Kate Rawley Warters

Kate Rawley Warters (38 - she/her), Edith (4) and Jude (17 months). You can view Kate’s original photo and story from 2018 here.

Austin, TX

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

The greatest compliment anyone ever gives me is when they tell me my children look like me. Because to me, they are the most beautiful, precious, perfect little things in the world. They are flawless, not in the sense that they meet some societal standard of perfection, but in the fact that they are exactly as they should be, just as they are, in body, mind and spirit. And if I am reflected in them, then this means a bit of me must also be beautiful and precious and flawless, just as I am. Parenthood forced me to reconcile the discord between the appreciation I easily give to others, and the criticality and distain I sometimes give to myself.  How can I adore my children, knowing they come from me, and not somehow also value and appreciate myself? How can I teach them the significance in their uniqueness, and not also accept and celebrate my own? How can I hold the world accountable for valuing them just as they are, and not also expect and demand the world accommodate me as I am. If they are of me, and if they are perfect, then my body is also allowed to be perfect, just as it is.

Through exposure to inclusive and body-positive communities, I’ve gained the confidence to disassociate my value as a human from my physical body. My body is not me. I am so much more than my body. And as myself, I can be - and in fact I am - valuable and lovable and desirable and successful and happy. My body, just as it is, enables me to live and function as me.

It’s taken me time and maturity and the humbling experience of becoming a parent, but I no longer believe there is a righteousness in having a thin, attractive, or even physically fit body. Our physical manifestation – and it’s compliance with social norms -  is not symbolic of our overall value as people. There is no moral superiority it being thin or conventionally attractive. My body is a vessel. It enables my joy and love and success. But it is not the gatekeeper to who I am or what I can have. My body is fine the way it is.

What was your postpartum experience?

I delivered my second child via a scheduled, very happy, family-centered cesarean. Our care providers were incredibly responsive to our requests and needs. As soon as the doctor cut the cord, the nurse brought him around and laid him on my bare chest, where he relaxed and rested while I was closed up. I touched his soft, sweet body and marveled at his mess of highlighter yellow hair. I was able to see him transition from being a part of me into coming awake to the world as an individual being. I missed all of these moments with my oldest daughter because of a traumatic birth, so every second of his birth filled a huge void and helped me heal from those missing moments.

Still to this day I have a lingering mourning that I will never know traditional childbirth. I will never have that revered experience of being physically opened through pain and strength to welcome new life into the world. But I also take great comfort in the positive outcomes of both of my births. I have gratitude for the safety and health of my children and myself. I have (almost) forgiven my body and myself for the hardships of my first labor and postpartum.

What is your truth? 

When a new baby arrives, they are not the only new life born from the birth. You also become new through the postpartum experience. Life as you know it changes. Everything changes. Your sense of self. Your interests and desires. Your schedule. Your habits. Your needs and wants. Your expectations. Your relationships – with your partner, your parents, your friends, your work. Everything changes. Some of it you recognize and welcome. Some of it feels like it is happening to you without your consent. A lot of the time, it’s confusing. The change can come with a sense of loss muddled right beside the feelings of expanding love. Sometimes in the change it can even feel like you are gone, a shell, waiting for something to replace what doesn’t exist there anymore. As you go through this change, try and remember that just like your brand new baby needs care and compassion and guidance, the new you does too. It’s not easy to be fresh and tender and developing. But just like a baby grows so quickly and gains independence through a series of tiny and major milestones, so will you. You will become strong and aware and become what you are supposed to be.  

Becoming a parent made me a new person. Sometimes I miss the old me. Most of the time I am proud of and confident in the new me. Regularly I feel challenged by the constant, shifting change. Regularly I am unsure of where I am headed. Sometimes I am mournful of the me that I’ve moved on from. But, almost always, I am grateful and happy. Today I am more than I was before I was a parent I wouldn’t go back.

