Ana Carrillo | Southampton 2019
Southampton
Danielle Joseph-McKay
Danielle Joseph-McKay (41), Avery (14), Linus (11), Nilah (7), Piper (5), and Emmet (20 months)
Southampton, NY
Danielle shares -
I had an early loss at 8 weeks in 2009. I don’t even know when I conceived, I was totally shocked. But once the initial panic wore off, I began to fall in love with the little person inside me. I had always waited to tell anyone I was pregnant, but for some reason this time, I couldn’t keep the secret. I told several close friends and my parents. I wanted to wait to tell my children until I was a little further along. We went to a birthday party where my friend’s husband said a quiet “congratulations” to me. I remember feeling so happy. I didn’t know it then, but my baby had already passed. I remember feeling so stupid for being happy. How could I not know what was going on? I never did tell my children.
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
I was always a little overweight growing up, maybe about 20 pounds or so. I remember dieting as a kid. As I entered the teenage years, I compared my body to those of my friends, but I never felt uncomfortable enough to do anything to change my size. After having my first child and breastfeeding, the weight fell off me. I was thinner AFTER children than I ever had been before. When I meet people now, they can’t imagine that I was a chubby kid or overweight teenager. As I’ve gotten older and had more children, breastfeeding has helped keep the weight off, but I’ve had to help it along with dietary changes. I am working on accepting that looser skin and flab around my middle will probably never go away. I do love that has grown and nurtured my babies and for that, I am grateful.
What was your postpartum experience?
My postpartum journey was pretty uneventful. I had family support and my husband was able to take time off work after the births of each child. I am a fairly independent person and I do wish that I asked for more help. As independent as I am, I do like to be taken care of. I kind of relish the postpartum period, because for a couple weeks, I feel nurtured.
What is your truth?
You are the number one expert on your child. Lots of people will come at you with well-meaning advice. But no one knows your child like you do. Follow your instincts.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
I want to celebrate this family I have created. I never thought I would be HERE. My parenting journey has taken me further than I could have imagined. I never had big dreams of money and a career as a child or young adult. I always wanted a lot of children and I wanted to be home with them. My oldest child is very challenging and for that reason, we ultimately decided two children would be plenty for us to handle. And then I had a surprise pregnancy that ended in a loss. I just couldn’t go out like that. After months of discussion, we decided to try to get pregnant. I conceived right away. Nine long months of kick counts and checking the toilet paper every time I went to the bathroom, and our baby was finally here. Our family was complete!! Twenty one months later, I found out I was pregnant again. Another nine months of feeling and checking. Immediately after Piper’s birth, I told everyone how happy I was that I never had to do that again. And then I did it again, 3 1/2 years later. My children are my sun and moon. When people ask “you have 5 kids?” it dawns in me that 5 kids is a lot - I see what they see. When it’s just us together, though, I don’t see the numbers, just the love.
Sara Topping
Sara Topping (37), Twin Boys, Wyatt and Tanner (4.5) and Gardiner (2)
Southampton, NY
Sara shares -
“I have had three pregnancies. One abortion, one multiple pregnancy with di/di twins, and one singleton pregnancy. With my twin pregnancy we were planning a home birth and I had opted out of getting a sonogram with my midwife. We didn't find out (officially) that I was carrying twins until I was 28 weeks pregnant when I got my first sonogram. We were terrified, excited, shocked, disappointed all at the same time. I feel like it's a feeling that doesn't have a name for it in the English language. I ended up birthing my twins at a local hospital with a midwifery group and my singleton at home.
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
To say parenthood has flipped my body image on its head is an understatement. I remember laying in my bathtub when I was in the first trimester of my pregnancy with my twins and thinking to my self 'Wow, I don't even recognize this body anymore.' I have always been hyper aware of my body. Not necessarily in a negative way but my natural physique has always drawn attention. My family has a very muscular disposition, so my body, especially my biceps, were and are typically a topic of conversation.
