Carter Nickell

Carter Nickell (30 - they/them). Parent to Shiloh (9 mo - pictured) and Arti (9)

Maryland {Virtual session. Captured via CLOS}

“I experienced a chemical pregnancy when I was seventeen, which I have complicated feelings about that are difficult to express.”

How has parenthood impacted your body image?
Going through pregnancy with my first child helped me realize a lot about my gender identity and perceptions of my body. I struggled with the size of my chest during and after my pregnancy, but I felt lucky that my body mostly remained the same as it did before pregnancy. When my child was a toddler, I came out as nonbinary. What’s interesting to me is that when I got pregnant again ten years later, I had a much different view on my body and pregnancy. I no longer saw it as a “feminine” process. I was easily able to accept the growth of my chest, the widening of my hips, and all the other changes I went through. I embraced the awesomeness of growing a tiny little being. While I plan to have top surgery when I’m done chestfeeding, I’m proud of my body for all it has accomplished for my children.

What was your postpartum experience?

I had a traumatic birth with my first baby, which led to a dreadful postpartum experience. I struggled to find emotional support and looking back, I barely remember the first 6 months of my first child’s life. When I got pregnant with my second child, I was determined to have a positive and healing birth experience. I spent a lot of time researching OBGYNs and midwives, considering home birth vs birthing center vs hospital birth. I ultimately had a wonderful and incredibly healing hospital birth with a midwife. My baby also easily chestfed right after giving birth, which I believe further helped my postpartum experience be better than with my first. Unfortunately, the pandemic ruined my opportunity to have a birth photographer and extra physical support during my recovery, which are things I still think about with great sadness as this is my last baby.

What is your truth that you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent?

Don’t be afraid to advocate for yourself and demand consent. Don’t be afraid to switch providers if your needs aren’t being met. You are strong even when you feel you are not. Asking for help is not weak. You can do hard things!

How has your (pregnancy/birth/postpartum/parenting) been affected by COVID-19?

Because of past trauma from my teenage years, the pandemic was a huge trigger for me. I was six months pregnant when the country shut down, and I plummeted emotionally. I had to go back to therapy and go back on my medications, one of which has never been tested on pregnant people so I had fears about my baby’s safety. I struggled to accept that I would no longer have the physical and emotional support I knew I would need postpartum. I spent the last three months of my pregnancy trying to create new coping skills and outlets that would also be feasible with a newborn. I’m now nine months postpartum, and looking back, I would never choose to have a baby in the middle of a pandemic! Our bubble is small, and we are very strict with covid protocols. I feel like I’m not as great of a parent as I could be because of how the pandemic has negatively affected me, but I try to remind myself that I’m not alone in the struggle.

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

I want to normalize the ups and downs of pregnancy, postpartum, and parenting. I also want more representation for nonbinary gestational parents.

Casey

Casey (32 - they/them) and Adrian (2)

Minneapolis, MN

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

Because I am trans (non-binary), I knew pregnancy would be a massive challenge for me in terms of body image. I didn't even know how I would dress/present myself to the world, given the inundation of gendered stereotypes that come with a pregnant person's experience. Although I felt like I was agreeing to sort of willingly stifle my own gender identity journey in many ways for that time period because of the sheer lack of resources to support folx like me, it was also an experience I had always wanted to have. Holding those two things at once was delicate, often times devastating and dysphoric, but also incredibly beautiful and affirming.

I went from not wanting to chestfeed at all to somehow figuring it out with Adrian and ultimately chestfeeding him for 2 years and 3 months. It was a meaningful experience which, now that it is over, I'm really proud of myself for doing. It was excruciating and also eye-opening all at once. Having my body "back" now, in a sense, has left me feeling more empowered about the fact that my trans body is valid and incredible, and I have more confidence in my own body in a way I have truly never felt before. I'm super proud to be trans and even more empowered now in standing in my truth and knowing that I'm not cisgender. I want to emphasize very clearly that my experience isn't reflective of every trans person's experience - I know most people know that, but I want it to be out there. Everyone's experience truly is valid, and I obviously have privilege in ways others don't. I'm excited to see where this journey of gender identity and body empowerment takes me. Most importantly, I am so, so grateful for the privilege of being Adrian's parent. He is my greatest joy and is such an amazing human.

What was your postpartum experience?

My conception/fertility journey was long and exhausting, and I relate to many others who have gone through that struggle. When I finally conceived, I didn't want to believe it, because it seemed so far from possible at that point. The world of infertility often seems so isolating, because those who haven't experienced it naturally can't understand how devastating and excruciating that process can be. It was like being thrust into an entirely different social group with all these new terms and medical processes. As a queer/trans person, I also faced a lot of very blatant discrimination when it came to fertility treatments when compared to cisgender/straight people going through the exact same processes that I did. The health care system simply isn't set up to assist folx like me, and it was a challenging time. The amount of advocacy a pregnant person has to do in order to get truly patient-centered care was alarming to me.

I experienced precipitous labor, which is an abnormally fast birth. The onset of contractions and the ways that labor presents do not follow what you expect of a "typical" birth (whatever that means!), and it was really frightening and confusing - and indescribably painful. It felt like one long, never-ending contraction, and I couldn't breathe or truly even understand that I was having a baby in that moment. I had a lot of people tell me afterwards that I was "lucky," but to be honest, it was incredibly traumatic, both physically and mentally. I was 10cm dilated by the time I got to the hospital. I gave birth on my hands and knees thanks to the assistance of my midwife, and having had that experience and knowing what it feels like, I cannot believe we essentially force folx in labor to do anything other than what their bodies are telling them to do in that moment.

