Isabella Norris

Isabella Norris (22) and Harlow Everett (9 mo)

Minneapolis, MN

“I found out I was pregnant for the first time in January 2018. I had just quit my long-term job that had paid well just a couple week prior, in order to focus on finishing my college degree in American Indian Studies. I was freshly engaged to my partner, Matt, as of October. I had a very clear image of what I wanted to do in life, and I knew how I was going to get there.

After learning I was pregnant due to failed birth control pills (that I took very diligently), it threw what I thought my world was completely out the window. After a couple weeks of pure panic, which then slowly turned into excitement, Matt and I both agreed how great it would be to welcome our very own little one into the world. We started to get settled into the idea; told family members, started thrifting clothes, thinking of names. Then one day, in the middle of February, I felt bleeding. The following day we went in to see our midwives, and sure enough, I was experiencing a miscarriage at around 8 weeks pregnant.

Matt and I both cried. A lot. I felt an emptiness I didn't know existed. And then, just a couple days later, I felt a pain so intense that it almost made me pass out. Matt brought me into the hospital, and turns out I was experiencing a blocked small intestine. I was admitted into the hospital and put on the strongest pain killers available, a tube shoved down my throat for days. Unable to be coherent enough to make decisions, I floated through, broken and sick, while others were in control of what happened to me.

Luckily enough I had one doctor that stuck up for me against having surgery by suggesting that "Hey, western medicine won't agree, but how about the concept that the miscarriage and these problems are related?". Because of him, I got to go home. I was released after 6 days, still not fully better, but at least not with a surgery that would have caused complications for the rest of my life. It took another 3-4 weeks for things to pass and to not have to be on medication daily.

Due to being in the hospital, and then still being so sick after, I had to quit that semester of school. So when I got "better", I was jobless, and not in perusing the degree I was excited about. I had never felt so useless in my life. After weeks and weeks of my mental health just taking a terrible downturn, Matt and I started talking about the joy that came from that small little moment of pregnancy I had gotten to experience. Through that dark, dark time, we had this little glimmer of hope. It took so much therapy, and support of friends and family, to get through that time. In April, we found out I was pregnant again. Our rainbow finally shone through.

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

Hahaha. I actually laughed at this question, is that bad? It's probably bad. I have always struggled with my body image. I've just never felt great about myself. When I started birth control years prior, I had gained like 30 pounds that took a very long time to lose. When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I was actually, for the first time, happy with my body. I was strong because I was working out, and I felt comfortable at the weight I was at for the first time in a long time. But then, due to really intense nausea during my first pregnancy and only being able to eat bland high-calorie foods, I already gained ten pounds by the time I was pregnant again. And then I had perinatal depression and PTSD, which made it really hard to get myself to do a lot.

When I finally got out of the depression funk, I was diagnosed with pelvic problems which prevented me from doing anything to physical. During my pregnancy I ended up gaining an additional 50+ lbs, and felt absolutely terrible the entire time. After I had Harlow, I struggled so much. I felt so uncomfortable with my body, despite how often Matt would tell me how lovely I was. I tried so hard, but it never really got better.

As I have started to get back to my pre-pregnanc(ies) weight, I have finally started feeling better. Which Im frustrated with. I wanted to feel empowered and feel good enough where I was at during pregnancy and during early postpartum. And to be honest, I still struggle. Often. I'm only about 10 lbs away from my original weight, but my body is so different. It's getting easier, slowly, but I'm not nearly as confident as I was pre-pregnancy. I think that's part of why I got drawn to being apart of this project. I want to feel like "me", where I am at right now.

What was your postpartum experience?

Postpartum was hard. I got a fourth degree tear during delivery, and the healing process from that was difficult. I was in the hospital for four days trying to heal a bit more before going home. On top of healing, I really intensely struggled with breastfeeding. I had always expected that moment of latching to be so exciting and just feel amazing. Man, I was just so wrong on that! It was so HARD. And it felt like I was literally was feeding him ALL. THE. TIME. Because I was! I tried to see a lactation consultant only to be diagnosed with Insufficient Glandular Tissue (IGT), being told I would never make enough milk for my son.

