Maggie Roth

Maggie Roth (34 - she/her) and Bodhi (16 mo)

Boston, MA

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I spent 33 years getting to know and love my body. Some days were easier than others, but for the most part I felt strong and sexy in my body. Birth blew that all up. It felt like my body let me down. It couldn’t birth the baby and then couldn’t feed the baby. I couldn’t walk down the block for months. My hair was falling out. I hated my body and was so angry. Why was this happening to me? Why did my husband get to escape the raw physicality of pregnancy and childbirth? I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. It’s gotten better with time. I’m not quite at “strong and sexy,” but I can do a backbend in yoga class. I can carry my baby. I have no residual pain, internally or externally, at my scar. I can look in the mirror and feel grateful that my body healed. It’s only been 16 months, but I’m slowly getting to know this new body, too.

What was your postpartum experience?

After a normal pregnancy and early labor, Bodhi got stuck in the birth canal after two hours of pushing. Two attempts at a vacuum delivery were unsuccessful, so he was delivered via emergency cesarean while I was basically passed out from exhaustion. In the recovery room he started having "dusky events," which were being caused by seizures. After many tests, it was determined that he had a perinatal stroke, some time during the delivery.

We went home while Bodhi stayed in the NICU. A week later, I was readmitted to the hospital because of chills and high fevers -- it turned out I had a life-threatening blood infection and had to have an emergency stomach surgery. Bodhi and I were in different wings of the hospital so we didn't see each other for almost three weeks. While I was recovering, I was also pumping and my husband and family were shuttling breast milk back and forth between us. We were released on the same day, and though I was incredibly happy to be with my baby, I was in so, so much pain. I came home with a wound vac on my cesarean scar and two drains coming out of my belly and butt. I was not sent home with any pain medication and was told to take Tylenol. I could barely breathe, let alone nurse and bond with my baby. He would be handed to me to eat, and then quickly taken away to be burped, changed, napped, played with, etc. -- all things I was still too weak to do on my own.

I had to focus on managing my own pain before even thinking about his needs. After a month or so, I thought the worst was over, but then he started screaming at my breast during our nursing sessions. He wasn't gaining weight. At 7 weeks old, we discovered he was aspirating the breast milk into his lungs, so I had to stop breastfeeding and start giving him thickened bottles. We thought we fixed it and could move on. A month later, he continued to scream at the bottle and lose weight. The doctors had no idea. A milk allergy? Reflux? I knew it wasn’t right. We finally went to a feeding specialist who said we were on the verge of a full on bottle aversion and needed to act fast or he would just start refusing the bottle entirely. We narrowly escaped that.

It was 6 months of anxiety and fear every time I gave him a bottle. Would he eat it? Would he cry? Is he getting enough? He wasn’t on the growth chart and the next step was a feeding tube. After all the early trauma, I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle another hospitalization. But just in time, our sweet boy discovered solid food. We fed him the fattiest foods we could think of – a lot of goat cheese, avocado, and ice cream. He’s a happy eater now, and every day I am so thankful that he has no lasting fear of food. All the focus on his weight, however, caused us to stop thinking as much about his birth injury. But because of the stroke, Bodhi has hemiplegic cerebral palsy on the left side of his body. It’s mostly affected his left hand and arm. Starting at 9 months, we started more intensive therapy for “leftie.” We just finished our first round of CIMT (constraint-induced movement therapy), in which his good arm was put in a cast for three weeks to help “wake up” his left side. We’ve seen a ton of progress and we’ll continue CIMT every few months for the next few years. We're told to believe in the incredible plasticity of the brain. In spite of all he’s been through, Bodhi is the happiest child. He’s curious, silly, and determined to do all the things he wants to do. I am in awe of him.

So, my postpartum experience has been nonstop. I feel like I have just come up for air in the last few months. I survived all of this in no small part because of a husband who is not just “supportive,” but committed to an equal partnership, in both the emotional and physical work of raising a human. I also survived because of my therapist who immediately told me “you have PTSD” and normalized everything I was feeling.

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

You are stronger than you know. Trust yourself. A support network is everything.

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

I was so sick of the postpartum narratives being fed to me by the media. “Fit into your old jeans in six weeks!” “Messy hair, don't care!” I didn't recognize myself in any of them. When I discovered this movement, I felt such relief. I devoured the stories, reading about people with all sorts of bodies and experiences. I felt seen. I want other people who have been through a similar traumatic beginning to parenthood to read my story and feel a little less alone.