In the end, I still wonder how so many people who have given birth talk about it like it's a single moment in time, and often the comments we hear in everyday life make it seem like birth isn't actually really traumatic on one's body. It's a major event. When we talk about "postpartum," I absolutely love the idea of a 4th trimester, because for me, the physical and emotional effects of pregnancy and giving birth still linger over two years later and have forever changed me. I always find others' birth stories to be amazing, and exchanging birth stories with others has been so helpful in my own journey of healing. I hope we can move towards normalizing conversations about both the good and traumatic parts of pregnancy/birth/parenthood - and to stop regulating each others' bodies when it comes to these massively personal experiences and decisions.

What is your truth? 

I think everyone faces trauma and stigma and judgment, and everyone has things about them that make them experience shame. We have a culture that is designed to reinforce certain ideas as "normal" or "acceptable." We tend to want to silence people who challenge our long-held viewpoints, and we have a really hard time listening when marginalized folx are sharing their stories about their own experiences, especially when it comes to birth, gender presentation and parenting. I want that to change. I just want to emphasize how important it is to know that you do not have to follow anyone else's idea of beauty, of body "standards," of how you present yourself in terms of your gender or any other identity, or of how you should love or how you should parent or how you should move about the world. Our bodies are incredible - they are our OWN bodies to claim, not anybody else's - and our voices matter. Nobody should feel pressured to have children, to not have children, to feel criticized about their bodies, or to feel like they have to hide their experiences of loss and grief. I truly believe that the way to chip away at this stigma is to continue to share our own stories and show those who can't do so, for so many valid reasons, that they are not alone and that others feel the way they do, too.

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

I have long been supportive of this project, and I would scroll across a trans person and their story and I would think, "They are so brave. I could never be that vulnerable." But I realized how powerful that vulnerability and visibility is, and I wanted to stand in solidarity with those parents, because I know what a struggle all of this can be. They inspired me. We exist, but we're often excluded entirely from conversations around pregnancy, birth, reproductive rights and parenting. I think that sometimes the most amazing thing we can do for our little ones is to stand firmly and unapologetically in our own truths and identities so that one day, they can have their own individual voices about their own powerful and beautiful stories. I am truly grateful for every single human (especially those in our little 4TB group) who has stepped up to share their personal, painful, and really courageous stories with all of us through this project, and I am honored to add my voice to it. 

Johnny Blazes

Johnny Blazes (35 - they/them). Parent to Hazel Glory (10 mo) and Juniper Simone “Juno” (would be 2)

Boston, MA

“My first daughter, Juno, was born full-term in January of 2018. Due to complications during labor, she suffered severe brain damage and lived for six days in the NICU before dying peacefully in our arms. We had a beautiful, musical memorial service for her with a few hundred friends, colleagues, students, and family in attendance -- and I was forever changed by seeing how much love a six-day-old baby could inspire in a community who never got to meet her in person.

I also had an elective abortion when I was 21. I know for sure that it was the right choice for me and my then-partner. It was excruciatingly sad and difficult, and also true to what we needed and wanted. We both have amazing, beautiful children now at the right and perfect time in our lives.

How has parenthood impacted your body image? 

I’ve always prided myself on being body-positive. I work at a circus school where we go out of our way to make every person feel welcome and to celebrate athletic accomplishment and artistry at every level and with every body shape, gender, and ability. And I still find myself struggling to extend love and grace to myself as I learn about my new body shape, my new abilities or limitations.

Where do you put the waistline of your pants? Above the extra belly skin? Below it? Aah! I feel confused and frustrated about how there’s such a lack of clothing that looks and feels good for people who’ve had babies when there are so many of us. Sometimes I feel bad about how I look, and then I feel angry at myself for feeling bad. I want my daughter to always believe that she’s beautiful, and I want my mother to believe that she’s beautiful, and so I feel I must work to recognize my own.

I also feel powerful and proud and infinite. Making a baby and then birthing her is unbelievable. I’ve done it twice and it still boggles my mind. I look at other gestational parents with awe now all the time. I’m working on remembering to be awe-inspired by myself.

What was your postpartum experience? 

The birth and death of my first daughter was obviously emotionally traumatic, but it also caused a great deal of physical trauma. I had nerve damage in one leg that made it so I couldn’t walk, my sacrum was misaligned and caused back pain the radiated further and further up my spine each week, and I had a long healing process of my vulva and perineum because of multiple episiotomies and damage from ventouse. And still, it *felt* like I recovered more quickly the first time than the second. Within a few months I was exercising, regaining strength and confidence, feeling my core come back online. I got pregnant again 6 months after Juno’s birth, and stopped measuring what it meant to be “postpartum”, since I was now at the beginning of a process again.

My labor with Hazel was the diametric opposite to my first labor. She came quickly, and I felt safe and in control (as much as one can be in labor!) I had no tearing, no interventions, and I was up and walking right away. I felt so powerful - at first.