I was so under-slept, and so scared that Harlow wasn't gaining weight the way he was supposed to because of me. I struggled a lot. My marriage struggled a lot. I became overly defensive over anything, and frustrated at the smallest thing. I had never felt under so much pressure. To keep this little tiny human that I created alive. To spread my time and love evenly over to my partner. To keep a house from not getting so messy that it caused me to have panic attacks. To remember to shower, or get a second to myself.

Eventually that diagnosis of IGT got thrown out the window by my midwives and his pediatrician, but the stress that came from all of that really affected me a lot. I wanted to quit breastfeeding so badly. I ended up trying to go dairy free to see if that would help how fussy Harlow was, and that actually made a huge difference. We also were able to find (free) milk donors in our community who made it possible to help with supplementing Harlow with breastmilk, which took so much pressure off me. In the end it still took months to really feel established with feedings, but now it is actually the most amazing relationship.

My fourth trimester felt like such a whirlwind. In the moment, everything took forever. The endless night wakings, the diapers, the screaming. It seemed to never end. But you know what? It did. For real! Things actually got better. The sunny little moments we got from him, like seeing him really smile for the first time, or watching him learn the give kisses, or laugh, made everything so much better. Eventually I started to feel more like myself and less like I was being controlled by my hormones, and that has helped so much too. When I look at it today, I realize everything we went through got us to where we are now. I have a happy little boy, who is just about to walk and loves to meet new people, and an incredibly loving and supportive husband who I adore being married to. But wow, postpartum a lot. Never easy, always worth it. This year has been absolutely all over the place, but with where we ended up, I truly couldn't be more grateful for it.

What is your truth?

Parenthood is the realest thing you will ever experience. Right now, our world is filled with false reality. Instagram, Facebook, reality TV to see what others "lives" are like. We as a society tend to spend our time in front of a screen, to avoid a world that is struggling to stay afloat amidst all of the travesties happening. And then, all of a sudden, you make life. Real, right in front of you, life. A human that YOU made, and that is it's own person. Experience it. Soak it in. Breathe through the hard bits, because they really will pass, even though it doesn't feel like it in the moment. This matters so, so much, maybe more than anything.

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

My sister-in-law, Rose, participated last year. I was inspired by her to be a part of this project. I look up to her. We have a lot of similar experiences, and seeing her be a part of something so empowering really made me want to be apart of that too. On top of that, I'm a tribal member of the San Luis Rey band of Luiseño based out of Oceanside, CA, and I think its important to be here for other Native womxn/non-binary caregivers out there. It's hard to find a community, especially when you are displaced away from your tribe. I struggle with not seeing people who look like me in social media, and want to help change that. I haven't read many stories similar to mine, so maybe this will help someone feel less alone when they read my story too.

Mary B

Mary B (41 - she/her), Damon (8), Shane (6), Desmond (4), and Paxton (8 weeks)

Rockville, MD | Washington, DC

“I’ve been pregnant 10 times. The first two times were when birth control methods failed with boyfriends while I was in college. I was definitely not ready to become a parent, although being a mom was something I knew I longed to be. Both abortions were devastating and I lived with shame and sadness for many years. Fast forward to my 30th birthday when my husband and I were very happily expecting our first baby and learned the baby’s heartbeat which was strong at 9 weeks couldn’t be found at 14 weeks. Two more missed miscarriages followed and I was tortured with feeling I had caused these losses because of my abortions.

