Felicity Ann Eubanks Colangelo

Felicity Ann Eubanks Colangelo (36), Ava (4) and Isla (25 months)

Kettle Falls, Washington | Photographed in Portland, Maine

Felicity shares - 

"In March 2012 we found out we were pregnant for the first time. We were thrilled, and felt very lucky it hadn't taken long to conceive. At our 10 week visit with the midwife we were unable to hear a heartbeat and became concerned. A week later I went in for an ultrasound and discovered we weren't going to be having this baby. I was shocked and devastated. That weekend was Mother's Day and I wondered if I would ever be a Mother, if my body would be able to carry children. Days later I began to labor. It was so much more painful than I imagined and I was scared not knowing what was happening in my body or how long it would last. I remember thinking this is the opposite of what I want if I have a successful pregnancy and live birth! Having planned for a home birth, I tried all of the birthing techniques I knew and spent a lot of time in the bath tub. For 3 days, every evening I would have a few hours of intense contractions. On the third day, 12 days after the ultrasound, I asked my husband call for an ambulance. I was in so much pain I couldn't move and I was exhausted emotionally and physically. At the hospital I discovered I was only 1 cm dilated and my uterus was full of fluid. My body wasn't able to birth the fetus on it's own.

During my pregnancy with Ava, I experienced a real acceptance of and love for my body for the first time in my adult life. I was proud of the work my body was doing. After she was born, I was able to stay active; I felt strong and healthy. When I became pregnant with Isla, my mental health suffered and I wan't happy in general. I've struggled with depression and overall feelings of inadequacy in all areas of life. My body has changed quite a bit from the second full-term pregnancy and labor, and I have difficulty feeling comfortable in my body and in clothing. I find myself hiding in my clothes and sucking in my belly. I try to focus on being strong and healthy instead of thin. It is so difficult to fight the socially constructed value placed on thinness, and it is imperative that my girls receive healthier messages at home.

As far back as I can remember, I've always wanted to be a mom. Both of my girls were planned home births, though the first didn’t go quite as planned. I had witnessed 2 home births as an adolescent and, after researching my options, I ultimately felt most comfortable with that plan. With Ava, labor began very intensely, without the lead-up of lighter contractions. I was immediately fearful and began doubting my body. After a long labor and over 4 hours of manual pushing, she was born big and healthy. I began to hemorrhage because my uterus was having trouble contracting and the placenta wouldn’t detach. My midwives were quick to act and, with shots of Pitocin and pressure, they got placenta to detach and the bleeding to stop before we arrived at the hospital. The hospital visit, though short, took away my ability to have immediate skin time with Ava. I was surprised that, at the time, the separation didn’t bother me; I was so thrilled to have a healthy baby that nothing else mattered!

The following day, she was diagnosed with congenital hip dysplasia. At 1 week old she was placed in a hip harness, which she had to wear 24/7 for the next 10 weeks of her life. I still mourn not having that skin-to-skin time in the early weeks of her life. In addition, we had a very difficult time nursing. I felt a lot of pressure for her to get milk so each day, after trying for hours to get her to latch without pain, I finally allowed her to nurse with an improper latch. We had a minor tongue-tie clipped, which was pretty traumatic and didn’t seem to make a difference. For the first 4 weeks nursing was almost unbearable. At times, I would express milk and feed her with a spoon or dropper to give my breasts a break. It was a very challenging time. I feel grateful I had an over-abundant milk supply so she was always able to get enough milk, even if the process was painful. I am also extremely glad I didn’t suffer from postpartum depression after her birth.

Pregnancy with Isla was very difficult. I became depressed; I felt angry and irritable toward Ava, and resentful toward my unborn baby. These feelings led to intense guilt. Having stopped working to stay home with Ava, I started to miss my identity as a clinical social worker, friend and wife. I realized how isolating my life was; I’d go days without talking to adults besides the couple of hours my husband was home in the evening. We had moved to Maine when I was 8 months pregnant, so I didn’t have a built-in support network. Thanks to Birth Roots, I did meet other new moms. This was a life-saver, but I struggled not having anyone around who knew me BEFORE I had children. My entire identity had become being Mom. I never expected that to make me sad!

I couldn’t be happier with Isla’s labor and delivery. It was everything I could have wanted and, with the help of my amazing midwives, I could finally trust my body to do what it needed to do. She was born very peacefully in water after 8 hours and less than 30 min of pushing, and my body did all the work on its own. I was able to regain trust in my body and enjoyed cuddling with Isla from the moment she was born. Isla was diagnosed with congenital hip dysplasia before the day was over, which was initially less devastating the second time around, because we knew what to expect. I made sure to make the most of her first week, knowing she’d be in the hip harness after that. It is still sad to know how little skin-to-skin time both of my girls received.

