Jordyn Makar

Jordyn Makar (37 - she/her), Maxwell (5.5), Emanuel (3), and Shoshana-(15 mo)

Philadelphia, PA

“I experienced a miscarriage at 8 weeks before getting pregnant with Max

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I gained 80 pounds with each of my pregnancies. It has been challenging with still feeling comfortable, happy or sexy in my body but at the same time i feel completely in awe of what it is capable of doing. Every day i feel like i am getting closer to feeling like myself.

What was your postpartum experience?

I would say my overall postpartum time is really wonderful. I love new babies and so does my husband. We had 3 beautiful births, the first was a home birth transfer after 36 hours. The next two were born at home in our bed. My husband’s hands were the first to touch Max and Manny as he caught them. My doula caught shoshi because I couldn’t possible let go of my husband while pushing her. I wasn’t able to breastfeed my first son because of a breast reduction i had when i was 19. We used donor milk which was unexpectedly beautiful and the other two were exclusively breastfed and that was such an affirming experience for me. With shoshi, I did experience postpartum anxiety for the first time and that was extremely challenging. With the help of my husband, therapy and an exceptional village of women I seem to be on the other side of it.

What is your truth that you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent?

That going back to your old body is not actually a thing. We brought a child into the world, from that point on we are changed forever and for the better. So, we don’t want to go back but rather move forward with love and patience with our new body, the one that has done amazing things.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

I have followed this project for so many years. It has helped me a lot with my journey towards body acceptance. I never really thought i would get an opportunity to be a part of it.

Isabella Norris

Isabella Norris (22) and Harlow Everett (9 mo)

Minneapolis, MN

“I found out I was pregnant for the first time in January 2018. I had just quit my long-term job that had paid well just a couple week prior, in order to focus on finishing my college degree in American Indian Studies. I was freshly engaged to my partner, Matt, as of October. I had a very clear image of what I wanted to do in life, and I knew how I was going to get there.

After learning I was pregnant due to failed birth control pills (that I took very diligently), it threw what I thought my world was completely out the window. After a couple weeks of pure panic, which then slowly turned into excitement, Matt and I both agreed how great it would be to welcome our very own little one into the world. We started to get settled into the idea; told family members, started thrifting clothes, thinking of names. Then one day, in the middle of February, I felt bleeding. The following day we went in to see our midwives, and sure enough, I was experiencing a miscarriage at around 8 weeks pregnant.

Matt and I both cried. A lot. I felt an emptiness I didn't know existed. And then, just a couple days later, I felt a pain so intense that it almost made me pass out. Matt brought me into the hospital, and turns out I was experiencing a blocked small intestine. I was admitted into the hospital and put on the strongest pain killers available, a tube shoved down my throat for days. Unable to be coherent enough to make decisions, I floated through, broken and sick, while others were in control of what happened to me.

Luckily enough I had one doctor that stuck up for me against having surgery by suggesting that "Hey, western medicine won't agree, but how about the concept that the miscarriage and these problems are related?". Because of him, I got to go home. I was released after 6 days, still not fully better, but at least not with a surgery that would have caused complications for the rest of my life. It took another 3-4 weeks for things to pass and to not have to be on medication daily.

Due to being in the hospital, and then still being so sick after, I had to quit that semester of school. So when I got "better", I was jobless, and not in perusing the degree I was excited about. I had never felt so useless in my life. After weeks and weeks of my mental health just taking a terrible downturn, Matt and I started talking about the joy that came from that small little moment of pregnancy I had gotten to experience. Through that dark, dark time, we had this little glimmer of hope. It took so much therapy, and support of friends and family, to get through that time. In April, we found out I was pregnant again. Our rainbow finally shone through.

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

Hahaha. I actually laughed at this question, is that bad? It's probably bad. I have always struggled with my body image. I've just never felt great about myself. When I started birth control years prior, I had gained like 30 pounds that took a very long time to lose. When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I was actually, for the first time, happy with my body. I was strong because I was working out, and I felt comfortable at the weight I was at for the first time in a long time. But then, due to really intense nausea during my first pregnancy and only being able to eat bland high-calorie foods, I already gained ten pounds by the time I was pregnant again. And then I had perinatal depression and PTSD, which made it really hard to get myself to do a lot.

When I finally got out of the depression funk, I was diagnosed with pelvic problems which prevented me from doing anything to physical. During my pregnancy I ended up gaining an additional 50+ lbs, and felt absolutely terrible the entire time. After I had Harlow, I struggled so much. I felt so uncomfortable with my body, despite how often Matt would tell me how lovely I was. I tried so hard, but it never really got better.

As I have started to get back to my pre-pregnanc(ies) weight, I have finally started feeling better. Which Im frustrated with. I wanted to feel empowered and feel good enough where I was at during pregnancy and during early postpartum. And to be honest, I still struggle. Often. I'm only about 10 lbs away from my original weight, but my body is so different. It's getting easier, slowly, but I'm not nearly as confident as I was pre-pregnancy. I think that's part of why I got drawn to being apart of this project. I want to feel like "me", where I am at right now.

What was your postpartum experience?

Postpartum was hard. I got a fourth degree tear during delivery, and the healing process from that was difficult. I was in the hospital for four days trying to heal a bit more before going home. On top of healing, I really intensely struggled with breastfeeding. I had always expected that moment of latching to be so exciting and just feel amazing. Man, I was just so wrong on that! It was so HARD. And it felt like I was literally was feeding him ALL. THE. TIME. Because I was! I tried to see a lactation consultant only to be diagnosed with Insufficient Glandular Tissue (IGT), being told I would never make enough milk for my son.