Thankfully an amazing doctor helped discover some thyroid issues and once I started meds, we had three beautiful and perfect pregnancies and children. When we found out we were expecting our fourth, it didn’t even occur to us that we could lose the baby - but we did at 13 weeks. I was gutted by the loss and we adopted a dog and decided not to try for more children...until two years later with a happy surprise pregnancy at 40. What an incredible gift this last rainbow baby has been to our family.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Pregnancy brought so many emotions it’s hard to put into words. So many dichotomies: strength and vulnerability, excitement and worry, connection and solitude, energy and exhaustion. I was incredibly lucky to have the same supportive, kind, motherly and sisterly midwives throughout my pregnancy and birthing journeys. Our four home water births were magical - exactly what I dreamed they would be. My husband helped me feel like I could do anything and the pregnancies and births made me feel like I had superhero powers. My body has grown softer with each baby but I have never minded the softness - I have just seen it as more curves to tuck a baby into for comfort. Our bodies never cease to amaze me - how I could grow and sustain these lives just blows me away.

What was your postpartum experience?

I cocooned with each baby for a loooong time! I’m only just now coming out of my cocoon with my 8 week old. The fourth trimester is such a wild ride of learning about each other and how to begin living separately but still so primally attached. The nursing sessions and sleeplessness and rocking and cuddling and snuggling are some of my most precious memories with each baby. I bounced back physically quickly but the nursing was hard. All four babies had lip and tongue ties that made nursing quite painful for the first 5-6 weeks until it would magically disappear. These ties also brought many clogged ducts and even mastitis and thrush once. Those first weeks of breastfeeding were harder than my entire pregnancies. I was so determined to exclusively breastfeed and I’m beyond grateful for my husband’s support, love and help through it all. He cooked, cleaned, managed the big kids, and helped in every way imaginable. Looking back, he’s the reason I was able to solely focus on nursing each baby and have so much uninterrupted bonding time in those early, hazy days with each baby.

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

Give yourself grace and accept all the help that’s offered to you. Let others pamper you and cook for you and love on you however feels best to you. Tell your loved ones what you need. Cocoon with your baby (if that feels good!) and forget the outside world. Forget the laundry and the emails and the day to day crap and just soak up those tiny sighs and grunts and fingers and toes. Time passes so quickly - breathe into the beauty you’ve created!

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

I love reading the stories of this movement and I wanted to participate to celebrate my immense joys and triumphs as well as terrible and traumatic losses on my parenting journey. I wanted to take time to pause and capture this beautiful moment in time during this very special fourth and final trimester and forever remember the beauty that is motherhood and community.

Ana Carrillo

Ana Carrillo | Southampton 2019

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.

Kimberly Richey

Kimberly Richey (41), Zion (20mos), Lyon (would be 2). Kimberly is also parent to three stepchildren aged 24, 21, and 18.

Los Angeles

Kimberly shares -

“My son Lyon was born at 37 weeks weighing 3lbs 7oz. He was diagnosed with congenital hypothyroid and some brain issues that resulted in seizures and blindness. He had a failure to thrive and we brought him home from the NICU after two and a half weeks so he could die peacefully in our home. We had a blissful 20 days with him until he took his last breath in his sleep at five weeks old. Four months later while deep in grief I realized I was pregnant again and a year and four days after my son was born my daughter Zion was born. She is a healthy and thriving toddler now with three half siblings.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

When my son was born despite not having the birth I wanted I was so amazed that my body would carry him to term. I felt the most beautiful I had ever been in my life. Sadly, I was unable to breastfeed him and after his death it was difficult to see my body with engorged breasts and rounded belly as lovely, but more as a memory of my loss. Through a lot of therapy and support from my community I was able to process through some of that and accept the new pregnancy as a positive. Having our rainbow arrive healthy was the best outcome I could ever have hoped for. My weight melted off with her and she didn’t gain weight well so it caused me some worry that maybe I was failing her, but now she’s catching up and I’ve relaxed a lot more about it. There’s always some trauma lurking in my head related to my first pregnancy and experience with my son but I wouldn’t change the past. My son gave me an incredible gift by existing. I’m still in awe of his tiny presence but huge love.

What was your postpartum experience? 

Grief was overwhelming. We became vulnerable and shared our son with as many friends as we could before he died. He was magical to hold. I decided against a funeral so over the years we have left his ashes in meaningful places. With my daughter I didn’t realize how hard it was still going to be! Joining a support group after her birth was really instrumental in working through lingering grief and anxiety.