Vera Jones

Vera Jones (32 - she/her), Penelope (7 mo - pictured), and Baby Jones (BJ) - miscarriage

New Orleans, LA

“About two years ago, my partner and I found out I was pregnant by surprise - this wasn't something we planned or even thought much about. I was especially career focused on a path that was very fulfilling and through which I gave a lot of myself to other people (and got a lot in return). Considering parenthood felt like too much stress to consciously place on that path prior to the pregnancy. We surprised ourselves with how elated we were, how much we saw it as an existential opportunity, and how much we loved them from the moment we found out despite the natural fear and near disbelief. By the first prenatal visit, however, our baby had growth inhibition and it was clear they weren't going to survive. As much as I was shocked to have become pregnant without planning, I was more shocked at my devastation at the loss. We mourned and we grew into knowing this was the right path for our family. I am so grateful to our first child for that gift, and for paving the way for our dear, sweet Rainbow Baby, Penelope.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Parenthood challenged my self-image and my relationship to my body, and I'm still very aware of the choices I am making and the larger impact that they stand to have on the daughter that I want to raise without the trappings of body shame that I managed for so long. I have always had a push-pull, love-hate relationship with my body. As a dancer for many years, my body has given me so much of what I am passionate about - movement and expression - while I was simultaneously combatting an embedded cultural narrative of not being tall, thin, beautiful enough. I've consciously pursued a mindful relationship with my body for a long time, but I really leaned into redefining that concept in pregnancy. I read The Body is Not an Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor in my second trimester, and I tried to find ways to practice Radical Self Love that is all at once about overcoming my body shame and being bigger than my body. It helped that I was completely enamored with the biology of gestating another human being and all the fascinating transformation in service of that. I find I do much better on my own - I could and can privately find space to love and admire my body for the mechanism that allowed me to become a mother, but socially I still combat the shame of comparison and self-criticism - without being aware of it, I realized I don't have many photographs of myself from pregnancy, at least not many with my growing belly, and I can now attribute that to my subconscious reckoning with the shame. Postpartum, I'm trying very intentionally to refocus and silence that shame by giving less weight to my (often distorted) perception of my appearance and more to how I feel and what feels good to my body and my self. This project feels like a beautiful reminder of that.

What was your postpartum experience?

Postpartum has been the most testing period of the perinatal period, and I'm certainly still in the middle of managing it. I had a wonderfully pleasant, dare I say enjoyable, pregnancy! The biology of pregnancy, the psychology of preparing to welcome Penelope, and the interpersonal connectedness with my loved ones all made a lot of sense and felt really good. Then, I had a difficult, long, not-as-planned labor and delivery and everything seems to have turned upside down since then. After facing medical issues for my daughter and myself in the first months (which are thankfully resolved), feeling defeated by nursing and opting to breastfeed by exclusively pumping, and battling a sense of unrelenting hypervigilence, intrusive thoughts, and general anxiety both due to circumstance and hormones, I'm still feeling a bit at the whim of perinatal depression and anxiety that have made their home within me. I'm doing better by the week. I have a wonderful formal and informal support network and a lot of privilege to meet my mental health needs, but it's not been easy and it certainly is not what I expected.

As a mental health professional, my shame often creeps in about why in the world I am battling this. I don't feel like I every really adjusted in the past 7 months, but rather that I'm constantly having to do so, and it's tiring. I have moments of feeling full with the reality of Motherhood, and other moments of complete paralysis at the hands of fear and helplessness. I have, however, learned more about the things I need to feel steady, and that putting them into practice takes work. I've learned how to ask for help, which has historically been really difficult for me. Most importantly, I learned that at the root of all the fear and despair is a more powerful love and connection to my daughter than I could have ever conceived of prior to motherhood. And I do trust that it will get us through!

What is your truth? 

As hard as I so often try, it's impossible to worry or plan my way into certainty about the future. What's so much more valuable and important than having the answers before the questions even arise is to show up honestly and vulnerably for whatever comes my way. Being a mother and experiencing the vast richness and rawness of nurturing another human being is a humbling, strange and exquisitely beautiful experience. I'd like my former self, and new parents who need to hear it, to be open to the power of just being in the moment that motherhood has thrust upon me - being present with ourselves, our children, our families, and our communities is fundamentally rewarding in itself. I'd remind myself and new parents to try (because, for me at least, it's work!) to trust ourselves, our intuitions, and our intentions to be good enough.

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

Motherhood has been a wild new chapter in my life, and one that has brought with it many unexpected challenges and even more reward. As an often introverted and private person, I tend to marinate on these momentous and life-changing experiences and process them internally or with a small, intimate community. For a living, I witness people and their stories and I value the process of creating narratives to sustain ourselves and our growth. This story felt too big to keep to myself.

Victoria Means

Victoria Means (31 - she/her) and Amos Jude (18 mo)

Houston, TX

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

I am grateful for my body and how pregnancy changed it. Amos was diagnosed with a saccroccocygeal teratoma (SCT), a tumor located at the base of the tailbone, at 20 weeks gestation. Diagnostic testing and consultations were scheduled for the following Wednesday, Valentine’s Day. After a targeted ultrasound, a MRI and a fetal echocardiogram, my husband and I learned Amos had a type II teratoma, meaning it was primarily cystic and external. Due to the size of the teratoma, we were told open fetal surgery might be necessary if complications arose before Amos could survive outside of the womb. Otherwise, the prognosis of pediatric surgery after birth to remove the tumor was hopeful.

The goal of my pregnancy was clear: to carry Amos for as long as possible and deliver via planned cesarean no later than 37 weeks gestation. My pregnancy was managed on a weekly basis by the maternal-fetal medicine team from Baylor OB/GYN at Texas Children’s Pavilion for Women. Since fetal surgery was a possibility, four doctors specializing in fetal intervention oversaw our primary care. We would check in on Amos every three or four days.

