother is not forgotten in the glow of the newborn, but honored, supported, and tenderly remembered through every detail. A place where the aesthetic and the sacred meet. That is what I build, and rebuild, every day through Mother Bones.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The road to building Mother Bones has been anything but smooth—because in many ways, I’m not just offering a service; I’m inviting people to rethink postpartum entirely. We celebrate pregnancy. We curate birth plans, but postpartum is treated like an afterthought. The prevailing messaging around postpartum is about ‘bouncing back’ rather than being deeply held, exquisitely nourished, and reverently seen.
One of the greatest challenges has been educating people on the importance of postpartum care—gently disrupting the narrative in a culture that often forgets the mother the moment the baby arrives. Even among women who invest deeply in beauty, wellness, and their own inner work, postpartum care is often the missing piece. There’s an assumption that if you have resources, you’ll be fine. That a night nurse, takeout, or a well-meaning partner will suffice.
True postpartum care is more than logistics. It’s an art form. It’s ceremony. It’s remembering the Mother in all her softness and complexity. The care I offer is intimate, sensory, and finely attuned—it isn’t just about recovery; it’s about restoration, remembrance, and re-entry into oneself.
Another challenge has been holding the emotional weight of this work while maintaining the level of refinement and detail that defines my brand. This isn’t clinical care. It’s deeply personal, requiring presence, intuition, and a kind of energetic hospitality. I’ve had to learn how to preserve my own energy while still delivering something exquisite—something that feels like beauty as medicine.
Despite these challenges, I wouldn’t change a thing. Every hurdle has only clarified my purpose. Every refined detail, every thoughtfully chosen ingredient, every intimate moment of care reinforces why I do this work and why I believe that postpartum is a sacred threshold. My mission has never been to simply offer a service. It’s to reimagine postpartum as a season of beauty, ritual, and reverence—exactly where it belongs. Because mothers are worthy of this level of devotion—not only because they’ve given birth, but because they’re becoming someone new.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
Mother Bones is not just postpartum care—it’s an invitation to experience the postpartum window as it was always meant to be: sacred, sensual, and deeply restorative.
I specialize in high-touch, highly personalized postpartum care that blends nourishment, ritual, and beauty into a seamless, soul-supportive experience. Every detail—from the warmth of a slow-simmered broth to the texture of a hand-blended oil—is chosen with intention. This is not standardized support. It’s an atmosphere. A sensory experience designed to remind the mother that she is still the center of something sacred.
What sets my work apart is the artistry and intimacy of the care I offer. I create custom experiences designed around each mother’s rhythms, needs, and desires. I’m not there to check boxes—I’m there to hold space. To attune. To create something ephemeral and lasting all at once.
Through grounding presence, deeply nourishing meals, soothing touch, and subtle ceremony, I help mothers regulate, reconnect, and return to themselves.
I create a container where she can soften—where the pressure to ‘perform’ or ‘bounce back’ dissolves, and she’s met instead with reverence, warmth, and care that supports her on every level: physical, emotional, and spiritual.
My care is designed to restore balance, offer emotional steadiness, and gently guide her back to her own inner wisdom—the part of her that already knows how to mother, how to heal, how to begin again.
I am most proud of the way Mother Bones has helped redefine postpartum as a time not to be rushed through, but to be honored. A season worthy of exquisite attention. I help women feel seen, celebrated, and held—not just as new mothers, but as women stepping into a new expression of themselves.
This is not just a service. It’s a devotion. A practice of aesthetic care and attuned support. It’s a kind of love letter to the version of Motherhood we haven’t been shown—but deeply deserve. And that, I believe, is what makes it so unique.
If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you?
I was a deeply imaginative child—always dreaming, always creating. As an only child, I spent a lot of time alone, which meant my inner life was vivid and expansive, shaped by stories, art, and sensory experiences. I wrote, designed, cooked, and invented entire universes in my mind. My parents worked a lot, so I often kept myself company—but I was always looking for ways to get their attention, to impress them, to make something that felt worth noticing.
Food was never just food in my family. My father’s family ran a bakery in Spain before immigrating to Argentina. Later, when they came to the U.S., they opened a restaurant beneath my parents’ office. I remember sitting in that kitchen, tasting prosciutto, lasagna, whatever was being prepared that day—completely absorbed. We had Sunday dinners every week, the kind that felt like ritual, like communion. I didn’t realize it then, but I was absorbing something essential—how food connects us to lineage, to memory, to each other.
I grew up surrounded by fruit trees, picking whatever was in season, tasting the earth in real time. At the same time, I was shaped by my mother’s W and Vogue magazines—glossy, stylized, exacting. I’d pore over the pages, forming early ideas about elegance, about how presentation can elevate the everyday into something unforgettable. Even in high school, I threw elaborate dinner parties, obsessed over tablescapes, and made paella from scratch at fifteen—not for show, but for the pleasure of it.
Art was my other constant. I spent summers at LACMA—wandering the galleries, then descending to the basement where we made our own work. I still remember the smell of that elevator, the feeling of entering a hidden world beneath the museum. I was always collecting—art books, cookbooks, little objects that felt timeless, sacred, meant to be savored.
I’ve never fit into a box. I’ve always been slightly outside of things—an observer, a curator, someone drawn to beauty, experience, and atmosphere. I was also always entrepreneurial. I organized garage sales as a child, ran a jewelry line as a teen that made it into films and onto red carpets. I wasn’t trying to chase trends—I was just making things that felt beautiful, thoughtful, and true.
And then, of course… there’s butter. My lifelong obsession. I used to dream of living on a farm, milking cows, churning butter by hand. I loved the idea of making something elemental—something luxurious and humble all at once. Even now, I know Mother Bones butter will exist one day.
Looking back, every thread of my childhood—the love of food as ritual, the obsession with beauty and detail, the belief that care lives in the smallest things—has led me here. The way something is presented, the way it makes you feel, the way it brings you back to yourself. Mother Bones is the culmination of it all. Not just a business, but a reflection of everything I have always been drawn to—nourishment, artistry, and the deep knowing that care should be both beautiful and felt.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.mother-bones.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/_mother_bones_/
Image Credits
Francesca Fondevila Lucero