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

Not enough families speak out about their losses. No one tells you that babies can die. We had no idea what to do.

Katie Vigos

Katie Vigos (33), Joshua (11), Caleb (8), and Jesse (4)

Minnesota | Los Angeles, CA

Katie shares -

“My reproductive experiences have spanned a much broader spectrum than I ever could have imagined when I pictured myself becoming a mother as a young woman. After getting married at age 20, my husband and I conceived within a few months and after a healthy, uneventful pregnancy, I had an unmedicated hospital birth at 41w5d. My husband was an amazing doula for me, but I felt pressured by hospital staff to accept interventions I didn’t need, and afterwards my midwife even admitted that she didn’t think I could give birth without an epidural.

We planned and conceived easily the second time around just after our oldest son turned one, and we announced the pregnancy early to our families on Thanksgiving. A few weeks later I started spotting and suffered a miscarriage. I was shocked and devastated by the sudden loss. I knew almost nothing about miscarriage and I had never spoken to anyone who had experienced it. While it was painful to have to tell friends and family about it, I’m grateful our announcement forced me to start talking rather than grieve in silence.

The third time I became pregnant, it was unplanned and we were both overjoyed. I was surprised by the intense anxiety I felt during the first trimester after having had a previous miscarriage. I found amazing midwives for support during my pregnancy and I exercised and practiced self hypnosis daily. I self medicated with cannabis during labor and experienced a euphoric, orgasmic home birth at 41w3d. To this day, the birth of my second son is the most empowering experience of my life.

My fourth pregnancy was also unplanned, but under completely different life circumstances. From the moment the test turned positive, every cell of my body said no. It was like a dark cloud enveloped me, obstructing my vision and suffocating every breath. Deciding to have an abortion was the most difficult decision I have ever made, and yet I knew I was making the right choice for my physical and mental well being so I could care for myself and my young family in the way we needed at that time. While the experience itself was traumatic and isolating, I have since found the support I need to process it and I believe our stories must be shared if we have any hope of normalizing our reproductive choices.

A little over a year later, I had a powerful spiritual experience just days before we physically conceived our youngest son. I opened my heart to the heavens and proclaimed myself ready and willing to receive another child, and I could feel his presence enter my body. My pregnancy was healthy although stressful in many ways, and I prepared diligently to have an unassisted home birth with only my husband and a few close friends present. I had been dreaming about this birth since my previous home birth, but nothing went as planned. My son was born by emergency cesarean at 42w6d. In a twist of fate, modern medicine saved our lives.

I look back on my five pregnancies and three living children with a deep sense of awe, appreciation, and if I’m being honest-- grief. I think I will always exist within the duality of utmost gratitude for my three beautiful sons and the pain of what it was like to experience miscarriage, abortion, and difficult postpartum recoveries in a society that provides little support for birthing people and continues to shame and stigmatize them for their choices. My years of childbearing have been beautiful and bittersweet, and I cherish the lessons I have learned and the woman I have since become.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

For the most part, I enjoyed my pregnant body and the changes I experienced. Like most pregnant people, I quickly learned how the public felt entitled to opinions and unsolicited advice regarding my pregnant body and the choices I made while carrying a child. For instance, I found cannabis to be tremendously helpful in managing nausea, discomfort, insomnia, and much more, but couldn’t speak of it to anyone besides my husband, my cannabis doctor, and a few trusted friends. When I was planning my first home birth, I didn’t feel able to discuss it freely skeptical family and friends, and I felt like I was coming out of a closet when I finally told them about it. It’s mind boggling to me how little trust and respect our society places in the vessels who are actually carrying and birthing children.

My greatest challenges with body image came after my cesarean birth. My belly looked and felt completely foreign to me. I had to completely relearn myself as a sexual being. The uneven shelf the cesarean incision created and the persistent roundness where there used to be flatness took a long time to love and accept. To this day nearly five years later, I still occasionally experience mysterious pains around my uterus, almost as if my womb remembers what it went through during its five pregnancies and needs to mourn from time to time.