I have always been an athlete and have loved sports of all kinds so I felt strong and ready to birth my twins. I, however, never was prepared for the physical changes my body would sustain after having them. I grew big, glorious, 40 week babies at 8 pounds 7 ounces and 6 pound 14 ounces, of which I am very proud. I remember the pain of my abdominal muscles separating at 24 weeks and I remember the giant floppy belly mass of my postpartum that made me look all stages of pregnant for the next 2 years and dropping 35 pounds immediately upon release from the hospital after my babies were born. I was in a lot of physical discomfort for a long time with a 4 finger diastasis recti and an overlooked abdominal hernia.
I didn't feel comfortable until after my last postpartum where I was able to give my body extra attention and knew to be more gracious and gentle with myself. Then there are also my breasts! I have exclusively breastfed my twins and my singleton but battled with over active let down, DMER and debilitating migraines that have sent me to the ER and Urgent Care more than once for dehydration. I went from a size A to a D and back down to a skin filled A. I love my body for what it has done and I love the marks that have been left. All my different shapes and marks and flaps feel like stories. And they are the most profound stories I have ever told.
What was your postpartum experience?
I have birthed three children, but have only had two postpartum’s. The postpartum with my twins was a giant blur where I would move from my bed to the couch and get handed babies to breastfeed every 45 minutes. I had lost a lot of blood during the birth and had stitches that ended up tearing out. It was slow and difficult. I think that I can speak from both my husband and I when I say we were in shock. We were going through the motions of caring for two infants at once, but when I think back on it now it feels like a blur and like we were barely hanging on but some how survived. I read an article once that described parenting twins as feeling like a "slow emergency" and that is the best description I have heard, although I think that can be the case for parenting any number of children.
My breastfeeding journey was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I feel lucky that I didn't know any better because I thought it was all normal. But in truth I was thrown a lot of curve balls along the way that I just took in the stride of normalcy. I feel like I received a giant 9 pound 4 ounce gift when I was able to birth my last baby at home, with only my husband and my dear friend who had just graduated midwifery school. My hired midwife didn't make it. Having a postpartum where I barely lost any blood and was swooning my sweet babe in a glorious golden summer sunlit bedroom in my home was truly a healing gift to me. Having Gardiner after our twins, Tanner and Wyatt, made me feel like as parents we could finally exhale. Entering into a parenting journey with confidence, grace and a smile on my face was more than I could have ever asked for.
What is your truth?
My truth is that right now I live every day without a plan for the next day. I take bits of parenting advice and stories I hear from other parents and patchwork it into the quilt of the family I am sewing. I feel raw and unnerved most of the time and I am ok with that. I would tell my former self or a new parent to try to be ok with that. And that kids grow and adjust and so will you.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
I love bodies in all their shapes and forms. I have studied and cared for bodies as a massage therapist and I will always hold a deep love and respect for the human form and its majestic function. I wish that people were more comfortable showing their bodies, because they are all so beautiful in their differences. I am part of this movement because I hope that by seeing my body and hearing my story someone might not feel so alone in their body and in their story.
Lisa Votino
Lisa Votino (39) and Lily (6)
Shinnecock Indian Reservation, Southampton, NY
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
The physical is obvious. I have the typical tummy of having carried a child full-term. Then there is the lack of sleep and then the lack of time. I felt frumpy a lot of the time. As she got older though, I had space to explore who I was now and what that looked like as a mom. I am slowly reclaiming my body as my own and trying to set a good example for her. But I don't sweat the small stuff. This is my body - with all it's good parts and "bad" parts.
What was your postpartum experience?