I still struggle with my attempts to re-discover myself in all the roles outside of being a parent. I sought out help and have found relief from the PPD. Even as a former mental health provider, it was difficult for me to identify my experience as depression versus the everyday challenges of being a new mom. As a formerly very patient, easy-going person, I never imagined parenting could be this difficult. I have found it to be the most challenging and life-changing experience to date. I never imagined I’d feel such strong, negative feelings toward these little people whom I love the most. If I'd had more breaks, more balance in the early months, I think it would have made a world of difference. As I make the transition back into clinical social work, my future goal is to work in the postpartum world supporting new families. We need all the support we can get!

Take all the help you can get. Seek out help whenever possible. You will be a better parent if you make yourself a priority! It isn't selfish, lazy, or a sign of weakness to make time for yourself; balance is mandatory for the health of you and your family.

When Birth Roots announced 4th Trimester Bodies Project would be in Portland I was intrigued. I went to the website and read some of the women's stories. They were so moving, I found myself weeping. With some I could relate, and others I just felt so much compassion for their experiences. I wanted to be a part of the movement to help parents feel understood and less alone. The session is on my daughter's birthday, the 4th anniversary of the beginning of my journey as a parent. I hope I can make strides to find acceptance and love for my body again, and I think it's important to capture this moment in time."

Jessica Madison

Jessica Madison (40) and Sam (18 months) 

Photographed in Portland, ME

Jessica shares - 

"I am definitely more accepting of my body since going through pregnancy, birth, and nursing,

It was a tough first year. Deciding to start a family later in life, I had a life and this little person all of a sudden sent it all into upheaval like I'd never expected. It's a wonderful upheaval, but I am a planner and did not realize that this isn't something I can plan; it's all up to him. It's made me a much more tolerant person of all those around me.

It will all work out. It won't be the same or how you might think it'll be, but it'll be wonderful.

I had not met that special person for me by my mid-thirties, so I had made peace with the fact that I may never be a mom in the traditional sense. Then all of a sudden I met my husband, introduced by a friend, we immediately fell in love, were married 13 months after meeting and he really wanted a traditional family. We started trying right away, since we were both staring down 40 and we all know that means that there could be lots of unknowns with the process.

Within a year, we'd had no success, so on the advice of my doctor, started exploring infertility. We quickly found out that we could not get pregnant in the traditional sense. I come from a large, fertile family so it was a bit of surprise. Fortunately, we sped through the range of fertility treatments, right up to IVF.

Within 6 months of a diagnosis, we had undergone all the treatments and were pregnant on our first try! It couldn't have been an easier process, everything worked like clockwork and Sam was born 2 days before his due date! He is the love of my life and I'm so fortunate to be able to spend my days with him!

When Sam was 9 months old, according to my timetable, it was time to do it again. Sam needed a sibling and I would now be 40 when that sibling was born. So we underwent the treatments and we were pregnant again, just like that. Except, we lost that little one at 8 weeks. It was sad, a loss, but at my age, to be expected, our 1 in 10. So we got back on the horse and got it all going again as soon as we could. And we got pregnant again, just like we were supposed to. And again, we lost it at 8 weeks. I've now had 2 miscarriages in the last 8 months and have 5 embryos left. I think I have one last try in me.

This project seemed like a good way to document this process that I've been engulfed in for the last few years. Still hoping for the family of 4 that we planned for, but very happy with our family of 3!"

Jessica Fischer Manuel

Jessica Fischer Manuel (40), James (5), Cooper (4), Hadley (23 months)

North Shore, Mass | Photographed in Portland, ME

Jessica shares - 

"I was diagnosed with PCOS in my twenties so I knew it was possible that I would have trouble getting pregnant. I married my husband at 31 years old and we started trying to have a baby right away. We went through four years of infertility tests, hormone replacements, and treatments before I finally conceived in March of 2010. At my 8 week ultrasound we discovered it was a twin pregnancy. We decided not to tell anyone because we wanted to reveal it to our mothers first, at our 12 week ultrasound.

