But you know what? When we dwell on those feelings, and we accept that shame, we are freely handing over our very own self-respect. My husband has done nothing but encourage me and lift me up. Whether it’s through complimenting my postpartum body, praising me for all that I do as a mother, or saying things like ‘you’re a BOSS, babe’ – his encouragement has meant the world to me. I also have to mention that the Instagram community in general has also helped so very much. Encouraging comments and sweet messages go along way!
Grandma Shark Shirt
What I have found in sharing my postpartum journey–whether it be physical healing, honest motherhood thoughts, or sharing the ultimate struggles—is that there is SO much POWER in sharing your truth. There’s power in letting someone else know they aren’t alone. That nothing about growing and raising a baby is easy. The more I share, the more I feel an almost cathartic release. My critical thoughts about myself sort of drift away. I’m OWNING my truth.
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I recently shared a photo on Instagram of just my living room. There were piles of clutter in the corners, toys strewn everywhere, crumbs aplenty. Something I wouldn’t necessarily want anyone to see. But it was my reality in that moment, and no longer does it bring me shame. And I hope you don’t feel that shame either. Because, Mama, I SEE you. I see the way you love your kids. I don’t see those crumbs or that clutter. I see YOU and THEM. A love like no other!”
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“It was the Fourth of July and we were celebrating in style: food, firecrackers—fierce Texas heat. We swam, and drank, and roasted s’mores on the fire pit. The kids ate popsicles. The men smoked cigars and tended to the bar-b-que. I hid my six-week postpartum body behind a Mumu, making my husband the designated pool parent. It was your typical holiday weekend, your typical holiday day. No one saw the storm coming, nor should we have.
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I was still in that newborn, post-delivery haze: night feedings, peri-pads, staples sore in my stomach. I had a rough go since my son’s birth. An allergic reaction to the cleansing agent used for my c-section caused my entire body to break out in hives. I was on multiple medications and steroids to help calm my symptoms. It was the best of times—it was about to be the worst of times. My husband’s an early bird, but that morning he slept in until an impressive six AM. That’s when I heard the thud. The sound of a two-hundred-plus-pound body hitting the nightstand next to our bed, which shattered his spine. When I saw his body on the floor, I screamed. But I was the only one making a sound. My husband was silent—and unresponsive.
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