What They Didn’t Tell Me About Postpartum

Now that the dust is starting to settle, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my postpartum journey so far. As someone who’s both anxiety-prone and a therapist, I did my best to prepare. I was afraid I would experience postpartum depression. Given my history with anxiety and past episodes of depression, the odds felt high.

So, I did the work. I talked to other moms. I stayed in therapy. I hired a doula. I was honest with my doctor about my feelings and fears. I even posted the symptoms of baby blues and PPD on our fridge. I knew I wouldn’t feel 100% prepared, but I wanted to feel secure as I stepped into this new chapter of my life.

Now, nine months postpartum, I can look back and see the things I didn’t fully anticipate and how I dealt with them.

Postpartum Anxiety

I had heard a little about postpartum anxiety, but it wasn’t fully on my radar. Postpartum depression gets most of the attention, so I focused all my energy on watching for that, especially in the early months. My depression stayed at bay, but my anxiety? It skyrocketed.

It didn’t feel like the anxiety I was used to. My usual tools weren’t helping. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I couldn’t get a handle on it. I felt overwhelmed by the idea of my baby being around strangers or even large family gatherings. I didn’t trust anyone to take care of her—not for long, not even her dad. I knew she would be safe, logically, but the thought of her being around other people made my chest tighten.

I desperately needed a break, but I didn’t think anyone could meet her needs like I could. Finally, I opened up to a fellow mom, and I’ve never felt so validated. That one conversation gave me the courage to start tackling my postpartum anxiety.

I talked honestly with my partner. Together, we found ways to gently socialize without overwhelming me. I started bringing her to small family gatherings. I reminded myself she was safe, even when my body said otherwise. I breathed through panic attacks. I took naps. I started trusting my support system.

Little by little, my postpartum anxiety eased.

Postpartum Rage

This one caught me completely off guard. My baseline emotion became anger.

I was angry that my partner wasn’t washing bottles—even though I often beat him to it myself. I was angry that I wasn’t sleeping. I was angry about having to recover from an unwanted C-section. Sometimes I was just... angry. For no reason. I could feel my blood boiling, even on good days. I hated it.

Then, during a perinatal training, I came across the term postpartum rage. Just knowing it was a thing helped. I started naming my anger and talking about it so I could process it better. I kept checking in with myself: Am I actually angry, or are my hormones just out of whack? It helped me not feel so out of control.

Postpartum Stink

A friend had mentioned this in passing, but I thought she was exaggerating. Just shower, I thought. So naïve.

I actually did manage to shower consistently, especially in the early weeks. I didn’t want my C-section scar to get infected, and showering gave me a little time to myself. After days filled with spit-up and dirty diapers, a shower felt like gold.

But no matter what soap or deodorant I used, I noticed a lingering odor. It turns out babies rely heavily on their sense of smell in the early months because their eyesight is so poor. Apparently, I needed to smell awful so my baby could find me. Wild. Thankfully, the postpartum stink has passed.

Grief

This one truly surprised me.

I was overjoyed to finally meet my rainbow baby. That pregnancy drained me, especially toward the end. I was ready to have my body back. I wanted to feel comfortable again. I couldn’t wait to hold my baby in my arms.

So why did I feel so sad once I brought her home?

I missed the kicks and movements that reminded me she was there. I missed the connection. I had been keeping her alive; I was literally pumping blood into her organs and forming her little limbs. She felt safer inside me. It was surreal. I didn’t expect grief to show up like that.

But it passed. Slowly, grief gave way to overwhelming joy.

Body Shame

I knew my body would change, and I didn’t expect to bounce back quickly. I’ve always been semi-body-positive. My body had changed before, but nothing drastic. I didn’t think stretch marks would bother me. I made it to seven months without them, so I thought I might skip them entirely.

Wrong.

They showed up late, and they threw me. Then came the dreaded mommy pouch. My stomach looked like a shriveled prune. My self-esteem took a hit. I thought I’d be one of those confident postpartum moms, but instead I didn’t feel pretty anymore.

Learning to appreciate my body is still a work in progress. I’ve started dressing in ways that make me feel good again. That’s helped.

I know there’s still more to learn about myself through postpartum and beyond. This journey has been intense, but it’s also been incredible. I have so much more admiration for mothers and everything we go through both mentally and physically. It’s not easy, but we keep showing up. Every single day.

What are some things that surprised you about your postpartum journey?