Today, nearly five years later and after a great deal of physical and emotional labor, I can truly say I love my body more than ever before. I see self love as a process, not a destination. It’s a daily practice of honoring the vessel that birthed my children and remembering gratitude for the healthy body that gives me life, pleasure, and joy.

What was your experience?

I found myself wholly unprepared for the challenges of postpartum life. I’ve never felt more inadequate than when learning to breastfeed my first child. There was no continuity of care or follow-up beyond one six week postpartum visit (which was when my midwife told me she hadn’t believed I could give birth without an epidural) and one outpatient visit with a lactation specialist which I scheduled myself amidst sleep deprivation and bleeding nipples so painful I would cry each time he latched. The fact that this is the standard of postpartum care in America still fills me with desperate rage.

By trial and error, I was generally more prepared the second time around and I also had better support of my home birth midwives during the immediate postpartum period. However, once again I found myself feeling isolated and in need of more support after the first four to six weeks. Once again, I struggled to breastfeed and maintain my milk supply while going back to work.

My first two sons weaned early at five and three months old. I felt like a failure each time for not being able to breastfeed longer. Looking back on it now, I realize it was almost entirely due to lack of knowledge, support, and resources. I formula fed my boys until they were ready for solids. They are healthy and happy now but I still have moments of guilt and worry about it.

By my third postpartum experience, I was ready to fight for our breastfeeding relationship with all my might. Although I was blindsided by an unexpected cesarean recovery, I had taken more time to prepare myself for breastfeeding and was armed with information and resources. We used a nipple shield for the first six weeks which helped tremendously. I struggled with milk supply issues again and supplemented with a ton of herbs and ultimately started taking domperidone, which allowed us to continue breastfeeding for two years. I pumped hundreds of times while working full time as a registered nurse-- in bathrooms, empty offices, closets, cars, locker rooms, stairwells, you name it. Providing breastmilk for my youngest son as long as possible was part of my healing process after years of struggle. It was a victory that I cherish to this day.

While the physical recoveries from my first two vaginal births were relatively easy and uncomplicated, I was astounded by the toll the emergency cesarean took on my body. One day at a time, I slowly regained strength through gentle yoga and core exercises. I processed the birth trauma by writing about my journey online and connecting with other parents going through similar things. I didn’t feel a new sense of normal until around two years postpartum. I’m certain that if I had actually sought mental health care during that time, I would have been diagnosed with postpartum depression.

I consider myself fortunate to have had children with a very supportive and present partner who shares the work of childrearing and caretaking and is an incredible father to our children. That said, my postpartum experiences have left me feeling like humans weren’t meant to birth and parent the way we are currently doing it in the United States. We need much, much more support. We need to prepare parents for the realities of postpartum. We need to arm them with information and connect them with resources. We need to cultivate cultural practices (without appropriating them), and remember how to nurture our species through this sensitive and beautiful time of our lives.

What is your truth? 
The tradition of silence no longer serves us. Storytelling can be a powerful medium to destigmatize, normalize, and heal from our experiences.

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

I am here to commemorate this time of my life as a mother of three young children and to stand in the truth of my reproductive experiences in their entirety.

You can follow Katie’s important work at Empowered Birth Project.

Carly Burns

Carly Burns (30), Tyler Emmanuel (7 - not pictured), Caleb Aaron (5), Robert Elias (3), Eliana Rose (miscarriage at 6 weeks), Daniel Evan (10 months)

Carly has participated twice before. You can view her photo and story here from 2016 and 2018.

Los Angeles, CA

Carly shares -

“It’s been almost 2 years since I miscarried with Ellie. I perpetually think I’m “healed” or that I’m going to hurt less and less, but subtle reminders of the piece of our family that is missing makes fresh waves of grief wash over me. I’m proud that my living children speak about their sister even when I’m afraid to bring it up due to shame or emotional reactions. My husband and I miss her constantly. my biggest hope is that she isn’t forgotten by our friends and family. “

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Parenthood has put me through the ringer physically. 5 pregnancies in 8 years. Breastfeeding (including tandem breastfeeding) for a total of 7 of those years. I am constantly fighting to see the power in my body rather than shame. But honestly, for someone who is “body positive” I still focus on my weight too much. I poke and prod at my stomach, and I even wear a waist trainer half the time. It’s hard to reconcile but I’m not giving up the fight to love myself where I’m at.

