Lisa Liang Philpotts (34 - she/her) and J (2)
Stevenage, England | Boston, MA
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
It’s been a lot to unpack. I was very proud of the strength of my body during labor, but I experienced debilitating back pain in the months after I gave birth. Back pain was something I had experienced in the past, but not to that severity. At its worst, I couldn’t even hold J, and it’s hard to articulate how deeply frustrating that was. On top of that, I was struggling with coming to terms that I wasn’t "losing the baby weight." I would catch myself thinking things like "Maybe if I lost the weight, I would feel better," or feeling like I was less attractive than I was prior to having a child, or feeling like my body was "broken." It was a major wake-up call that I needed to work through my internalized fatphobia and ablelism. Despite talking big talk about respecting all bodies, I was not respecting my own, and I knew I had to unpack that for the sake of myself, as well as for J. It’s tough when we get so many messages about how desirable it is when people “bounce back” or “snap back” after pregnancy. I ended up donated all of the clothes I had grown out of, unfollowed anyone on social media hawking weight loss, and listened to podcasts and read up on the Health at Every Size movement. I went to physical therapy and I’ve learned to listen to what my body is telling me, when I should enjoy more movement, when I should rest. It took me two years and I know I will need to continue to check myself, but I am at the point where I am feeling peace and joy in respect to my body. J put their hand on my stomach the other day and asked, "Mommy has a round belly?" And I laughed and said "Yes!" They asked, "There is a baby in it?" I said, "No, that is just the way it is! Bellies can be round or flat, big or small." It felt like progress, as there was a time when that comment would have made me feel like the pits.
What was your postpartum experience?
Looking back on it, that postpartum time felt like a surreal dream. I had a genuinely amazing labor experience, but the days afterwards were tiring. I was emotional and would cry, often out of happiness but sometimes stress. I was on a magnesium drip and was put on blood pressure medications. My milk was slow to come in so baby was nursing non-stop. I had to use a supplemental nursing system and was instructed to pump after every nursing session. I remember waking up in the hospital one night, looking at the clock on the wall, and being alarmed that the numbers on the clock were changing fonts. I went back to sleep and when I woke up later I assumed I had just had a bad dream.
A few nights later, back at home, I woke up at night and looked at my husbands face. All of his facial features looked like they were swimming around. I looked at a painting on the wall of a whale and I saw the whale’s mouth opening and closing. I realized that this was NOT a dream. My husband asked if I was okay and I said, “I’m hallucinating. I know that what I’m seeing isn’t real, but I’m hallucinating.” That earned me a trip to the emergency room and a psychiatric consult. The emergency room nurse was funny and kind. I relaxed on a stretcher while some tests were run and I waited to hear what was wrong with me. A stroke and postpartum psychosis were ruled out. The doctors’ best guesses were that I was experiencing a very rare side effect of a medication I was on, or that I was just very tired. We tapered the medication and eventually I did get more sleep and the hallucinations stopped, so I guess I’ll never know.
We have a doctor in our area who provides in home fourth trimester care to mother and baby, and she was a wonderful support. She answered our nervous new parent questions, brought comforting tea for me and vaccines for J, and made sure my torn perineum was healing properly. When we first met, my husband and I were stressed out about baby losing weight and needing to use the supplemental nursing system. She walked me through breastfeeding, step by step, from pointing out a comfy chair in our living room for me to get settled in, to showing me different ways of holding baby and watching them latch on. Thanks to her and good fortune on our part, feeding became a breeze. Things were looking up. My husband went back to work and as my maternity leave went on, I became more comfortable with this mom thing. Getting out of the house for 5 minutes felt like a victory. Strapping baby into the carrier and catching the bus to meet up with other new parents was another victory! Then, my 12 weeks of leave were up.
I knew that I wanted to work, but how I wished leave were longer. J seemed so tiny still. I had physical therapy appointments for my aches and pains that I needed to go to. I clutched J and wept before leaving for work in the morning. I went from an easy breezy breastfeeding relationship to agonizing over my pumping output at work, the pump never seeming to draw the milk out the way baby could. I tried every trick and supplement. I’d get home and J was often crying, and I’d soothe them by bouncing on an exercise ball while holding them, or breastfeeding her, and once breastfeeding them AND bouncing on the ball at the same time in desperation. I pumped after I put J to bed at night, wishing I were asleep in bed myself. And my goodness, the sleep deprivation was brutal. My baby was not a “good sleeper.” I work in a hospital and remember thinking “I am so, so tired. Good thing I’m not a surgeon!” As for my social life, I missed my friends but I was so pooped that I just wanted to be with my husband and J on the weekends. That first year was often hard and lonely. People would say to us, “It never gets easier!” But me and my husband agreed that it got so much easier for us as J got older. We love this toddler phase of life that J is in now.
What is your truth that you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent?
Don’t compare yourself harshly to others or your past self. Treat yourself with tenderness.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
Before I had J, I was involved in work in which I would share my experiences of growing up biracial and growing up as an immigrant with others, and it was deeply meaningful when people, young folks especially, mentioned that they found comfort or connection in what I shared. It certainly made me feel less alone when I read or heard stories from others that I could identify with. My desire to share my motherhood story stems from that.