One of the primary complications of a SCT is fetal hydrops, an accumulation of excess fluid, which can quickly lead to heart failure if not caught early. Our bi-weekly ultrasounds meticulously monitored tumor growth, key blood flow patterns in Amos’s heart, brain and umbilical cord, and my amniotic fluid level. Frequent fetal echocardiograms accompanied the ultrasounds to further ensure no signs of hydrops were developing. The weeks leading up to when early delivery would trump fetal intervention were harrowing. My husband and I yearned for black-and-white answers, but nobody could tell us what was going to happen with certainty.

My body’s physical changes during this time were completely eclipsed by the intense monitoring protocol. I didn't have the mental capacity to consider how I looked or how I felt about how I looked. Instead, I struggled with simultaneously loving my body and the baby it was nurturing and protecting while hating the tumor that was also growing inside of me. Body image wasn't even on my radar…

In addition to my Cesarean scar, I acquired three other abdominal scars while pregnant. The day after reaching 28 weeks gestation, I was admitted to the hospital for increased amniotic fluid. The tumor caused an overproduction of amniotic fluid (polyhydramnios), which had reached a volume that threatened preterm contractions. In attempts to avoid preterm labor, a needle guided by ultrasound was inserted into my uterus and amniotic fluid was drained until the remaining volume was at an acceptable level. Two weeks later, I was back for another amnioreduction. I thought it’d be wonderful if the procedure bought us another two weeks. However, a week later, I was back for a third amnioreduction.

Amos was born the following morning at 31 weeks gestation. Each time, the insertion of the needle left a small, barely noticeable scar at the puncture site. I love that collectively these scars represent the three weeks of precious time the reductions bought us and what that time meant for Amos's development and health.

What was your postpartum experience? 

I didn’t grow up wanting to be a parent. | I was in my mid-20s and had been with my husband for more than 7 years before I began contemplating parenthood. It was another three years before I assumed the responsibility of attempting to create another life. Those three years were spent educating myself on fertility, nutrition, preconception health, conscious conception, the modern medical/maternity care system, navigating the health insurance system, the various costs association with pregnancy/birth/childcare, my choices for maternity care providers and locations, prenatal and newborn care choices and decisions, labor options, postpartum recovery and support, maternity leave…you name the topic and I probably had either read a book, scoured the internet, watched a TED talk, listened to a podcast, or had a conversation with someone (and took copious notes) about it.

I knew there were no guarantees that I would conceive but I didn’t take the possibility of motherhood lightly. I wanted to be well informed and empowered with realistic expectations. But as having Amos has proven, there is no certainty and being informed doesn’t mean you’re in control. I don’t regret learning all that I did; it made me a better advocate for myself and for Amos. However, after receiving the diagnosis, the type of information I had been soaking up for three years suddenly changed. Instead of curating a nursery, creating a baby registry, or planning a baby shower, I was signing up for a “Preparing for your Newborn's Hospitalization” class at Texas Children’s, touring the NICU, learning new medical terms like “cardiomegaly” and “hydronephrosis” and watching (and reviewing) the more than 22 ultrasound reports as they posted to my medical portal.

I had been thrust into a whole new world, one I quickly had to learn how to operate in. The prenatal diagnosis set in motion a series of traumas that I continue to realize, acknowledge, work through, and heal from. I had hoped for a low intervention hospital birth with midwives prior to receiving the diagnosis. I became a high-risk pregnancy and was transferred to a maternal-fetal medicine practice for the remainder of my prenatal care.

He was 4 days old when the tumor was surgically removed. I held Amos briefly after he was born; we reunited later that day in the level IV NICU. He had been wrapped in a blanket then, but he was completely uncovered in the incubator. Seeing the tumor wasn’t as difficult as I had anticipated. While I hated its presence and connection to my son, I was even more in awe of Amos. He survived for almost seven months with that horrible mass; it weighed approximately 2 pounds, making Amos almost 4 pounds at birth. Post operatively, Amos began receiving breast milk and gaining weight, battled and beat a PICC line infection, learned to regulate his body temperature and slowly went from needing a breathing tub to a CPAP machine to a nasal cannula to breathing room air.

My husband and I visited him every day; we would sing to him, stand by his incubator and place our hands on his chest and head for comfort. We would talk to him and eventually hold and feed him. Three weeks after the surgery, pathology from the teratoma returned and revealed a less than 1% composition of malignant cells, meaning the tumor wasn’t completely benign. Thankfully, imaging showed no signs of metastasis. As a precaution, Amos is followed by an oncologist; his lab results and imaging continue to show no sign of reoccurring teratoma!

Amos spent 51 days in the NICU before coming home. The last 11 weeks of my pregnancy were anxiety-filled and while the rigorous monitoring of my high-risk pregnancy concluded with Amos’s birth, the 7 week NICU stay that followed did not allow me to attempt any sort of healing. While Amos progressively healed and grew, time dragged on. It seemed to me as if we’d never go home. I struggled with wanting my baby home with us but knowing he wasn’t ready yet. Amos eventually graduated to the level II NICU, at which time he was still having apnea and bradycardia episodes, which caused him to stop breathing momentarily as his heart rate dropped. The nurses and doctors told us this was normal for a preemie and that Amos would eventually grow out of it. Finally, Amos stopped having episodes and discharge plans were made! Amos came home the day before Father’s Day, weighing 5 pounds and 12 ounces.