Because I was considered a high risk pregnancy we went to see a specialist for the 12 week scan. As soon as the wand touched my belly, I knew something was wrong. My mother was there, my husband's mother was there, neither of them knew that it was twins and they were both so excited that they didn't notice. But Corey and I both knew. One of the twins had stopped developing shortly after my 8 week scan. The technician was very quiet, I could see the difference in the two embryos' size and she excused herself to get the doctor. When he came back in he asked our mothers to leave. He told us that yes, we had already lost one of the babies but that he was concerned for the other baby as well. The second baby had a rare neural tube defect called Anencephaly. It is a condition in which the babies body grows but it never develops a brain or skull. It is 100% fatal.

They told me I might miscarry on my own at any time during the pregnancy, I might give birth to a stillborn baby, or I might give birth to a baby that could live for a few moments. The only other option was to have a D&C. This was on a Friday and I would have to wait until Monday for the procedure. This was the only option as far as I was concerned. So I spent the weekend with the shades drawn. On Monday my husband and I went to the operating room and I had to sign paperwork that stated that I was consciously terminating my pregnancy. It seemed like a sick joke. All I had wanted was these babies, but because the baby with no brain still had a heartbeat, it was an abortion. It took another six months for me to feel like I could try again.

I got pregnant pretty quickly because we had figured out what combination of fertility treatments had worked for the first pregnancy. At the first ultrasound (this time at 10 weeks), I could hardly breathe because as soon as the wand touched my belly again, my husband and I saw two sacs and only one developing fetus. The technician couldn't say anything but we both knew we had lost another twin. After the scan we met with a doctor from the practice that I was using who walked in and said, "You have a demised fetus that probably stopped developing at about 8 weeks, and you should feel grateful that the other fetus seems to be developing normally." I'll never forget the words "demised fetus" or the notion that I should feel grateful after having lost three babies.

In my early twenties, I weighed well over 300 pounds. I had a gastric bypass surgery and lost about 175 pounds and had a tummy tuck and breast lift to remove twelve pounds of skin from my chest and abdomen. I wasn't comfortable with my body - fat, thin, pregnant, or postpartum. I have come close, a few times, to feeling confident with my size and shape, but only when I'm fully clothed. Having my babies has certainly given me a chance to be in awe over the strength, capabilities, and resilience of my body, and I definitely don't feel worse about myself postpartum, but I don't feel better either.

I have spent forty years dieting, eating, having surgical and laser procedures, and electrolysis, (to name a few things), all in an attempt to look beautiful. I will always have skin that sags on my arms and thighs, I will always have PCOS and fight hair removal, I am covered in stretch marks, and scars, and my belly button (which was created after my tummy tuck) is totally off center. I realized after my babies that I will never look exactly how I picture a beautiful person to look. And I had to stop chasing it, because if I didn't, the diets and surgeries and insanity would never end. And even though they would never end...I would still never be totally happy with how I looked.

Because of my first experiences I was a nervous wreck through both of my son's pregnancies. I didn't enjoy them and I had really hoped to. I wanted to be pregnant, to feel the baby kick, to feel my milk come in, to embrace each strange occurrence as I grew someone inside of me. But all I felt was fear. And every time there was a spot of blood in my pants, or a movement that took too long to feel, or I accidentally drank caffeinated instead of decaf, I would run to my doctor in a blind panic. Fortunately, both were very typical pregnancies even though I was high-risk and it was mostly my own irrational concerns that kept me up at night.

I didn't expect to get pregnant with my daughter. We thought because I had done fertility treatments to have the boys that I would need to do the same when we wanted to try for a third but I had to change a fertility appointment to a prenatal when I got pregnant on my own. I was far more relaxed with my third pregnancy even though it was the most physically difficult and the first time I experienced sciatica. Sciatica is no joke.

All three of my labors and deliveries were different. My water broke with James at 3 AM and I labored naturally for 18 hours and felt amazing. I couldn't figure out why women thought labor was painful. Then I hit transition and was begging, not only for an epidural, but for someone to knock me out cold so that I might have a shot at not remembering the rest. They started my epidural but had a difficult time with it and by the time I started to feel even a small amount of relief they told me to start pushing. I pushed six times and James was born.

When I started feeling contractions with Cooper, I told them to give me an epidural as soon as I walked into labor and delivery (hardly even dilated). They did and I progressed comfortably and quickly and after eight pushes, out came Cooper. I had false labor with Hadley twice so by the time it was the real deal I hardly made it to the hospital in time because I didn't want to be sent home again. I labored for a very short time with her and pushed about four times before she was born. I guess my easy births were a trade off for a terrible beginning to pregnancy.