And then, as the months wore on and the excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders traded off with my spine traded off with my hamstrings and my core seemed like a blobby mess that wouldn’t pull its weight so I was constantly in back pain and carrying a baby means no time for getting stronger and why wasn’t I losing the weight I had gained like last time and why was it so much harder this time and how much do I hate/love/hate nursing and how much do I hate when people ask me how many children I have and watching their face fall when I say, “I have two kids, but my first daughter died at six days old, so this is the first one who came home with us” and what a gift my first daughter gave me of teaching me how resilient I am and wow this is totally unfair and wow I need to have more patience and grace with myself…

So yeah. My postpartum experience is still ongoing. Just this week, I’m feeling more hopeful. I’ve stopped chestfeeding, and despite the occasional pang of guilt, I feel awesome about it. Today I accomplished some aerial skills I haven’t done in literal years. Everything still hurts. But writing about the vastness of what my body has done in the last two years feels good.

What is your truth that you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent?

Being a parent is awesome. Even when it’s hard and exhausting and frustrating, even when it totally sucks. Be brave, be open to delight.

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

I was really moved when I found this project. There are so few spaces that are truly welcoming to gestational parents who are not “mothers” “moms” “mamas”. I’ve gotten very good at code-switching, and for the most part it’s really fine. But what a relief to be able to write about myself and my experience, and not feel like my genderqueerness needs to be defined or defended or advocated for. To be actively welcomed into postpartum community and feel seen is so rare.

Looking at the images of the parents who’ve been part of this project so far, I feel love and inspiration, admiration and pride in all of the bodies and stories. Every belly is beautiful, every stretch mark, every bit of skin and fat and muscle and wrinkle and smile. I want to be part of that chorus, and to see myself through that lens, that context. See my superhero’s cape revealed by standing amongst the powerful and beautiful, the parents.

Sam Dayze

Sam Dayze (33 - he/him). Parent to Starren (10 - she/her), Finnick (5 - she/her), and Shelter (3 - he/him)

Mobile, AL | New Orleans, LA

“I’ve had one miscarriage. My partner has had two. All of our pregnancies have been through at home artificial insemination. She was pregnant with what was going to be our first child when we were on our way to Orlando with friends. We got in a car wreck, and she miscarried the day after. It was hard, and we stopped trying for awhile. When we were ready to try again, we decided we’d both try to conceive. I conceived right away, but I miscarried at around 6 weeks. We found out she was pregnant a week later. I had so many emotions—excitement, fear, jealousy. My loss definitely sent me into a pretty deep depression it was hard to work through, and it was gut wrenching to reconcile that with the happy we’re-having-a-baby feelings I was also experiencing, and it was even harder to let go of the fear that we were going to lose this one too. But then she was born, and all was well. When our oldest child was two, we decided to try again, and my partner miscarried around 6 weeks. It was devastating, for her especially. We tabled having another baby for another two years, and then she still wasn’t ready to try pregnancy again, so I carried that one...and I spent the entire pregnancy scared I would lose the baby, at first because I’d had a loss before and after that because I developed a high risk condition.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I was sexually abused as a child. I always hated my body, because it was used against me. I self harmed. I didn’t want people to look at me or notice me. So my clothes were always oversized. I still struggle with binge eating disorder. I was the person wearing a jacket in 97 degree weather. Having kids forced me to be a lot more cognizant of all of that, and to do the work to process it, because I didn’t want them carrying the same baggage. I’m a lot more appreciative of my body now. This body was used to hurt me, but this body also crafted two babies, carried one to term and through birth, nursed that child for three and a half years, fed a few others through milk donation, and fed my third child who I didn’t birth. I’m especially proud I helped feed our third baby. He was born at 31 weeks via cesarean, because my partner developed severe preeclampsia. Between her and me and many milk donors, he got the human milk he needed to thrive.

Parenthood, especially parenting Finnick, also helped me understand my gender and start doing things for my body that made it feel more ME. Researching things for her—first when her presentation was consistently gender non-conforming from the time she began talking and reaching for clothes and other things on her own, and again when she was “not a boy, just a Finnick!”, and then again when she said she’s a girl and changed her pronouns to she and her—helped me put words to things I’d been feeling for years but didn’t have the language for. I started shopping a little differently, wearing my hair differently, adjusting my language, and feeling more ME in my body. In June I had surgery. My insurance wouldn’t cover top surgery, but they covered a reduction, and I asked my doctors to please take off as much as possible, and adjust the areola size and position...when I woke up and looked down, I just felt such profound relief I cried. I still do sometimes. This body fits who I am so much better now. I’m still the jackets in July guy though.

What was your postpartum experience?

I was sick when I was pregnant with Finnick. I had hyperemesis. I developed a heart arrhythmia. It was a never ending round of midwife appointments, high risk OB appointments, cardiology appointments, electrophysiology appointments , and multiple ER trips and hospitalizations, all between working full time and parenting a 5 year old. I was exhausted and full of anxiety, but I was also dealing with all of these feelings of nothing about my body or my self feeling right anymore. Discomfort with some aspects of womanhood wasn’t new to me—my kids call me Nova, because my partner was Mom, and none of the mother words ever felt comfortable or right for me. But pregnancy is when I first really started verbalizing that I didn’t feel altogether female. I was so overwhelmed I didn’t have time to think of what I expected postpartum. My energy went to coping with my fears surrounding delivery because of my health, but none of them came to pass. I had the quiet, unmedicated vaginal delivery I wanted with our midwife, backed by the high risk obstetrics team, that we as a family didn’t get with our first baby, who was born via emergency cesarean.