I was so under-slept, and so scared that Harlow wasn't gaining weight the way he was supposed to because of me. I struggled a lot. My marriage struggled a lot. I became overly defensive over anything, and frustrated at the smallest thing. I had never felt under so much pressure. To keep this little tiny human that I created alive. To spread my time and love evenly over to my partner. To keep a house from not getting so messy that it caused me to have panic attacks. To remember to shower, or get a second to myself.

Eventually that diagnosis of IGT got thrown out the window by my midwives and his pediatrician, but the stress that came from all of that really affected me a lot. I wanted to quit breastfeeding so badly. I ended up trying to go dairy free to see if that would help how fussy Harlow was, and that actually made a huge difference. We also were able to find (free) milk donors in our community who made it possible to help with supplementing Harlow with breastmilk, which took so much pressure off me. In the end it still took months to really feel established with feedings, but now it is actually the most amazing relationship.

My fourth trimester felt like such a whirlwind. In the moment, everything took forever. The endless night wakings, the diapers, the screaming. It seemed to never end. But you know what? It did. For real! Things actually got better. The sunny little moments we got from him, like seeing him really smile for the first time, or watching him learn the give kisses, or laugh, made everything so much better. Eventually I started to feel more like myself and less like I was being controlled by my hormones, and that has helped so much too. When I look at it today, I realize everything we went through got us to where we are now. I have a happy little boy, who is just about to walk and loves to meet new people, and an incredibly loving and supportive husband who I adore being married to. But wow, postpartum a lot. Never easy, always worth it. This year has been absolutely all over the place, but with where we ended up, I truly couldn't be more grateful for it.

What is your truth?

Parenthood is the realest thing you will ever experience. Right now, our world is filled with false reality. Instagram, Facebook, reality TV to see what others "lives" are like. We as a society tend to spend our time in front of a screen, to avoid a world that is struggling to stay afloat amidst all of the travesties happening. And then, all of a sudden, you make life. Real, right in front of you, life. A human that YOU made, and that is it's own person. Experience it. Soak it in. Breathe through the hard bits, because they really will pass, even though it doesn't feel like it in the moment. This matters so, so much, maybe more than anything.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

My sister-in-law, Rose, participated last year. I was inspired by her to be a part of this project. I look up to her. We have a lot of similar experiences, and seeing her be a part of something so empowering really made me want to be apart of that too. On top of that, I'm a tribal member of the San Luis Rey band of Luiseño based out of Oceanside, CA, and I think its important to be here for other Native womxn/non-binary caregivers out there. It's hard to find a community, especially when you are displaced away from your tribe. I struggle with not seeing people who look like me in social media, and want to help change that. I haven't read many stories similar to mine, so maybe this will help someone feel less alone when they read my story too.

Abbie Patterson

Abbie Patterson (31 - she/her) and Ava (2.5)

Minneapolis, MN

My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. My husband and I became pregnant two months into actively trying. The feeling was overwhelming joy. After physician confirmation (at 5 weeks) I, almost immediately, started having moderate to significant back pain. The pain grew more intense over the next few days and then, at just over 6 weeks, I started excessively bleeding. We went to the hospital to be met with what was nothing short of one of the most traumatic medical experiences of my life. I was bleeding and it was continuous. I had to have an ultrasound and the tech was annoyed with me because I didn't have a full bladder. She was frustrated and said, "because you didn't come prepared now we have to do a transvaginal". I cried through the whole thing. She was rough and apathetic. She, at one point, told me that my body shaking from crying was "interfering" with the exam.

We were told by a rounding doctor that there was no presence of heart beat and that we were being sent home for me to follow up with my primary as soon as possible. I went home and broke down. What followed was four months of going down every rabbit hole imaginable thinking that I did something to cause this loss; that I was to blame. I blamed the loss on my choice of prenatal vitamin, the caffeine I was consuming, poorly managed stress, being overweight, literally anything that I could think of equated to me not being well prepared and not producing the best 'environment' to nurture and grow a baby. My 'early loss' was also confusing and frustrating for me because many people told me things such as "oh, well you were barely even pregnant" or "at least you know you can get pregnant". I felt like I wasn't allowed to feel the way I was feeling because I didn't lose my pregnancy at a later stage, like somehow my loss was less significant because it was early and I had only known I was pregnant for a week.

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

I was morbidly obese prior to pregnancy, throughout pregnancy and following birth for almost the first year. I've always struggled with body image. After birth I hated my body even more. I had this incision from my cesarean, my breasts were not producing milk, I had no energy or endurance and I had all of this excessive weight, overwhelming me mentally, emotionally, and physically. I felt overshadowed and invisible by my daughter's presence but I almost welcomed that feeling of invisibility because I hated who I was. I made significant health changes shortly before my daughter had her first birthday and I started prioritizing myself and my needs, first.

Now I've found nutrition, mental and emotional health, and various forms of physical activity to be important to me. I have lost a considerable amount of weight leaving me with excessively loose skin but I look at my body, now, and see power and strength and resilience. This body created and sustained life, it's gone through trauma and massive amounts of healing. It is strong and powerful and I'm so proud of my body now. I see my daughter mirroring me, in many ways, and she is my forever reminder to exercise body positivity so that she knows how strong and capable her body is, and will be.

What was your postpartum experience?

My postpartum journey was complete hell. It was so different from what I imagined it would be and what I wanted it to be. I had prepared for an unmedicated, vaginal, birth. That plan quickly diminished when my water broke at 37 weeks. Doctors and nurses were telling me there was no way I could deliver vaginally and, if I did, I would have to sign paperwork going against medical advice. A cesarean was what I was made to believe was the safest option for my daughter and me and that is what occurred. Postpartum recovery was difficult with physical restrictions post cesarean.

