MOTHERHOOD
THE BLOOM SERIES
shelby
Body changes:
Where do I start when it comes to body changes?
Prepregnancy — 3 years ago when Tyler & I started talking about babies and our family growing, I would always hold back and tell him I didn’t want my body to change, I wasn’t ready. I have worked my entire life for this body and I am not ready to lose it yet. I have a really really amazing husband, y’all. Because he could have been frustrated with me selfish at the time but he knows how important my body and health mean to me so he gave me a few more years ;)
During Pregnancy — While I was pregnant, even before, people would always tell me that I would bounce back. “You’re tiny, you won’t even know you had a baby.” These people are amazing and I certainly appreciate them, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t constantly think about these expectations I had to live up to in the back of my mind. What if I have Frankie and I don’t bounce back? What if I never lose my baby weight? Or worse, what if I can never move my body again? I think many people struggle with finding the words to be there and encourage but I learned throughout pregnancy that asking how someone is feeling physically means so much more than expecting something of their body after growing a human.
Post Pregnancy — For the first time in my life, I finally accepted and embraced my body for what it’s worth. For as long as I can remember, I have obsessed over my body (don’t get me wrong, I still have my days). But I am in a much better place mentally more than ever with the way my body looks. Right after giving birth, I was frustrated. I thought I could bounce back before leaving the hospital. IF YOU EVER THINK THIS, PLEASE READ THIS AND REMEMBER WHAT YOUR BODY HAS GONE THROUGH. In the past, I would obsess over how flat my stomach would be in the AM vs. PM and count my calories. Those days are long gone. Like most, I am trying to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight but that’s not so I can obsess over my body but because that is the state I feel most healthy and like myself.
Your skin will sag. Your thighs will grow. You might even get a pretty little scar across your belly. But always searching for the sunshine, I look at those things and remind myself that I’m one strong bitch, and a beautiful little baby was made inside of this place I call home.
Working mama:
I am a full-time working Mom. Before I was pregnant I would ALWAYS say, “Oh it can’t be that hard. I love my job too much, I will always work. I’ll be fine going back to work after 12 weeks with a baby.” Holy moly was I wrong. This has been a challenge for me. Because I love Frankie so much but I love my career so much too. Finding the balance in both has taken months for adaptation. This is something I am still working on, and will continue to work on for all of my days as a full-time working mom.
I do want to leave you with this —
I have Mom goals, and I have financial goals. I have feedings, and I have meetings. I spend my lunch break working out when I all I can think about is my sweet baby playing at home. I work to help in providing for my family, for my baby, for our future. Every single morning I remind myself of my goals, accomplishments and passions and never lose sight of any of these things. I dream about my future with my husband and baby. And I feel fulfilled knowing I can make a career for myself, and a future for Frankie.
Breastfeeding:
I was SO excited to breastfeed. I am very Type A so I read articles every single night on best practices for breastfeeding – times to feed, how to prep, how to store, how much milk I need to produce to save – the list I read was never ending. I didn’t know what to expect but thought I can do it if it’s so natural.
I am here to tell you (from my experience) that it is not natural. It’s hard freaking work. I truly look up to those women that can make it work and stick with it. Never in my life had I cried more than I did the 2 months I breastfed, AKA exclusively pumped. There would be times I would sit and pump for 45 minutes to an hour, hoping I could get more out of that one time than if I pumped double. I struggled really hard. Of course, we only see the best parts on social media but I promise you, I WAS UPSET. I had some days where I would break down and wait as long as I could for the next pump, and dreamed of the day I could give Frankie formula. 2months later and I felt great about her getting some of my breast milk, but in order to continue living a happy life we had to make a change.
There are plenty of mamas that have been where I was. There are also plenty that thrive from breastfeeding. It’s your journey, it’s your baby; do what makes you happy.
— Shelby
mariah
Balance:
The major key for me and learning how to balance being a mother and finding my own identity is my faith. There were many times where I could look back and see my life going 100 mph, headed straight down a path of success, peace and clear identity; and during those times, it was when I was closest to God — reading his word, praying often, being surrounded by other Christian mothers and so on.
When I struggled to find out who I am, I would look to God and ask him to make me the best version of myself.