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

I found this project in the months after my first child was born, and it was such a relief to see so many diverse stories of parenthood and postpartum told openly. Seeing the variety and the raw, honest truth felt liberating. Reading other’s stories helped me find an acceptance of my own birth and 4th trimester experience. I really struggled after my daughter was born. Our birth experience was hard and disappointing. Our breastfeeding efforts were unsuccessful and isolating. My transition into motherhood felt lonely and sad. And all of this led to shame, embarrassment and a sense of failure. Being a consumer of this community guided me through the hardest parts of early postpartum. I want to share my story in hopes that it can offer some comfort and hope for another parent.

I want to participate in this movement because being a member of this community exposed me to a new depth of awareness in issues like inclusivity, social justice, disability, body positivity, mental health and feminism. Prior to my engagement here, these were topics in which I considered myself both informed and liberally-inclined. I thought I “got it.” I thought I was an ally. But really, upon gaining more exposure, I came to realized how uniformed, and frankly sometimes even biased or intolerant, I actually was - even though I didn’t mean to be, even though I didn’t want to be. Learning and maturing through exposure and thoughtful challenge has been a gift of this movement. I am grateful to the 4th Trimesters Bodies Project for being a space that forces awareness and conversation.

Victoria Means

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

Houston, TX

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was your postpartum experience? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is your truth? 

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

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

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

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

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

Constance Gibbs

Constance Gibbs (33 - she/her) and Charlotte Anne (16 months)

Encinitas, California | Columbia, MO

“I have been pregnant three times but only have one child earthside. My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at seven weeks, five days. I found out during a routine ultrasound at eight weeks when the baby did not have a heartbeat. It was devastating. I chose to have a D&C a few days later. I then got pregnant with my daughter and experienced a subchorionic hematoma (SCH) in the first trimester. After a few terrifying weeks, the bleeding went away on its own. So when I started bleeding during my third pregnancy this summer, I desperately hoped it would go away. But, the bleeding did not stop. I bled for two weeks and finally miscarried naturally at home, sitting on the toilet in my bathroom. Miscarriage is very lonely and isolating. I used to think the hardest part is un-telling family and friends about the baby. But now I know the hardest part is trying to conceive after loss. It requires a lot of strength to heal your body physically and mentally and dive headfirst into the trauma that caused your pain in the first place. I’m still waiting for my second rainbow baby.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I felt like my body was not my own during pregnancy, birth and postpartum. I so badly wanted a healthy child. But miscarriage robbed me of any joy in pregnancy, and instead I was filled with anxiety and fear. My plan was to have an unmedicated birth, and I switched care from my OB to a hospital birth center in my second trimester. But at 36 weeks, I found out my daughter was footling breech. I tried everything to get her to turn head down including going to the chiropractor, laying on an ironing board with my feet in the air and doing handstands in the pool. But she did not turn. At 39 weeks, I had a scheduled cesarean birth. I was so relieved when I heard her first cry. I remember it felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds.

What was your postpartum experience?

I felt like I had been robbed of a normal pregnancy and birth, so I was determined to breastfeed my daughter. It seemed like the only thing I had control over. But, I did not realize how all-consuming breastfeeding would be and how little control I actually had. The only thing I thought about was the last time my daughter ate and when she needed to eat again. Many moms told me that their baby weight melted off them while they breastfed, but I felt the opposite. I had to eat and drink constantly to produce enough milk. I went back to work after 12 weeks of maternity leave and had to be very diligent about pumping sessions and putting my baby first, which meant skipping meetings and missing out on lunch dates with coworkers. Toward the end, I was eating oatmeal and drinking Gatorade every day, and pumping after my daughter went to bed, just to make enough ounces for her to drink the next day. It was physically and emotionally exhausting, but it was everything to me to meet my goal. We made it to 14 months of breastfeeding! Breastfeeding is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the thing of which I am most proud.

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

Don’t quit on your hardest day. There are going to be hard days. A lot of them. But you’re doing a good job! You’re doing what is best for you and your baby. And that’s all that matters.

