Jaimee Stoll De Pompeo

Jaimee Stoll De Pompeo (32 - she/her) and Romee (2)

Salinas, California {Virtual session captured over CLOS}

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Having grown up an athlete, I had always associated my body with strength and capability. I learned that the value of my body was in its ability to perform and I worked hard to stay fit for most of my life. But adulthood kicked in and my fitness habits slowed down and I was in the worst shape of my life when I got pregnant. I felt really great during pregnancy, particularly the third trimester, but after the birth of Romee it became clear that I was harboring a lot of negative feelings around my body. Things changed in so many ways and I am still struggling with the concept that my body may never be as strong (in the typical sense) as it once was but that it has become strong in a new, different, and meaningful way. I exclusively nursed Romee for the first six months and she is still nursing today which I am very proud of. Learning that my body can be strong enough to nurture my child has been an uplifting and hopeful lesson for me as I have been navigating the years of negative associations with my body that I brought with me into adulthood and parenthood.

What was your postpartum experience?

I had a very uncomplicated pregnancy and was planning a homebirth but after 36 hours of labor at home I transferred to the hospital where Romee was born vaginally with no issues. Despite the fact that I was very much in control of my birth experience, my immediate postpartum days were spent mourning the birth that I wanted and beating myself up over not being able to physically perform in the way I thought that I needed to. There was a feeling of weakness and ineptness that has lingered in certain ways even two years later. My confidence as a mother was deeply impacted by not having the birth that I wanted. I returned to work when Romee was only three weeks old and I felt the impact of that lack of healing time as well. Exhaustion, discomfort, and lack of support contributed to the blur of the first year or so. There were so many pressures and expectations that I didn't anticipate and my anxiety spiked for many months. Looking back on it, I was so engulfed by my anxiety I couldn't even see what was happening or what I needed to be ok. I've learned so much about what it means to take care of myself and trust my instincts, and I know that I will keep learning these things and hopefully pass on this wisdom to Romee.

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

You and only you knows what you your family needs. Advice and support is important and good but ultimately our own inner guidance is what really matters.

How has your (pregnancy/birth/postpartum/parenting) been affected by COVID-19?

I was able to be home with Romee so much more because of COVID and while it was challenging many times, it also felt like a delayed maternity leave that I never really got. Now that she is older and more social I am very happy that I will soon be able to take her out into the world and nurture the social part of her as well.

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

There was so much I did not know or did not realize before I became pregnant, despite having been involved with the birth world for several years. I am grateful to projects like these that cast our experiences as birthing people and parents in normal and loving lights, even when we do not always feel normal or loving towards ourselves.

Avigail Hurvitz-Prinz

Avigail Hurvitz-Prinz (37 - she/her) and Baby Y (7 mo - they/them)

Philadelphia, PA {Virtual session captured via CLOS}

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

The process of TTC, being pregnant, birthing and nursing are so deeply physical and embodied. There were parts of all of it that were incredibly powerful and magical (wow the placenta! labor and birth! and human milk!) and parts of it that were so disorienting, anxiety-provoking, and hard. I served as a vessel for this new, incredible human and though they aren't in my body anymore, I still am responsible for most of their milk and nourishment. The pride I feel in watching them grow is so gratifying but it is also extremely challenging to have lost so much of my physical autonomy. Though it isn't factually true, it can feel like I'm either nursing or pumping or trying to feed myself enough to make it thru my next few hours -- so my body just is rarely my own.

Though now, 7 months after our birth experience, I'm back in clothes I was wearing before I got pregnant, they all look a little different. It is especially confusing to figure out what my thoughts about my body are and to encounter my fatphobia. I feel conflicted about how gratified I feel to be back in my old clothes, to sort of recognizing myself in the mirror after 2 years of really rapid body changes while also knowing that my body is softer, lumpier, and just different than it used to be. A friend of mine said about her postpartum body "well, that's not where I remember leaving that!" My big-before-pregnancy breasts grew even more than I would have thought imaginable and it has been hard for me to feel connected to them. They're still bigger than the baby's head, they're physically unwieldy and it takes a lot of psychic work to not experience them as grotesque, I have back pain I didn't have before pregnancy and it was quite a struggle to find supportive nursing bras.