As soon as I stopped comparing myself to other people & started living in the destiny that God has for ME- it was then that I started to believe that motherhood wasn’t impossible. There have been SO many tears focused around how to balance work-life from a home position with no manual. Tears and long nights trying to get out of toxic relationships. But my favorite highlight of it all is reading the Holy Bible & reading self-empowerment books (I recommend Lisa Bevere’s books).
After reading about purpose & passion, I knew my purpose above all else is keeping Felicity alive, well-nourished and happy. It wasn’t a simple choice, but there’s power in gaining unbreakable faith. Power over your mind & your spirit leads to HARD choices like disconnecting from unhealthy relationships, working long hours and having to be away from Felicity just so I could make a good check to bring home.
At the end of the day I’ve made myself proud — I’ve built pillars for being an amazing mother (we should say that more often about ourselves), I know that nothing can break my faith, and I know that nothing can erase the identity and calling on my life.
Motherhood is the gift that keeps on giving - even when we’re out of wack, tired and deprived, feeling like it’s a marathon that never really ends (but has thousands of mile markers)! When I found out I was pregnant and I made the choice to become a mother, I asked God for the master key to our new path.
Little did I know that it would never be perfect, but it’s been so perfect for US. I’ve been so fortunate and blessed to have an amazing tribe of people that are constantly there for us along the path. So fortunate that I bumped my head 100 times before becoming a mom. And so blessed that I could be molded into the best woman, so I can be the best single mother. Felicity is the best (Christmas) gift ever - and I mean, who would’ve thought I could be carbon copied?
— Mariah
haley
Birth story - part one:
For my first birth I planned to deliver naturally at a birthing center with midwives. My pregnancy was super normal and I had no major issues besides the normal aches and pains that come with growing a tiny human. At my birthing center when you go over 41 weeks they make you get biophysical profile (which is basically just an ultrasound to check on baby) as well as a non stress test. Well, my due date came and went. Once I hit 41 weeks I went in for the BPP. The baby scored a 0 out of 8, which is failing. I was terrified and was immediately sent to the hospital for an induction. This was the total opposite of what I wanted or planned.
Once we arrived at the hospital they redid the test and he passed with a new score of 8 out of 8. Unfortunately, they wanted to keep us there and start pitocin. Luckily my midwife was able to stay at the hospital with us. They started the pitocin on a Wednesday afternoon. I was given different things to try to make my labor progress. Cervadil..didn’t do much. Forgot to mention when I checked into the hospital I was at a 0 and completely closed. Next they tried a foley balloon, which I won’t go into detail about (you can google it), let’s just say it is very uncomfortable. That got me to a 3 where I again sat at for a long time. Almost 24 hrs after being induced, there was still not a lot happening. Baby was not ready to come. I was feeling contractions this whole time but nothing too painful yet.
Around 2am on Friday morning I finally started to have some painful contractions. When they checked me again I was at a 7 (mind you this was around 30hrs after being induced). Later that morning after having lots of intense contractions, they wanted to check me again, thinking I would have progressed. I had actually went back to only being dilated to a 5, which I didn’t even know was possible. I was so discouraged and beyond exhausted at this point. My midwife came in and highly suggested that if I wanted a better chance at not having a c-section, I should agree to an epidural. At this point I didn’t care about my plan for a natural birth anymore. I got the epidural and was able to sleep and relax for the rest of the day.
In the afternoon a random nurse came in to check me and said I was still at a 5. I remember their being a lot of talk about a c-section being the next step. Theirs absolutely nothing wrong with having a c-section but I just knew that wasn’t for me and something seemed off. I asked my midwife if she could check me because the nurse didn’t seem to be very confident with my dilation. Sure enough my instinct was right and I was finally dilated to a 9. Which meant it was almost go time! After two hours of pushing my midwife told me to reach down and grab my baby. This was by far the best moment of my life. After 2 1/2 days of labor my little boy was finally here and healthy.
Woman’s bodies are truly amazing. Had it not been for my midwife I believe I would have had a way different ending.
