The Uncomfortable Truths About Postpartum (That Caught Me Off Guard)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
They tell you postpartum will be hard.
But what they don’t tell you just how hard. And how unexpectedly it’ll hit you.
You spend your whole pregnancy planning for the birth — the labor playlist, the baby clothes, the hospital bag checklist. You think that’s the hard part.
It’s not.
In hindsight:
The birth was the easiest part.
Postpartum?
That was the real storm.
I had no idea.
And no one (no book, no well-meaning friend, no smiling influencer) could have prepared me.
Here are the five truths about postpartum that knocked me sideways:
1. Breastfeeding is not natural for everyone and it broke me
I thought I’d just figure it out.
Latch, feed, done.
But my milk didn’t come in the way I hoped. I tried everything: pumping around the clock, herbal supplements, and even a prescription that I probably went too hard on in sheer desperation.
Nothing worked. My baby wouldn’t latch, my supply tanked, and the guilt swallowed me whole.
I’ll never forget the night we rushed to the hospital at 2am because my son had been screaming for six hours straight. The doctor took one look at us and said, “He’s hungry. Just feed him.”
That moment broke me.
2. You can plan all you want but postpartum doesn’t care
I thought I had it all figured out.
No nanny, no formula, no problem. I’d power through. I’d manage.
By Day 8, I was drowning.
I hired a nanny. I caved on formula. And I realized this isn’t about being strong. It’s about survival.
3. The isolation is brutal and no one warns you
I moved cities in my third trimester. No close friends to lean on.
I’d look out the window and see the world moving. People getting coffee, meeting friends, living their lives.
And I was inside, alone, feeding, pumping, crying, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.
The loneliness of postpartum is like nothing I’ve ever felt.
4. The guilt shows up everywhere and in the weirdest ways
I felt guilty for breastfeeding and for stopping.
For working and for taking time off.
For asking for help and for trying to do it alone.
For taking a shower while he cried.
For not taking a shower and being a mess.
It’s endless.
And it sneaks up on you.
The guilt. The shame. The feeling of never being enough, no matter what you do.
5. Your body doesn’t feel like your own and that messes with your mind
The belly that stays.
The stretch marks you trace in the mirror and try not to cry over.
The hair that falls out in clumps.
The hips that feel foreign.
No one told me how much I’d grieve my body.
No one told me how much I’d stare at myself and wonder who the hell I was anymore.
I also didn’t know how much of my old self would fade away.
The woman who loved to sit in quiet, think, dream. The one who needed space to breathe. The one who could rest.
She’s gone.
And in her place is a woman who’s figuring it out, one raw, messy, sleep-deprived moment at a time.
If you’re reading this and you’re in it, here’s what I want you to know:
Get your support system in place. Fast.
Your partner, your family, a nanny, anyone. You can’t do this alone.
Find other moms to talk to. Cry with them. Laugh with them. Don’t isolate yourself.
And please, stop chasing the idea of being a perfect mom.
I’ll say it again, like my lovely doula told me:
A happy mom is better than a perfect mom.
Find your happiness.