Babies, bodies, and the battles that accompany changing identities

I’ll preface this post with a quick warning about tough subject matter. Maternity and pregnancy affects everyone differently and I readily acknowledge the hardships that affect many women faced with infertility, miscarriage, and other complications. I’d like to also acknowledge the hardships that women who choose not to have children face in our society. I’m merely sharing some of my feelings because I remember how invaluable hearing my most vulnerable thoughts echoed in the voices of women who’d already been there. I only hope sharing my struggles can give someone else some comfort.

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I stood at the barbell fighting back tears as I thought about what the next 9 months, or more like two years would be. Pulling back on weights. Resting more frequently. Debilitating nausea and fatigue. The unkowns of birth. Slow recovery. The battles of breastfeeding. And what felt like the loss of everything I spent the last year doing to build my career.

My patient and caring trainer with whom I’d built a very trusting relationship made plenty of space for me to feel all my feelings that first session with the news. He had seen me through the very difficult recovery process of my first postpartum experience so I felt very comfortable being honest in that moment.

I was scared. I was frustrated. I was mad even.

And yes, I was excited.

All those emotions can co-exist.

It’s honestly what made the feelings so intense.

And in those moments where I felt so conflicted and so overwhelmed, I kept coming back to identity. I knew now unlike the first time just what was coming in terms of the major shifts in identity.

This time it felt like I was losing my athlete identity. My business identity. And my personal identity.

Loss or transformation of identity is cited frequently as an element of postpartum depression as women struggle with shifts in career trajectory, social relationships, romantic relationships, and their bodies. After I had my first daughter, I suffered from what felt like all consuming postpartum depression. For some context, I’d like to say that I did not have to contend with many of the struggles that face postpartum women. I have an unflinchingly supportive and loving husband, I have dedicated family members and friends who made sure we were well fed, cared for, and mailed us any need imaginable. While I didn’t have paid maternity leave, I did not have to worry that my job would be gone when I was ready and able to return to work. And frankly, I am a white woman for whom many of the ugliest obstacles facing new moms didn’t affect me simply as a product of my race.

But postpartum depression doesn’t look at your circumstances and act accordingly. This is chemical. And it mixes with all of the new struggles facing you on a day by day basis. I was tired, I was lonely, I felt purposeless, and I was in pain. I had pelvic pain that lingered day in and day out. It was hard to stand. It was hard to push the stroller. It was hard to carry my daughter. When I returned to work, I would wince as I tried to put weights, that had previously felt light, on the bar for my clients. Here I was in what felt like a broken body unable to even do my job.

Over the next year I struggled as I tried to figure out who the new me was. See, while I wrestled with my body, the one that I had just surrendered to grow a human for nearly a year, I also found myself floundering as a new mom. How do I help her stop crying? Why won’t she ever go to sleep? Am I getting any of this right? I thought if I wasn’t a strong or a capable trainer anymore I could at least be a good mom. But I felt like I was failing there too.

Something eventually changed.

I can’t quite pinpoint when it was, though I have some suspicions (cue the end of nursing though that’s another story for another day). I went to physical therapy, I worked out with my trainer, I asked for help when I needed it, I gave myself some room to just be the mom that I am, and I dove into professional development. My career and fitness are a huge part of my identity and when I started to see that as a strength, as a part of what makes me the rich, interesting, dynamic person I am, I started to create a new identity. Despite what some of the age old motherhood narratives are, it didn’t take anything away from who I am as a mom.

So I’m really scared right now. I’m scared of what’s to come this summer when I’m facing those sleepless nights again. I’m scared that my body will feel broken again. I’m scared I’ll be lonely. I’m scared of how long all these feelings will last. And as silly as it sounds, I’m genuinely scared for how long it will take for me to be able to do a pull up again.

But I’m saying it out loud. So that someone out there knows they aren’t alone. So that I remember when I’m inevitably struggling with doubts about my parenting, or my business progress, or how my body looks, I’ll remember that it’s a moment in time. So that my daughters know being a mom is a complicated thing and while I’m far from having anything figured out, I’ve got such deep love for them that it is inextricable from any form of my future identity.