Birth story - part two:
When I found out I was pregnant with Baylor my oldest was only 7 months old. I had just gone through what I considered a some what traumatic first birth. Every birth is different and if it didn’t go the way you thought it would and you find it to be somewhat “traumatic” don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all have different versions of what you want your birth story to look like. We were so pumped to give Dax a sibling so close in age but honestly in the beginning I was terrified to give birth so quickly again. After some searching we found an amazing midwife group and I finally got my husband to agree on a homebirth. Something I found very different and helpful the second pregnancy was a prenatal yoga studio run by doulas. They truly helped me in so many more ways than just giving me a space to come do yoga a couple times a week. After hearing so many women share what they were going through each week of pregnancy I started to feel a calmness about giving birth. Now onto the actual birth. We moved into our new home on my guess date (highly don’t recommend trying to buy a house while planning for a homebirth). I had a feeling this baby was going to take his sweet time and boy did he do just that. I also want to note that the average time for most first time mothers is 41 weeks and 1 day. Their is this whole stigma that if you go over your “due date” you’re late.
Pregnancy/birth is something I am so passionate about and could talk for hours about! Anyways, my dad lives out of town and was planning to come stay with us and help us out with our toddler. He kept pushing back his flight until finally he called and said I’m just going to fly in. At this point I was 42 weeks and 3 days. I had tried all the things to get this baby to come. But the day after my dad flew into town I was putting my toddler down for bed, what I didn’t know would be his last night as an only child. This particular night he wanted me to lay with him for awhile. It’s almost like he knew what was coming. I lost my mucous plug that night. I woke up around 5am with some mild contractions but tried to fall back asleep since I had been having those for weeks. About an hour later I woke up and knew it was the real deal. I rolled on a medicine ball for awhile before finally waking up my husband telling him we needed to call his mom to come get Dax. That was one of the most emotional things I’ve gone through telling Dax goodbye. I blame pregnancy hormones.
We texted the doula to let her know what was going on...When I say we I mean Blake because I was in the labor zone. It all seemed to happen so quickly. Blake and my doula Jessica were amazing rubbing my back and feeding me smoothies and water. The midwives showed up around the time the tub in our room was being filled up. I hopped in the tub and it helped so much with those strong contractions. After one push Baylor’s head was out and my midwife had me change positions to get his shoulders out (he was/is a big boy). She told me to pull him up and we met our sweet chunky boy. My labor was around 7hrs which is insane compared to my first time that lasted 3 days. It was the most crazy empowering experience. Let me just tell you how nice it is to crawl into your own bed right after delivering a baby. Every single birth is different, even my own two were. If you have a hard unexpected birth experience that doesn’t go the way you thought it would that is ok and you deserve time to work through it.
— Haley
brittany
Expectations/birth story:
I imagined taking motherhood head on, never missing a beat, still career driven, all the while wearing high heels, a face displaying fresh make-up, never letting the “tiredness” that comes with parenting show from the exterior. My type A personality definitely led me to believe before meeting my beautiful baby boy, that parenting, like the rest of my life, would be easier with a plan, to-do lists, and a “stick to the schedule” mentality.
Motherhood, and all of its beautiful glory, has brought so much rawness for me that I would quite literally be terrified to even think about before my new life began- my life as a Mama.
I was for sure that motherhood would bring me great joy, minimal stretch marks, and a beautiful birthing story to share with everyone who asked. Well, the grief of losing that reality hit while in labor on August 9th 2019.
Months prior I had planned out my “ideal” birthing process with pen and paper. I remember sitting there in the small room, hardly comfortable in my chair with my huge but cute belly, writing out how strongly I wanted a vaginal birth, unmedicated, until I felt the meds were necessary. I was for sure I had this motherhood thing down already and with excitement, one step closer to seeing my baby boy.
On Thursday morning, the day before his entrance into the world, I felt a pop and determined soon after that my water had broke. Instantly my contractions started and as I timed them, they were 2 minutes apart. As directed by our doula, I stayed home, showered and tried to get my mind off of the pain by “going about my day”.
A few hours later, the pain was so unbareable, and with my contractions still a few minutes apart, we decided it was time to go to the hospital. Many hours and an epidural later, I stopped dilating. I had been open (dilated to 9cm) for so long that I had developed an infection and spiked a fever. Pitocin was next for us in hopes to get my dilation to where it needed to be. The meds had kicked in and that little beep on the monitor, that represented my baby boy’s heart beat, started to disappear. I instantly went into a panic.