I nursed all three babies. James had a weak latch because he was three weeks early and I used a nipple shield for about a month before we got a good rhythm. Cooper and Hadley latched immediately and Hadley was my most demanding nurser. Both boys weened around 10 months even though I wanted to try to go a full year. I had gone back to work when they were about three months old and they preferred the bottle so I pumped for the whole year and supplemented when I started to lose my supply.

The nursing was hard. The sleeplessness was hard. Each of my babies has been very different in their nursing, their sleeping habits, and their personalities. James talked before he turned one but didn't walk until he was 15 months old and needed PT for a year. Cooper started RUNNING at 10 months but hardly spoke until he was almost two. And Hadley. She's the boss. But they all turned out okay. Not just okay. Amazing. Every time I thought I ruined them, they bounced back. Every time I thought a screaming phase wouldn't end, it did. Every time I think it can't possibly get any better than this - that they couldn't possibly get any cuter, or funnier, or smarter, or more polite, ...it does, and they do.

I tried for a long time to create a perfect body, or what I thought a perfect body should look like. I had surgeries, I gained and lost hundreds of pounds, I grew, birthed, and fed, three complete beings. And I still never liked my vessel. This is the only body I get. I am trying so hard to love and appreciate it. I'm not there, but I'm getting closer. These photos are a step in that direction for me."

Christie Fischer

Christie Fischer (35), Sid (almost 3) and Marigold (4 months)

Boston, MA | Photographed in Portland, ME

Christie previously participated in the project in 2015 and 2016

Christie shares - 

"I had a chemical pregnancy after my honeymoon. I have never really talked about it, as we were not ready to be parents. I felt guilty when I was relieved it didn't come to fruition.

This is my body today. It was totally different a year ago and will be totally different a year from now. I used to think it was stagnant. A mold to be kept and chiseled instead of constantly in motion. It changes with life's seasons and stories. Motherhood has etched itself all over my body. My sturdy thighs are encased in cellulite, my breasts filled from an A to DD with milk. My belly hangs as it slowly finds its way back from it's pregnant past. There is no bouncing back. There is only softness. A cozy place for my babies to find home, inside and out.

The transition from 1 to 2 was challenging and isolating. I was weighed down by the feeling that I couldn't give my all to both- that they were each only getting pieces of me. I felt I was letting my son down by introducing this tiny human who was constantly on his mother's body. I felt I was letting my daughter down by not giving her the gift of endless couch laden hours, learning each other and soaking each other in. Some days are still hard, and I feel the ghosts of postpartum depression past creeping in around the periphery. And then other days we are a solid unit, going about our day.

I would give myself and others equal parts gratitude, patience and compassion. I am convinced that 90% of my mothering day is spent with guilt that I am doing it all wrong. All we can do is the very best in the circumstances and moments we are given.

I have participated twice before - and told myself I wouldn't again. I have intimately shared this journey through motherhood with my sister in law. I watched her struggle to become a mother and she stood by me as I navigated the earth shattering newness. She is a friend and confidante who doesn't judge and is gently honest when need be. With her encouragement, I come back, actually IN my fourth trimester, wearing a body I typically drape in flowing dresses and hide under sweatpants. This is real. This is what I really look like when I am journeying back from my pregnant self. It's neither good, or bad, but simply is."

Sara Elizabeth Strassenreiter

Sara Elizabeth Strassenreiter (35) and Bea Elizabeth (6 months)

Long Island, NY | Photographed in Portland, ME

Sara shares - 

"I had a miscarriage at ten weeks on 9/30/15. I had a D&C for a missed miscarriage, and then developed a uterine infection and had an emergency D&C four days later. The experience was incredibly painful for me emotionally. I felt the need to start trying to conceive again immediately, but I had taken a course of estrogen to build up the lining of my uterus in order to prevent adhesions from developing, and didn't get my period for about three months. During that time, I developed extreme back pain and ended up needing to have back surgery in February 2016. I conceived three months after my back surgery, and Bea was born February 20, 2017. Because of the miscarriage, I was extremely anxious during the first trimester--which was compounded by some spotting at eight and twelve weeks. Bea ended up being born twelve days late, and perfectly healthy, much to our delight!

Like many women, body image has been a constant struggle for me, from the time of my early teens. To my surprise, I felt wonderful during pregnancy. It made me feel beautiful and powerful and vulnerable all at the same time. I didn't gain a ton of weight during pregnancy, and I lost most of it fairly quickly after Bea was born, but a few extra pounds remain, which I struggle with a bit, but I try not to let the feelings dominate. I find it absolutely incredible that I have been able to successfully breastfeed and to know that my daughter is perfectly nourished from the milk that my body has produced.