I try to practice being proud of what my body can do and less focused on what I've lost but it really isn't easy. I feel the strongest (47 hours of unmedicated labor!) and the most vulnerable (I almost died!) I've ever been at the same time. That seems to be a pretty common experience of birthing people, but, damn if it isn't hard to integrate!

What was your postpartum experience?

My labor was 47 hours and I had a beautiful homebirth with my incredible midwife, Ray Rachlin of Refuge Midwifery (I am beyond grateful for their life-saving care). Because of a hemorrhage and retained placenta, I had an emergency transfer to the hospital for blood transfusions and a D&C. Though perhaps it was technically my birth experience, I often separate the two experiences and think about my two days in the hospital as the beginning of my postpartum journey. I was pretty sick, having lost more than half of my blood by the time I got into surgery. One of my two partners met me in the hospital later that night with the baby (my other partner and co-parent needed to stay home because of limits on visitors during COVID-19). Needless to say, it was a pretty challenging start having been separated from my family in an emergency and not being reunited as the family we were meant to be until 2 days after the birth.

I was physically very limited the first 6 weeks or so and emotionally also really struggled. My milk was slow to come in, we were juggling co-lactation with one of my partners who induced lactation (which was amazing, but also was stressful for each of us in different ways) and I was coping with really raw trauma. I feel lucky to be co-parenting with my two partners B and S, my parents were nearby for part of that early time, many friends and community members dropped off meals and I went to therapy and hypnosis, folks were very kind, especially virtually.... and it was still one of the hardest experiences of my life. I remember fearing that I'd never feel connected to this new baby, feeling so much guilt about the separation that we endured for the 6 hours I was in surgery and before my partner B was able to bring the baby to me in the hospital. A major theme for me at the time was feeling like a baby myself while also somehow being responsible for this new being who I variously loved and felt completely trapped by.

During that early period, it became really challenging for me to imagine leaving the bed even when I was physically ready. Around 6 weeks, being challenged by my therapist Regina who said, in the kindest way possible, that even though it was scary, I was going to keep regressing the longer I stayed. That day I went downstairs and outside for the first time since the socially distanced baby naming & brit ceremony we'd hosted on day 8 and it was *hard*. But she was right, and it was the beginning of the end of my postpartum depression. Because my recovery was so hard I delayed going back to work by a month which was also a major conflict -- but it was evident that I just wasn't well enough to be back at work. I'm still experiencing trauma reactions and some physical pain, though both are much more manageable and contained. We have therapy now as a family, have set up some rituals for marking important moments of transition. It will always be true that a baby's birthday is also the anniversary of my near-death experience and I feel more and more able to separate those experiences from each other and have more people in my life to talk to about how deeply complicated that is.

I'm blessed enough to also feel good, to be back at work, enjoying parenting a very charming kiddo in a very fun stage, and to be in loving relationships (we just celebrated 3 years of our triad!)

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

There is no control over any of this (if and when you get pregnant, when you'll give birth, how that birth will go, who your baby will be, how the milk will flow, how they'll develop). The most you can do is set it up and then allow the magic -- and it is magic -- to unfold in its own time.

How has your (pregnancy/birth/postpartum/parenting) been affected by COVID-19?

In so many ways! I really missed the experience so many people have of being witnessed and admired in pregnancy and felt a lot of grief about that. There was a lot of anxiety for us about safety as I was pretty newly pregnant while the early pandemic unfolded.

It is still regularly painful to have such intense negotiations about safety with our loved ones and there are many people who are important to us who have yet to hold the baby because of the pandemic. And, I felt lucky, in a certain way, that we had this incredibly transformative, very special life change in a time when so many people were feeling so little to be hopeful about.

The way the pandemic really focuses attention and intensifies what's happening on the homefront is maybe what happens in late pregnancy and early postpartum anyway! And being able to work from home and hang out with the baby or nurse in my breaks is really special (though much harder when I can hear them crying while I'm trying to do my own thing).