I had a difficult pregnancy and I absolutely hated being pregnant. The way I got through it was by talking to this tiny little alien inside. She became my best friend before she was even out of the womb. During labor I didn't need anyone but her. We were a team and we were doing this together. And we did. She came out beautiful. But I instinctively knew something was wrong with both of us - she had magnesium poisoning and couldn't breathe and my placenta was stuck and I was hemorrhaging. We both died that day and we both survived that day. We are both pretty bad ass warriors. That only strengthened our bond and it's one that is hard to describe in words, but it is special and unique. I thought being a mom would be difficult. I thought that I probably was going to be awful at it. But I wasn't! I was and am pretty damn good at it! And Lily is my sidekick. The world better watch out....she is me on steroids.
What is your truth?
Trust your instincts. You know what is best for this tiny little human.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
I am a community organizer and have made 4 trips in 5 months to Tijuana to volunteer with asylum seekers. I have seen things made of nightmares. Back at home I am also going through a divorce. It is difficult even if it is amicable. My daughter has been my light through all of this. I wanted to show a more intimate side of me and me with her. She is a very confident little girl in her thoughts and her beliefs, but I want her to always be confident and at home in her body, no matter how it develops. I hope she can look back at this and it serves as a little reminder. It is also my first portrait as a soon-to-be divorced mom of an amazing little girl after my work at the border. It felt important to document this time in my life as a personal reminder that I am still me.
Adina Pearlman
Adina Pearlman (26), Benjamin Ephraim (1 year, 3 months) and Hunter (miscarried at 11 weeks on 12/31/2011)
New Jersey | Southampton, NY
Adina shares -
“On New Year's Eve 2011, I miscarried my first child. It has been the most devastating, heart shattering experience of my life. I have wanted to be a parent since my sister was born when I was five years old. Puberty only made me crave it more. Each month as I got my period, even before I became sexually active, felt like a reminder that I didn't have a baby yet.
So when I started bleeding much heavier than usual, in thick, super sized pad soaking chunks, two days before 12/31/11, I intuitively realized I was miscarrying. It ended with me squatting in the shower in severe pain as the cells of my loss were washed down the drain. I was eighteen, back for winter break at a place I barely called home, and I had nobody except my (now ex) significant other to call. He urged me to seek medical attention, but I was terrified of my parents finding out, so I called my former pediatrician. Based on my description, and later medical attention, it was confirmed that I'd miscarried. The loss is something that I carry with me every day.
In almost 8 years, losing my child has never felt better, only different. I had tremendous support and compatible grief from my baby's father, which even as we went our separate ways was and is healing. Most typically, I am faced with "it's better this way," "it was a blessing in disguise," and/or "you were much too young, aren't you glad this didn't ruin your life." Those reactions from close family and friends caused me to retreat into myself and stop sharing my miscarriage.
With the live birth of my son, I try to speak about it as normally as I can. Holding my second child in a way I never held my first reaffirms for me that Hunter was my first child and that loss was not any kind of blessing. You cannot be too young to experience grief and regret when miscarrying. If my own feelings were that of relief, then it would be right to have that validated, but hearing it in place of the comfort and compassion I was seeking hurt deeply. We named Hunter, because we knew our baby, and Hunter was a part of us. I commemorated them with a tattoo of a quote from Sylvia Plath's "Parliament Hill Fields." It created some closure on the hole of despair I fell into following the loss, but I grieve Hunter every year on the date that they slipped away.
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
As many other folks do, I always struggled with my body image and disordered eating. A "normal" size by society's standards throughout my entire childhood and most of my teenage years, I still saw myself as "fat" and "unattractive." I gained and lost weight in significant amounts throughout college and my post collegiate years. Pregnancy changed all that. Other than regular amounts of morning sickness and food aversions during my first trimester, I definitely used pregnancy as "an excuse" to eat whatever I wanted. I gained about 60 pounds during my pregnancy, but for the first time I didn't care. I felt strong, powerful, and beautiful. I loved my rolls, chins, and flab. Carrying a baby, made me feel on top of the world.