The nurses tried for about 30 minutes to move me to a position where we could retrieve his little heart beat. They encouraged me to turn off the sound but I was adamant to listen, to cling to those beeps knowing that he will be okay. As his heart rate kept dropping, the doctor came in and told me that we needed to perform an emergency c-section.
I fought with myself, the one who had planned this all out. This wasn’t in the cards for me. I was even told that a c-section was “not my story”. This became a pivotal moment for me, letting go of how I imagined bringing Beckham into this world. This is where I truly became a mother, doing what was best for my baby, to keep him safe and alive. I was absolutely terrified, being wheeled back to the OR, my husband leaving my side for a brief moment to get his scrubs on.
This is not what I pictured! I was shaking so bad with nerves and adrenaline, that my teeth were chattering. Through the procedure I felt out of it, loopy and nauseous - feeling pressure from what I believed to be removal of some of my organs to get to where B had been living all those 9 months.
Throughout those 9 months I pictured this moment - the moment I would hold him in my arms after him being pulled out of me.
But here I was, throwing up on my self, unaware that they had just pulled him out. I hear his little screams, and I look over with blurry eyes and see my baby boy. I thought I would be the first to hold him but daddy does until I finish throwing up. I see his face and I see my whole existence before me. My purpose, my reason for being who I am.
No, this introduction was nothing as I thought it would be and the grievance of that eventually faded with time. But I lay there, in awe of this baby boy, healthy, and so damn cute. The process was nothing that a birth plan could prepare for but I realize that my birth story, even without the vaginal birth, was truly beautiful because it brought me Beckham - my 7pound 12 ounce bundle of joy.
Grievance with my birth story took a while to overcome. I cried weeks after thinking about vaginally giving birth, pushing Beckham out, holding him onto my chest while he breathed air into his lungs for the first time, and meeting our eyes together for the first time. It hurt me and broke my heart I wasn’t able to experience that.
I learned with time, that it’s okay to grieve what I thought I would experience in such a huge moment of my life, but it’s also okay to let go.
In motherhood, that’s what I have learned most. There was the thought of me as a mother: make up, never sloppy, invested into her corporate world of a career, and minimal stretch marks. And there’s the mother who I am today: strong and willing to do anything for the safety of her kid, a stay at home mom who left the corporate world, dressed in whatever is comfortable with an occasional stain or too, and some beautiful stretch marks.
— Brittany
audrey
Postpartum Expectations/Anxiety:
Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a mom. I have always been inspired by how badass motherhood really is. My pregnancy with my daughter was filled with gratitude, joy, and lots of trips to the toilet. Every time I would emerge from the bathroom after a bout of morning sickness (which happened all day long), I would form an ideal picture of myself as a mother and think, “it's all worth it.” I would soldier on because, in the end when I had that baby, my world would be filled with joy, happiness, and confetti would rain down from the ceiling as if I had just won Dancing with the Stars. As my due date approached, I remember starting to feel stings of worry, but I echoed this prayer in my head, “I am not afraid; I was born to do this.” I carried this quote from the French heroine Joan of Arc all the way up to my daughter's birth when fear struck me as they rolled me into an emergency c-section.
When we brought our baby home from the hospital, the surge of emotions continued and the baby blues hit in waves. Tears would come in the middle of dinner or during a simple credit card commercial. I wasn’t too worried because a few other moms had told me about the random rush of hormones that would come for a few weeks after having a baby. When my daughter was about 2 months old, things changed. I had metaphorically vacuumed up the Dancing with the Stars confetti, the visitors and gifts slowed down, and we got a semblance of a schedule in place. Even the tears during the credit card commercials stopped - but when the loneliness and wicked gravity of reality would sink in, my heart would begin to race. So much had changed. Now we were making these huge and small decisions that would impact the rest of our little baby's life. I would hold myself together during the day. The baby was fed, my husband and I proved to be a great team, and joy filled every inch of our home. But at night when I would relax and slip toward sleep, I would lurch forward holding my chest and crying for seemingly no reason.
This was an anxiety I had never felt before, but I really couldn’t label it as that. I just thought something was very wrong with me. In fact, the first time this happened I really thought I was in the middle of a heart attack. I would cry inconsolably and lose all control of my own breath. My husband would comfort me, the morning would come, and I would do it all over again. This pattern scared me, and I had to get help. It was confusing because I was functioning day to day, but my body was trying to tell me that I wasn't facing all the emotions I was going through. Shoving it down and soldiering on wasn’t an effective way of coping with such a big life change anymore.
