I haven’t even started typing what I want to say and I already feel like crying. Why is your baby turning one so emotionally triggering? Twelve whole months of loving and learning about my baby, and learning myself all over again. I was very blessed that motherhood came easily and when I planned, and besides some swelling that stole the bones in my feet, my pregnancy was rather textbook. Not to gloss over it, but the truth is it was the birth and subsequent becoming that really shaped me. Here’s what I would want others to know (and quietly to remind myself of), because every motherhood journey is different and these things deserve to be spoken about.
Early Arrival
Let me be a lesson in packing your hospital bag early. Bookmark this and go do it right now! Our girl came at 36 weeks, and my midwife’s exact words to me on the birthing suite were “You’re the last person I expected to see here”, because there really were no warning signs. I was meant to go into the office and have a nice pub lunch (still annoyed I didn’t get that last chicken schnitty), but instead I spent 13 hours in labour demanding red licorice and getting my mum to rush to our house to wash baby clothes, feed pets, clean up and pack me a bag (I love you mum!).
I’ve come to realise few people get the birth they wanted, because there are so many variables that it’s like trying to herd cats sometimes. I was prepared to be flexible about it. Ideally I would birth vaginally with only necessary intervention, and I wanted to at least try without pain relief. My gold star though naturally was a safe delivery.
Midwives genuinely do not get enough praise for what they do.
Well, I ended up having an epidural, pitocin (for someone who wanted to come early, my baby kept changing her mind!), vacuum and episiotomy. Perhaps not the dream, but I felt supported and informed at every stage, and in hindsight that’s the real dream I would bring to my next birth. Midwives genuinely do not get enough praise for what they do. It’s not just the medical side of things, it’s the cheerleading and reassuring and knowing when to push (and pull). Looking back I see that there were some uncertain moments, but I never felt afraid. For example I wanted to get in the bath to labour, they kindly said no because they weren’t sure why my waters had broken early and it was a risk, but I could have the longest shower I wanted. It’s small things, but I never felt pressured, harassed, judged or worried (even when they quietly got the resuscitation cart ready for her arrival, she was fine, but I now know they weren’t sure and wanted to be prepared just in case).
Recovery
I thought I was prepared for birth recovery because I’d bought some maternity pads and had a peri bottle (shout out to Bare Mum!). The only breastcare item I had were silverettes, which while I know some people swear by, did nothing for me. I hadn’t thought to ask the women in my life for the details of their births and recoveries, a huge oversight I will always regret.
It’s really hard to describe what those early days were like even now.
We had one night with our girl on the ward before she had to go get some extra attention in the special care nursery to treat her jaundice (common for even late pre-term babies and instrument deliveries). It’s really hard to describe what those early days were like even now. My milk took a while to come in because she’d come early, so I was on a strict feeding and pumping schedule. My baby was too small to latch properly and feed as much as she needed, so we formula and tube fed so she could get strong and spend time under the lights. Our only cuddles were precious feed times. After 3 days I was discharged… without her. We spent the next 5 days driving back and forth to the hospital several times a day to feed and hand over pumped milk, soaking up every minute with her until she was given the all clear and we could FINALLY bring her home.
I realise this sounds like a horror movie to most mums, but I was so focused on the routine at the time that even with the hormones running rampant, I took it in my stride. And now, I see that while it would never be my choice, I can accept there is a blessing in this for my own personal recovery. Besides waking up to pump every three hours, I got solid sleep, wonderful help from the nurses on the ward who taught me to breastfeed and guided me to nipple shields to help her latch, and I had plenty of laying flat time while my episiotomy healed which was good because it hurt A LOT. That was easily the worst part of recovery and I came to be scared of even the smallest wee (and that was with the help of the peri bottle!). There’s a lot I would do differently recovering, a lot I had intended to do, like stocking up the freezer. We made it work thanks to friends, family and Dinner Ladies.
Body Image
Like most women who have given birth, I am in complete awe of what my body did. I grew a literal human who now says mama and crawls over to give me kisses! I did that! But… there’s a but. Many tears were shed after (during) birth, but one of the moments I look back and laugh on was my cry after looking in the mirror of hospital room and seeing how quickly my pregnant belly had disappeared (in my mind anyway) and freaking out thinking no one would know I’d been pregnant, and they wouldn’t know this was my child. My husband assured me that me pushing a pram would be enough to convince people I hadn’t stolen a baby. Hormones. Gotta love them!
I probably never will return to that body. That’s okay.
I haven’t returned to my pre-baby body a year later even though I’ve always been a gym goer and returned to working out a couple months after birth. I probably never will return to that body. That’s okay. I’ve tried to be kind to myself and focus on making milk for my baby and not the scales. I’ve been a producer, not an over-producer, which means any drop in hydration or calorie intake seems to have an immediate effect on my milk. It’s been a back-and-forth mentally, but I accept until I’ve finished breastfeeding this isn’t the season to pursue a flat stomach, and those things simply don’t matter to me anymore in the grand scheme of things. My body does feel different, even now, it went through the biggest thing, and it wants to move slowly for a while, without any more big changes.
This is the season to pursue skincare though and as an avid skincare lover this has been tough for me. Besides the best treatments for stretchmarks being retinols which are out of bounds while breastfeeding, I’ve had some major postpartum skin sensitivity and eczema flare ups. At some points my eyes were almost swollen shut they were so inflamed and I was waking up from scratching my chest. It turns out this is extremely common, and seven of the ten women in my mothers group had almost identical redness around their eyes! I highly recommend seeing your GP or a dermatologist to help navigate this, but the main things that helped me was swapping to sensitive everything (washing powder, gentle skincare, no fragrance) and time. As my hormones have settled it’s gotten a lot better, but just know you’re not alone, it’s very normal and you don’t have to just ignore the pain.
I think this applies to a lot of things in motherhood. It took me ten months (!) to go to the physio for a sore back and the first thing he said was “I see this injury a lot in mums”. Just because you’re caring for someone else doesn’t mean you don’t have to care for yourself too.
The Unexpected Need For Help
You’re not meant to say it out loud, but the newborn days for us were a breeze. I was so mentally prepared for it to be hard, for a lack of sleep and to only focus on one thing (my daughter), that I was pleasantly surprised that she slept and ate well and the days flew by.
When I really needed help was the 8 month mark. And that’s when help had dried up. People didn’t check in anymore. They hadn’t really checked in since the first couple months, and I don’t blame anyone because I would have been the same before I became a mother myself. I now know your hormones are still (still!) settling at this point as your baby adjusts feeds and sleep schedules, and I felt the crash at this point much worse than I had in the fourth trimester. There were some very flat days around this point and because no one speaks about the baby blues past the first 12 weeks of birth, I felt foolish talking to anyone about it, like I would have been attention seeking because nothing is technically wrong. If you’re reading this and know a mum with a child of any age (not just 8 months), check in on them. A quick text to ask if they need help, say you’re thinking of them, or just send them a quote about motherhood… I think we all need a reminder as we navigate motherhood that we’ve got a village.When I really needed help was the 8 month mark. And that’s when help had dried up.