{"id":18013,"date":"2025-04-29T05:34:25","date_gmt":"2025-04-29T05:34:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shop-cili.com\/?p=18013"},"modified":"2025-04-29T05:34:25","modified_gmt":"2025-04-29T05:34:25","slug":"how-to-overcome-your-postpartum-struggles","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shop-cili.com\/?p=18013","title":{"rendered":"How to Overcome Your Postpartum Struggles"},"content":{"rendered":"


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You never quite forget the moment your world changes with the birth of your child. There\u2019s beauty in it\u2014raw, visceral beauty. But what no one prepares you for is the part that follows: the silence, the unravelling, the sleep deprivation, the adjustment to a new long-term reality, the darkness and joy that often come wrapped in a pastel blanket and a hospital wristband.<\/p>\n

They call it postpartum<\/em>. A term clinical enough to be whispered in brochures or quick doctor visits, but too small to hold the weight of what so many mothers experience. Throughout pregnancy (at least in the West) you get all this attention\u2014frequent checkups, ultrasounds, advice, reassurance, celebration. The focus is on keeping both you and baby healthy as the miracle of life unfolds. But then you give birth, and at best<\/em>, you\u2019re offered a single six-week postpartum visit. After that? You\u2019re largely left to fend for yourself.<\/p>\n

The contrast<\/strong> is so jarring that it can give you emotional whiplash. Precisely when a woman is most vulnerable, when her body is healing from trauma, her hormones are surging, she\u2019s not sleeping well, and her identity is shifting in seismic ways, the system quietly steps back. And yet, I\u2019d argue that those early weeks and months postpartum aren\u2019t just important\u2014they\u2019re crucial<\/strong> for a woman\u2019s mental, emotional and physical health; all factors that contribute to a baby\u2019s health, too.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a time that demands care, support and intentional recovery. Without this, we risk losing not just our sense of self, but our sense of stability\u2014and that can have lasting consequences for us as women, for our babies and for our families. It\u2019s obvious that we need to do better, as a culture and as a community, at mothering the mother.<\/p>\n

The truth behind the curtain<\/h2>\n
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We\u2019re told it should be the happiest time of our lives. We see it on Instagram\u2014ethereal photos of Ballerina Farm mamas baking sourdough in linen aprons, smiling with newborns nestled into their arms, mountain backdrops in the distance. It\u2019s easy to believe that this is the norm. That this is what motherhood looks like. And while for some, it is, and many of us truly hope for this sense of ethereal balance, that isn\u2019t the case for all.<\/p>\n

What if your postpartum story doesn\u2019t look like that?<\/p>\n

What if your story looks like tears that won\u2019t stop? Like fear that won\u2019t go away? Like a mind racing with thoughts you\u2019re too ashamed to say out loud, or intrusive fears that you know aren\u2019t logical but you can\u2019t control or avoid? What if your story unfolds behind closed doors, during a global pandemic, with a baby who needs extra care and a heart that\u2019s breaking under the weight of silence and lockdowns and loneliness<\/em>?<\/p>\n

That was my story, and to my sad surprise, the story of many other moms I know who gave birth around the commencement of COVID and all that ensued.<\/p>\n

My postpartum battle<\/h2>\n
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Postpartum depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) didn\u2019t just tiptoe into my life after childbirth\u2014they stormed in. I was a first-time mom, already overwhelmed, and then came COVID right after giving birth. Lockdowns. Isolation. Complications with my baby\u2019s health. Sleepless nights. A complete absence of support\u2014no visitors, no family dinners, no \u201cCan I hold the baby so you can rest?\u201d <\/p>\n

The family that wanted to be there for me was either abroad and unable to travel, or tending to seniors and (reasonably) trying to balance the chaos of COVID, limiting exposure for the most vulnerable and supporting me. <\/p>\n

My husband was working and in an industry that was frontline. He was there as best as he could be, equally in the trenches with me while working 12-plus hour shifts at times and exhausted. Most of the time the relentless storm was inside my head, as the inertia of survival mode kept me moving forward as a parent.<\/p>\n

And then there was social media.<\/p>\n

The very thing that should have connected us in isolation became a magnifying glass for our inadequacies. While I was overstimulated, locked in for most of the day or just plain sleep-deprived, other moms were baking, decorating nurseries, launching Etsy shops. The filters made everything beautiful. And everything I wasn\u2019t. And this is coming from someone who prides herself in not caring about social media that much, especially since we all know most of it is fake anyways!<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not that those women were wrong for sharing joy; on the contrary, motherhood should be celebrated! It\u2019s that I believed I had to be like them to be good. To be worthy as a mom. To be enough.<\/p>\n

I started to realize that the more I actively disconnected from the online world, the better I felt, even in the midst of all the negatives. Then I spoke to other moms and friends who had all come to the same conclusion, but felt like their online world was becoming bigger and bigger as the lockdowns loomed and alternatives (especially for those of us living in large cities) became fewer and fewer. The pull towards the \u201conline\u201d world was almost inevitable <\/em>against this backdrop.<\/p>\n

Stop competing and start holding space<\/h2>\n
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