But while labor was a breath of fresh air after a miserable pregnancy, postpartum was...it was difficult. Unlike our oldest baby, Finnick cried, for hours on end. I remember listening to Demons by Imagine Dragons on repeat, or sitting in the bathtub with her cradled in my arms, with the water running and her whole body submerged except for her face, or wearing her in a carrier all day and night, because those were the only things that helped calm her down. I struggled with nursing in the beginning. She had jaundice, but it was so slight they discharged us home and had us come back every day for heel sticks, thinking it would resolve with frequent nursing and summer sunlight.

At eight days old, she was finally hospitalized with dehydration and a bilirubin of 23. I felt like a failure. Sleep was rare. At two weeks old, the pediatrician told me she was still losing weight. Again, I felt like a failure. So there was home healthcare and lactation consultants, and trying to figure out the problem, and finally at over a month old, she got back to her birth weight. I had to return to work at six weeks postpartum because I ran out of paid sick leave and couldn’t afford unpaid time. When I went to work and she got my milk in a bottle, she started refusing to nurse. And I felt like a failure again. We worked through that with sweat and tears, and then sometimes I’d have to leave a shift on my lunch break just to hold her for 20 minutes and nurse her while my partner sat in a quiet room because the baby had been screaming all night.

At three months postpartum, I had a cardiac ablation because medication still wasn’t controlling the arrythmia that didn’t go away post birth. I had complications involving defibrillation, and I returned to work a few days later because I couldn’t afford not to. After surgery, my milk supply tanked...and I felt like a failure again while I worked through that. It was just...hard. And isolating. And exhausting. And someone was always touching me. And it was never quiet. I constantly felt like I couldn’t breathe through the anxiety. I loved nursing but hated my chest more than ever, and I’d hated and resented it all my life already. My dysphoria bloomed, but I didn’t fully understand what it was or how to quantify it for a few more years.

Seeking out a purpose helped me cope. My pregnancy struggles taught me that many people don’t have supportive bedside care and advocation for their emotional needs and their birth plans, much less while managing high risk conditions. I had support a lot of people don’t get, and yet I found myself still lacking some of the care and help I needed. There aren’t enough midwives. There isn’t enough pregnancy, labor and postpartum support. There isn’t enough queer competent care. So I made a plan to go back to school and be some of that support for someone, and now I’m a labor nurse at the same hospital in which my kids were born.

Things got better over time. My milk supply went back up. I found a parenting support group. And we reached out to family for help. People from the group or a few family members would keep Finnick for a few hours at a time so we could breathe. My father in law came over and rocked her on his chest all night more than once so we could get more than 2 hours of sleep. At six months old, she started crying less, though things were still tough for her, and we didn’t know why. And when she was two we learned her 4th trimester struggle was because she had sensory processing disorder and was overwhelmed by all the things, and now we know she is autistic as well, as is my partner, and possibly me. Occupational therapy and learning how to help her navigate this world and accommodate her sensory and communication needs made a world of difference.

What is your truth?

You’re not failing at this. It’s hard. It’s really hard, and we have nothing in place to ease that burden. We have no pregnancy or parental leave. We have little access to the full spectrum of healthcare. We have no reliable safety nets. We have unhealthy work expectations and low wages. You are not failing at parenting. The system we have in place is failing you.

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

Because there are times I feel invisible, and I want to be seen. Because I am still doing the work of getting comfortable in my body, and I always will be. Because ash’s photos bring me joy. Because I want people to know it’s ok to struggle with pregnancy and parenting, and to not love every aspect of either. Because there are other parents like me out there, and I want them to know they are loved and they are valid, and it’s okay to not know the words for yourself or to discover them at any age or to just be a person without words or labels.

Angel Kulczyk

Angel Kulczyk (35 - she/her), mother to Milo blu (10 - not pictured), Ada grey (8), Wolf drei (4), and Henry Hywel (1.5)

Buffalo, NY"

“I have had 4 abortions. When I say that out loud I immediately feel insecure, I would be socially shamed, I must be ungrateful or lacking a heart... If anyone truly knew how many times I’ve been pregnant. They would pass some type of judgment of me being careless or lacking in morals for not taking control of my fertility. For not using preventative measures. Three out-of-four of my terminations Happened while I was on some form of birth control. One was a careless mistake with a high school boyfriend. I confided in one of my closest friends at the time then went on to feel like everyone in my social group knew of my abortion. The calls & texts started coming in, followed by shaming and ultimately feeling as an outcast, this all happening at the age of 17. This was my first real dose of “sisterhood”, a term I’ve truly grown to despise. It seems as if we’ve forgotten the true meaning of what support and standing by each other really looks like.

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I’m more confident in my body now than ever. I’m in awe of my true inner strength & power.

What was your postpartum experience?

10 years ago my postpartum experience with my son was extremely lonely. I was the first of any of my friends to have children. I decided I would breastfeed. Up until that point in my life, I’d never actually seen a woman breastfeed a baby but I was determined. I went on establishing four breast-feeding relationships, all so different with some complications. It’s definitely a commitment.