That changed the instant my son came out. All of a sudden I saw tons of excess skin and weight. I eagerly anticipated the "rapid weight loss" that breastfeeding "promised." When nursing just resulted in a hungrier me, I was extraordinarily disappointed. While I don't seek my partner's approval on how I look, he proved to be incredibly positive and supportive of my postpartum body. He isn't one for words, but he speaks volumes with his acts of love, and he is always quick to defend me from myself. I am still working on loving myself, but his support of my decision to spend time with my son rather than spend hours at the gym (as many supposed friends, family, and doctors recommended) is appreciated.
After Benji turned one, I decided to start going to the gym and engaging in a healthier lifestyle. That being said, it was a choice I made for myself and as part of that decision, I refuse to treat myself or my body negatively or harmfully. The gym is a 30 minute workout 3 times a week that takes away from time at work, not time with my son. If I skip a day, I don't feel guilt or regret. It's simply to get more active, not for weight loss. My healthier lifestyle is a specific diet program, but one I've found incredibly supportive of breastfeeding and that encourages a kinder relationship with food. Again, no feelings of guilt or regret are invited in.
Beyond those aspects of postpartum impacting my body image, becoming a parent - especially to a child assigned male at birth who is automatically assumed to be heterosexual - has made me reevaluate how I see the world and how I want my child to see the world. I want to help create a safe, loving relationship for Benji with food and with bodies of all sizes. Parenthood has reminded me that the rolls, chins, and flab are normal, natural, and deserve love. That body hair, stretch marks, and body odor are normal, natural, and deserve love. It is my responsibility (and my partner's) for him to learn all those things. Conversely, I do love my stretch marks - I actively avoid applying anything to them that might help them "disappear" as has been advised by everyone I know. I hope in my actions of speaking my truth about my body image as well as trying to unlearn what is constantly being ingrained in me about all bodies, that I can teach my child better love of bodies, especially birthing bodies.
What was your postpartum experience?
Prior to giving birth, I envisioned myself in the birthing pool with my partner across from me gazing into my eyes with encouraging words as my midwife stood behind me saying "almost there." Then my child would emerge naturally from my vagina and live his first Pisces second in the water and his second second being brought to my breast where he would eagerly nurse as we waited the expulsion of my placenta. In reality, I had a Cesarean section following 60 hours of labor. Home birth, turned natural hospital birth, turned epidural interference and three hours of pushing, turned into the belly birth. It was traumatic and disappointing.
I had no back up plan, because it was my dream to have a water birth at home. So as the doctor scoffed at my midwife (but listened to her) when she insisted he double stitch my incision and then explained to me a resident would be pulling my baby out, I was in a panic. My partner stepped up in support and advocacy of me. He and the incredible nurse who spent 12 hours at my side (3 of them helping me push) and then switched spots with another nurse so she could hold my hand through the cesarean, were my guides as my dreams were literally sliced to shreds. It was okay though (so I'm told). My son came out with his eyes open and a full head of hair. They did not have to hit his foot or bottom because he let out a cry immediately; and they respected my directions not to wash him. They put him on my body and even though my arms were strapped down, I kissed him and smelled him. I immediately knew he was mine and instantly I loved him. His cone shaped head spoke of his determination, his little birth mark (that faded in the coming weeks) on his forehead indicated his birth struggle, and his nose shaped like my partner's sparked immense love in us. My partner followed my strict instructions not to leave his side for an instant, which eased my panic.
As soon as the epidural wore off, I was up and walking. I refused to be stopped. I refused to put my child down. My partner would watch us sleep, because I refused to put Benji in a glass box I couldn't reach into without standing on my tip toes and stretching my new stitches. Despite no offered support from the hospital until almost 12 hours post birth, my La Leche League leader mother was there to help me nurse. Benjamin latched instantly, and I thought that was that. Then he started losing weight. Then I was instructed to pump colostrum (retrospectively I didn't need to do that). Discharged on day three, my milk hadn't transitioned in. My nipples hurt. I hadn't slept well since I went into labor three days before birthing Benji. Nobody told me this was going to happen, and the medical professionals kept urging me to just give formula.