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

Seeing people tell vulnerable stories and show their real bodies has helped me feel much less alone in one of the most difficult times of my life. I really admire the folks who have participated so far and appreciate the chance to find my place among them.

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.

Erika White

Erika White (37 - she/her), Mazzy (5), and Kodiak Slade (2.5)

Philadelphia, PA

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

After having my daughter my body bounced right back. I was pretty surprised! I carried the same with my son as far as weight gain but after having him my body has wanted to hold onto more squish around my belly. It’s nothing I really feel the need to complain to myself about though, honestly I’m pretty blown away at what this body had been able to do for my children. I carried them, birthed them both with out any interventions or medication, and nursed them both for 2 years each. I have gained a deep seated respect for women’s bodies after experiencing all growth and change. I definitely used to nit pick myself, wishing I had more of an hour glass figure and being way to conscious of any softness around my abdomen. Somehow all that has dissipated now. I don’t see my body as something that needs to be perfected, but as something with innate divine perfection already.

What was your postpartum experience? 

I gave birth to my daughter in the peace and quiet of my home in the dead of winter. My midwife was adamant about taking my first two weeks postpartum completely off my feet, avoiding all stairs, and consciously taking that time to bond with my baby and allow my loved one to take care of me and my house. It was a god send. I birthed my daughter in our master bathroom upstairs, we moved to the bed to birth my placenta, and I stayed in that little cocoon for those first two weeks. My midwives came several times to assess me and my baby and my husband and mother fed me, took care of the house, shopped etc. my closest friends came to visit us and I got to spend that time truly soaking those unparalleled moments into the depths of me.

I struggled with breastfeeding her though. With in the first few days my nipples became raw and extremely painful and every time she cried to nurse a part of me would twinge with the anticipation of the pain. She had a pretty membraneous tongue tie which we all thought might stretch on its own but that paired with my fairly flat nipples ended up with fissures around both nipples and now scars. We got her tongue tie corrected at 2 weeks and it helped immensely. Everything healed and we were able to continue breastfeeding until she naturally weaned at 2 years old.

The experience after my son was very different. We started at home with our same midwife whom we adore. I was having squirts of blood with every contraction and after only a few hours of very erratic early labor my midwife said we should transfer to a hospital for continuous monitoring on the baby. I ended up having a beautiful birth at the hospital, the staff couldn’t have been more respectful of my desire to birth as uninterrupted and hands off as possible.

My mother and daughter were with me until about 2 hours before my son was born. It was midnight and my then 2.5 year old was spent. They went to my moms and would come back in the morning. After having my son around 2 am, me and my husband moved to a postpartum room which I got all to myself until that next morning. We decided he should go home to be there for our daughter, and I spent the night alone at the hospital with my tiny little man. It was surreal. Nothing like I had planned on or expected. I didn’t anticipate needing to transfer to a hospital so I hadn’t packed a bag just in case. I ended up throwing a bunch of random stuff into a bag once my midwife said she felt we should transfer. I was definitely panicked and worried about how my daughter would process this huge shift. We hadn’t talked to her about being apart or having the baby in a hospital. Everything was very sudden and then I was alone with my newborn in this foreign place. In spite of it all that night was sweet. We were only disturbed a few times for vitals, and he nursed like a baby cow. My milk came right in with him and I felt at home back in this newborn stage.

The days following were tough - We had over an hour commute back home the next day, making a stop at my moms to get Mazzy and rest for a little. I could barely walk and felt extremely drained. I had lost a lot of blood, but not enough for them to keep me another day. Our roof was under construction so we came home to plastic tarps and our master bedroom off limits. That had been my cocoon with Mazzy and now my house felt kind of foreign. I tried to settle into the same rest for those first few weeks but it never quite clicked the same way.