What was your postpartum experience?

I don’t feel like I have totally adjusted postpartum. It feels like I won’t ever be that parent I pictured in my head, and motherhood is the hardest effing thing I’ve ever done. It takes every ounce of me as a person to meet the needs of these people. I have always focused on achievement to validate my worth as a person, and with parenting there are no levels, no trophies, and no awards. Just tiny people that you are responsible for caring for and guiding. It has been nearly impossible to maintain my identity as Carly while meeting the expectations of “mama”. But I’m finally fighting to be my own person with wants, needs, and boundaries and I want my children to see that. I want them to know that motherhood doesn’t mean annihilation of personhood. I matter as much as they matter. And they need me more right now than they ever will again, but I don’t want to look at myself in the mirror in 20 years and not recognize the person looking back at me. I’m worth caring about. I’m worth taking care of.

What is your truth?

You are enough. You are valuable. Achievement does not affect your worthiness as a person.

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

Now that we are done growing our family, I wanted to have all 4 living children in one photo honoring my motherhood journey. I can’t say that our family is complete because we will always be missing our Ellie, but I am humbled by the little humans I get to guide through this wild life.

Amanda Snelson

Amanda Snelson (33), mother to Ren (stillborn on 05.01.13), Iola (miscarried on 07.07.17), and Lee (pictured - born on 12.21.18)

Ozarks, Missouri | Los Angeles, CA

Amanda shares -

“Ren is our son, stillborn at 21 weeks due to pregnancy complications. He rocked my world, shattered my outlook on life, and expanded my perspective in ways that I couldn't have ever imagined. It's been a journey of healing after a traumatic pregnancy with multiple ER visits due to excessive bleeding from placenta previa and subchronic hematoma.

EpWhen I went into labor and went to the hospital, I had multiple infections including sepsis--which meant we needed to deliver immediately. My cervix was relaxed with a drug, I had an epidural (because I didn't want to feel anything), and I delivered Ren vaginally. We held him and took pictures of him, and then collected his ashes and spread them in the Big Sur River.

Years later, after running the LA Marathon and raising $1500 for Every Mother Counts, I was ready to try again for a living baby. Iola grew in my belly in what was a perfect pregnancy up until 16 weeks when my water broke unexpectedly. We went to the hospital, and again I immediately was infected with multiple life-threatening things. This time we decided on a D&E for expediency, which in some ways was more traumatic due to the sterile aspects of the procedure, and my regrets for not asking to see or collect the remains. After that experience, we were still ready to try again for a living baby.

This time I consulted my usual doctor, specialist, and alternative medicine. I have a multiple-page list of things I did to prepare my body, mind, and spirit for pregnancy and labor. Everything went according to plan, with a cervical cerclage, weekly progesterone shots, acupuncture, special diet, and multiple forms of stress management. Lee was born vaginally without any interventions or complications in the same hospital with some of the same midwives and nurses where Ren and Iola were lost. My incomplete circles had been closed by Lee's euphoric arrival. We are so very grateful for her, and will tell her of her big brother and sister that support her in ways she'll never truly know.

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

After my two pregnancy losses, I barely had any bodily changes. Though, after our double rainbow baby, Lee, I am surprised at how much I care about my body image. It has changed so much in the past year. I gained over 50 pounds through my pregnancy due to the high risk and having to limit my activities. After Lee was born, I assumed I wouldn't care about anything but her -- but I found myself weeping over my clothes that wouldn't fit when trying to get dressed for a pediatrician appointment. Overall, I'm very proud of my body and what it has accomplished, but there are moments of vanity that surprise me--when I look in the mirror and discover yet another stretch mark or cellulite dimple. I should be grateful, yet I can't help but click on ads for weight loss. It's a strange feeling.