On day four my instincts told me Benji was dehydrated, and in the most horrible (but right) moment of being a parent so far, I gave him 2 ounces of formula from a free sample kit that had been in my car ready to donate, and another 2 later that night. It is to the disgrace of the mainstream medical community that nobody recommended donor milk or a supplemental nursing system. On day five, my aunt recommended the first and an IBCLC recommended the later. An emergency room visit that ended in diagnosis of mild dehydration (due to my instinct to feed my child, as fed is the required minimum) and encouragement from the only pediatrician I've ever met who is also an IBCLC resulted in forty-eight hours of supplementing with formula, and a week of supplementing with expressed and/or donor milk using the SNS that saved my nursing relationship.
Following our traumatic birth and delayed milk transition, breastfeeding has been an incredible bond for Benji and me. It has kept us close and connected, even when I returned to work one month postpartum (ridiculously soon, but financially it was our only option). As my marriage suffered and deteriorated until about six months ago when my partner and I began reconnecting and communicating, I felt I was alone in the world with my child.
My life long struggle with depression has often seemed a lost battle in the months postpartum. I did not expect such aching loneliness and desperation for a community. I am fortunate in that Benjamin has been my lifeline. His presence is uplifting, invigorating, and loving. His birth forged a new connection with my parents, as I was previously estranged from them, to the point that we moved from Virginia to New Jersey to be near them (and my mom watches him on days that I work). He brings out kindness and compassion in me that I didn't have before. He also brought out a passion for supporting and informing milk producing parents and all those that feed their children human milk. I didn't know that passion existed, but it gave me purpose in a part my life where I had previously been listless.
Being a parent is not all that I am, but for this short time while Benjamin is little I have allowed it to take all of me. Due to my birthing trauma and feeling unsupported following birth, Benjamin will be my last pregnancy. This is very different from my original expectation that I would have anywhere from 2 to 4 babies before I turned 30. So I am taking full-term nursing, safe bedsharing, contact napping, and a huge pay cut (currently working part time) to the fullest while Benji is still small. 15 months in, I still feel like I am in the fourth trimester, I still feel like I am postpartum, but parenthood brings me the most exhausting, thrilling, prideful joy I've ever experienced. My love for Benjamin is strength itself; and his kind, sweet, empathetic temperament (which is different from my own) reminds me that parenthood is encouraging and celebrating his traits. I am determined to support my son in learning all who he is, because in this short time parenthood and postpartum has helped me learn so much of who I am. Yes, I am more than a parent, but parenthood has made me so much more than who I was.
What is your truth?
Do not be polite at the expense of your child. This has been the truth I have lived since Benjamin was born. It doesn't mean to be unkind to others or that my child is above other children. It means that I am my child's advocate, and I should always remember to advocate for him. Whether it comes in the form of challenging uninformed medical professionals, insisting family respect Benji's boundaries, and/or physically placing myself between him and strangers who think they have the right to touch him without permission (seriously what is up with that); I will always assert myself for Benjamin. Even with an assertive personality, it is really hard to do, but I urge every new parent to follow that truth.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
When I was four months postpartum, my best friend who lives across the country sent me a picture of a mom breastfeeding a toddler on the beach via Instagram. The hashtags on the photo sent me into an online community that eventually lead to the 4th Trimester Bodies Project. As I was at my lowest, most exhausted point of postpartum, reading the stories of previous participants brought me light and solidarity. I have since wanted to be a part of this movement, that has not only kept me warm when it felt cold, but also taught me so much about birth, birthing bodies, and postpartum. I am incredibly grateful to this movement and for the opportunity to participate.
Noelle Beutler
Noelle Beutler (35 - currently 20 weeks pregnant), Emmery (8), Max (5) and Saoirse (7 mo in Heaven).