Feeling like I couldn’t be there for my daughter the way she wanted me to was heart breaking. I felt a huge rift between us and felt her push me away for the first time. I thought we had broken her, like I would never see her look at me the way she used to. Transitioning to a family of 4 was much more challenging for us than I ever expected. To top it off I got very sick. The coughing made my groin and abdomen ache, my head pounded, I couldn’t find comfort and rest in my body and I was terrified of getting my baby sick. Thankfully he was completely fine through those few weeks. He was my peace. Everything else felt extremely stressed - my daughter, my husband, my house, my body. But my son emitted so much calm and love. After a few weeks of being sick and house bound in the middle of the summer I finally had the strength to go outside and wanted to get my feet in the sand. I took a small stroll with him in a sling and right there on the shore was a washed up 4 leaf clover. I found a 4 leaf clover growing in one of my plants in the kitchen the day he was conceived, so finding this second one in that moment when everything felt so overwhelming was like he was telling me that everything was going to be ok. It was truly cosmic. Things evolved from there, I got back to normal, we started figuring out our new normal and my daughter started gaining trust in me again.

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

To my former self: Your children will be your greatest inspiration and motivation to do and be the best version of yourself, and they will also push you to your extreme limits, testing your patience like nothing before. The work lies in realizing that your reactions are a reflection of your own unprocessed shit. Your own shortcomings. Truly having patience and calm in the face of anything your kids can throw at you will be your life long study and practice, and it will evolve your character beyond anything you could ever imagine.

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

I think it’s a huge service to women to normalize our myriad experiences in postpartum & parenthood. It can all feel very isolating and alone, and having an honest and comfortable community around us is such a gift.

Lisa Levinson

Lisa Levinson (40 - she/her), Elliott (6), Jonah (4), and River (11 months)

Ann Arbor, MI

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Pregnancy and my postpartum body have made me feel so exposed, like my body precedes me and is always open for critique and commentary. Some days I long to just leave my body behind so that I can save the energy that it takes to bring it with me into public spaces. Part of my job involves teaching, so I am often standing in front of a classroom. I feel my competence and "professionalism" being physically read off my body - am I "in control" of my weight and my shape, do I have it all together? It is exhausting and I resent the way our society scrutinizes women's bodies.

As an academic, I've always struggled with the notion that we are just our minds, and that our bodies are irrelevant to our purpose. Before having children, practicing yoga and making physical, tangible crafts and food was my antidote for the physical denial of academia. Experiencing pregnancy, a traumatic cesarean, two VBACs, diastasis recti, breastfeeding, pumping, and various injuries really brought my physical body to the fore of my daily experience. Yet in day to day life, I still feel compelled to pretend as though it doesn't matter to me, as though only the bodies of others are important. At the same time that my body is going through so much change, it is also under constant demand from my children. Sometimes I am amazed at the things my body can do, and other times I despair at the ways I feel like it is failing me.

What was your postpartum experience?

I love the aspect of postpartum that is outside of time - when I can be fully immersed in my baby, my recovery, my family, and my home. It is exhausting and painful, but I really appreciate the intensity and focus of it all. Each time it has been too short for me - interrupted too soon. I wish every parent could take as long as they want and need for everything that comes with a new member of the family and the healing and adjustments that their body must make.

Our first, Elliott, was born by cesarean after 24 hours of difficult labor and a transfer to the hospital from a planned homebirth. After 42 weeks of pregnancy, a long, complicated labor, and coercion from the OB staff, I thought I might die in the OR as the doctors seemed to puzzle over how to stop my hemorrhaging. My baby was born but I felt barely alive. Finally they were able to stop the bleeding and after what felt like an eternity I was able to truly hold my baby. After feeling so drained of life I suddenly was bursting with joy and relief. We had been through so much together. The next months we fought it out together - both struggling, in pain, crying, confused - but swollen with love. Love and milk, everywhere milk.

Our second, Jonah, came as such a surprise, at only 38 weeks 5 days, and an intense but swift labor of under four hours. There was a moment when the midwives thought he might be in distress, and I pushed with all of my strength and suddenly there he was. I didn't feel ready to meet him, and it took longer to get to know who this new baby was, and what our story would be. I tandem nursed him and his older brother, which helped me to feel connected to both of them during that strange time of expansion and healing. Although I was happy to have avoided a cesarean. I had a whole new set of pains and injuries to recover from after his pregnancy and birth. I was more careful with my body, sometimes afraid of "breaking" it further. He was an easier newborn and everything was a little less extreme, more gradual. I think it was around 6 weeks postpartum when my body started to feel a little more familiar and our bond started to grow exponentially. I really fell in love all over again.