I remember after that birth my tail bone being in such excruciating pain for months and months after the birth of my son. For some reason I never reached out to my midwife or my doctors to say “hey is this normal!?” All the pain and putting on a fake smile as if everything is alright. it was like I was convincing myself as much as those around me. I had a torn labia, sounds like a one in a million injury, doctors/midwife’s say it’s actually fairly common. I’m a birth doula now and the birthing community always talks about the perineum tear, while i was left in the dark about it. I remember my postpartum just being trapped in a brain fog, just performing the basic motions of life but not truly being present. I would come to find out I was pregnant again when my son was six months old. A lot of egos insert themselves into women’s uteruses especially when they’re pregnant. I would be asked things like: “Was this baby planned? Can’t you take some time to enjoy your first baby before getting pregnant again, wow! Another baby!?”

I would go on to have a precipitous labor with my daughter. It took me weeks to really except the fact that my daughter was actually here on the earth side. Such a strange feeling. I was constantly told by others how lucky I was to have my labour over with so quickly, but I found the experience traumatic—like a Sunday mall walker suddenly thrust into an Ironman triathlon. You don’t have a chance to get used to being in labour. Trying to maintain a sense of calm is very difficult. I was in shock for weeks and the weeks definitely turned into years. Looking back on it all now its clear to me I was battling some postpartum depression during the first few years with my oldest kids.

Eventually I found myself pregnant once again, with my third child. My wild one. The pregnancy that would change the trajectory of my life. Such a empowering labor. I was 42+1 weeks and labor pains had been coming and going for weeks. I was in a unsupportive emotionally abusive marriage. I intuitively knew once this baby was born he was going to change everything. My now ex-husband at the time would move out two weeks after the birth of Wolf drei. Dragging me in & out of lawyers offices to hash out some kind of divorce agreement under the watchful eye of a mediator. That didn’t go too well. I was determined not to let this break me. This was my time to show myself what I’m truly capable of. All the Generational strength and wisdom would guide me through this terrible storm. It took us 3 years to come to an agreement. I’m happy with it. I gained sole custody of my three older kids and made the decision to support my children 100% - I didn’t and don’t want his child support. I left everything behind, my car, my house everything I set up for my family. To relinquish any and all emotional control. Looking back on it now, I have to say that was one of my most easiest postpartum experiences. Everything just fell into place. Walking was my form of meditation, I recall my third was strapped on me at all times for at least the first two years of his life.

I would go on to meet my current partner, someone who’s so supportive and I am truly thankful for this person. He’s helped me stay true to myself helping redefine healthy boundaries and what that looks like. We would go on to have a beautiful birth, my fourth, baby Hywel. Another very fast labor. So fast the midwife did not arrive in time and our sweet baby boy was born into the hands of his father. Four kids can be a bit much at times but I wouldn’t change a thing. it’s not perfect but I love this wild wolf pack. The name I referred to when speaking of my family. The power of the wolf the one who intuitively knows to always follow your intuition.

What is your truth?

Don’t ever stop speaking your truth. Don’t let Society tell you that you’re too much! Be you, you’re beautiful, your voice & story is worthy of being heard. Shit... scream it from the roof tops If you have too. Always remember no one knows your inner-self or can speak for you. You have to ask for what you need and then you shall receive. Accountability is Always key! If you fuck up in life, just apologize and move on, don’t dwell or self hate. Enjoy the simple and small things, those moments are what life is really all about.

Patricia DeVargas

Patricia DeVargas (32 - she/her) and Ruben (Ruben, 5 months)

Toronto, ON

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

Body image has been a struggle for me my entire life. Growing up fat, I was always trying to shrink my body, because I thought it was the only way I could be loved. This lead to an eating disorder that ruled my life for 10 years. I weight cycled for years and exercised to the point of injury. Just prior to getting pregnant, I decided it was time to heal my relationship with food and my body. Knowing I was bringing someone into the world, someone who would look up to me, was enough to start my journey to recovery. While pregnant, I fueled my body so baby could grow big and strong. I also celebrated the changes, because it meant baby was growing, and it was so beautiful and miraculous to me. I was honoring my hunger cues for the first time ever, and allowing rest, which I desperately needed after years of abusive exercise. I was working really hard on accepting and continuing to celebrate the changes in my body, but this became more challenging once baby was born.

The postpartum period has been challenging, because we live in a world where we’re expected to “get your pre-baby body back.” I am coming to terms with the fact that my body will never be the same, I have a tum that hangs a little lower, and breasts that will never be the same. But at the same time, I look at my sagging breasts and admire the fact that they’ve been able to feed my baby. I look at my stomach and appreciate its capacity to grow a little human. I am looking at myself with a lot more compassion and understanding. I truly admire what this body has gone through and what it was able to accomplish in 8 short months, which has been helpful in combating the pressure to shrink my body. I acknowledge that any body image issues I’m currently experiencing are an extension of lifelong insecurities. My stomach has always been an insecurity of mine. My breasts have always been an insecurity of mine. None of this is new. What is new, is being able to look at my son and appreciate that my body is, in fact, a fucking powerhouse. It grew a human; how amazing is that! I am continuing to work on accepting my body as it is today. I am no longer actively working to shrink it, because the way I look at it now, if I am actively shrinking my body, I am simultaneously shrinking my life. With a kid now in tow, the last thing I want to do is shrink any aspect of our lives. I am celebrating my fatness, I am celebrating my mom-bod. And, really, I am just grateful for this amazingly beautiful and transformational period in my life.