Long Island, NY
Noelle shares -
“I’ve had one termination, two living children, one miscarriage, and one full term stillbirth.
How has parenthood impacted your body image?
My body image has always been a battle. Constant comparisons, diets, up and down weight changes. I constantly tried to hide my “imperfections” based on other people’s standards. I look back at photos pre-parenthood and am shocked at how horribly wrong I was.
After my first born in 2011 I was back in my pre-pregnancy clothing quick. I felt happy. I had stretch marks that I always kept covered, but I made a tiny human and I looked good after. With my son in 2013 I developed diastasis recti. My body changed in ways I didn’t know possible and didn’t know why. I always looked pregnant. No matter what I did. My self esteem took a hit and into hiding I went. Spanx was my best friend. I developed postpartum depression that I buried deep down inside until it finally was diagnosed when my son was 11 months old. I didn’t look or feel myself and it was hard.
In 2017 we were pregnant again! I loved my pregnant body always, with each pregnancy. Pregnancy was easy for me. Uncomplicated, comfortable, beautiful and glowing. I show really quickly which tweaked a bit at my mental body image ideals of pregnant women but I’m over it fairly quickly... but this time I miscarried at 9 weeks. This sent me into a downward spiral immediately. My body failed. I failed. I failed my husband. I failed my family. We hadn’t told the kids yet so they just saw me upset and didn’t know why. It took me a year to feel “okay” enough to try again and we got pregnant on the first try.
I had another uncomplicated, easy pregnancy. I was belly wrapping and had a beautiful henna piece to showcase my amazing rainbow baby bump. It felt amazing. During my early stages of labor it was discovered my baby had no heartbeat. Later that day I delivered my daughter at home surrounded by love. I hated my body. I still hate my body to this day. It was my fault. I did this. The physical pain of loss is indescribable. Even now, today, at 20 weeks pregnant. I resent my body. I don’t want to look at myself. I hide my belly which is close to impossible now with summer. And the physical pain still exists. This dark cloud has taken over and who knows how long it will take to pass. Hopefully, I will one day feel connected to this vessel of mine. Hopefully, one day I will look at myself and thank it for what it has blessed me with. I would say that parenthood has severely impacted my body image. I have ups and downs and in this moment I’m on that downhill slide just hanging on for the ride.
What was your postpartum experience?
Postpartum is hard. There is little to no preparation for life after a baby is born. Our culture is so obsessed with pregnancy and babies that we forget about the birthers. Everyone wants to hold the baby, see the baby, buy baby things, sit and relax with the baby. How IS mom? How IS dad? How ARE siblings? No one knows because no one really cares. All that matters is that the baby is oh so cute and my gosh look at those rolls! One month, two months, six months down the line and people have already moved on, are fed up with your photos and roll their eyes at another question.
My postpartum journey began strong with my daughter. She was my first born and it was easy to sit on the couch all day and watch her sleep. Our breastfeeding relationship was cut short by an emergency surgery I needed when she was four weeks old. The guilt from giving up broke me. I got back up and kept going knowing I was doing the very best I could do. Finally the weight was lifted off my shoulders and we moved forward.
My son was born in 2013. I was induced at 41ish weeks and he spent 7 days in the NICU. He was sedated for the first two days. I could not hold him, feed him, change him. I was released on day 3 and had to travel back and fourth from home to hospital for the last four days of his stay. My husband and I had to take turns because my daughter was not allowed to see him. It was terrible and I was so very stressed. My husbands time from work was used to watch our daughter so I could be at the hospital for feedings. That time was supposed to be for us to bond as a family. We lost those moments. Balancing two kids was difficult. I made every effort to accommodate Emmery and not use Max as an excuse. There was zero time for my self care. My cup ran on empty often as the thought of doing something for myself presented with overwhelming mom guilt. I cried all the time. I lost interest in everything I loved. There was no more joy. I suffered from postpartum depression and didn’t know where to turn so I buried it deep down inside. It wasn’t until I was 11 months postpartum that I finally sought help and was medicated. That helped for a bit, things got better and I slowly weaned off the meds.