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

I found a ton of postpartum and breastfeeding support in the Instagram community including through the 4th Trimester Bodies Project. Without these parents, I would have quit on my hardest day. But, I didn’t, and I’m proud of myself for not quitting. I wanted to be a part of 4TBP because I think the participants are so strong and resilient, and I want to acknowledge that I am strong and resilient, too, even if I don’t feel like that most days.

Jessica Althoff

Jessica Althoff (41), Tino (2.5), and Gus (3.5 months)

Los Angeles, CA

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

In the first weeks postpartum, I felt embarrassed to even have my 2 year old see me naked. But I am now okay with it. I realize I likely will never have my "pre-baby body" back, but oh well. A few years ago, I saw something that said, “you'll have a baby body as long as you have a baby”. Just seeing this helped me immensely as it gave me permission to cut myself some slack. I still have two babies, so I still have my "baby body" and will for a few more years. I obviously have a some self-consciousness, especially living in an area where people are so fit. But, it is my body and I am learning to love it.

What was your postpartum experience?

I planned to have a non-medicated birth and practiced self-hypnosis in the months prior to and early hours of Tino's birth. I went to the hospital feeling so confident and relaxed, and very little pain. It did NOT go as planned and several hours later I was given pitocin, followed by an epidural (I just could not find it in me to self-hypnotize those pitocin contractions away or recover from them in time to get ready for the next one). 24 hours later, I had an emergency cesarean. I was devastated and tried to talk the doctor out of it. I felt like a failure.

But, we had a very healthy baby. I know I should have been ultimately grateful but I still felt like I had failed our baby and that my doctor could have waited (I know she couldn't). I follow a lot of holistic and natural mama bloggers online and I allowed myself to fall into the belief that the natural home birth is the best way. I felt guilty for the better part of a year and then again when I got pregnant with our second baby. I knew going into it that I would need another cesarean and started feeling guilty months before he was born. I know that both of my guys were born healthy and with no complications because of the surgeries, but that didn't initially help with the guilt.

The second one was scheduled, so was less stressful but the recovery felt harder. Maybe it is the toddler at home. I felt sad for him because I could no longer carry him and let him play on me. I missed holding his little body and being able to comfort him by carrying him. He is still a baby and in one day had to grow up just a little bit.

Postpartum is really easy and really hard all at the same time. There are moments when I feel like that this is the only thing I was born to do and things are exactly as they should be, like breastfeeding my second baby. And then there are moments when I am sure they would all be better off without me. There are moments when I am lying in bed with my little guys and I just can't help thinking how wonderful life is. And then there are moments when I am convinced I will lose them both too early. I sometimes feel like I have everything handled, dinner is cooked and no one is crying. And then there are times when all three of us are crying. To me, having a toddler and an infant is a lot like triage. Much of my stress comes from constantly having to decide which baby needs their needs met first. This decision always makes me feel guilty. So, there is a lot of guilt baked into my motherhood experience but there is a lot of joy also. I find that I am the most relaxed and happy when we are just at home, snuggling. Or both kids are asleep on me. I love this stage so much and I already miss Gus's fourth trimester.

What is your truth?
It doesn't get easier but you get stronger and better at it. Also, say yes to ALL of the help.

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

I started following on Instagram and the images are so beautiful. I am desperate to really soak in this time with my babies. It is so fleeting. I thought this would a way to have a keepsake. And also to be a part of something that is greater than us.

Jill O'Donohue

Jill O'Donohue (36), Henrik (4.5), and Angus (11 months)

Jill is a previous project participant, you can view her previous photo and story from 2016 here.

Winnipeg, Canada | Minneapolis, MN

Jill shares -

“I have never felt comfortable in my body, always wishing for something I am not. But, after seeing the incredible tiny people my body grew, I am slowly becoming more comfortable and proud of my own skin. My babies have changed my body (shrunk some parts, "expanded" other parts, stretched, marked...), it is not the change I always longed for, but it is the change I needed. I will always struggle with the "why am I not smaller, fitter, flatter...?" but when I have these moments of doubt or shame, I now try to step back and look at the lives created and remind myself that THIS body did that. Chubby as it may be, perfection is not too far off. I have the pictures from the first time I participated in 4TBP hanging up in our bedroom. They remind me that my body is mine, and I can be proud of that. If my kids can look at me with no judgement and love, I need to do that for myself too. Slowly but surely, I will get there.