What was your postpartum experience?

Postpartum has been a doozy for me, for a variety of reasons. Ruben was born 5 weeks early, meaning I had to be admitted to the hospital. Gone was the option to birth my baby at home. My whole birth plan went out the window, and with it any feelings of power. I felt like a failure. My body was unable to carry to term and I questioned why that was. Following Ru’s delivery they quickly whisked him away to be evaluated in the NICU. I was exhausted and didn’t immediately go to visit him, and this made me question my devotion as a parent. This definitely wasn’t the rosy, beautiful birth experience I was expecting. I didn't immediately experience that overwhelming love and desire to protect him that you often hear about, and I wondered where I was going wrong. I saw him several hours later and didn’t think to try and latch. The delayed latching, I believe, played a role in my inability to produce enough milk. This was my first lesson in the importance of surrendering.

I learned very quickly that you can think and read and plan all you want, but your body and your baby follow their own rules. One thing I really wanted was to breastfeed. I struggled to produce enough milk and I’ve had to supplement with formula from the beginning. I was exclusively pumping and bottle feeding for the first few weeks but was determined to have him latch. He was 2 months when he successfully fed at the breast, which felt so incredible, but that wasn’t the end of our breastfeeding struggles. He is picky about when he will take the breast, and now will mainly takes it at night. For me breastfeeding has been where I’ve felt most close to him. It was during these times that I really began to feel that mother/child bond. It took a while for that feeling to really settle in, again making me question if I’m a good mother.

Parenthood, even though it’s still so new and fresh has made me question so many things about myself. I have a long history with depression and I feel this coming back up again. I am also struggling with the desire to smoke, even though I quit a year and a half ago. The things that were suppressed with the excitement of expecting are slowly bubbling their way back to the surface. Physically, I feel different. I have suffered with chronic SI joint pain since 2016 and pregnancy really exasperated this. I thought that once baby was born, my back would quickly return to how it was pre-pregnancy. The reality is that I suffer more than I did before. Not only do I still suffer with chronic back pain, but I have terrible joint pain, which I read is quite normal. This pain limits me in my day to day dealings with a new baby. I can’t sit up from a laying position with baby in my arms. I can’t walk him for more than a minute without it causing me terrible pain. I feel very limited by my body and have to accept that I have no choice but to do things a little different than if I were living pain free. I have to honour my body’s abilities and not punish myself for my inability to do certain things. I’ve slowly been incorporating more movement into my day. I am tuning into my body more than ever and really working on increasing embodiment. I want to be able to keep up with my son, but I need to respect and understand where my body is.

I never expected the postpartum experience to be such a roller coaster ride. I didn’t expect to question so many things about myself as a person, and as a mother. I have always loved kids, and have been told throughout my life that I would make a great mother, but the reality of it is so different than anything you can imagine or truly prepare for. But, at the end of the day, I love this child with every ounce of my being, and the only thing I can do is try and give him my best. My best will change as time goes, so I am trying my hardest to be present with him, enjoy what I can, and celebrate the small things. I lay with him at night, and look into his beautiful eyes while he drifts off to sleep. I feel us bonding more and more, and just love everything about this little human. What a beautiful, surprising, exhausting, liberating, terrifying, fulfilling journey this has already been.

What is your truth?

Surrender and open yourself up to change. Allow things to happen as they happen, and observe. There are no perfect parents, so release some control and enjoy the ride.

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

I was brought here by a desire to make peace with my postpartum body. I also want to be able to celebrate this moment in my life through beautiful photography.

Rachel Hines

Rachel Hines (35), Duncan Wulf (5), and Henrik Beau (9 months). Rachel is a previous project participant. You can view her photos and story from 2018 here.

Toronto, ON

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

With Henrik, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, which impacted a lot of my daily life. I failed my glucose test twice, and was told I needed to go to a two hour nutrition class. The class wasn’t helpful because it only covered portion sizes, and everyone in attendance left with a list of foods to eat and avoid. I was required to track my blood sugar levels upon waking in the morning, and an hour after eating every meal. I had to document everything I ate and drank for the last two months of my pregnancy. My morning fasting numbers were still too high, so I was referred to a dietitian and endocrinologist, who put me on medication to help bring my fasting numbers down. Because I needed to be medicated, it was an automatic transfer from my midwife to an OB, and I was devastated that I couldn’t have the home birth I wanted.

My experience with the endocrinologist was horrible. I was shamed because I couldn’t get my numbers down, and was told that everything that I was eating was wrong, despite following what the dietician told me to do. When I said I wanted to try some natural methods before starting on the medication, the endocrinologist told me that what I was planning on doing was wrong, dangerous for the fetus, and flat out wouldn’t work, even though she had no research to back up her claims. I ended up losing so much weight in a short amount of time that they were getting concerned about Henrik’s development.

At our final appointment, I was told that this was just the way my body was working, and there was nothing else they could suggest. I was mad and confused, and I felt like my body was failing me. I was scared to eat anything because it would spike my blood sugar levels, but not eating wasn’t an option. By not being able to eat a lot of the foods that I loved, I started getting aversions to them. The thought of eating made my stomach turn, and I only ate for the sake of nourishing my body. I hated eating because it was no longer an enjoyable experience.