I spent 5 weeks at home with Amos before needing to return to work. By the time Amos came home, I was struggling to find the emotional and psychological stamina to care for my preemie and myself. My anxiety was at an unprecedented level. I felt lost in a sea of intense feelings of guilt, anger, and fear; I felt unconfident, relationally disconnected, depressed, and emotionally overwhelmed. It wasn't until I stopped exclusively pumping that I was able to begin processing my trauma.

I exclusively pumped breast milk for 7 months. It happened unintentionally. I had planned to give Amos breastmilk and had prepared to pump during the time he was unable to nurse. We worked to develop our nursing relationship while I attempted to coordinate my pumping every 3-4 hours with my 25 mile drive to and from the NICU each day, my being present for rounds with the attending physicians in order to be involved and informed in Amos's care as well as to advocate for him, and my meeting my basic needs like eating and sleeping. The stress and circumstances of our situation eventually lead me to accept that if I desired for Amos to receive breastmilk, it would be through me pumping it. I am proud to have been able to give Amos breastmilk but even after he was home, I felt the strain of the time commitment exclusively pumping requires. I was less present and involved in Amos's early life than I would’ve liked.

Irrespective of my unique experience, motherhood blind sighted me; I wasn’t prepared for the identity shift. | I’ll never know how much my high-risk pregnancy influenced that but it significantly affected my postpartum adjustment. The demands of the last 11 weeks of my pregnancy shifted my focus off of the personal growth and work I had been doing as a mother already and sent my parasympathetic nervous system into survival mode. For more than a year I felt like I was playing catch up in all regards. The reality of having Amos felt so overwhelmingly contrasted against what I thought becoming a parent would be like during that time.

I work with a licensed professional counselor to effectively process what I have experienced and to have another support person in my postpartum corner. I’ve been a supporter/believer of mental health awareness/care for years, but my pregnancy, birth, and postpartum gave me a new perspective on the matter. Amos was four months old before I made my mental health a priority again. I sought out a practice that addresses my specific circumstance, chose a provider who’s skills and style matches my needs, pay for sessions out of pocket, and meet with my counselor during my work lunch break. I’m learning, growing, and healing. It’s challenging and uncomfortable, yes, but it also provides me with perspective, unbiased support for emotional/psychological processing, and a deeper self-awareness. I'm learning not only who I am on the other side of this experience but also how to be this me.

What is your truth? 

Our stories and the emotional meaning we place on them are the most authentic truths we have.

I am capable. I am not alone. I am grateful. I was meant to be Amos's mother. The experience of his pregnancy, birth, and postpartum cannot be separated from who he is. To have him is to have the experience as it was/is. | I’m not the same person as I was before I became a mother. Motherhood is refining and redefining me.

Take care of your self: mentally, psychologically, emotionally, physically. Figure out what it means to give yourself grace, and then continue to give it to yourself through each new phase.

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

I’m participating in the 4th Trimester Bodies Project as a way to continue owning and appreciating my story. I want to be honest about my motherhood. People asked frequently after Amos was born, “How’s Amos?” That question should've been preceded by or followed with “How are you?” every. single. time. There isn’t nearly enough attention given to postpartum and parenthood. 4th Trimester Bodies Project is changing that and I’m grateful to be a part of the change.

Kristi Wagley Richard

Kristi Wagley Richard (36 - she/her), Ellison (4.5), Nolan (2). You can view Kristi’s original photo and story from 2015 here.

Baton Rouge, LA

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

I think I've always had a decent relationship with my body. Of course, there were always things that I would change if I could snap my fingers, but it never disturbed me enough to diet or exercise. However, I actually loved my body when I was pregnant. I had never felt more confident or sexy than in the third trimester of each pregnancy. What I was not expecting was me relationship with my body after pregnancy, especially the first. Ellison's pregnancy was unexpected, and took a toll on me mentally.

For some reason, I expected my postpartum body to help me connect with this new baby that I was unsure about. There'd be stretch marks, I'd not lose the baby weight, things would have shifted, etc. Only, none of that happened. I didn't have stretch marks, I weighed less than I did before pregnant, and breastfeeding was rough, so I pumped for several months. Strangely, I felt my body had betrayed me by not looking like I had a baby. Crazy, right?

In my postpartum fogged mind, it further disconnected me from the baby for a long time. Crazy, right? With Nolan, all those things happened - stretch marks, increased weight, things shifting everywhere....but it made me no more connected to the baby that time either. I have struggled with accepting this new body more than I anticipated. In the past few months, I have become more cognizant about feeling my best - being mindful of foods (not in a can't eat carbs diet way, as much of a I don't really need 2 cokes and reese's every day, do I?) and trying to be active with my kids, instead of spending hours at the gym. It's not about losing weight for me, it's about physically and mentally having more energy for me, while being very aware of never criticizing my or anyone else's body or talking about diets, etc. since 2 and 4 years old eyes and ears are always on me. I'm still a work in progress.

What was your postpartum experience?