Getting pregnant with our first son Henrik, happened faster than I ever though possible, so when it took us about a year to conceive Angus, I secretly struggled with disappointment month after month. On the outside I was so laid back and easily answered the well-meaning friends "when will you have another baby?" question with "oh who knows, maybe one day!" But inside, I wanted to be pregnant so badly. I knew my body could do it, so it was hard to have no control or the ability to make it happen, as I wanted. I can now see, that when I did get pregnant, is was exactly when I was supposed to. I love the age gap between my boys and wouldn't have it any other way. If only the disappointed me could have know that all those months.

Angus was born by cesarean. It was a planned cesarean because my first (long) labour ended in cesarean. I struggled with the decision to have a planned second cesarean. It felt selfish. I think because of the social pressure to have "natural" birth. I knew in my heart, because of how my first labour went, that my pelvis was not designed as a baby exit, but worried that people would think less of me. It was a strange mix of emotions because I am not at all ashamed of my first cesarean, I am proud of my scar, but somehow the word "elective" caused me great guilt. At 36(ish) weeks, when Angus flipped his little bum into a breech position, it was like he and my body knew - let's make it so this mama has no choice. Cesarean birth is birth, when it's the safe way for this baby to enter the outside world and it's the way it should be.

Low milk supply made breastfeeding a challenge with my first son (SNS feeds, medication, pumping...). It was easily the hardest thing I have ever done. I felt tremendous pressure to exclusively breastfeed, and the decision to supplement felt like such a failure. As he grew, and thrived, I was able to see that our "dual feeding system" was ideal. He got the benefits of breast milk and the supplement formula made for a mom who wasn't stressed. We breastfed for 15 months and it was awesome.

Although I was ready to supplement (again) with my second, there was a glimmer of hope, "maybe this time will be different" in the back of my mind. I don't think the pressure to exclusively nurse ever really goes away. We quickly realized that my milk supply was similar the second time around and he too would need the benefits that supplement formula could provide. At 7 months he decided himself he was done with the breast. I of course wish he would have wanted to nurse longer, but I was proud of our breastfeeding journey and he too is thriving!

I chose to participate in this movement for the second time, because I have been inspired over and over by the images and stories shared. I want to show the world that being a mom takes strength, imperfections and love. I am in love with this this journey, honoured to say "I am Henrik and Angus' mom" and I am proud of the person I am."

Anita Smithson

Anita Smithson (34 - 39 weeks pregnant), Jack (6), and Ava (4)

Minneapolis, MN

Anita is a previous project participant, You can view her original photo and story from 2016 here.

Anita shares -

“I had one miscarriage in April 2011. That baby was due the same week I conceived Jack. It was emotionally really hard to endure a miscarried pregnancy but then very bittersweet because it’s very hard to imagine life without Jack.

I want to teach my children that all bodies are good bodies. We talk about the strength in our bodies, and right now being pregnant there has been a lot of talk about how my body is growing a human but that it does get big to give baby room to grow. I’ve always loved my pregnant body - instead of struggling with the changes I’ve loved the bumps, booty, and the skin/hair perks which are superficial. Being pregnant & loving my pregnant body gave me an appreciation for the after parts - because I know the good they did and also because I felt less vulnerable or maybe just learned to not care what others thought. My self worth has never been heavily weighed on what others thought but after having kids I really felt able to push aside any of the outside opinions on what I should be or my body should be. I started working out more - but to have more breath to play and dance, and to be stronger. Not necessarily to lose weight or get a certain shape. Just to feel as physically strong as I could.

