Postpartum Changes

It’s no secret that strange things sometimes happen in postpartum. Our bodies change, our hearts grow, and our worlds are never quite the same again. After I had Arden, I wasn’t concerned about myself or my own health at all. I powered through the healing process, and with Arden in the hospital, I didn’t have time to think about my own well-being. The first time Arden experienced his ectopic atrial tachycardia, I remember Brodi and I switching out shifts for hospital time (as this was when we still weren’t allowed to visit him together because of COVID-19). Brodi dropped me off at the front door and when I finally made it through screening, the escalator to the second floor wasn’t working. I literally RAN up it and down the hallway to his room. It was *maybe* two weeks after I had given birth to Arden via c-section. Not my finest moment I’ll admit, but a mother’s will to be with her baby in perilous times is unshakeable. I felt pain on many occasions, especially in the NICU, when the only chair that I could move close enough to Arden’s bedside to hold his hand was a small rolling office chair. On numerous occasions, I ignored my own pain because I didn’t care. Arden needed me, and that was my only focus. 

As the months went on at the hospital, I began to realize that I wasn’t eating enough. Brodi commented on how thin I was getting, and I noticed clothes that had once fit my pre-baby body were now hanging off of me. I was pumping 6-8 times per day, and producing almost 2 litres of breast milk in a 24 hour period. I actually had to speak with the lactation consultant about weaning my pumping, because I was producing too much. It took a toll on my mental health, because I never wanted to be away from Arden to pump. It was a burden but at the same time it gave me purpose. In times when I couldn’t even hold my boy, at least I could provide the nutrition that he needed. However, my own nutrition was another factor. When they finally let my mom into the hospital to be with me while Brodi was at work during the week, it was a huge game changer. Most times before that, I would be so worried about Arden, that I would refuse to leave his side to get food. I would eat breakfast at around 8:00AM before entering the hospital, and I wouldn’t eat again until I left around 10:00PM. I am not proud to admit that. It’s not something that I should have allowed for myself. But my stress level during that time did not exactly promote a healthy appetite. When mom was allowed in, she would bring me lunch, tea, snacks, and comfort. We began our hospital stay at the end of April 2020, and I slowly began to build physical strength and healthier habits by October. 

In the midst of this time, I noticed that my hair had begun to fall out. I had been warned about this by many other moms. Apparently, a lot of women experience hair loss after their children are born. I had chopped my hair into a bob when Arden was born, and I loved having less hair to style. I wasn’t prepared to have NO hair to style! Luckily it didn’t get to that point, but it’s always worrisome as a woman to see large amounts of hair swirling around the shower drain and lingering on your hairbrush. I know that not only were my hormones playing tricks on me, I also experienced a lot of stress. It’s incredible the toll that stress can take on our bodies. I know that I often equate stress with mental and emotional strain, but forget to acknowledge the physical symptoms that can occur. I’m sure that at least some of my hair loss was due to stress, because I remember the same thing happening in my first year of teaching. In a completely different way, I had also put my whole heart and soul into that year, and experienced burnout then as well. Now, I’m happy to say that my hair is slowly filling in. I have the craziest little baby hairs sprouting on the top of my head and around my hairline. It sticks up wildly, but I’m just grateful that it’s there. 

My body has changed in many ways within the past year and a half. I sprouted my first grey hairs a couple months ago. I now wear a few “crow’s feet” around my eyes, and sometimes those eyes are dark and tired. I bear a scar, from the birth of my amazing Arden. For a while, my physical self image waivered. I think we as women all do that. We pick apart the things that we don’t like about our physical self. But I’ve worked on it. I see the value in all parts of my physical being. I’m learning to see that the changes are part of creating something more important. 

Aside from the physical changes, internally there exists a person that I am proud of.  A lot of women will talk about “bouncing back” after their babies are born, but I have no intention of bouncing back. I walked away from the girl I was the moment our son was born, and I have no intention of returning to her. The woman who returned home in December of 2020 is stronger and more resilient than the person who left our home in April ever could have been. She is confident, sure of herself, and more loving and full of gratitude than ever before. She sees the true value in all experiences, and is always mindful of the miracle that is life.

XO, Rayel