After sharing my story with a trusted friend, she encouraged me to start therapy. I was hesitant. Was there really something that wrong with me? The fears and doubts about myself and my ability to handle my emotions and day to day life took over. However, I did some research and learned that, according to the American Psychology Association, 1 in 7 new mothers struggle with Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Anxiety.
My head was a whirlwind of thoughts as I tried to grapple with the fact that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t about me and my “inability” to handle motherhood:
How many rooms were on the hospital floor where my daughter was born? Were there 7 rooms on that floor? Had to be more. Maybe there were 14? Okay, so 14 rooms and maybe 14 babies delivered that same weekend? That means me and some other lady must be going through something similar. Maybe I’m not so messed up. Maybe this isn’t something I have to deal with alone. Maybe these huge emotions aren’t something that only I am feeling.
And with that, I decided to go to therapy. Not everything was fixed the moment I walked through my therapist's door. It took months of hard work, tears, and laughter, but it was a beautiful journey. Through therapy, I have literally processed through the highest highs and the lowest lows. My therapist sits with me through it all, sharing all the feelings and encouraging me to grow in whatever direction feels good that day. I am eternally grateful for this gift and the privilege I have to take part in healing and prioritizing myself in this way. Being able to share the good and the bad with someone who has no emotional stake in my feelings has been the most freeing experience.
I think people get confused when they hear mention of postpartum anxiety and depression. How can you be sad or uneasy when the most joyous occasion--a new life-- has fallen into your arms? People pray for this their whole life and never get it, but you got it, and now… NOW you are going to say it’s causing you anxiety? I think when we set that standard of perfection in our society’s culture, we are forgetting our responsibility to community and the grace we are called to give every human simply based on their humanity. This isn’t talked about enough; it’s taboo, awkward, and uncomfortable. But the vulnerability that comes with sharing life with one another--the highs and the lows--is essential to bloom.
One of the biggest tragedies is when we, as women, forget to give that grace to ourselves when we encounter the hardships or trials of motherhood. What I have learned is that there is a time to soldier on like Joan of Arc. There are times we need to strap on those boots, plug our noses, and plunge into the madness that is being a mom. There are also times, though, that are just as important, when falling apart and asking for help is the best option. My prayer for my daughter is that when the time comes for her to grow into womanhood, she has watched my example and learned to give herself grace. After all, the Dancing with the Stars confetti sure is pretty.
— Audrey
rhianna
Pregnancy experience/birth story:
Being a Mama was always the plan for me. Getting them here, into this world, was no easy task. My first pregnancy was halted after I was diagnosed with Severe Pre Eclampsia. Pre Eclampsia can be life threatening to baby and Mama – it is more than just high blood pressure during pregnancy. Untreated it can have harmful and even fatal effects on both baby and Mama (organ failure and/or damage, stroke, seizures). My entire idea of what birth would be, that experience – was stripped away from me.
I was sick before having my son, and my complications grew after he was born via emergency C-Section. When Grady Joshua was born, my world stopped – he was the sweetest little boy. He had the fullest head of hair, the cutest little toe that curled under all the rest – he was perfect. While he recovered from being born a month early, I was recovering and don’t remember much. My body was so tired and I couldn’t stay awake. The evening of his birth, after coming to, I woke up to several doctors and nurses, with my husband, standing around my bed. I was confused and felt so lost.
They shared that they were worried about my heart, mentioned congestive heart failure and whisked me away for testing. This all ended with me on a cardio floor – far away from my newborn baby. My final diagnosis was pulmonary edema - my lungs were retaining water. While my body was physically recovering from a major surgery, my organs were catching up from the physical toll the delivery had on them, emotionally I was an absolute wreck, and my stress levels were through the roof – all the while without my baby, oh and fighting high blood pressure.