The lead up to my current pregnancy has been a new phase since my Iowa 4TBP shoot. I felt frustrated and misled by the former OBGYN group I was with. I felt unheard, and like I was not participating in my own healthcare but was being told “this is what we do.” So, I sought out a patient-centered midwife for my well care not knowing if we’d want to try for a third child and then navigate the world of VBAC’s. I educated myself and learned how many interventions I had experienced that weren’t based on ACOG best practices but rather the preferences of my prior OBGYNs.

So, with this third child I feel like I’m going to experience the last of the big possible birth experiences. I had an induction with Jack. A cesarean with Ava. And now, if all goes as hoped I’ll go into labor on my own. And if I’m induced, I’ll be induced by a midwife group who believes in me and my body’s ability to deliver my baby.

I was told I couldn’t breastfeed Jack because of a gallbladder surgery and a D&C for retained placenta (I now know that I could have - that there was no medical reason to stop). And then my cesarean baby Ava was nursed until 26 months old despite the challenges with her delivery (planned cesarean because the OB said she was too big to deliver - she was 8 lb 3 oz - but they said it was risking injury or death to deliver her due to size..).

So, now I’m trying to not have my expectations get too high for this baby - with a more calm & family centered VBAC being planned as well as the immediate breastfeeding relationship we hope to establish. I expected my old medical team would give me options and help me make an informed decision but now I feel they gave me their preferred plan and I agreed to that not knowing I had other options.

My current experience is empowering because I feel much more educated, prepared, and like I’m actually participating in my care instead of having my medical care done to me.

My unsolicited advice to pregnant people is to seek out independent birth education and not rely on just the education provided by your medical team. Minneapolis has a great birth Community for this. My truth or knowledge to share is that it’s so important to be honest with yourself, even if being honest with yourself means making big scary decisions. Big scary decisions - about relationships, medical providers, your experiences - aren’t always fun but be honest with yourself because you won’t regret listening to that honesty inside of yourself and you won’t regret making the decision to make something right. I wish I had done that with my first two children’s pregnancies.

I believe in conversations and sharing our experiences. I believe we have more in common but until we start openly sharing we won’t find our common ground. I believe we need to listen to the stories of others and really hear them. The more we share our pregnancy & birth stories - the more we will force improvements to maternity care. The more we listen to our struggles & joys of our bodies - the more we will normalize them. The more we listen to the struggles of parents who look different than ourselves - the more we understand the unique struggles they have but also find our shared struggles. And then we can start to find ways to support each other and get out of those struggles. “

Jessica Herrera

Jessica Herrera (35), Miles Parker (2), and Ezra Jacob (6 months)

Miami, FL

Jessica shares -

“Being pregnant were the times I felt the most comfortable with my body. I felt natural and beautiful despite being big and swollen. More than anything, the experience taught me to value my body by taking care of it. It wasn't just about the way I looked, it was the realization that my babies were relying on me both during the pregnancy but also after birth. Suddenly, my view of self care wasn't a waste of time or of being selfish but an earnest way of caring for my babies. I'm so much more aware of what I what I put in my body and making sure to get enough rest. I liked my pre-pregnancy body and youthful looks, but I have a deep appreciation for my new body because it's evidence my boys were here.

For my first pregnancy, I was committed to having a natural, vaginal birth. I did the stretches, drank the red raspberry leaf tea, and did all the research. At almost 39 weeks, I was admitted because I was slowly leaking fluid. The induction process began and thirty hours later, Miles was born via cesarean. I was exhausted, elated to have my baby, while mourning the birth I thought I could have. I didn’t realize the onslaught of intense emotions I would experience after birth.

Recovery seemed to be going well the first couple of days but I was very anxious and felt like I needed to be awake for every moment. Even now as I share this, I realize it was the first signs of the very intense and undiagnosed postpartum anxiety I experienced. My son had jaundice and I was told he may not be able to be discharged with me. In an effort to get my son well enough to come home with me, and to avoid giving him formula, I pumped and fed my baby every hour and a half. I barely slept. The next day we were home. I stayed home with Miles and breastfed him until he was 13 months old and just after I realized I was pregnant with Ezra.