My pregnancy was (mostly) extremely easy, and after the anxiety of the first trimester, I felt about the best mentally that I've ever felt in my life. The postpartum journey, on the other hand, was very rocky. I was in a state of wonder and bliss the first few days after Bea was born, but about ten days after her birth, the anxiety that took over was the worst that I have ever experienced in my life (and anxiety is something that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember). I couldn't sleep, even when the baby was sleeping, and I felt like I was losing grip on reality. There were times that I was so panicked that I felt like I couldn't swallow and couldn't take a deep breathe. I didn't want to be alone with Bea because I was petrified that I would intentionally hurt her, yet I didn't want anyone else to hold her, either. I felt like I was slipping into a black hole. I was so ashamed that I didn't tell anyone until the week of my six-week postpartum check up. Once I shared with my husband and primary care provider, I started getting the help that I so desperately needed. I started to see a maternal health pyschiatrist, who prescribed me an antidepressant, and within weeks I started to feel so much better. Now that we're six months in, I feel like I'm back to my baseline "normal" level of anxiety.

Our journeys are unique, yet there are some universal experiences. I wish I had known more about postpartum anxiety before I gave birth so that I didn't have to suffer in silence and shame for more than a month. There are people who can help you to get better if you speak up. Be open with your partner, parents, family, friends, whoever. Also, this is a cliche, but having a baby is the most incredible experience of my entire life. Labor and delivery were indescribable in terms of what your body can endure, and the sheer and utter relief and joy that comes from meeting your baby for the first time.

I wanted to share my journey through miscarriage and postpartum depression/anxiety. I feel a bit like a warrior and want other women who have and will go through these experiences to know that there's no room for shame."

Samantha Warren

Samantha Warren (34) mother to Worth (3), Tiller and Wright (Twins, Pictured - 16 weeks)

Photographed in Portland, ME

Samantha shares - 

"For the past four years, my body has not been entirely my own. It carried my first son, Worth, to and through a natural birth at nearly 41 weeks and then allowed me to feed him for more than two years, several months into my second pregnancy, which I later learned was with twins. Despite a difficult pregnancy, I took them to term as well, was able to deliver vaginally and today, it's keeping pace with their full feeding needs, meaning I am making about a half gallon of milk a day.

After realizing all that it is capable of, I've taken to trusting my body. I do what it says. If it's hungry, I eat. Thirsty, I drink. And when it asks for ice cream or a chunk of chocolate cake, I, of course, honor that too. That doesn't mean I have fully accepted how my body looks, though I mostly like how it feels. Sometimes I catch my reflection and don't recognize myself. Sometimes, I feel like I am settling by giving into my mom body, squish and stretch marks and all. But right now, I accept it's about function rather than form. It's not that I've given up, but that I've given in. My body has changed, but so has everything else

Whenever I felt overwhelmed with my pregnancies or being a new mama , I remind myself that I am one of billions of women who have done or are doing this. It doesn't minimize my journey or all the feelings along the way, but it provides some reassurance that this is doable, and by incredibly strong women with far few resources that I have. It's a time-tested process that I need to trust. Trust my body. Trust my babies.

After I came home with our first son, I noticed a few faint stretch marks on the underside of my belly. I hadn't seen them before and I of course panicked. My husband admitted he'd seen them at our final appointment with the midwives, but had (perhaps smartly) decided it wasn't something worth mentioning. The day I found out we were pregnant with twins, I googled pictures of twin pregnancies and was terrified by the results. It looked so, well, unnatural. And as I grew, and grew, and grew and grew and grew, and the skin on my stomach stretch and spidered, I realized it was in fact quite supernatural.

When people found out I was pregnant, they would congratulate me but their faces always fell when I told them it was with twins. Every one wants to tell you about their twin mom sister or second cousin who hasn't slept in years and how hard it is. After going to term with the twins, I was so dang uncomfortable and wanted them out now, but was so scared on what awaited me on the other side. So, I am doing this for myself - to try to come to better terms with my saggy, marbled belly which I know will firm and fade over time. And, I am doing this for the woman out there, who just found out she is having twins or just saw the first sign of a stretch mark, to give her faith that while yes, twins are tough, she will one day in a place where she is ok enough with her body and competent enough as a mama of multiples that she can pull her head and her shit and all her babies together enough to get out the door and go do something like this."