My milk supply was abysmal. I would spend countless hours pumping to try to stimulate production and would only produce, maybe, 8 ounces a day. Latching was hard. We tried everything; lactation consultants, speech therapy, visiting the ENT, hospital grade pumps, various feeding methods that my husband could even help with, nothing worked. People close to me made me feel like formula was awful and not healthy for my baby. I was emotional and stressed and that lead to having a panic attack requiring a hospital visit. I decided to stop pumping due to the stress it induced and my husband and I chose to utilize donation breast milk from my sister-in-law and a mutual friend. That also invited in more unsolicited opinions from family and friends, opinions that I put way too much value in in the moment. I felt like I was constantly searching for my "village" that I heard everyone talking about but I was only finding myself feeling isolated, anxious, and sad.

What is your truth?

I think I'm still working on finding my truth but I also think I've come such a long way from where I was pre-pregnancy and even newly postpartum. Advice I would give my former self would be to hold and protect yourself, first. Love and nurture yourself and meet your needs and make "you" a priority. I think that I am a better mother, partner, and woman for realizing that and working hard to give myself the love and grace that I deserve. For new parents I would encourage them to not fall to the societal pressures placed on caring for children and to keep things simple. Don't over complicate or over think situations. A well fed, well loved, well protected babe will thrive and that is all that matters.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story? 

This movement really helped me realize that I wasn't alone. I see individuals participate in this movement who have shared similar feelings as I have felt, experienced similar situations that I've also found myself in, and they are powerful humans living meaningful and beautiful lives. I felt, and continue to feel, a sense of community in this movement; my virtual "village". I wanted to participate for many reasons. I wanted to do this to celebrate the person I've grown to become, to celebrate my daughter and our bond, to be apart of this community and the camaraderie between participants.

Larissa Olivieri

Larissa Olivieri (36 - she/her) and Lars (6)

Brazil | Atlanta, GA

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I am still in awe that I was able to grow a little human. I enjoyed every week and every change that happened during my gestation. I was never what society calls "a small girl", and that only bothered me once in all my life, due to a bad relationship and that messed my confidence so much. I put on a lot of extra weight on the past few years, and it took me a while, but I learned to love my body again specially after the birth of my son. And no matter what shape I am in I try to be healthy and active as much as I can so I can have the strength to take care of my son and physically help him as long as I can.

What was your postpartum experience?

My postpartum journey consists of a lot of PTSD, and High Function Depression. I was not planning on having kids at all, and even though my pregnancy was not planned I was extremely happy when I learned about it, and decided to keep it and take care of the baby all by myself.

At 27 weeks I had an emergency C-section due to a Brain Hemorrhage that my baby had while in utero. You expect that full gestation and make plans of what your future and the future of your child would be like. And then you get rushed to the ER and hear that your baby is very sick and is not going to survive the night, I was in shock, this is not the nature of things, this is not how is suppose to happen.

We spent 114 days at the NICU, but who's counting right? I gave up on everything but my son and dedicated every second of my days to spend with him. I lost my job, I lost my friends, I lost my mind.

I was so numb that I didn't feel any kind of pain during the recovery period for my cesarean. The next day I was walking up and down that hospital just to get to my kid every single day. It took me 3 weeks to be able to hold that little 1lb baby, and in that moment, everything made sense, we needed each other. Lars had to go through a dozen of surgeries to help save his life. I am glad I fought with every single Doctor that suggest that I should shut down the machines and let him go.

But the period of grief never ends. Every time he has a seizure, or a shunt malfunction or a simple cold, I start to think if I my decision was selfish, if I was thinking about me and not about him or his future. And I am pretty sure that I will be asking that to myself forever. I wasn't able to breastfeed him, my nipples are very very tiny for latching, but I was able to produce milk for a while, and when I couldn't anymore I chose to give him donor's milk before switching to formula.

My Depression is High Function, my loneliness is real, and my PTSD is probably eternal, but my son is my strength. I am his advocate, his voice, his parent, and he is my life.

What is your truth?

Being a single mom by choice, and coming from a long line of very Strong "Single Mothers" Women, I would say my truth is that I CAN. I can be strong, I can be happy, I can make it work. I know that is very cliche, but you don't know how Strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

I learned about this project through it first tour stop in Atlanta a few years ago, Lars was in the NICU at the time, and Ash and Nova story had a some similarity with mine. So I started to follow it. And the same way these participants gave me hope and strength, I hope that my story can give other people the same.

Sarah FitzPatrick

Sarah FitzPatrick (35 - she/her) and Ivy

Toronto, ON

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

For years I struggled with my body image and my weight. I was never really overweight, but had been made to feel that I wasn’t okay the way I was. It took me about a year to get back to my “pre-baby” weight, but now I really try to focus more on feeling comfortable in my body and not a number on the scale - which is still not always easy. I continually remind myself how awesome my body is. It grew an organ, and made a human. I mean, really, what is cooler than that?

My goal now is to try to teach my daughter how to love her body, which also helps remind me to be kind to my body. I want her to understand how to respect and love her body, and be in awe of all the great things it can do, not just the way it looks.

I also oddly love my cesarean scar. It is a daily reminder of how Ivy got here and how lucky we are to have her in our lives.

What was your postpartum experience?

