Motherhood shatters you wide open. Leaving nothing the same. While you’re trying your best to adjust to this new life that has quite literally hit you like a freight train, society is hellbent on convincing you that you must find the shattered parts of your old self and glue them back together.

You cannot change.

You must not complain, because you chose this, after all.

You are not allowed to grieve your old self, despite you baring no resemblance to her anymore. You must pick yourself up, ignore that none of the pieces feel right and frankly you can’t find most of them, and get on with it. The “it” being the biggest, most monumental, ground shifting change a women will ever go through. It’s not just the first time you give birth. With every entry and exit of the birth portal, a new version emerges. The beauty of the second time? Knowledge.

The second time a women births, she’s going into it already a mother. It’s familiar, you’re aware, to an extent, of what’s about to happen, and you definitely know how to handle those tiny newborn creatures that once absolutely terrified you. Their cries trigger a deep muscle memory, there’s no guessing what they’re asking you for. With the knowledge of your first birth experience, you’re able to shape your next one, standing stronger in self trust, often realising just how underprepared you were for the first one.

With every birth, the version of you holding that belly, is shed, and whoever the new version is that travels earthside with your baby, she’s going to feel like a stranger. Maybe not at first, but in time, you find yourself back in that place of shaky ground, an unfamiliar sense of self, and often changing relationships (with yourself, friends, partners and first born children). You stand confident in some areas but still so unsure in others.

Birth plans are so focused on, obsessed about, even, but when it comes to postpartum, the FOREVER next phase that follows birth, there’s barely a chapter dedicated to it. It’s a passing comment and mainly focused on safe sleep practises, rather than your emotional and physical wellbeing. Hyper focus on the first 6 weeks, which of course are imperative to healing and bonding with baby, but it goes so, so far beyond those weeks. The work is only just beginning. Once the baby is born, the mother isn’t seen anymore. Women are thrown into the haze of postpartum and told to get ourselves out. We’re given quick fixes of anti depressants, with doctors so quick to jump to mental health, without acknowledging that we were never actually armed with the full scope of knowledge in the first place.

We go into motherhood on the back foot, and then fight like mad to try and work out what’s happened to our entire world, while society tells us we should be grateful and it must be us, we must be broken. Stop complaining. You chose this.

Social media is in our ears and eyeballs confirming this fact, and in the depths of sleep deprivation and a sense of lonelyness we can’t put words too, we are so quick to forget it’s just a highlight reel. The algorithm feeding you reel after reel about everything you’re doing wrong, the many ways you’re definitely harming your baby and all of the new bullshit rules you must abide by, made up by nobody actually knows who….

What if we were told, all throughout our prgenancy, that postpartum matters. Like it REALLY matters. What if we were told that there is a pivotal moment in our lifetime steaming straight for us, and we are not prepared, but we can be. Instead of focusing all of our attention on nursery decor and what pram we should be buying (both fun and important, not going to lie), what if we were given information and guidance on exactly what’s coming for us. What if second time mums were told that life as they know it is about to shift, and it’s not actually the newborn that you’ll focus on. That the biggest hurdle for the second time mum is actually their firstborn child. So many emotions in such a small body. Their world is going to change overnight, and nobody warns them, let alone prepares them. Did you know that falls on mums, too? We juggle a newborn, which is basically second nature at that point, but what takes us by surprise is the sheer about of work required to create a smooth adjustment for your first child. To keep everyone happy and remember to eat and drink, because you’re still a person, even though you feel pulled in two directions.

What if, pregnancy and birth were the bookends, and postpartum planning was the entire middle focus. Birth is a moment. A life altering one, of course, but just a moment. Everything that happens after that? That’s forever. Whatever happens in the way we birth, will impact how we recover. It will impact how we bond with our baby, our toddlers and our partners. So why aren’t we told this, and taught how to heal and cope through the hurdles BEFORE we reach them?

How we birth matters, so planning and preparing for that, we all agree, is important. But why is postpartum still such an afterthought? Like after those first 6 weeks that fog will lift and we’ll glide blissfully into the rest of our life.

I don’t understand, and it makes me angry.

Every women about to birth, regardless of the number, should be given the tools and chances to learn about postpartum, in those 6 weeks and beyond. About what happens to her body and her mind. It should not be hidden, or charged thousands of dollars for. This knowledge should be widely known and shared. It should be taught in schools, right alongside sex education. Everyone understands that teenage girls are going through their first extreme change, but maybe, if everyone knew about Matrescence, when it did eventually happen to us, we might be greeted with the grace, space and help we deserve, and so desperately need. It should not be up to a healing, tired and depleted mother in the depths of the trenches to go searching for answers about what is happening to her.

World wide education and acknowledgement of Matreesence. If the community around mums actually understood what was happening, things might begin to finally change, and mums can focus on their healing and their baby, instead of all the other absolutely avoidable bullshit.

So how do we create the change? We talk. We share the real, raw, messy sides of motherhood. So new mums can see it’s not all smiles and cute outfits. It’s actually a trench that you pop in and out of, very much dependant on your support system, as to how long it takes you to emerge. We tell new mums what they’re going to need for their body to recover, to exist in comfort while feeding, what support is out there if she doesn’t want to talk to family or friends, and most importantly, that everything she is going to experience is normal. Slightly fucked, but normal. We talk about our first year (or two) as mums, and not just the fun stuff, but we get honest about the shit parts. About how children may be blessings, but they also don’t always like to sleep and some even drive us to the brink of insanity from sheer lack of sleep, personal space and quiet. And can we all agree toddlers are tiny tornados of emotions no grown up is actually qualified to handle? We’re all out here dodging hits and hoping for the best.

Instead of giving baby onesies, be that person who shows up with food for her freezer, organise a meal train or arm her with books about postpartum. About the ways her brain rewires itself, so no, she’s not going crazy, she’s just changing. If you’re a mum to be, or pregnant with baby number two, seek out information about what happens after birth, beyond the 6 weeks. How can you create a world that feels calm, among the inevitable chaos? How can your partner help, and yes, you will have to train them, sorry. Start planning your postpartum as early as you can. You’ve read a book on birth positions and pain relief? Excellent, now go read one about how your brain changes after birth and how important oxytocin is. You’ve got your baby caddy all packed with nappies and creams? Great, now show me yours. Where’s your nappies and creams?

I’m not saying birth planning isn’t important, but I am saying that planning for BEYOND birth, matters more, and you can’t change my mind.