Colleen Evans Hurley

Colleen Evans Hurley (36,  30 weeks pregnant), Rowan (7) and Case (4) 

Quincy, Illinois | Photographed in Portland, ME

Coleen also participated in October 25. You can view her original photo and story here. 

Colleen shares - 

"I have must less time to think about how I look now.  I wish we could all try to talk to your children the way you want to be talked to.s

I love the project and loved participating in it last time, it made me feel brave. I'm pregnant again and hoping to deliver at home if I can keep my gestational diabetes in check."

Mary Farsaci

Mary Farsaci (36) mother to Owen (8), and twins Darcy and Erin (3.5)

Photographed in Portland, ME

Mary shares - 

"I have not experienced the loss of a child or a pregnancy but when my son was almost three, a week before his dad and I got married, I found a lump in my breast and was diagnosed with cancer. My husband and I had planned to start trying for another baby after the wedding. Instead, I underwent a unilateral mastectomy and began tamoxifen, a medication that would decrease my risk of cancer recurrence in the long term, but is not compatible with pregnancy or nursing. While not directly related to pregnancy, breast cancer has been a huge part of my journey as a mother, and a huge part of my relationship with my body during these childbearing years. For months after my mastectomy, I mourned the loss of my breast, loss of symmetry, loss of wholeness, and loss of the hypothetical child I had hoped to be nurturing at that point. Six months after the mastectomy, I decided to go off of my medication and move ahead with growing our family. 19 weeks into my second pregnancy, I learned that I was carrying two baby girls!

Like so many girls and women, I suffered from disordered eating and a complicated relationship with my body through my teens and into my twenties. For me, my first pregnancy at age 27 was a liberation. For the first time in years, food was not an issue. I'm not sure how this happened, but I am forever grateful that it did. I tried to eat well, but did not worry about restricting what I ate or indulging my sweet tooth.

I really didn't like being pregnant at all, and ranged from uncomfortable to miserable on any given day or night, but for once my woes were not related to my perception of how my body looked. In the months that followed the birth of my son, the pregnancy weight melted off, and then some. Even so, I certainly did not feel like myself. Owen only wanted to sleep on me, and to be held constantly. My ass -- one of my fuller features -- had gone flat. Usually small-chested, I hardly knew what to do with the over-producing melons that my breasts had turned into. My doctor put me on a long list of dietary restrictions to see if it would calm Owen's stomach when, in hindsight, he was probably just getting too much milk.

I went back to work full-time, and finding time and energy to exercise, something that had previously been a huge part of my identity, was a challenge. I felt exhaustion like I had never felt before. When Owen was two, I ran a half-marathon, the first road race I had run since before my pregnancy. This was definitely a postpartum turning point for me. My food issues remained largely resolved, I was done nursing, and I felt strong again. Unfortunately, my cancer diagnosis came nine months later.

Giving birth to two beautiful, healthy girls a year and a half after breast cancer is a greater blessing than I could have hoped for. Even so, that pregnancy itself is hands down the hardest thing I have ever done. During the first trimester, I was floored by fatigue, chronic nausea, and daily vomiting. Shortly after week 15 or so when I could eat again, I really began to "pop." By 20 weeks I was large and uncomfortable, by 25 weeks strangers were asking me if I was due any day, and by 28 weeks I took medical leave from my full time teaching job. I was anemic and huge and exhausted, and could not stand up and teach without getting short of breath. By 8 or 9 each morning, I could feel my upper abdominal muscles ripping apart, and the only way ease the pain was to lie down. Which I did. A lot. The mastectomy followed by the twin pregnancy took a huge toll on my body and spirit but, at the same time, gave me an understanding of my own strength. I began to view myself as tough, both mentally and physically, and took pride in my awesome (in the true sense of the word) body. My body was capable of healing quickly from surgery. My body was capable of growing and housing two babies inside of it at once. If I can do that, I can do just about anything.

I would describe my postpartum experience with my son as positive, but intense and all-consuming. I was completely in love with him. I held him constantly. I had to work hard to be sure that I showered and left the house each day. If my sister had not been there cooking meals, I don't know what I would have eaten those first weeks. It was strange to now know all the answers to the little problems that would arise, which sometimes caused more than a little anxiety. Looking back, maybe he was a needy baby, or maybe I was overly attentive to every need. I'll never really know! Likely, some of both.