Ellison was an unexpected pregnancy. After being together for 18 years and married for 12, my husband and I had somewhat thought we'd likely not have kids. The reality of having a kid hit me very hard. I struggled with connecting with Ellison, which was compounded by the fact that we were unable to breastfeed. I exclusively pumped for several months, which took a huge toll on me mentally. I struggled with the fact that if you didn't necessarily want a baby, having one didn't change that fact. Especially when everyone told me it would be "different when its your own kid."

After a year and a half, my husband and I both decided that we didn't want Ellison to be an only child and that we wanted another child. No one was more surprised by this than me. One month of trying and we were pregnant. Mentally, this pregnancy was easier, but physically it was much harder, especially chasing after a 2 year old. Having a second child slapped me in my face. Surely since this child was "planned" I'd have an instant connect, right? Nope.

When we also had trouble breastfeeding, my husband and I mutually decided that we were going the formula route and I wasn't going to pump. From my husband's perspective, he didn't want to see me going into such a dark place pumping again. This was not a decision I made lightly, and I agonized over it, but I agreed with him. Unfortunately the darkness came from me feeling that my body had failed me once again. I also didn't feel like I had any kind of mom instinct. I hated maternity leave, I couldn't wait to get back to work, being with the kids alone for any extended period gave - and still gives me - anxiety. Two years later, and through some counseling, I know I had and still have some postpartum depression. Acknowledging and treating that has helped me to connect with my kids a little more..still with a long ways to go.

What is your truth? 

It's okay not to be okay. Acknowledge it and ask for help.

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

I participated previously in 2015 just after Ellison was born. It was helpful to open up about my postpartum struggle and body issues, and for me to start telling other people - my husband in particular - that I was not ok. I wanted to participate again since having another child. Both times, I hope someone might read my story and find it relatable.

Heather Nischke

Heather Nischke (30), mother to Sam (9), Harper (6), and Penelope (4)

Milwaukee, WI

Heather is has previously participated in this project twice. You can view her original photo and story from 2014 here and her follow up from 2015 here.

Heather shares -

“My most recent pregnancy ended in miscarriage. It was an awful period for us. The election had just ended, I'm a survivor of childhood sexual assault and I was in a PTSD triggered state of extreme anxiety. I couldn't leave the house for over a month. I didn't think I could handle a pregnancy at that time, I heavily considered an abortion but ultimately decided that I was going to find some extra support so I could heal and get through the pregnancy and postpartum period. Within a few days of accepting that we were going to become a family of 6 my body started to show signs of an early miscarriage. I held a lot of guilt surrounding my loss but it motivated me to find an incredible therapist who helped me process everything I'd been going through.”

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

Pregnancy and parenthood have helped me heal. I've always been heavier than the average peer because of the side effects of medications. I struggled with how I saw myself and dabbled in eating disorders (both over and under eating). Pregnancy and lactation helped me connect to my body in a new way, it showed me that my body could do incredible things. I can 100% say that I love my body and everything it's been through.

What was your postpartum experience?

Physically my postpartum journeys have been pretty straightforward. I struggled with nursing my first baby but was successful with exclusive pumping, I was also able to exclusively nurse my second baby even with issues in the early weeks, I was also able to donate several thousand ounces of milk. Emotionally speaking, postpartum was really fucking hard. I thought I could do it all, I was raised by a single mom and figured it would be so much easier because I have a partner. I was naive and we had zero support. It was all on us, all the time. It showed me how much of a disservice we're doing to parents.

What is your truth?

I'd say that parenthood is hard, that you're probably going to feel like you're not doing it right. You're probably going to second guess every choice for a long time. And just when you feel like you're getting it they'll change it up on you. You're going to feel like you yell too much only to realize it's because they tune you out most of the time now. The truth is we're all just trying to do our best and we all need a friend or community to lean on during the chaos of life.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
I came back because I feel that it's time to show myself as an individual some love. I've talked about my stories surrounding my kids. Now it's time to talk about healing myself and coming out of the haze stronger than I've ever felt. I want others who are dealing with PMADs or mental health issues in general to know that they aren't alone in these struggles. I want others to know that it can get better.

Catherine Higley

Catherine Higley (36) and Miles (9 months)

Chicago, IL

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

“I don't know that it has changed much. I've always been pretty confident in myself and have lived with the mindset that you can either accept me for who I am and the way my body is or leave. Now as mommy to my son I hope to show him how to accept others for what is inside not for physical appearance.”

What was your postpartum experience?

It was rough at first. I had to accept that I didn't get the birth experience I longed for. I wanted a natural hospital birth and was prepared with a doula, ready to go. I ended up being induced due to being past my due date with a big baby as he was estimated at over 8lbs at 38 weeks. A 2 day long induction with horrible back labor that led to an epidural ended in a cesaren on the morning of the third day. I had to overcome the loss of my natural birth plan for surgery.

I finally accepted that Miles just had to write his own life story starting with his birth.

Our next struggle was nursing. I had been pumping the week prior to attempt to induce labor and had gotten colostrum so knew I could produce but 3 days of no food left not much coming out and my 9lb 8oz baby was hungry. He latched in recovery for an hour and once moved to a room he kept latching on an off almost constantly for the next 24 hours. I was exhausted, as was he. I was stressed from dealing with DCFS being called because of me refusing medical procedures to my newborn, which is a whole different story of why we need to fight for medical freedoms in our country.