Growing up it never really occurred to me that I, or others, couldn’t just “make a baby”. Society taught me that it was so easy to get pregnant that you had to do everything in your power not to get pregnant. So that’s what I did for years. Fast forward to when I actually wanted to get pregnant and couldn’t. We tried for about a year on our own, I used the apps, charted my temperatures and learned all that I could about how my body worked. Turns out I had no idea what was actually happening in my own body! We finally decided it was time to see a specialist. After a lot of testing it turned out that I had a Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or that the quantity and quality of my eggs was decreasing. We tried about 4 or 5 rounds of IUI with no luck, and were then told that we needed to look at IVF.

Our first round of IVF wasn’t very successful, they only managed to harvest a few eggs and the only embryo that we had wasn’t graded well. Unsurprisingly it didn’t work, which was still a pretty crushing, especially the thought of having to do it all over again. Fortunately, our second round of IVF went much better, we harvested more eggs than our first round and ended up with 4 very good embryos. We had the best embryo implanted, and it worked!

My pregnancy started well and we found ourselves a lovely midwife team. During one of my early ultrasounds they discovered that I had what they call “an incompetent cervix” (Seriously, how does this name not make someone feel like their body is failing them?) meaning that my cervix was starting to shorten very early and could lead to early labour. Our midwife referred us to an OB who was willing to work along with the midwifes. Following an ultrasound at 25 weeks I was told that I had to go on bed rest. Surprisingly 3 months of bed rest wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be, and although my cervix did continue to shorten, it did so at a much slower rate.

At 38 weeks I was having very strong braxton hicks and went into triage, after being seen by an OB and our midwife I was sent home but told to keep a very close eye on things. Over the next day or so I just didn’t feel right, and I started to notice that I couldn’t seem to get the baby to move. We went back into triage and now whenever I would have a braxton hicks contraction the baby’s heart rate would drop.

At that point they decided to induce me and when they broke my water we learned that the baby had already released it’s meconium. We also learned that the baby was breach (somehow no one had ever told me that before, even with all the ultrasounds I had leading up to that point). I was told that could mean that labour would take even longer. The baby’s heart rate continued to drop with each contraction and the OB told that “if it were my baby I would get it out right away”, I agreed and I was literally run to the operating room for an emergency cesarean.

I was in a daze at this point and, thankfully, I was unaware of them calling a code pink, seeing all the extra people come into the room or seeing my very gray baby being placed on the table (although my husband noticed all of these things). I was so thankful for our midwives who, weeks before, had walked our class through a scenario of all of the people that might be in the operating room when you have a cesarean, it definitely helped set my mind at ease when faced with this situation.

I was wheeled into the NICU to be shown my baby, but I didn’t get to touch her, hold her or be with her for the first 15 hours. It was surreal being in my room, knowing that I didn’t have a baby in me any longer and yet not having a baby in my arms either.

Thankfully, despite her dramatic entry into the world and initially very low apgar she bounced right back and was off of all of her machines in a day or two, and was actually released a day before I was.

Breastfeeding was a challenge. My milk came in very slowly after the cesarean and I didn’t have much in the way of milk supply. Ivy was small and was losing weight, which is normal, but with little to no milk supply there were concerns that I wouldn’t be able to get her back up to her birth weight quickly enough. We asked our midwife what she thought about us getting milk from some of our friends who had very recently had new babies - I don’t think she thought it would be that easy. Within a few hours we had milk from 3 of our amazing friends and in no time Ivy was starting to put on weight, and we began to figure out our breastfeeding journey.

What is your truth?

It sounds cliche, but try to remember that time goes by so quickly and to try to just be in the moment. I remember when Ivy wouldn’t sleep anywhere but in my arms and I didn’t know how I would ever be able to get anything done, now I look back and wish I had been able to truly relax and just enjoy that special time with her. There is always something else that you feel like you should be doing, but sometimes you just have to get down on your hands and knees pretend to be a mama cat (because your kid has decided that they are a baby cat, obviously), and forget about the giant pile of laundry waiting to be washed.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

When trying to get pregnant and going through IUI and IVF, my husband and I were very open with our friends, family and even our co-workers about what we were doing. To us, our friends and family were our support system and the people that we wanted to share our journey with.

As we continued through the process and talked with people about what we were doing, I started to learn just how many other people where going through something similar and yet were not comfortable sharing it with others, including, in some cases, their own family.
I want people to hear about others who have done IVF, or the many other methods of starting a family, and see that they aren’t alone. There is no shame in not having a family “the good old fashioned way”. Your body might not work the way that you expected it to, and that can be very hard to come to terms with, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t a body worth celebrating!

Johanna Macaulay

Johanna Macaulay (34 - she/her), mother to Gwendolyn (22 months) and Gabrielle, born sleeping in 2009

Portland, OR

“I first became a mother ten years ago when my daughter Gabrielle was born sleeping at 25 weeks after I developed HELLP syndrome. I did not know I was pregnant until I was in the emergency room in liver failure, and she was already gone. The experience of learning that I was pregnant, hearing that they could not find a heartbeat and then quickly being induced because I was so sick was a blur. It took me years to fully process the shock and the immense guilt I was buried in. I felt so disconnected from my body after not realizing that I was pregnant and angry that my body had failed me and my baby. I was scared that I would never have a healthy pregnancy and baby. It was surreal identifying as a mother but not having my child with me. Even now I have a hard time answering when someone asks me how many children I have.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I spent a long time hating my body, sometimes for how it looked and other times for how I felt it betrayed me. My second pregnancy was both joyful and scary for my husband and me. We were elated to be expecting our rainbow baby 8 years after our loss but the whole pregnancy had us holding our breath and expecting something to go wrong. Instead our big, healthy girl arrived just hours into her due date. I had the unmedicated birth I had always dreamed of and couldn't believe that my body had grown this perfect little human. Pushing her into the world made me feel stronger and more powerful than anything I've ever done. I'm still amazed looking at her and knowing that my body made that person. I hated my belly for a long time but have grown to love it knowing that it was her first home and still her favorite place to snuggle. Instead of focusing on all of the things that my body is not, parenthood allows me to appreciate all the things that it is.