I had felt like I was just getting to be myself again so although I was thrilled to be pregnant, I had a feeling of “oh no, so soon?” mixed with a twinge of guilt for even thinking that. Right away, I shut down the idea of a VBAC because I wasn’t sure I could endure the hours of labor to end up with a cesarean anyway. Plus, scheduling was ideal because I could arrange for childcare and be home with both my babies as quickly as possible. It ended up being a worse experience.

The anesthesia they gave me made me feel sick, it took longer to recover, and because I couldn’t hold the baby myself because I was so weak they were trying to convince me to give Ezra formula instead of letting me nurse him. Finally, a nurse who is also a lactation specialist came in. She was given the mission to convince me to bottle feed my baby but after speaking to me, she helped me nurse my baby and taught my husband how to help me latch him on.

Things seemed to be getting better but by the next day, I knew there was something wrong with my incision. After a few days of being dismissed by nurses and ignored by my doctor, it was clear that something was very wrong. I had a staph infection and was not able to go home when planned. It was incredibly painful, itchy, and after having a bad reaction to the initial antibiotic, I had to switch to one that would not allow me to nurse.

Once again, I found myself up around the clock to care for my newborn, except this time also taking meds and having my vitals checked, to then pump and dump. I was glad to have a healthy baby and that my condition was not life threatening but I missed my toddler and was heartbroken I couldn't nurse my baby. I also was worrying and wondering if he would latch on again.

Eventually, I was able to go home, recovered fully, and even exclusively breastfed Ezra after I was finished taking the antibiotics. However, my trust in my doctor and the nurses I interacted with was completely shattered. Although I know it could have been a lot worse, I am heartbroken on how I spent the first days of Ezra’s life, and the moments I missed with Miles. Adjusting to life with two under two was hard but thankfully my husband has been by my side through everything and has supported me in every sense of the word. Recently, I realized I have a very real struggle with anxiety and he is helping me to identify triggers on how to cope. In addition, I am a believer in Jesus Christ. It is through prayer and scripture that I have found the most peace. In the most difficult moments for both births, praying is what centered me. I have spoken to a counselor, and have an upcoming appointment with a different doctor to work through this but my faith has been my hope and anchor through this.

I love this movement for everything it stands for. I love the validation each person receives despite their story or journey. I love that real bodies and breastfeeding are not only being normalized but embraced. I love that I will have an intimate and real moment with my boys captured. I love that I will be able to look back and see the beauty in the curves, wrinkles, sleepy eyes, and scars from both my cesareans as well as scarring from the skin infection. I love that I can have a professional photo without the stress or expectations of traditional photoshoots. I don't need to shop for outfits, get hair and make up done, and try to coordinate so many parts. I just get to show up. As a Christian, I am also eager and hopeful to represent a population in a more positive light. There are some of us who see the beauty of this project and are not interested in leaving a mean thing to say in the comments section.”

Elke Klukowsky

Elke Klukowsky (41), Milena (7), Benjamin (3 - - not pictured), and Julian (7 months)

Bad Krozingen, Germany | Oakland, CA

Elke shares -

“Between my boys I had a miscarriage. I did a pregnancy test at home, which came back positive. But shortly after we found out, I had some bleeding, so I went in to see the doctor. I was pregnant around 6 weeks, so we saw something on the screen, but there was no heartbeat. The doctor said it might be too early to hear it. So we had to wait for another 10 days, that felt like a roller coaster. The next ultrasound confirmed: no heartbeat, and the fetus hasn’t grown. I will never forget the silence during that examination. In the end, I had to take some medication, because it was a missed miscarriage. Nothing prepares you for that: labor pain, cramps and a lot of blood.