I gave in and asked for a bottle and he downed an ounce and finally slept. We kept trying to get him to latch but he became frustrated with my flat nipples so we tried a shield which worked a little but there still wasn't much coming out for him so he was still frustrated and would just scream at the breast which upset me as well.

We went home from the hospital with information on formula feeding and I was fine with giving formula as long as my baby was fed. A couple days after we got home my milk came in big time and seemed to flatten my nipples more I was so engorged. I pumped for some relief and to try to draw out my nipples so he could latch. I continued to attempt nursing even attending a group at the hospital once a week. There he had not a problem taking 3oz off me and being satisfied but at home we still struggled with him only latching for a short time being done and fussing a few minutes later.

I learned I am not someone who can sit all day with a baby latched on as he wasn't latching well - so it would hurt and I didn't know how much he was getting so I didn't know if after an hour he was full or not. I decided I was fine with pumping. I was able to pump enough to keep him full and growing. He was happy and so was I. Pumping was never offered by the lactation consultants just latching all day was their suggestion. I see now why so many moms give up breastfeeding so soon. I never thought I would be exclusively pumping, I always thought I would be the mom nursing her baby wherever I wanted but it just didn't work that way. Truthfully, now I don't know if I will try to nurse future children or just start off pumping. I am satisfied with my journey as it is all mine.

What is your truth?

Plans never go according to plan. Just be along for the ride. Be flexible ask tons of questions to be knowledgeable about what can go wrong at any time.

What brought you here today? 

I wanted to help bring awareness to my community of exclusive pumping moms. Many of us get shamed for not latching our babies on our breast. For so many of us it's not that we didn't try and wouldn't love to nurse our babies - but struggled with latching and there are so few resources still to help new moms learning to nurse. It seems we have such a mindset of its either breast or bottle with formula, never is it suggested to just pump milk for your babies first year. I wanted to share my struggles with nursing and let moms know that pumping is and option. “

Julianna O'Brien

Julianna O’Brien, Cooper Desmond (4), and Maeve Audre (2.5 months)

Juliana is a previous project participant. You can view her previous photo and story from August 2016 here.

Berea, Kentucky | Akron, OH

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

“I'm so glad to be doing this shoot while I'm truly in my fourth trimester with my daughter Maeve. It feels so much more vulnerable than the first shoot when my son was nearly two. My body still has that sensation of existing primarily as someone else's home. It doesn't feel like ME yet. For me this is an incredibly challenging time. And yet, I think parenthood overall has taught me to value my body for so much more than what it looks like in any given moment. Instead I value where it's carried me, the life its brought into the world, the joy and the tears that come from learning over and over again how to be the parent my children need. What the number on the scale says or whether I fit back in my jeans yet, it all seems so irrelevant now.

Feel free to share your postpartum journey here. 

With my oldest, I suffered a complication after an unmedicated birth resulting in surgery and significant blood loss. Although I didn't really understand it at the time, this complication made my postpartum recovery incredibly long and challenging. There were so many things no one told me about...the night sweats, migraines, mood swings, how long it would take my body to heal, how the blood loss would so drastically affect my milk production.

So in preparing recently for the birth of our second, I spent equal time preparing for my postpartum experience as I did preparing for the birth. This is something no one really talks about, and I wish more expectant parents were encouraged to do! Thankfully, Maeve's birth was complication free. Still, I stuck closely to the goals I'd set for myself. I really kept strictly to the bed/couch for a week which was huge for me. Instead of seeking opportunities to get out of the house to kind of escape the chaos I really tried to lean into it. In the hard moments, I just held my baby.

For the first month, I just let her sleep on me and tried to soak it in. As a really independent person, these moments were often difficult for me. But they were beautiful too. Through being more patient and kind with myself, I've recovered much more holistically this time around. I also want to mention that for some time not being able to breastfeed my son directly (I exclusively pumped from the time he was 3 weeks to a year old due to a failure to thrive diagnosis) brought me immense grief and guilt. I felt like I'd failed and that my bond with my son would be lessened. I felt real sadness whenever I would see other women breastfeeding.

Now, with my daughter Maeve, thus far I have been able to breastfeed her. And I want to send so much grace and kindness back to my former self because to me there's no more magic in this process than in how I fed my son. Just like pumping, it's hard work, it can be frustrating and tiring and I second guess myself all the time. And the bond between Maeve and I is no less strong than it was between Cooper and I. There's no magical level of extra love simply because I'm able to feed her at the breast. Of course everyone is different, but I just want to put that out there for any other new mamas grieving a feeding journey that has gone differently than they hoped.

What is your truth? 

I've been reflecting a lot on something my doula said about Maeve's birth - "Embrace the suck."

Sometimes you have to stop avoiding the hard thing and just walk through it in order to get to the other side. I've really tried to make this my mantra. When things get hard in this postpartum, adjusting to two kids period, I just tell myself, "Lean in, lean in, lean in." And I cry, and move through it and things get a little better. There is something truly transcendent about motherhood. I realize now that this is the closest and most intimate way we can experience another person's humanity. All of their needs, all of their feelings, all of who they are. Mothering my children is such an intimate experience of who they are. Even in the moments when this is incredibly hard, I've learned to recognize it as such a gift and one they will give me less often as they get older. I'm so thankful for everything Maeve and Cooper have shown me about their unique selves and the many, many things they've taught me about myself.