What was your postpartum experience?

One of the hardest parts of my first year as Gwennie's mom was struggling with breastfeeding. As a NICU nurse and lactation consultant I assumed that I had all the knowledge and tools I would need to breastfeed my baby and was blindsided by the obstacles we faced. Our early days were spent shuttling from home to the doctors office for weight and bilirubin checks and trying everything I could think of to increase my milk supply. It was rough to be on the other side of the relationship as the exhausted, worried parent. I felt like my body was failing me all over again not being able to feed my baby. Thankfully we were blessed with donor breast milk from our amazing community, which eased my stress about having to supplement. Eventually we found a rhythm of breastfeeding and bottle feeding and I let go of my obsessive attempts to increase supply and learned to be proud of every drop I could give her. I also learned to love everything that breastfeeding can be that has nothing to do with nutrition. Nearly two years later it's still how we reconnect after I've been working a lot, how I soothe her when she's hurt or tired or anxious, and that moment when she still feels like my little baby.

What is your truth?

It gets easier and it gets harder. I'm still in the early days of raising a child but have already learned that whatever is hard today will get easier eventually. I also know that there are things that will get harder that I don't even realize yet. It makes me live in the moment more and appreciate the things that are good right now.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

I've admired this project since its start and always wondered if I would be brave enough to share my body and my story. Now that I'm raising a daughter, I'm trying hard not to pass on the negative feelings I had about my body growing up. These photos are part of the example I'm trying to set for her to love the body that carries her through life and to appreciate everything that she can do.

Adina Pearlman

Adina Pearlman (26), Benjamin Ephraim (1 year, 3 months) and Hunter (miscarried at 11 weeks on 12/31/2011)

New Jersey | Southampton, NY

Adina shares -

“On New Year's Eve 2011, I miscarried my first child. It has been the most devastating, heart shattering experience of my life. I have wanted to be a parent since my sister was born when I was five years old. Puberty only made me crave it more. Each month as I got my period, even before I became sexually active, felt like a reminder that I didn't have a baby yet.

So when I started bleeding much heavier than usual, in thick, super sized pad soaking chunks, two days before 12/31/11, I intuitively realized I was miscarrying. It ended with me squatting in the shower in severe pain as the cells of my loss were washed down the drain. I was eighteen, back for winter break at a place I barely called home, and I had nobody except my (now ex) significant other to call. He urged me to seek medical attention, but I was terrified of my parents finding out, so I called my former pediatrician. Based on my description, and later medical attention, it was confirmed that I'd miscarried. The loss is something that I carry with me every day.

In almost 8 years, losing my child has never felt better, only different. I had tremendous support and compatible grief from my baby's father, which even as we went our separate ways was and is healing. Most typically, I am faced with "it's better this way," "it was a blessing in disguise," and/or "you were much too young, aren't you glad this didn't ruin your life." Those reactions from close family and friends caused me to retreat into myself and stop sharing my miscarriage.

With the live birth of my son, I try to speak about it as normally as I can. Holding my second child in a way I never held my first reaffirms for me that Hunter was my first child and that loss was not any kind of blessing. You cannot be too young to experience grief and regret when miscarrying. If my own feelings were that of relief, then it would be right to have that validated, but hearing it in place of the comfort and compassion I was seeking hurt deeply. We named Hunter, because we knew our baby, and Hunter was a part of us. I commemorated them with a tattoo of a quote from Sylvia Plath's "Parliament Hill Fields." It created some closure on the hole of despair I fell into following the loss, but I grieve Hunter every year on the date that they slipped away.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

As many other folks do, I always struggled with my body image and disordered eating. A "normal" size by society's standards throughout my entire childhood and most of my teenage years, I still saw myself as "fat" and "unattractive." I gained and lost weight in significant amounts throughout college and my post collegiate years. Pregnancy changed all that. Other than regular amounts of morning sickness and food aversions during my first trimester, I definitely used pregnancy as "an excuse" to eat whatever I wanted. I gained about 60 pounds during my pregnancy, but for the first time I didn't care. I felt strong, powerful, and beautiful. I loved my rolls, chins, and flab. Carrying a baby, made me feel on top of the world.

That changed the instant my son came out. All of a sudden I saw tons of excess skin and weight. I eagerly anticipated the "rapid weight loss" that breastfeeding "promised." When nursing just resulted in a hungrier me, I was extraordinarily disappointed. While I don't seek my partner's approval on how I look, he proved to be incredibly positive and supportive of my postpartum body. He isn't one for words, but he speaks volumes with his acts of love, and he is always quick to defend me from myself. I am still working on loving myself, but his support of my decision to spend time with my son rather than spend hours at the gym (as many supposed friends, family, and doctors recommended) is appreciated.

After Benji turned one, I decided to start going to the gym and engaging in a healthier lifestyle. That being said, it was a choice I made for myself and as part of that decision, I refuse to treat myself or my body negatively or harmfully. The gym is a 30 minute workout 3 times a week that takes away from time at work, not time with my son. If I skip a day, I don't feel guilt or regret. It's simply to get more active, not for weight loss. My healthier lifestyle is a specific diet program, but one I've found incredibly supportive of breastfeeding and that encourages a kinder relationship with food. Again, no feelings of guilt or regret are invited in.