When I was eight months postpartum, Duncan and I attended a birthday party for one of his classmates. Another mom and I were making small talk, and she asked when I was due. It took me a second to realize what she was referring to, so I asked, “due for what?” She told me that someone had told her I was expecting, and when I mentioned that I had Henrik in October, her only reply was “oh.” I didn’t get any kind of apology for the misunderstanding, and that’s what hurts the most. I’m constantly worrying when I go out in public if everything thinks I’m pregnant. Living in a bigger body isn’t easy, and I think about this comment a lot more than I should.

What was your postpartum experience?

My husband and I were able to have a few days alone with Henrik while Duncan stayed with my mom. Things got into a good rhythm once Duncan came home, and our schedules and consistencies pretty much stayed the same. I had forgotten how tiring the newborn stage was. This was amplified by Henrik’s bad reflux and constantly gasping for air and spitting up in his sleep. I didn’t get much rest at night for fear that he was going to choke in his sleep.

During the day, I rested as much as I could, but on the weekends I was trying too hard to be super mom. I wasn’t listening to my body, and would become exhausted and weak because I was doing too much. I wasn’t letting my body heal, and my postpartum bleeding picked back up.

We hired a postpartum doula this time around, and even though she had one shift a week, she helped our family immensely. Some days she would wash dishes and bottles while I took a shower or ran an errand, other days we would just chat or watch cooking videos together. One day she accompanied me to a postpartum midwife appointment. Having her company and energy in our home was extremely beneficial for me and my mental health.

I wanted to pump alongside breastfeeding Henrik, so I started when he was one week old. I had a great freezer stash of “just in case” milk that we used at night when Henrik started refusing one breast, but I started to hate pumping. It was taking away time I wanted to spend with my family, and it was interfering with the sleep that I needed. Pumping was starting to take longer and longer, and my output was getting smaller and smaller. I couldn’t pump enough to keep up with Henrik’s appetite, and I could feel the postpartum depression creeping in, so I made the decision to stop pumping all together for my mental health. To make up for the bottle of breastmilk Henrik would have gotten at night, we decided to start giving him formula. Feelings that my body was failing me started again, and I cried when I gave him his first bottle. But he was so happy. He wasn’t fussing at night anymore. I stopped feeling like I was letting him down.

With Henrik, I was able to recognize the signs of postpartum depression. I asked for help when I started feeling overwhelmed, even if it was as simple as someone else changing a diaper. I vocalized when I needed a break, and by nipping it in the bud, I felt that in my fourth trimester, I was a lot happier.

What is your truth?

Mental health and self care are paramount during the postpartum period. Familiarize yourself with the signs of postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. Ask for help no matter how big or small the task is, and be willing and open to accept help when it’s offered.

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

Duncan and I participated in 2018 when I was pregnant with Henrik. I wanted to document not only my relationship with Duncan, but my growing and changing body. Now that Henrik is here, it’s a perfect bookend photography story - a beautiful before and after.

Rae D.

Rae D. (37 - they/them), parent to Logan (4 - they/he - pictured), and Leo (4 - he/him)

Oak Park, IL

Rae shares -

“I got pregnant the first time we decided that I would try to be a gestational parent. My older sister Adrienne died on July 12, 2013. Logan was conceived on October 23, 2013 about 3 months after her death. I had not seriously thought of being a gestational parent until her death. My due date was July 16, 2014, just a few days after the anniversary of my sister's death but Logan was born 3 days early on July 13, 2014.”

How has parenthood impacted your body image?

I see my body in a more positive light. Even when I feel insecure regarding my size, or whatever it is I remember that my body was strong enough to create life. I remember the tiny human whom is looking at me for guidance and sees how I treat myself. I had top surgery 8 months prior to getting pregnant, and this also increased my positive image and gave me the courage to gestate.

What was your postpartum experience?

When I gave birth to Logan, my spouse was 8.5 months pregnant with Leo. I had lots of help within our house - my mom, spouse and nephew. My mom had moved in a month prior, so she was very good at making sure I ate good food, drank enough water, and when I was up with the baby in the early mornings she would hang out and be a comfort to me. I was having a hard time adjusting with being responsible for a tiny human, and also feeling like I needed to be more help to my spouse who was due any day. It felt overwhelming to feel like I was having to choose between taking care of my spouse and taking care of our tiny human.

I felt very isolated because I was scared to discuss with everyone that I wanted to be my kids Dad, but everyone was still calling me mom/mama. My close friends and family knew that I had top surgery before the pregnancy and that I had no mammary glands and would not be able to breastfeed. My spouse and I had been meeting with lactation consultants regularly throughout our pregnancies to have a breastfeeding plan for my spouse to breastfeed both children. We understood the benefits of breastfeeding but one thing I did not expect was the societal judgement and guilt that I would feel for not breastfeeding. "Are you breastfeeding?" I was been asked this question on a daily basis since Logan was born. “Nope,” I would smile and reply, “baby is formula fed.” Most people just say okay, but some feel as if it is their great enlightenment to tell me how great breast feeding is for babies. I totally agree it's great, but I don't think it's a cure all. I am lucky enough that my wife was able to provide breast milk to Logan after giving birth to our son. What an amazing bonding experience for the both of them. I love that Logan had the chance to be able to breast feed with their other parent.