I still consider myself in the postpartum period with our third child, River, and don't have enough distance from it to see it in the same way yet. Like Elliott, he was born on the "late" side, but like Jonah, he was born fast. We were very ready for him to be born; Jonah had been asking for the baby "to come out of my tummy" for weeks. Physically the recovery was much like the second time around, but I was better prepared. Seeing the adoration that his big brothers had for him was heart melting from day one. We have all been smothering him with love ever since. I'm trying to enjoy it as much as I can and be patient with my body - this body which has made, birthed, and fed three amazing children.

What is one piece of knowledge you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent? 

I don't have any advice that could really prepare anyone for being a new parent. If I could go back and tell myself something in advance, it would be to be patient and try to see the long view. I don't think I could have understood what that meant though until I made it out of those first years!

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

I wanted to be a part of this project because I think our bodies are important, not only for our children, but for ourselves and for the world. I just wanted to say that I have a body and it's been through a lot of stuff and I'm trying to take care of it as best I can.

Katy Shaffer

Katy Shaffer (30 - she/her) and JoAnn (10 months)

Columbia, MO

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Becoming a mother has done amazing things for my body image. I have never felt more comfortable in my own skin. It’s awesome having a husband that lifts me up and is quite delighted in the transformation my body made to grow another human. But more than that, I am genuinely happy and frankly impressed with what my body went through. In a sense I feel as if it’s almost an out of body experience looking at myself with this uninhibited pride in what this beautiful god damn body of mine can do. On another level, becoming a mother has awakened this intuition to not expose my child to body shaming, especially not self-shame. As a result I want to and need to see myself in a positive light. It truly is a blessing.

What was your postpartum experience?

I want to start on the bright side. We create and I grew an actual person who continually blows us away. She is the light and goodness in this world. She reaffirms that I am a true earth goddess walking this planet who was meant to escort that soul from the universe earth-side. Our constant and consistent conversations are centered around general amazement at the small star child that we created. She’s really cool. And I love her. And she’s a HoneyBear and growls. And she has 7 teeth. These are like the shining moments of my life now.

Also, though, really, my experiences during and right after the birth of JoAnn has played the role of shaping my postpartum anxiety/depression experience. The difference in the birth we planned and the birth we got is laughable. We went from laboring in a dope ass pool in my living room on a Monday night/Tuesday morning with our midwife to a being told we’d have to stay in the NICU by Thursday. After 60 (ish) hours of labor I delivered JoJo via cesarean and then proceeded to be kept floors away from my baby for over 5 hours.

She was in the NICU and I was on “the mag” and getting bags of blood pumped into me. “The mag” is a magnesium treatment that I literally not one time read about or came across in all my obsessive scouring of the internet and books while I was pregnant. It was an acid trip in the twilight zone. I didn’t know how much time had actually passed until weeks later. I knew in my aching heart that it took way too long for me to hold my baby, and get skin to skin and do all the things a pregnant mother dreams about doing with her fresh newborn baby. My husband, thank God, never left the baby’s side. He did everything I could have hoped for and more. It still really hurts though.

And then...Postpartum anxiety/depression. It’s is a sneaky little bitch. My postpartum experiences have been interlaced with this depression and anxiety that creeps it's way in. I don't see it coming. I'm not suicidal. I don't have harmful thoughts. I'm seemingly kicking ass and loving every second with my family and then it happens. Just one minute too many while trying to get the baby down for a nap. There's a threshold that nobody told me about that I cross at certain points of the day and my chest gets tight, heart rate increases, I'm grumpy now? I'm feeling pissed off and guilty? Just one thing too many...the baby pulled my hair for the 19th time, she cried again when I tried to lay her down. I have a couple moments in my day where I just cross over to that dark place and I don't know how I got there. But I’m there, and if it’s not trying to knock me down a little bit then it’s replaying the hospital over and over. And don’t get me wrong. I have some amazing memories of my time with the baby in the hospital and the growth that I witnessed in Josh and myself is admirable, but it did something deep within my core. It triggered something that I know will be a source of strength for me one day but it’s not that day yet. That baby, though!