Beyond those aspects of postpartum impacting my body image, becoming a parent - especially to a child assigned male at birth who is automatically assumed to be heterosexual - has made me reevaluate how I see the world and how I want my child to see the world. I want to help create a safe, loving relationship for Benji with food and with bodies of all sizes. Parenthood has reminded me that the rolls, chins, and flab are normal, natural, and deserve love. That body hair, stretch marks, and body odor are normal, natural, and deserve love. It is my responsibility (and my partner's) for him to learn all those things. Conversely, I do love my stretch marks - I actively avoid applying anything to them that might help them "disappear" as has been advised by everyone I know. I hope in my actions of speaking my truth about my body image as well as trying to unlearn what is constantly being ingrained in me about all bodies, that I can teach my child better love of bodies, especially birthing bodies.

What was your postpartum experience?
Prior to giving birth, I envisioned myself in the birthing pool with my partner across from me gazing into my eyes with encouraging words as my midwife stood behind me saying "almost there." Then my child would emerge naturally from my vagina and live his first Pisces second in the water and his second second being brought to my breast where he would eagerly nurse as we waited the expulsion of my placenta. In reality, I had a Cesarean section following 60 hours of labor. Home birth, turned natural hospital birth, turned epidural interference and three hours of pushing, turned into the belly birth. It was traumatic and disappointing.

I had no back up plan, because it was my dream to have a water birth at home. So as the doctor scoffed at my midwife (but listened to her) when she insisted he double stitch my incision and then explained to me a resident would be pulling my baby out, I was in a panic. My partner stepped up in support and advocacy of me. He and the incredible nurse who spent 12 hours at my side (3 of them helping me push) and then switched spots with another nurse so she could hold my hand through the cesarean, were my guides as my dreams were literally sliced to shreds. It was okay though (so I'm told). My son came out with his eyes open and a full head of hair. They did not have to hit his foot or bottom because he let out a cry immediately; and they respected my directions not to wash him. They put him on my body and even though my arms were strapped down, I kissed him and smelled him. I immediately knew he was mine and instantly I loved him. His cone shaped head spoke of his determination, his little birth mark (that faded in the coming weeks) on his forehead indicated his birth struggle, and his nose shaped like my partner's sparked immense love in us. My partner followed my strict instructions not to leave his side for an instant, which eased my panic.

As soon as the epidural wore off, I was up and walking. I refused to be stopped. I refused to put my child down. My partner would watch us sleep, because I refused to put Benji in a glass box I couldn't reach into without standing on my tip toes and stretching my new stitches. Despite no offered support from the hospital until almost 12 hours post birth, my La Leche League leader mother was there to help me nurse. Benjamin latched instantly, and I thought that was that. Then he started losing weight. Then I was instructed to pump colostrum (retrospectively I didn't need to do that). Discharged on day three, my milk hadn't transitioned in. My nipples hurt. I hadn't slept well since I went into labor three days before birthing Benji. Nobody told me this was going to happen, and the medical professionals kept urging me to just give formula.

On day four my instincts told me Benji was dehydrated, and in the most horrible (but right) moment of being a parent so far, I gave him 2 ounces of formula from a free sample kit that had been in my car ready to donate, and another 2 later that night. It is to the disgrace of the mainstream medical community that nobody recommended donor milk or a supplemental nursing system. On day five, my aunt recommended the first and an IBCLC recommended the later. An emergency room visit that ended in diagnosis of mild dehydration (due to my instinct to feed my child, as fed is the required minimum) and encouragement from the only pediatrician I've ever met who is also an IBCLC resulted in forty-eight hours of supplementing with formula, and a week of supplementing with expressed and/or donor milk using the SNS that saved my nursing relationship.

Following our traumatic birth and delayed milk transition, breastfeeding has been an incredible bond for Benji and me. It has kept us close and connected, even when I returned to work one month postpartum (ridiculously soon, but financially it was our only option). As my marriage suffered and deteriorated until about six months ago when my partner and I began reconnecting and communicating, I felt I was alone in the world with my child.

My life long struggle with depression has often seemed a lost battle in the months postpartum. I did not expect such aching loneliness and desperation for a community. I am fortunate in that Benjamin has been my lifeline. His presence is uplifting, invigorating, and loving. His birth forged a new connection with my parents, as I was previously estranged from them, to the point that we moved from Virginia to New Jersey to be near them (and my mom watches him on days that I work). He brings out kindness and compassion in me that I didn't have before. He also brought out a passion for supporting and informing milk producing parents and all those that feed their children human milk. I didn't know that passion existed, but it gave me purpose in a part my life where I had previously been listless.

Being a parent is not all that I am, but for this short time while Benjamin is little I have allowed it to take all of me. Due to my birthing trauma and feeling unsupported following birth, Benjamin will be my last pregnancy. This is very different from my original expectation that I would have anywhere from 2 to 4 babies before I turned 30. So I am taking full-term nursing, safe bedsharing, contact napping, and a huge pay cut (currently working part time) to the fullest while Benji is still small. 15 months in, I still feel like I am in the fourth trimester, I still feel like I am postpartum, but parenthood brings me the most exhausting, thrilling, prideful joy I've ever experienced. My love for Benjamin is strength itself; and his kind, sweet, empathetic temperament (which is different from my own) reminds me that parenthood is encouraging and celebrating his traits. I am determined to support my son in learning all who he is, because in this short time parenthood and postpartum has helped me learn so much of who I am. Yes, I am more than a parent, but parenthood has made me so much more than who I was.

What is your truth?

Do not be polite at the expense of your child. This has been the truth I have lived since Benjamin was born. It doesn't mean to be unkind to others or that my child is above other children. It means that I am my child's advocate, and I should always remember to advocate for him. Whether it comes in the form of challenging uninformed medical professionals, insisting family respect Benji's boundaries, and/or physically placing myself between him and strangers who think they have the right to touch him without permission (seriously what is up with that); I will always assert myself for Benjamin. Even with an assertive personality, it is really hard to do, but I urge every new parent to follow that truth.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?

