A Hard Beginning, A Softer Me
Matrescence Tales
Matrescence Tales
Written by AH
When was your baby born?January 2023
Where was your baby born?Kelowna General Hospital (KGH)
Can you share your birth story?This was my third baby, my third birth. My first was long and exhausting. My second, during the pandemic, was calmer — the hospital was quiet and peaceful — but still a long labour. So with my third (and final) baby, I had no idea what to expect.
All three of my babies were born just shy of 41 weeks, so by the time labour finally started, I was more than ready — the waiting game can be so mentally and physically draining. I had a membrane sweep scheduled right as I was beginning to feel the early signs of labour. That sweep was the tipping point — things kicked into full gear right afterward.
Since this was my last birth, I told myself I wanted it to be as enjoyable as possible. When we called the hospital to say we were coming in, I asked for an epidural — and I’m so glad I did. I’d had one with my first, but it was late and not very effective. I went without for my second. But this time? It was perfect. I could relax. My husband even had a little nap while we waited for my water to break.
Later that evening, my doctor came in and told me we’d be meeting our baby in about 20 minutes — and she wasn’t wrong. I pushed 4 or 5 times (a dream compared to the hours of pushing with my first two), and our baby boy was born.
But then things got a little scary. They suspected his neck was twisted during delivery, so he was rushed to the NICU. I had been so looking forward to holding him right away, having that first skin-to-skin moment… and it didn’t happen. Not for days.
We spent 8 nights in the NICU. I pumped so he could still have breastmilk, but it was hard seeing him hooked up to so many machines. It was hard to hold him with all the wires. But the first time I could hold him properly, I didn’t want to let go. And the first time I got to breastfeed him, I cried the happiest tears.
It was my easiest delivery — and my hardest start to postpartum. But we made it through. He’s the most adaptable little guy, full of personality. That week taught us so much about resilience, gratitude, and the strength of a little family navigating something hard together.
It wasn’t the ending I imagined, but he came home healthy and happy — and my heart couldn’t have been fuller.
What do you wish you had known going into the birth? What are you proud of?I wish I had known how unpredictable even a "straightforward" birth can be — and how much emotional flexibility it takes to let go of the plan and stay present with what’s actually happening. I had spent so much time thinking about how I wanted the birth to feel — calm, connected, positive — and I’m really proud that I advocated for that. Asking for the epidural, creating space for rest, and giving myself permission to enjoy the experience felt really empowering.
But I didn’t expect the separation after birth. I didn’t prepare for the NICU. I wish I had thought about how even when everything seems to be going smoothly, there can still be moments that shake you — and that it’s okay to grieve the parts that don’t go how you hoped, even when you’re grateful your baby is safe.
What I’m most proud of is how I showed up in those NICU days. Tired, emotional, and overwhelmed — but still showing up. Pumping, holding, crying, hoping. Those early days were incredibly hard, but they taught me a new kind of strength, one I didn’t know I had until I had to use it.
What did the first few days/weeks look like? Emotionally/mentally/physically. Any tips you could share?
The first few days were a blur — physically, I was healing from birth, but emotionally, I felt like I was living in two worlds: one where I had just welcomed my baby, and one where I couldn’t fully be with him. Being in the NICU was overwhelming. The constant beeping, the wires, the unknowns. I cried a lot. I felt helpless and disconnected at times. And I felt guilty for feeling that way, even though I knew it was all valid.
What made it even harder was knowing our other two kids were at home without us — and they weren’t allowed to visit the NICU. They didn’t get to meet their baby brother until he was a week old. That broke my heart. I missed them deeply, and I felt torn — wanting to be fully present with our newborn while also aching to be home with the rest of our family.
Mentally, it took a toll. I had moments of anxiety, grief, and deep sadness for the postpartum experience I thought I’d have. I was also fiercely determined — to keep showing up, to pump, to learn everything I could, to be there in any way I could be.
Physically, it was hard. You don’t rest the same when your baby’s not beside you. You don’t recover the same. My body was healing, but my nervous system was in overdrive.
My biggest tips?
Let yourself feel everything — the gratitude, the grief, the joy, the exhaustion. It all belongs.
Ask for help, even when it’s hard. We needed support, and I’m glad I let people show up for us.
Take care of your body as best you can — eat, hydrate, and rest when you’re able (even if it’s just a few deep breaths in the NICU chair).