The end of my first pregnancy was such an emotional rollercoaster. I had this perfect human, he was everything I could have ever hoped and dreamed of. He was healthy. He was safe. He was loved beyond measure. Yet, I felt so sad and robbed of his happy birth experience. There were no visitors (and when there were they were pushed out of the room to keep my BP down), there was no immediate bonding, no skin-to-skin... although my experience was nothing like I had wished for, the love was greater — with zero control over my body, he kept me pushing to see him, to hold him, to take all of that newborn baby in. This little boy brought out a piece of my heart with him. Each of his tiny moments became, and continue to become, my biggest moments. Becoming a mom to this sweet soul has changed my life.
My second pregnancy wasn’t as eventful, thankfully. I was closely monitored throughout and when my blood pressure began to creep up I was placed on bedrest in the hospital. Unfortunately, this meant the last week before Grady became a big brother – I was cooped up in a hospital. This is something that still upsets him to this day – he remembers Mommy not being home for a long time and then sister being here. Lyla Jane completed our family. She was so opposite of brother from the get go. She came into this world so quietly, seriously it was almost scary how quiet she was. She had blonde peach fuzz, all the little grunting sounds and the daintiest hands. Oh how the tables have turned, now she’s just as wild as her brother.
With the healthier delivery came immediate skin-to-skin, bonding before she was taken to NICU. I was in a completely different place, which affected so much of this delivery. I was nursing, walking, sore as hell, and still so terrified that I was going back to the same place, physically, as I did with Grady.
Reflecting on my birth stories, I’ve come to realize that both deliveries came with some trauma for me. I still have conflicted feelings, that honestly feel silly. Why should I still think about what happened the first few days after they were here, or even the days before? I don’t know the answer, but that is my truth. My biggest struggle with these feelings is that of my body failing. Again – I know this is a silly thought. My body didn’t fail me – it gave me the world, these two beautiful babies. Yet, my body is what required an early delivery. My body needed to be “fixed” and the treatment option literally drained all excess fluid (breastmilk) from my body. My body couldn’t handle the physical stress of carrying a baby past 36 weeks and with that I have no idea what labor feels like. My body and health, are one of the main reasons my family has decided two is perfect for us.
Before I can even get that thought out – my heart reminds me this body was able to successfully breastfeed my son for 6 months and daughter for 18. This body gave me the biggest blessings — they made our whole family. This body endured so much, only to be put down for accomplishing so much.
I 100% believe that my birthing experiences directly impacted my breastfeeding journey. Grady ended up needing an NG tube (through his nose and into his belly) for his first few days. He was taking formula and breastmilk once I was able to pump. Following my edema, I was given Lasix (a drug to flush out the water in my lungs) and it did not help in my milk supply – and given that I wasn’t able to see him in the NICU, while I was on the cardio floor – it wasn’t until day 3 that we could even introduce the breast. Because of all that – Grady had a hard time latching. I was a brand new Mom, brand new teacher, and already struggled with my supply – we made it 6 months breastfeeding and I was heartbroken the day it was over.
My experience with Lyla was totally different – she latched within an hour after being born! We didn’t struggle with production, latching, she was almost always “on the boob” as Grady would say. We made it a strong 18 months – and my body could have kept going. I decided to ween her off then, as it was effecting my sleep, sanity, and it is hard work pumping in between teaching first graders.
I loved nursing my babies – it was such a special bonding time. I always felt so proud of us – my husband, the baby, and myself. Nursing and pumping, is work – but seeing them grow and continue to be healthy little humans made me feel like a super woman. My body was literally their everything: their home, nutrition, love. I considered myself so blessed to have been able to keep this going after they were born. That’s not to say it was easy, or that I loved it every day… It was a full time job, in addition to being a Mama, working, trying to shower, sleeping, being a present wife and friend.
I loved nursing – I can remember the day the journey was over for each baby, it was a tearful event for Mama – but they didn’t mind much as long as they were fed.
So… remember, FED is best.
My story, my truth and experiences are not the same as all of the strong mamas out here. But in sharing my story, reflecting on the tough parts and celebrating the victories — I have come to cherish what I do have. I have two beautiful, healthy babies. Becoming a mama is no easy task for any of us. We are strong and brave - through the scariest of moments - we know on the other side of it all, our world is waiting. C-Section, natural, meds, at home, in the hospital, adoption, fostering, however your baby came to you — not one of these options comes with ease. But they come with a love like no other, fears of the tiniest magnitude, and the chance to change the world.
— Rhianna
sarah