I did feel some guilt when Logan was just about to be born in regards to not being able to breast feed. They were quickly subsided by the fact that he was such a good baby. We couldn't possibly be doing anything wrong by not breast feeding. We did have some donated milk for them as well but we ran through that very quickly as babies drink so much milk and we couldn’t keep up with exclusive breastmilk. We also didn’t think it was anyone else’s business what we fed our children, as long as they are fed and healthy.

I did not know the stigma I would face in regards to not breastfeeding. Nor did I know the general public would make it their business whether or not I breast fed. Now if you are a friend or family member who has asked me, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to the grocery clerk or the barista. I also didn't realize how it would impact our care in postpartum. Now the funny part is, I didn't realize this until after my wife gave birth. There was someone in her room every 2 hours to check the baby, make sure he is eating, make sure he is latching etc. When it was me I think they came in once during the night. We told them about her projectile vomit which they attributed to Logan just being born. We did a lot of research and had good support to get Logan to learn to breastfeed. I did chest feed daily with a supplemental nursing system attached to my chest. This involved a tiny tube attached to my chest that Logan had to work really hard at sucking to get the smallest drips of milk or formula to come out. We did this in ten minute increments so that their face muscles would learn to work hard and develop like a breastfed baby’s do. It was also a wonderful skin to skin bonding time for us both. A lot of people doubted that Logan would be able to transition from the ease of bottle feeding to the hard work of breastfeeding after a few weeks when my wife could feed them, but Logan transitioned without any problem and breastfed from my spouse for several months.

All this being said we can fast forward to my wife being in the hospital for some "fever of unknown origin". Around day 6, she asked to see a lactation consultant to find out if she decided to stop breast feeding what exactly that would entail. The LC told my wife, "no one will blame you if you choose not to breast feed, but the benefits of breast feeding are well documented and I just don't want you to be ridden with a lifetime of guilt." I get it, that's her job to attempt to get people to breast feed..... But to say such things to someone who has been getting up after 2 hours around the clock to pump in the hospital in order to get up her supply for when she is released. There is also benefits to sleeping when you're sick and not exhausting your body. The guilt that we both felt around breastfeeding and a temporary or permanent inability to provide breastmilk for our children was something that we had not anticipated. There are so many people out there who cannot breastfeed. My heart goes out to all those people who likely face the same feelings of judgement that we felt for not being able to breastfeed.

Physically I seemed to be doing okay postpartum. During labor my blood pressure went dangerously high to above 200 systolic, and over 100 diastolic. This seemed to resolve itself after they gave me medication to lower it. However at about 8.5 months postpartum, I began having a horrible headache, my face hurt and my neck hurt. We were visiting Chicago and I didn't really know what to do. After going to a clinic and asking for imaging I was told I had an aneurysm in my Left Carotid Artery. They admitted me via an emergency and then did more imaging. They then told me it was not an aneurysm, but that it was a dissection with a thrombus, which is very similar to an aneurysm. The doctors told me that I had saved myself from a stroke by coming in and asking for imaging. The reason I insisted on having imaging was because my sister had a headache and went into the hospital and no imaging was done. She was discharged home and died alone on her couch from a carotid aneurysm that ruptured. I felt like somehow my sister was looking out for me. I gave birth the day before the anniversary of my sister’s death and knowing her cause of death had helped me to get a similar diagnosis before it was too late for me. She is constantly on my mind and in my heart, I miss her everyday and wish that her aneurysm had been caught and treated when she was alive. I’ve seen many doctors and been worked up for various vascular anomalies but they have not found any definitive genetic or familial cause for the rupture prone vessels that my sister and I share.

Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
Since seeing this project I have wanted to participate. I want to "normalize" bodies that do not fit into the cis-gender category. I want someone to see me with my kids and know that if their body doesn't "fit in", or if they know they need to transition in anyway that they can still decide to gestate a human. I know that many folks in the early 2000's whom I saw that decided to be openly trans and have kids really impacted my feelings about myself later and worrying that I would be alone.

Jayk Kearns

Jayk Kearns (20) and Oliver

Minneapolis, MN

Jayk shares -

“I experienced an early miscarriage at 4 weeks. I had only been with my partner for two months at the time but we both took it very hard. I was getting positive tests for a week, then I started bleeding so I rushed to urgent care, tests in hand. The doctor said I wasn’t pregnant, and refused to do any testing and just sent me home. The next few weeks were spent crying.

Since coming out as transgender I’ve always disliked my body, but when I found out I was pregnant I felt really good about my body. Partially because my belly never got big and people couldn’t tell I was pregnant! After I had my son I lost all the baby weight fast but when I went back on hormones they forced me to take the depo shot ( a form of birth control), that combined with my hormones has made me gain all the baby weight back and I can’t loose it.

I tried to chest feed and it was amazing at first. My milk came in fast, while still in the hospital. In the weeks following, I had got mastitis twice, the later one sent me to the ER with prolonged 105°f fevers, they thought I had sepsis but luckily I was given antibiotics and allowed to go home. I lost my milk supply shortly after that and I couldn’t stop crying. Thing adjusted better once my son was on formula.

I acquired postpartum anxiety and I still have it, I get these crazy thoughts that someone will hurt my son and it gets me depressed. I didn’t really expect anything that has happened to happen but I have lived and learned from it and it has made me stronger.

I feel like transgender parents need more recognition and people need to learn the truth about us and our point of view - we are not freaks, we are normal people who want to start families and live our lives just like everyone else.”