What was your postpartum experience?

Postpartum with my two losses was absolutely devastating. When my milk came in, I was leaking everywhere, and I had never felt so empty. I wouldn't have cared if I died or lived in those moments after loosing my first two children. With Lee, I mostly cry of overwhelming joy. It's an incredible feeling, to be so happy and so grief stricken at the same time.

What is your truth?

Surrender. Surrender to uncertainty, to imperfect outcomes, to not being in control.

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

I'm continuously inspired by all of the bodies that birth new life -- the womb and the birth process is sacred. It's a delicate, thin veil between life and death, one that I know all too well. Lifting that veil and sharing each other's stories, however imperfect and joyous and devastatingly beautiful all at once--that is the meaning of life and what keeps me going.

Catherine Higley

Catherine Higley (36) and Miles (9 months)

Chicago, IL

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

“I don't know that it has changed much. I've always been pretty confident in myself and have lived with the mindset that you can either accept me for who I am and the way my body is or leave. Now as mommy to my son I hope to show him how to accept others for what is inside not for physical appearance.”

What was your postpartum experience?

It was rough at first. I had to accept that I didn't get the birth experience I longed for. I wanted a natural hospital birth and was prepared with a doula, ready to go. I ended up being induced due to being past my due date with a big baby as he was estimated at over 8lbs at 38 weeks. A 2 day long induction with horrible back labor that led to an epidural ended in a cesaren on the morning of the third day. I had to overcome the loss of my natural birth plan for surgery.

I finally accepted that Miles just had to write his own life story starting with his birth.

Our next struggle was nursing. I had been pumping the week prior to attempt to induce labor and had gotten colostrum so knew I could produce but 3 days of no food left not much coming out and my 9lb 8oz baby was hungry. He latched in recovery for an hour and once moved to a room he kept latching on an off almost constantly for the next 24 hours. I was exhausted, as was he. I was stressed from dealing with DCFS being called because of me refusing medical procedures to my newborn, which is a whole different story of why we need to fight for medical freedoms in our country.

I gave in and asked for a bottle and he downed an ounce and finally slept. We kept trying to get him to latch but he became frustrated with my flat nipples so we tried a shield which worked a little but there still wasn't much coming out for him so he was still frustrated and would just scream at the breast which upset me as well.

We went home from the hospital with information on formula feeding and I was fine with giving formula as long as my baby was fed. A couple days after we got home my milk came in big time and seemed to flatten my nipples more I was so engorged. I pumped for some relief and to try to draw out my nipples so he could latch. I continued to attempt nursing even attending a group at the hospital once a week. There he had not a problem taking 3oz off me and being satisfied but at home we still struggled with him only latching for a short time being done and fussing a few minutes later.

I learned I am not someone who can sit all day with a baby latched on as he wasn't latching well - so it would hurt and I didn't know how much he was getting so I didn't know if after an hour he was full or not. I decided I was fine with pumping. I was able to pump enough to keep him full and growing. He was happy and so was I. Pumping was never offered by the lactation consultants just latching all day was their suggestion. I see now why so many moms give up breastfeeding so soon. I never thought I would be exclusively pumping, I always thought I would be the mom nursing her baby wherever I wanted but it just didn't work that way. Truthfully, now I don't know if I will try to nurse future children or just start off pumping. I am satisfied with my journey as it is all mine.

What is your truth?

Plans never go according to plan. Just be along for the ride. Be flexible ask tons of questions to be knowledgeable about what can go wrong at any time.

What brought you here today? 

I wanted to help bring awareness to my community of exclusive pumping moms. Many of us get shamed for not latching our babies on our breast. For so many of us it's not that we didn't try and wouldn't love to nurse our babies - but struggled with latching and there are so few resources still to help new moms learning to nurse. It seems we have such a mindset of its either breast or bottle with formula, never is it suggested to just pump milk for your babies first year. I wanted to share my struggles with nursing and let moms know that pumping is and option. “