What is your truth?

My truth comes from that primal instinct and connection I experienced as a pregnant woman. I find so much comfort and strength in the simple fact that women have been doing exactly what I did for hundreds of thousands of years. While I didn’t get that “I am woman, hear me roar” bearing down birth in my home that I hope and prepared for, there’s no reason I couldn’t accomplish that in the future should I get pregnant again.

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

Simple answer, it’s important. Out of all the things to sift through on social media, why not be apart of something that continues to lift mothers up exactly as they are. Mentally, physically, spiritually...it’s freeing to see someone that looks like you, or felt the same loss as you, or felt trauma along with a birth. This project is a piece of the light in this world and God knows we need more of that.

Christine Dopf

The wonderful Christine Dopf and Nile (22 months). Christine is currently 6 weeks pregnant and is also mother to Zion (lost to miscarriage 4/10/2016).

Pregnancy with Nile was spectacular. Christine and her husband took a delayed honeymoon about a year and a half after their wedding and it was there that she felt her baby would be coming soon. She and her husband ran into the ocean in the midst of a thunderstorm and she recalls it as the most spiritual moment of her life. The storm was happening all around them but in the middle they could still see the sun setting and the sky was aglow with color. 

Christine was planning a home birth and had been laboring off an on through the better part of a week when her water started leaking. They made a plan to pack a bag and head into the hospital for induction the following morning when she was hit with an intense contraction. She labored through the night and her midwife joined them in the morning. Christine was progressing but once she was at 8cms things stalled and they decided to transfer to the hospital where she received an epidural and was able to rest. 

Christine had always felt that Nile would be born during a thunderstorm and as he was crowning she saw lightening out the window. Nile was born shortly thereafter and her birth photographer went outside to capture the sky when he was earth side and it looked the same as the sky had on her honeymoon. 

Christine's second pregnancy with Zion's was very much wanted but just as they found out, she began losing the baby. Conceiving again has brought some anxiety but Christine is trying to stay positive and hopeful.

"My body has grown life three times now. For this new baby, my body is a vessel, an opportunity, a beautiful place to grow. 

For Zion, my second child, my body was all he knew. His life began and ended in a womb of endless love. This baby is forever in my heart instead of my arms. 

For Nile, my first child, this body is where he grew for nine glorious serene perfect months, it patiently held him as he slowly made his way into this world. Since his birth (For 22 months) this body has nourished him day and night with milk, comforted him, loved him, snuggled him. And continues too. This body is his world. Bob constantly asks me, 'what is it like to be his God, his universe, his everything?' It's an enormous responsibility and an honor. 

I didn't start loving my body until I became pregnant for the first time. I didn't grow up loving my body. 

Why shouldn't this body be celebrated and loved by me?! How could I ever teach my children positive body image if I can't look at this body with immense pride and acceptance. I want my children to love themselves and their bodies no matter what challenges life hands them. 

These children have made me a mother,  I grew these children"

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.

Andrea Brown

Andrea Brown (33) and Rowan (6 months)

Minneapolis, MN

Andrea shares -

“Regular physical activity and a strong yoga practice have been critical in helping me overcome an eating disorder and maintain a positive body image and self-love. Loving my sexual parts has also been a journey due to misinformation I received as a girl on what normal sexually mature female anatomy looks like (hint- its not the same as a prepubescent girl.)

When my pregnancy (vulvar varicosities and pubic symphysis dysfunction) and birth (forceps and episiotomy) went very differently than I'd hoped, I was unable to be physically active for many months. I've suffered trauma to my pelvic floor and perineum that I'm still working hard to recover from 7 months later. The path of parenthood has revealed to me the conditional nature with which I've held regard for myself and has blown open the work I still need to do to love and accept myself without condition, with softness and respect for this human body that will continue to age and change.