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

I'm here because the 4th Trimester Bodies Project does the incredible work of showing that a mother/parent doesn't look like any one thing. It looks like all of us. Because it is all of us. This was a lesson that was so valuable to me as a first-time mom. I participate in the hopes my story might speak to some other new mom. I participate as part of my own little victory dance. Here I am, my unique body and soul, living the joy and the pain of motherhood, doing it my own way and loving it. And I participate so my children will grow up to see how much I love them and loved what it meant that my body brought them into the world.”

Kimberly Grossmann

Kimberly Grossmann (36), Lucas (4), Jamie (3), and Alex (1)

Kimberly is a previous project participant. You can view her original photo and story from 2015 here.

Oakland, CA

Kimberly shares -

“I have had a distorted body image of myself since I was very young and struggled with eating disorders since I was 16. Pregnancy has changed my body in ways that are still difficult for me, but I try to stay healthy and positive for my kids. I would never want them to talk to themselves the way I have always talked to myself and I want to be a good example of what its like to have a positive body image and also a healthy relationship with food. I still struggle with this at times, but am also able to be proud of all that my body has accomplished and what it is capable of. I exclusively pumped for a year for Lucas, and then nursed Jamie for 3 years (10 months tandem nursing with Alex), and am currently nursing Alex at 13 months. I also grew these three incredible little guys. All of that makes my new body worth it.

After my first son, Lucas, I struggled with PPD. I was fairly new to California and hadn't really made any friends yet, so it was easy to isolate myself. I felt like I was walking around in a fog. I wasn't able to breastfeed Lucas and was pumping for him around the clock and feeding through an SNS for the first 3 weeks and then with a bottle. I was really hard on myself and emotional because of it. These feelings of sadness and isolation lasted for about 5 months until I connected with a group of moms which really helped.

I had a much easier time after the birth of my second son, Jamie. I still struggled with some anxiety, which is normal for me, but in comparison it was so much better than what I felt after Lucas. After the birth of my third son, Alex, I expected to feel fine again but ended up having a very difficult time with PPD for about 3 months. This time I felt really sad and had a lot of social anxiety. As a result withdrew from my closest friends for awhile. Luckily my friends and family were really supportive which helped me get through it.

Learning to love myself has been a process that my children have made easier for me. I participated in 2015 with Lucas and Jamie, and wanted to participate again with Alex.”

Jennifer Habjan

Jennifer Habjan (32), Holden (3), and Henry (8 months)

Oak Park, IL 

Jennifer shares - 

"{Postpartum body image} has been a constant battle. I was just beginning to get to a place where I liked my body, and then, BAM! Pregnant. In between, I had a brief period, of constant discipline and working out, where I felt like it was possible to love it again, but I was ducking out on family time to get there. Now, with baby #2 I have been struggling again. It is hard to not compare myself to others. Thanks to social media, I am constantly seeing others who have had kids and look super skinny and cute, and I can’t help but think, “What did I do wrong?” I try to remind myself, multiple times a day, “Not every body is the same. We all have different body types and struggles. My body tells its own story. Each spot, line, scar. It created two beautiful lives. I am healthy and safe.” Not easy, and not always successful, but it helps remind me to stop, and look again. All I can do is try.

Both boys as newborns were relatively easy, looking back. In the moment though, I felt scared all the time. Holden wouldn’t latch. The first day was so so, but after that, he refused. I felt like a failure. We tried for hours on end with no luck. They finally fed him some formula, and got me acquainted with the pump. I struggled with feeling like a failure for months. I pumped exclusively, and felt like I could never get ahead, which made me feel worse. He was gaining weight normally, but I still was pump to baby for awhile and it was exhausting. I stopped blaming myself, realized he was still getting what he needed, just in a different way. I eventually got ahead in pumping and made it the full (long) year.

Holden also had a mild case of hip dysplasia as a result of being breech. Putting him in the harness at 1 month old really made me feel helpless. Everyone says “they won’t remember” or try to comfort you, but you feel terrible. He was just beginning to sleep longer at night, then with the brace, everything changed. Every time his body would relax, the harness would jerk him awake. His feet couldn’t touch at the same time as his shoulders. He wound up sleeping on his stomach only. Everyone gave us a hard time about this, and while I understood the concern, this was the only way he would get to sleep without us holding him, and we needed sleep, too. After the first month, we asked if there was a different brace option for him, and that made a huge difference. His hips are fine now.

Henry came out screaming. With all the screaming, we didn’t notice for a a few hours, that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He spent his first two days in the NICU. Even knowing he was going to be alright, and that they were just keeping him there to get him extra oxygen until his levels came up, it was devastating. While he actually latched and fed from me, I feel like I missed out on bonding time with my baby. His levels came back up and he has done well since.