When I was four months postpartum, my best friend who lives across the country sent me a picture of a mom breastfeeding a toddler on the beach via Instagram. The hashtags on the photo sent me into an online community that eventually lead to the 4th Trimester Bodies Project. As I was at my lowest, most exhausted point of postpartum, reading the stories of previous participants brought me light and solidarity. I have since wanted to be a part of this movement, that has not only kept me warm when it felt cold, but also taught me so much about birth, birthing bodies, and postpartum. I am incredibly grateful to this movement and for the opportunity to participate.

Lynnea Aponte

Lynnea Aponte (36) and Kalila (2)

Matawan, New Jersey | Portland, OR

Lynnea shares - 

"The mind-body transformation of becoming a mother is complex. On one hand, I came to enjoy my pregnancy and embraced the beauty of it. On the other hand, my body didn't or couldn't do the things I felt like it was designed to do. I carried my child until 43 weeks, and had to be induced after planning for a home birth. The inductions did not go well, and many, many hours, I agreed to a Cesarean birth. This was the first times I felt like my body failed me.

Following that, I struggled to produce enough milk for her, leading to more feelings of failure. But I survived it all, and I am so much stronger for it. I certainly struggled with my shape, have narrowed in on my flaws too many times, have looked outside of myself for approval, but through this process, I did a lot of the work to learn how to let it go. And I'm still learning. I'm learning because I don't want to pass it on to my daughter. I want it to die with my generation. Becoming a parent has taught me how to better parent myself, how to nurture myself, and how to hold myself more lovingly.

The aftermath of labor and birth left me in an intense darkness. I remember feeling as though I had been hit by a truck. Every part of my body ached with incredible pain. When the nurses stood me up after surgery, my right leg and foot were not working. It would be two months before I could move my toes again. This was not at all the way I wanted to begin this journey.

Then my baby began to lose weight. I couldn't produce what she needed to survive. I sourced over ten thousand ounces of donor milk from all over the state to feed her that year. So in that delicate three months after her arrival, I was facing post traumatic stress surrounding her birth, I had partial paralysis in my leg, and I was learning about every way to feed a baby. I was a mess on a mission.

Although I couldn't see it at the time, I had postpartum depression and anxiety. It wasn't until a year later, when the clouds began to clear, that I could really understand what had been going on with me. I just felt broken and alone, even with all of the support I had surrounding me. I found incredible healing in helping others, especially families, through bodywork. I dove deep into my somatic senses and felt everything. It was a dark and difficult time, but it brought me to my calling and has truly taught me how to hold space. And for this, I am grateful. I'm just so glad I stayed on this side of that ledge. There were times that I wasn't sure that I could.

I first came across 4TBP in early 2016, during my 4th trimester. I read all of the stories and they helped me feel seen. They helped me get through. I wanted to participate right away, but it was sold out for my region. I am glad that I waited though. Now I can see the big picture. Now it is the right time.

Make time for Sacred Self Care. Call on your community so that you can rest and connect with yourself, however that looks for you. Look for the Helpers. They are there and happy to support you.

Jessica Carey

Jessica Carey (33), Elliott and Zane (5).

Seattle, WA

This is Jessica's third time participating in the project with her boys. You can view their first image and story from Oct. 2013 here and their second from August 2016 here.

Jessica shares -

"I have had one miscarriage, one chemical, one unsuccessful IVF transfer, and one cancelled IVF transfer because I was not responding to any medications. I'm currently in the middle of my last IVF attempt. The doctors do not know what do next if I don’t respond to medications this time around and it is also the last of our insurance money.

I have always had a skewed idea of what I looked like. As a child I believed I was fat even at a mere 98 pounds. I continued to believe this up until my pregnancy with the boys where I think even though they were conceived using fertility interventions I felt as though my body didn’t let me down. I was healthy through my entire pregnancy and felt healthy. Now, 5 years later, two kids with severely impacted autism and multiple losses I think my body image as taken a downhill turn.

Postpartum was difficult because the boys were twins. They were born at 36 weeks and 4 days via emergency cesarean. Elliott had a placental abruption and was sent right to the NICU after he was born. Zane was healthy but was sent to the NICU several hours later for observation because he was having issues with his blood sugar. I was clotting and hemorrhaging and struggling in my own ways. In the end we were all sent home within 6 days of their birth.

When the boys reached about 7 weeks old we discovered that they had issues with their suck and by then my milk was gone. They were able to eat a combination of homemade formula (due to allergies) and donated breast milk until they reached age one. If not for the kindness of the donor moms my postpartum experience would have been very different. Those moms providing what I could no longer provide to my babies saved my from entering into complete despair. As a birth doula myself I didn’t even consider that I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed them and this was a very difficult adjustment for me mentally. I worried that our bond wouldn’t be as strong as it could be and that they would in some way resent me. Neither of these things are true.

Now they are healthy 5 year olds who love me more than an average 5 year old loves their mama. And I attribute that to their special needs. They both are diagnosed severely autistic. They are completely nonverbal but we are working very hard to get them both communicating with a program on an iPad. We do picture schedules, we bedshare, we will do diapers for years to come, we still give them bottles and purred baby foods. But I have no doubts now that they know they have been loved since their very first day, even though I was unable to breastfeed them. And without that experience we would have been never able to get them all the interventions they needed at such a young time. Some days I feel very angry and bitter about how postpartum went and some days I’m very grateful for the way it went and all that it gave us. That’s the thing about life and about grief, it’s always changing.