My postpartum journey continues to unfold every day. I’ve adjusted to my increased need for self-care by taking more time from work than I thought I was capable of asking for, saying no to things without hesitation or a second-thought, and going to bed earlier than ever. I also spend a lot of time and money finding and working with healers both in my community and online including somatic experience trauma therapy, holistic pelvic care, Mayan abdominal massage, acupuncture, chiropractic, physical therapy, herbal medicine, and energy work. This 4th Trimester Bodies Project is another example of my investing in my postpartum healing and reclamation. I never expected to be going through such a deep transformation and reckoning with myself.

When I transferred to the hospital after 5 hours of pushing at home, I told my home birth midwife who came with us that I was sure I did not want an episiotomy. When given the choice between a cesarean, forceps, or a vacuum, I did not receive information on the varying complications or healing scenarios associated with each and wasn't in the mental space at that time to ask what might be in store for me after the birth, as a woman with a passion for sex and movement. I felt like avoiding a cesarean was the best thing I could do for my baby, and opted for forceps because I was told these were going to be easier on the baby.

I didn't find out until I was holding him (before he was taken to the NICU) that I had been given an episiotomy along with the forcep intervention. And I didn't find out until I was home a week later that the episiotomy was performed in a 'medial lateral' fashion (at a 90 degree angle), that would take a second surgery and 7 months-and-counting to heal. I deserved better advocacy from my midwife, better information from the obstetrician, and better pregnancy and postpartum care from everyone.

Given the full story, I would have made a choice that would have worked for me and our baby. Instead, I have had a long road of recovery - both physically and emotionally, as I work to forgive the body and care professionals whom I feel let me down. My body is forever changed by my childbirth experience and I strive to work through my feelings of violation so that I may heal my scars with love and care. The best medicine during moments of deep sadness has been prolonged eye contact with my baby, Rowan and partner, Brady. This reminds me of my wholeness, my beauty, and my blessings.

I chose the path of an unmedicated home birth because I wanted to meet myself as a laboring woman, as a birthing woman, and as a new mother, without interruption or interference. It didn't work out the way I imagined, and I am meeting myself now as a woman in recovery. It is not easy, but I am finding my strength and voice from this tender and holy place.

We grow our strength and self-healing power from the extent to which we can open to our vulnerability and face that which is. As much as my ego would like for me to be perceived as someone who is inviolate, the truth is that pregnancy and childbirth has been a process of deep healing for me. I am here to take my place alongside my sisters who have also struggled, to be seen and accepted as I am. And to say with love and compassion and deep respect, I see and love you, too.”

Siân de Freyssinet

Siân de Freyssinet (35), Ada Belle Ripley (2.5) & Bryn Alan (in utero)

UK | Chicago

Siân shares -

“Even before Ada was born I was pretty down on my body’s ability to do “what it’s supposed to do”. We tried to conceive naturally for years with no success other than an ectopic pregnancy and miscarriage. We ended up doing IVF to get me pregnant.

The process was horrible. The first IVF doctor we used made me feel like just another defective reproductive system he had to work on that day. His office & nursing staff never read my charts properly and constantly butchered my name.

Once we’d changed providers and I’d gotten pregnant, I’d planned on a non-medicated, home water birth. I read Ina May’s books to prep for the birth. I got the impression that’d be so “easy” and everything would come so naturally. However, Ada was two weeks late and I made the choice to take castor oil to kick start labour. This decision ruined all my plans. The oil made me so sick. After 50 odd hours puking, shitting my guts out and labouring at home, my midwife ran out of tricks to get me to progress and I had run out of energy. I had to transfer to hospital where at every nurse hand over i was introduced as “Siân, a failed home birth”. That “failure” stuck with me for a long time.

Ada had to go to the NICU due to an infection. She had to stay in hospital for a week to be given antibiotics. We had to fight to stay with her and managed to get her transferred out of the NICU & up to the children’s ward so we could room with her.