In 2017, we found out we were expecting again around 6-7 weeks along. This was going to be my healing birth. Healing the trauma from my sons birth and postpartum experience. I began to miscarry at 9 weeks. I was devastated. I’ve never had fertility or pregnancy issues. This was new to me and it crushed me. I chose to miscarry naturally so I bled on and off for quite a while before any normalcy returned. No one knew we were expecting so I didn’t have to deal with telling anyone the news. I kept telling myself 1 in 4 women miscarry. It’s just a part of pregnancy. It happens. Society says it’s normal. So I grieved silently and slowly moved forward.
After a year of fearing it would happen again we decided to try for another baby. We got pregnant quickly and of course waiting until we were in the “safe zone” to announce it to the world! We were pregnant!! 14 weeks!! Yay! Pregnancy was easy for me, no hiccups, no complications. Our planned home birth was going to happen and my kids would join me and my husband in the pool with their brand new brother or sister! It would be amazing. THIS was my healing birth. I was surrounded by love and light! I was educated and knew what I wanted.
I began slowly leaking on 11/11/18 at 11:11pm. After sleeping the night with slight contractions and a few bathroom trips, at 11am the next morning we discovered our baby had no heartbeat. My husband, midwife, myself, and doula decided to leave the hospital and have our baby at home surrounded by love. This was a little less than 7 months ago. An entire piece of me is missing. There are no words to describe birthing a dead baby. The silence is deafening. No words to describe having to say hello and goodbye in the same breath. No words to describe your daughter crying into you arms as the pain consumes her as well. No words to describe my kids and I watching as my husband placed our daughter into a black casket that would take her away from us forever. I am a different person today. I don’t recognize myself. I’m not sure I will ever recognize myself again. This is a new life I never expected.
I am thankful for the strong women in my life. I am thankful for my living children and my husband. They keep me going. They help me laugh and to see the good in this new life. I will say that a big part of my postpartum healing journey was pumping after Saoirse’s birth. I pumped over 2,000oz and was able to donate and help nourish 5 babies. Saoirse nourished 5 babies. I was just the vessel from which her love flowed. It was these pumping sessions that helped me begin the grieving process. It got me through what would be the most physically and emotionally extreme postpartum time I’ve had. Grief has no concrete path and flares at no predictable moment. Triggers are all over. There is no time frame with grief. I will grieve forever until we are reunited.
What is your truth?
Live in your moment. Acknowledge your emotions, feel your pain, feel you joy. They are all valid and it’s okay to not be okay... It’s taken me 8 years, 2 living children, one miscarriage and the loss of our daughter to realize that you need to fill YOUR cup first. I need to take care of myself the best I can before I can take care of others. Postpartum is different for everyone, especially after loss. Find your tribe. Trust me, they are out there. Ask for help. Follow your gut - It doesn’t lie. There’s a mantra that I’ve heard and try to convince myself to follow on a daily basis - I will not let fear stand in the way of joy. It’s difficult but I’m trying. It’s the best I can do at this point in my journey.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
Our society needs to revamp postpartum. It is not ALL about the baby. Parents need support, siblings need support. This project is wonderful in showing the vast differences of postpartum periods for many individuals. Reading others journeys allows them the ability to connect, to feel validated. You are never alone, there is always someone who shares a similar story. This project shines a light on those with imperfect social media stories. It’s not all the rainbows and unicorns you see on Facebook. Behind that sweet baby post is a parent who is unsure of something in their life. I wasn’t going to share my story, but there are others who need to hear it. I am a full term stillbirth mom. Not a day goes by that I don’t think or cry about my daughter and that’s okay. Loss sucks. Grief sucks. Pregnancy after loss is a full on daily panic attack. You are not alone.