With two kids at home, there was no time to think about what was going on and what’s happening with me and my body. That evening my husband Christian and I sat down and we cried together. My husband was my support person, the one who cried with me and the one who asked the same questions. When that miscarriage happened, I just thought, I was too old and my body was done with being pregnant. But shortly after, I got pregnant again and Julian will always be our rainbow baby. When I told my friends, a few opened up about their own miscarriages, because it happens more often than we know. It is a sad topic, but we can help each other in talking about it and being there for each other to support.

I was always one of the smallest kids in class or school, and of course I always wanted to be taller. But that was never a big problem for me. So over the years, I gained a positive body image. I want my kids to grow up and accept their bodies and other people's bodies without judgment. We call all body parts by their real names and we talk about them when the kids use the restroom or when they get changed. We are not ashamed to be naked in our house. So our kids see us taking a shower or changing our clothes. And when my 3 year old son asks me, if there is another baby in my belly, I say "No, but my belly was home for 3 babies." My kids also see me and my friends breastfeeding so they know, that boobs are made for nursing babies. As a mum of a daughter I am afraid, that she will grow up with a false body image, mostly presented by the media. I want her to accept and love her body. And I hope that we can teach all of our kids, to accept other people’s bodies as they are and that they accept people who look and dress different from them.

I think nothing can really prepare you for the journey that you start as a mum and parents when you have a baby. You read a lot of books, you try to be prepared, but life is very different and challenging.

With our daughter I had a cesarean. I was sad by the time I had to schedule it, but she was breech and didn't turn by herself. I did a lot of pregnancy yoga classes, my husband joined me for the yoga birthing class, so I was sad, that all the effort I had put into the idea of a natural birth didn't work out for us. In the end, it was a good experience, there was a comfortable atmosphere in the hospital, my doctor and the nurses were really nice, and I was happy, that my husband was able to stay with me and later with my daughter for the whole time. Recovery from a cesarean isn't easy, so I really don't understand, why people call it "the easy way out". You have had a surgery, you are left with a scar, that needs to heal. Taking care of the baby and yourself is very tough, when you are in pain.

We had some difficulties with latching on, so breastfeeding started with a challenge. I had to see a lactation consultant to get some ideas what I can do better and that helped us. In the end our breastfeeding journey took nearly 3 years.

When I was pregnant with baby #2, I wanted to try for a VBAC. My husband and I went to another birthing class and when he talked there about the first hours with our newborn, I was sad, that I had missed all these first things, because of the cesarean surgery. I wanted to try to be there this time. With baby #2 I did most of the laboring work at home and came to the hospital ready to push and I had my natural VBAC with a healthy little boy. Comparing these two different birth experiences, the cesarean was way harder to recover. Also the immediately bonding after a natural birth is helping to set up a better connection with your newborn. Breastfeeding my 2nd baby started right away and I nursed him until he was 2 1/2 years old. I had the idea of tandem nursing him and the arriving baby, but with all the nausea I had again during my 3rd pregnancy, I couldn't handle it. I was very sad by that time, because we stopped from one day to the other.

Our 3rd child was also a successful, natural VBAC. My doctor had to break my water and 1 1/2 hours later we met our baby boy. I think it’s amazing, what a woman’s body can do during labor and delivery. All the strength, the power, the will for the moment to meet your newborn. With #3 everything is a little roller coaster, especially emotionally. This is the last baby for us. So on one hand, I am happy, when he starts something new, like when he started to smile or crawl. On the other hand, my little baby is growing, way too fast… All his “first ones” are the last ones for me and this is hard to handle. It’s getting better, but I felt very sad during the first months.

With 3 kids, I try to make room for the little one, just for him, and enjoy our mornings without the older kids. I embrace all the times he needs to nurse, because that is our time together. And I try to have a lot of mommy and me time without the older ones. Our days are sometimes crazy, busy, chaotic, but we wouldn’t change it for anything.