Going from one to two has been a constant struggle. We talked about the new baby constantly for weeks before I went to the hospital to deliver. In the end, sharing the attention of your parents with another child is different from all the talk and preparation for the reality. The first few weeks were rough. Constantly acting out to get attention. We talked about things a lot. Eventually it got better. The first month and a half to two months were the hardest. Then it just got easier. Baby was sleeping better, and so were we. We still have issues over needing attention on the part of both kids, but we have gotten better at balancing out needs. Some days are better than others. A lot of little talks. A lot of patience running thin. A lot of new gray hairs. A lot of new memories. A lot more love overall.

I have been struggling with my new realities as a mom, and now as a mom of two, and all that is coming with it. I am grateful for my kids and wish I had more pictures that showed our intimate moments. I discovered 4TBP at the start of the year, and immediately was drawn in. I am not alone. Everyone has a struggle, some battle that they are fighting. The families I saw made me happy and envious of their strength. I wanted to be a part of that. I have gone back and forth with signing up, but not the bullet. I am excited and nervous for this. I am working on my inner strength and trying to become my best self, and this is a big step in that process. I want to remind myself of the strength that I have within me and the reason why I fight to be better everyday." 

Leah Marcus

Leah Marcus (34) and Avery (4). 

Leah is a previous project participant - you can view her previous photo and story here.

Ann Arbor, MI | Photographed in Detroit, MI

Leah shares - 

"Historically, I haven't had to *do* much to maintain the figure I had (high metabolism, etc.), but gestating and birthing my son coincided with hitting my 30's and no longer being able to just "coast" (staying sedentary, eating whatever) I needed to really start taking care of my body actively, and pregnancy was a wonderful reason to start doing that. Then, once I was really able to see what my body could do and withstand and create and recover from, I was in awe of it.

Four years postpartum, some things about my body are "back" to where they were, some things are forever changed, but as cliché as it might sound, I wouldn't trade it. My son gets to see me exercising regularly now, and he joins in. I like being able to gain strength and integration while also modeling that for him. I also have worn my son lots of places for lots of reasons (around the house, hikes, naps, etc.), which has helped me both feel and become strong. Parenthood has also given me that perspective of, "I want to take care of this body I have so I can be around for my son as long as possible," which was not something that had sufficiently motivated me previously.

I had a healthy planned pregnancy, no fertility issues, and my son was born at home just as we had anticipated and hoped. However, my labor was 41 hours long and I ended up with a 2nd-3rd degree tear that was not repaired right away. My son spent his first few days in the NICU and Peds due to some retained lung fluid (unrelated to his home birth), and he had trouble latching right away. Breastfeeding difficulties had not even been on my list of potential worries related to birth/postpartum, so when that became an issue, I felt blindsided and cheated, a bit.

I had thought nursing was mostly a matter of support and willpower. So THAT was quite an adjustment and a humbling experience! I actually previously participated in the 4th Trimester Bodies Project back in March of 2014, when my son was just one month old. It's interesting, because at that point I felt like I'd overcome so much in terms of my birth injury and that we were finally on our way to being able to nurse. However, despite being treated for a lip tie and being assessed by multiple experts, Avery never got the hang of nursing, nor the inclination to try to latch. I spent months and months trying unsuccessfully to get him back to the breast, but ultimately it never happened.

Instead, I ventured into the world of Exclusive Pumping, and ended up pumping for my son (and some other babies) for 17 months, and he got my milk until he was over 2 years old! I remember scouring the 4th Trimester Bodies Project stories to find ones about other parents who pumped for their babies, so I wouldn't feel so alone. Even though I mourn not nursing, having to pump instead ended up being a blessing because I got to feed other babies, and I became a source of information and support to numerous friends and acquaintances who also were experiencing nursing issues and/or needing help pumping. I got to improve my boundaries, in the sense that I didn't want to feel like my son was refusing/rejecting me, or failing to nurse AT me; I didn't want to take any of my disappointment out on him and have it affect our attachment. I also didn't want to feel lingering resentment toward my body, or think that it had failed. On the contrary, it has been so resilient and reliable, and I am so grateful for the milk supply I ended up with.

Thankfully, my son and I adore each other and I now don't feel any lingering sense of grief about the ways I could or couldn't nourish him, although I know that that was a gradual process and that it is difficult for so many. Overall, my postpartum and parenting experience has been a series of exercises in embracing what *is* instead of what I'd imagined; the former has almost always been richer and more meaningful. All of the things that went "wrong" about my birthing/postpartum experience have been things that have increased my empathy, sense of nuance, and respect for the limits of one's sense of control over the environment. My also son challenges me every day to accept him as he is, to enjoy the heck out of him, to not push him or try to mold him into anyone he is not, and to stay grateful for all of the ways we can connect that haven't involved latching.

I am here today for my 1-month-postpartum self (the last time I did this project/shoot), to revisit her and to feel such pride and tenderness about who I was and who I've grown into. I am so close with my son now, and I remember being so scared that that wouldn't be the case because of our rocky start. I love this project's commitment to realness and its passion for celebrating the bittersweet and messy totality of welcoming/raising children (and of raising ourselves as parents).

You are doing a hard thing REALLY well. You know you, and you know your child. There is value in the rupture and the repair, more so than in just getting it "right" in the first place. You have more chances (for repair) than you think you do."