Be gentle with your expectations. Healing isn’t linear. Neither is bonding. It can take time — and that’s okay.
Those first few weeks were nothing like I imagined. But they showed me how strong and soft you can be at the same time — and that motherhood begins in all kinds of ways.
How have you found the transition to motherhood? What has been the hardest part?Becoming a mother cracked me open in every way — emotionally, physically, spiritually. Each time, it asked me to let go of who I thought I was and make room for who I was becoming. There’s so much love, but also so much loss. Loss of freedom, of time, of identity. And with each baby, the transition looked different.
The first time around, I was trying so hard to do everything “right.” I thought if I could just follow the rules, I’d feel like I was doing a good job. But motherhood doesn’t come with clear answers — and that uncertainty was hard. With my second, I had to learn how to mother two at once, to split myself between them. And with my third, it was the NICU that undid me — the fear, the helplessness, the guilt of being away from my other kids.
The hardest part? Feeling like I was never doing enough. For my babies. For myself. For my partner. For my other children. That constant tug-of-war between wanting to be everything for everyone and knowing that I couldn’t.
But motherhood has also taught me to soften. To ask for help. To slow down and pay attention. To find strength in surrender. And to know that “good enough” really is enough.
The transition to motherhood doesn’t happen all at once — it unfolds over time. And even now, I think I’m still becoming the mother I’m meant to be.
What is one thing you wish you had known going into postpartum? Any other tips/advice for our moms?
I wish I had known that postpartum isn’t just a phase — it’s a complete transformation. Not just of your body, but of your mind, your identity, your relationships. I thought it would be hard, but I didn’t realize how lonely it could feel — even when you're surrounded by people. I didn’t realize how much I’d question myself, or how much healing would be required, both physically and emotionally.
I also wish someone had told me that it’s okay if bonding takes time. That it’s normal to feel overwhelmed, to grieve your old life, to wonder who you are now. That those feelings don’t mean anything is wrong — they just mean you’re human.
My advice?
Set up support ahead of time if you can — meals, someone to check in on you, not just the baby.
Let people help you, and don’t apologize for needing it.
Lower the bar — like, way lower. Postpartum is not the time for productivity. It’s a time for rest, repair, and bonding.
And most of all, be kind to yourself. This season is tender and raw, and you deserve gentleness — from others and from yourself.
You don’t have to “bounce back.” You’re allowed to rebuild slowly. This is the start of a new version of you — and she deserves all the grace in the world.
How do you feel like your identity has shifted? What strategies have helped re-connect with yourself?Motherhood shifted everything. It didn’t just add something new to who I was — it redefined it. Suddenly, I wasn’t just me anymore. I was someone’s mom. Then someone else’s. Then another’s. My time, my energy, even my body — all of it belonged to someone else, in a way that was beautiful but also overwhelming.
I found it hard to see myself outside of motherhood, especially in the early years. I’d catch glimpses — in a quiet cup of tea, in the way I felt when I was writing, in the part of me that still loved slow mornings and the smell of books. But those moments felt rare, and often out of reach.
What’s helped me reconnect with myself has been starting small. Choosing one thing that feels like me and doing it regularly — even if just for 10 minutes. Reading a chapter of a book. Walking alone. Writing something that has nothing to do with being a mom. Even lighting a candle I love while I wash the dishes.
Also, reminding myself that I don’t have to go “back” to who I was. That version of me was real and valid, but this version — the one that’s stretched, tired, wiser, more tender — is too.
Sometimes the goal isn’t to reclaim your old identity, but to make peace with the new one. To gather the parts of you that still matter and let them grow alongside your motherhood.
What are you proud of so far in your motherhood journey?I’m proud of the way I’ve continued to show up — even when it’s hard, even when I’m tired, even when I doubt myself. I’m proud of the way I’ve learned to slow down, to soften, to repair when things get messy, and to offer my kids the kind of presence I didn’t always know how to give at the start.
I’m proud of the way I’ve grown — not just as a mom, but as a person. Motherhood has stretched me in every direction, and while I’ve definitely lost parts of myself along the way, I’ve also uncovered strength I didn’t know I had. I’ve become more honest, more intuitive, more attuned to what really matters.
I’m proud of the safe, loving home we’ve created — one where feelings are welcome, rest is honoured, and nobody has to be perfect to be loved. That feels like something worth celebrating.
❤️