The postpartum experience with my girls was totally different than the first time around. Their birth was triumphant for me; Against the odds, I birthed them into my own hands, squatting on all fours on a hospital gurney in the middle of a brightly lit OR, surrounded by a dozen strangers in scrubs and masks. However, my water had broken prematurely, just shy of 35 weeks, so the girls were taken from me as soon as they were born. My stage three labor was rough, involving retained placenta, hemorrhaging, and a whole lot of other bodily fluids. The girls spent 4 days in the NICU, then an additional week in the nursery of our local hospital, gaining weight and learning to feed. The days in the hospital were hard; sitting with my girls for 12 hours a day, doing all I could to speed up the process and bring them home, but mostly just waiting, not knowing when that time would come; going home at night to shower, see my boy (4 years old at the time), sleep, and pump.

Despite the rocky start, once I had my girls home with me, the postpartum months actually seemed quite a bit easier than they had with their brother. For starters, I no longer had two humans inside of me, and I felt like a million bucks! I could walk! I could stand! I could reach the kitchen sink to wash dishes! Being premature, the girls were pretty sleepy for the first couple of months, and spent a lot of time sleeping on their own--NOT in my lap as their brother had. Such freedom was so foreign to me! I pumped around the clock on my hospital grade breast pump, extracting as much milk as I could from my one lactating breast, but this gave us the flexibility to bottle feed, giving Dad something that he could help out with. Also, the mothering thing was not new this time. I knew how to swaddle. I knew how to burp a baby. I knew how to hook my boobs up to weird machines. I knew that sometimes a baby had to cry for a couple of minutes while I tended to her sister, and that she would BE OK. Mostly, I think that the four years of life I had lived since my son was born had mellowed me. I had a greater confidence in my own abilities, but I also knew that I did not have to do it all alone.

My truths: motherhood is the best thing ever, and it is really fucking hard. Find your village--we cannot do this in isolation. After becoming a mother, you will change forever, inside and out. You will not go "back" to your former self. (So talk of getting your pre-baby body back is nonsense.) It is OK to mourn the loss of certain parts of yourself, but also know that you are still you, and you will evolve forward into a stronger, wiser, deeper version of yourself. I would tell my former self and any new parent that you are beautiful always, you are stronger than you could ever imagine, and you are doing a great job.

I was first attracted to this project as a lover of photography, and as a strong believer in the idea of celebrating the beauty and strength of mothers of all shapes, sizes, and journeys. The deeper I go into understanding the project, the more I love it! As a mother and a postpartum doula, it is so important to me to honor the changes that women go through as they become moms--changes on the physical level, as well as the emotional level; changes to their lifestyle and changes to their sense of self. I also think there is a primal need to share one's story with others who will truly listen, as a way to process that story, whether it is happy or sad or some of both. I applaud you for providing a way for women to share their stories, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for hearing mine."

Bethany Blake

Bethany Blake (35), Solaya Lee and Giselle Marie (Identical twins - 5) and Zenon Elliot (4).

Photographed in Portland, ME

Bethany shares - 

"I was in 4th grade when I started my period, I was wearing 2 sports bras in 5th grade because my boobs were already so big. When we created aol.com e-mails in 5th grade I picked Belle because she was my favorite Disney character, years later through AIM (remember that?!) I was harassed online, anonymously by a group of girls making fun of my body - saying it should be belly not Belle, they said - "Go lose weight, you should stop eating, you are ugly".

I have always been aware of my body, I have always loved my breasts, my strong muscular legs, my long eyelashes but it was my stomach that I had the most insecurities with because of other people. In middle school boys started asking if I were pregnant because of my big stomach, and I know my friends referred to me as "the fat friend." Even at my thinnest or fittest, I had a big belly. I tried diet pills, I tried hardcore exercising, I tried not eating, I tried throwing up after eating, I tried waist trainers. My whole life I have had a belly and I was ashamed of it - at 10 years old I started to believe that it was unnatural, gross, unhealthy, unattractive to have a belly.

After I had my babies, my belly was still there - but then I was hearing "oh she let herself go," and I was like "wait, no, this has always been here." I think that really started my own self love/body positivity journey because everyone was having something to say about MY body. The body that birthed 3 babies in 18 months, the body that I should be the only one caring about. Let's be honest my stomach is still my #1 insecurity but to put it simple, I just stopped caring what others thought of it. Nobody wants their own children to be ashamed of who they are, what they look like so I personally do not and will not say anything negative about my own body in front of them. I wear bikinis, I sleep naked, I walk around the house in a bra and undies, my children shower with me. Because my body is natural, normal and beautiful - and parenthood snapped that reality into my head.