Breast feeding didn’t go well to begin with. Ada couldn’t/wouldn’t latch. I got a number of infections in my breasts: thrush (in my boobs! Who knew that was a thing?!), E. Coil and a staph infection.

It took about 3 months, a tongue tie revision, using a nipple shield and 3 different lactation consultants to get the hang of nursing. Throughout that time I pumped. A lot. Pumping helped immensely with my supply, which was the silver lining of all the pain and bullshit. The way I viewed how my body looked physically didn’t really change. I’ve always been large. I got larger after moving to the US. I got larger still postpartum. My birth family have a pretty narrow view of what an acceptable body type should look like and are constantly striving miserably to obtain that.

I care a lot less about how my body looks since becoming a mum. My husband thinks I’m beautiful, I still think I scrub up pretty well and I now strive always to project a strong, loving self body image so that my daughter and (soon to be earthside) son grow up knowing that every body is valid, acceptable, beautiful & desirable.

Some days that’s easier than others. Often how I see myself in my minds eye is a lot different to how I see myself in photos. I guess I think I look a lot cuter, thinner, prettier than I photograph.

The first year of motherhood suuuuuuucked! I felt like such a failure. I didn’t magically shit out my baby like Ina May suggested I could do, then after failing at that, I couldn’t instantly get the hang of feeding my baby how I was supposed to. How did the human race evolve if feeding one’s baby was so freaking hard?

Everyone kept telling me “you have a live, healthy baby, what more could you want?”. This has got to be the least helpful thing you could say to a new mum. I kept thinking “I want everything I was led to believe I’d get, obviously!” my home water birth and a baby who latched would have been a good start.

I also discovered I do *not* do well at all on little to no sleep. Everyone said “sleep when the baby sleeps” like it’s that freaking easy! But you don’t know if they’ll be asleep for 10 minutes or an hour & by the time you drift off, the baby’s awake and you’ve got to start all over again. Then there’s all the laundry to do, the pumping equipment to wash, the constantly disappearing nipple shields. I was told to ask for help and take it whenever it was offered, but I didn’t find that easy to do at all. I didn’t know what to ask for or what I needed. I felt I should be able to do it and no one could do it the way I needed or wanted.

I got up with the baby whenever she woke as I had the boobs and the milk and I worried that if I missed a nursing session my milk would dry up. All this combined gave me some pretty intense postpartum anxiety. I struggled on for a few months without knowing what was going on. Everything that I read about postpartum depression/baby blues didn’t fit with what I was feeling, which was mostly a mix of intense rage and apathy.

I didn’t tell any one for a long time as I was scared of their judgement. I couldn’t stand for my husband to think less of me, to feel like he had to watch me in case I hurt our baby, to think I was incapable of doing the thing I’d been saying I’d wanted for years: to be a mum. It was so hard to reach out for help, but in the end I did. I got medicated (another failure in my mind. My birth family are pretty down on anti-depressants and are skeptical of medications. A lifetime of believing that misinformation put a dint in my head about being prescribed them by “big Pharma”).

My anxiety has been stable for a couple of years, though I’ve felt my rage building up during this pregnancy. My midwives upped my dosage of Zoloft and I’ve felt much more able to cope with a toddler and quite a challenging pregnancy (I started getting nauseous at around 7 weeks in and didn’t stop until I was prescribed 8mg Zofran twice a day)

Get all the help you can. Everyone says that! But again, it’s so hard to do. A friend of mine suggested making a spreadsheet of all the chores and errands I’d need running so that I can give it to people who offer to help without feeling guilty or embarrassed to be asking or accepting support. This time round we’ve got a labour support and postpartum doula. I’ve got more friends on board to help with Ada and I’m more willing to let my husband do some night feedings.

I’ve followed 4th Trimester Bodies Project since Ada was born and love the ethos. I always wanted prenatal photos taken, but don’t like the flower crown, posed under a waterfall type shoots so thought this would be the perfect answer. I feel like a lot of new parents believe it’s going to be rainbows and sunshine, and when you get in the trenches of that first time parenthood it’s such a massive surprise that you feel you’ve been duped. I don’t want to burst any bubbles, I just want to share my reality.”