I think it is important to show that postpartum is a special time in a woman's life. A new family member brings new responsibilities, new challenges and new adventures. I wish, there would be more support groups for postpartum, for new moms and dads. You just had a baby, everybody is cheering for you in the hospital, they take good care of you, and then you are sent home with a newborn. And sometimes you don't know what to do, you don't understand what you feel or what is going on. Even with baby #2 and #3. There are a lot of challenges, that the body of a new mother has to handle after giving birth. And then you have to be there for the rest of the family, for the daily life. That balance can be challenging. I wanted to be part of this movement, because we all have a story to tell: different pregnancies, different birth stories, and different postpartum journeys. It's something that connects all mamas and that is something big.”

Rachel Minick

Rachel Minick (33), Amelia Ryan (5), and Matthew Clark (2)

Asheville, NC

Rachel shares -

“I have struggled with body image issues since elementary school and have continued to struggle during adulthood. I gained a significant amount of weight with each pregnancy. It took two years postpartum for me to feel like I had the time and energy to take care of myself the first time. Getting back to a pre-baby body was not a goal, but I found a strong and healthy version of my body right before I found out I was expecting again. It has once again been two years and I am at the once again at the beginning of the journey of health and well-being. I try to focus on the great things that my body has accomplished through motherhood as a way to build positive a body image and acceptance of where my body is at this time. One of my biggest fears is that I will pass my body issues down to my children. I am working to show them that I love and appreciate my body at any size but at the same time I want them to see me put health and well-being as a priority.

Before I knew that I was pregnant with my firstborn, I saw her in dreams and visions. The pregnancy was healthy with no complications until delivery. The induction process started gradually, but by mid-day the day of Amelia's birth, it was clear that there was going to be more interventions than desired. Labor continued for a few hours but ultimately changed to an evening in the OR for an urgent cesarean. The days and months that followed contained many moments that felt like complete failure.

Nursing was difficult from day one, requiring a nipple shield for 10 months. I was shocked by how unnatural breastfeeding felt and was overwhelmed by not producing enough at the pump while working during the day. However, once she weaned from the nipple shield and I stopped pumping at work, our nursing relationship was strengthened and continued for another 2 years. It ended gently and in the right time.

With my second pregnancy, I once again had an uneventful gestation. The hospital where I delivered my first was not open to VBAC delivery so I consulted with another hospital in a different city, but they said they would not allow me to try for a VBAC with an induction so I scheduled a repeat cesarean at my home hospital. The repeat cesarean was healing in so many ways as I had come to accept the best way for my body to deliver a healthy baby is to have them "lifted into the world" as my midwife said. Nursing was easier and we felt more relaxed as parents the second time around.

I think it is important to share and stories to bring connection to people who find themselves following this movement from the depths of the "parenting forrest" as people in my circles say. I have found that the more stories I share, the more connection and less isolation I feel. I excited and grateful to be apart of this movement.”

Megan Louise Lantz

Megan Louise Lantz (35), Catherine (5.5) and Oliver (16 mo)

Megan is a previous project participant. You can view her

Seattle, WA

Megan shares - 

"I am fortunate enough to not have suffered a pregnancy loss of any type, although we did battle infertility in the beginning.

Giving birth, and especially breastfeeding, has given me a love for my body that I had never known before. I spent so much of my life hating and distrusting my body, that to have it successfully grow and nourish two babies was so amazing that I couldn't not start to love it.

There was such a vast difference between both of my postpartum experiences. My first was an emergency cesarean at 35 weeks, with major risks to my health and a handful of post-op complications that made bonding difficult at first. I had fully expected to just adore my baby from the moment I saw her, but I had to come to terms with weeks of adjustment and pain interfering on top of that.

My second was a carefully scheduled cesarean, balancing my health with keeping him in as long as possible. The surgery was so peaceful and happy, and bonding was so much easier. It healed parts of me that I didn't even know were hurting after my first birth.

After participating last year, I wanted to do it again because of how much I love the message. Also, my daughter had a hard time last time and ended up not being able to stay for the actual photo, so I'm hoping to be able to celebrate bodies with both of my children this time.

You will doubt yourself countless times, but as long as you treat yourself and others, especially your children, with kindness and respect, you can get through anything. "