Mesh panties. Cold pack adult-sized diapers. Pads and peri bottles…things no one puts on a baby registry. The quiet fear before the baby arrives, or the immediate aftermath of labor and delivery. This is the side of having a baby no one really talks about.
The fourth trimester begins before you have time to process what just happened after 9 months of aversions or cravings, morning sickness, and no sleep. People talk about the nursery, the clothes, the car seat, the tiny fingers and sleepy snuggles. Not as much about the rebirth of a mother.
Day and night started to blur around month 7 of pregnancy. There is physical pain and mental rage. Only sleeping on your hips because your body is housing a little being and back sleep is forbidden. Charlie horses waking you from the little sleep you do get. Waiting until you stop hemorrhaging after L&D to lay on your belly. Sitting on stitches and fighting the “bounce back” culture.
The anxiety hums in the background of everything, reminding you not to eat that sushi, to double-think Tylenol. The painful, strategic rolls to get out of bed.
Praying daily that your baby makes it.
Holding gratitude and fearing the unknown in tandem.
It’s not just preparing the home for the new arrival of a baby. Or my heart. Or my arms. It’s preparing my body for the metamorphosis of me. For soreness, bleeding, or exhaustion that lives in your bones. For the strange, uncomfortable work of healing after bringing life into the world. The fog that comes from broken sleep. It’s becoming the person who would take all of that in stride just to be a mother.
Birth doesn’t end when the baby arrives. Because you don’t just give birth to a baby, you birth a new version of yourself. One who is stretched and tender. One who is learning her limits while somehow expanding beyond them. One who heals while holding someone entirely dependent on her healing.
It is discomfort and devotion living side by side.
Sacrifice wrapped in love.
The part no one really talks about is that somewhere between the mesh panties and the pain, you don’t come out of this the same.
And you’re not supposed to. ⚡🌼🦋
Wallflower Writing 