As a repeat participant I keep coming back to highlight the way motherhood can change. The way it changes us as mothers and as people. My first photo shoot I remember saying that I was just so proud of what my body did and what I had accomplished that I wanted to document it. I wanted others to be proud too. My second photo shoot was my lowest point in motherhood. The boys had been diagnosed with autism for about a year and I didn’t see a way out of the hole I felt I was in. I didn’t know how to help myself so how could I ever possibly help them. I wondered why I was chosen to be their mom. Or to even be a mom at all. Dealing with infertility this is a constant question, maybe I can’t get pregnant because I’m unworthy of this. I wanted to participate then to document that low. To help others find hope. To maybe help someone else see that they aren’t alone. This third time I chose to participate for a couple of reasons. Now I am also a miscarriage mom. I felt that loss in my heart of the baby I had in my belly and was gone now. I’ve clung to this movement. I’ve watched and read all the stories that pass by and they help get through my hard times. Maybe there’s another mom struggling with autism, infertility, breastfeeding, anxiety, or depression, or all of the above just like me. We are all stronger together and this movement can and has brought us all together.

Trust yourself. Always trust yourself. Your body. And your instincts. You know what’s best for you and your baby and your kids. (And always hire a doula, of course).

Carrie Gomes

Carrie Gomes (29) Virginia (5), Patrick (5 months).

Richmond, VA 

Carrie shares -

"Virginia is my strong willed, kind hearted girl. She does things on her own terms, in her own way. That’s kind of how her birth went, too. Virginia was born at a birth center, after about 13 hours of labor and an hour and a half of pushing. She came into the world sideways! Patrick, is pretty laid back, but will let you know when he wants something. He was born at home, after a fast and intense 4 hours! From the beginning he knew what he wanted and he isn’t afraid to show it!

I  experienced one miscarriage, in March 2016. It was an unexpected pregnancy and an even more unexpected loss. It wasn’t something I ever imagined would happen to me. I had already had one amazing pregnancy and birth, of course I could do it again; but that didn’t happen. At 9 weeks gestation the fetus was no longer viable, I didn’t physically miscarry until 12 weeks. But prior to the 12 week mark, I just didn’t “feel pregnant” anymore. Then I got the flu, then bronchitis, once I was finally healthy, my body decided to miscarry. I started spotting on a Monday, I called my midwife to let her know; my appointment was on Wednesday. Wednesday came and we couldn’t hear a heartbeat. After verifying with an ultrasound, the pregnancy was over...just like that. I decided to miscarry naturally, at home. I called a good friend, went for a walk, then labor began. It was a dreadful feeling, being in labor and knowing I wouldn’t get a baby. Once things started to pick up some, I made my husband take Virginia to dinner, with his parents. I needed to be alone.

He got home minutes after I gave birth. I was sobbing like I’ve never done before. The whole experience was so surreal; I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t expect to feel so lonely and empty. Explaining the loss to Virginia was difficult. She talked about “the baby that didn’t make it” everyday for months. Even now, almost 2 years later, she still talks about that baby. We speak very frankly and fondly of the baby. And we are forever grateful that we got another chance to be pregnant. We have our rainbow baby, Patrick, and our family is complete.

Having a daughter has changed how I speak about my body immensely. I never want her to look in the mirror and feel inadequate or self loathing. I speak about our bodies using words like: healthy, strong, fit, beautiful. My body may not be “top notch”, but it has done some amazing things! I’ve grown tiny humans, ran half marathons, and completed a triathlon. I have muscles and a bit of fluff, but this body, my body, is fucking amazing!

After having Virginia it was so easy. I had help for 3 weeks back to back, I got to nap, watch Netflix, and enjoy being a new mom. My only issue was breastfeeding. I thought it would be easy, baby would know exactly what to do and it would be great! Virginia gained less than 3 pounds in 5 months. I wasn’t making enough. I’m supposed to be able to feed my baby, why couldn’t I do it?!

My husband had the idea for donor milk. We looked into, found an amazing long term donor, and my baby gained 2 pounds in one month because of supplementing. We had an amazing nursing relationship that lasted 18 months and I was able to keep giving her breast milk until she was two!

Postpartum with Patrick has been a whole other ball game. Having a rambunctious 4 year old and a new baby, is hard. I didn’t get to chill, I got a lot less help this time, and I had a lot of anxiety. When my anxiety would “flare up” I would have fits of anger. I would yell, throw things, and then feel horrible and cry about it. I ended my maternity leave 2 weeks early because I couldn’t be at home anymore. I need work, I need to use my brain for things that aren’t mom-related; I realize that and I am a better mother because of that. Along with work, comes pumping. My breasts don’t respond well to the pump. Thankfully, our nursing relationship is great, but I was still mentally prepared to need donor milk again. And we do have a donor who is wonderful. It’s such a relief to know that my baby is still getting breastmilk, even if I can’t make enough for him while I’m away.

It is so cliche, but so true: you cannot pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself; make yourself a priority. Whatever it is that you need to do, do it! Take a shower, go to a movie, go for a run...your baby(ies) will be ok without you for an hour or two. They will be better off if you are happy and refreshed. Fill your own love tank, mamas. We need it!

At first, I didn’t want to {participate}. I didn’t think my story was interesting enough; I mean everything was/is fine and normal. My story isn’t one of great tragedy or with an amazing outcome, it’s normal. Normal is ok. However, my story is still unique and amazing to me and my family. That’s what I want to share, everyone’s life and experiences are important and amazing, no matter how “normal” they may seem. Share your story, let it be heard!"