Within one year I left a bad situation, moved from California to Boston, met a man, fell in love, got pregnant, found out we were expecting twins, moved into an apartment with him, and had twin girls. I had ZERO expectations of birthing, postpartum, parenting. I remember leaving the hospital with our girls who weighed just over 5 pounds each and asking ourselves "Is this real?" We didn't understand how the hospital was letting us leave with these two tiny beautiful human beings. We were exhausted and unprepared!

I breastfed because it was what my older sisters did. My girls lost weight during their first month at home and I thought it was all my fault, that I was doing it wrong. I remember the lactation consultant would literally grab my breast and squeeze my nipples to place them in my children's mouth, she would pick each baby up and move them around in different positions while I just sat there and cried for weeks. She tried to find the best position for not only them but me as well. I can not remember a single thing she said to me but I know she kept me going. I was so checked out, my nipples were sore, cracked and I was so tired of just sitting all day feeding them. That first month was the hardest, after the girls started gaining weight we got in a groove - I got myself a Netflix account and spent hours binge watching shows with a baby on each breast. The girls just self-weaned at 5 years old. Their brother who was born when they were 18 months is 4 now and still nursing. Our breastfeeding journey is so not over yet!

I got pregnant with my son before my twin girls were one - whatever anxiety I was experiencing was always blamed on "you just had twins," "you are pregnant." One day I was unmotivated, the next day I had this unstoppable energy and both days I would be agitated. Everything bugged me - and because my children could do no wrong - it was every single thing my coparent did that bugged me. Because he was there, he was getting the wrath of it all.  To this day I wonder how the hell he dealt with me - because I was mean. When I went in for my sons 1 year check up, our family doctor asked how I was doing and I decided to just tell her. She asked if anyone had spoke with me about Postpartum Depression or Anxiety? I didn't think I had it because I didn't want to hurt my babies or myself.  I remember going home and telling my partner but he already knew. He knew the whole time, I am sure he said it a few times and I shut him up. I loved him a bit more in that moment knowing that he knew and he dealt with it as a new father the best he could.

My children are 5 and 4 now, and things are not perfect but just like everyone else, we are working on things and taking it one day at a time. Knowing that postpartum depression and anxiety are real and can happen to anyone, and can happen differently to anyone has helped guide us in the direction we needed.

I am very transparent, I enjoy sharing my stories with others. I have lived a very interesting, hard, and fun life. I will be 35 in a few days and I feel like this is a perfect time to just share the story of me and my children. I am so excited to be a part of this! My self love journey is continuing every day. I want my children to be proud of me and sense that I am proud of me too. "

Bri Caruthers

The beautiful Bri Caruthers and Titus (16 months).

Bri's pregnancy was unexpected and she wasn't with his father at the time. She was overwhelmed when she found out and more than anything was scared. She didn't have a job that could support them both at the time, was temporarily living with a friend and wasn't certain about the support from her community - her family and friends. Bri was about 20 weeks pregnant when it became apparent that she was about to become homeless.

She went to a pregnancy care center that helped her make phone calls and then she found a woman and children's shelter in Portland, Maine that she could go to in her third trimester. Bri was very sick throughout her pregnancy, throwing up every day and did not have the support of her sons father as she'd hoped. She finally got the call that a spot had opened up and the shelter would take her and so she made the drive. Bri came from a comfortable, conservative family and says her only exposure to homelessness were people panhandling on the street. It hadn't occurred to her that she was the face of homelessness, that was her, but here she was.

She dealt with a lot of guilt over her son being born homeless and not being excited about her early pregnancy but trusted she was in the place she needed to be. Three months after she'd entered the shelter, Bri gave birth to Titus just as she'd hoped. She had found her mothers Ina May Gaskin Guide to Childbirth when she was a teenager and knew from that point she was interested in birth. She felt moved to experience a natural birth and wanted to prove to herself she was strong and could do something like that. She delivered in hospital without medication or intervention and it was very wonderful experience. She's relived her birth over and over again and she needed that in the midst of her journey. Titus had an undiagnosed tongue tie they discovered at 1 month which led to some issues with her milk supply and made breastfeeding difficult but everything changed when she went to a breastfeeding support group.

When Titus was 6 months old, just five days before Christmas, he and Bri were finally able to leave the shelter. She is grateful for everyone who helped her along the way and the friends she made in the process and is currently working on her certification to become a birth doula to help other women herself. She's starting school in a couple of months and things are looking up.

Bri says that this experience screams of a brave and beautiful thing and she is ready to shout just that.