We just got through Mother’s Day weekend, which can weigh heavy for so many reasons. Maybe we’re missing our own moms, or perhaps we’re longing to be one. But an idea that can get lost in the shuffle of Hallmark cards and pastel dresses is the importance of mothering ourselves—and that includes our physical form. Very often women are in the business of sacrificing themselves: to their careers, to their kids, to their aging parents. But being able to redirect that nurturing quality onto our bodies can be a powerful thing. That could look like a well-timed fitness class, dancing to find yourself again, or simply carving out 30 minutes for a damn manicure. They say our bodies keep the score, and we owe ourselves the chance to mount a comeback.
How I Learned to Mother Myself
My feelings about being a mom came into focus one afternoon in a co-worker’s office. She and I were both in our mid-30s and, as was common with our Friday discussions, we meandered into deep territory. Specifically, if we wanted to have kids. My colleague told me how she longed for her own family. “I love my mom so much,” she said, “that I want to see her traits in my child.” Her words stunned me. I’d never felt this way. I wondered, was something missing in me because I hadn’t?
It wasn’t that I didn’t love kids. When I was one myself, I frequently played house with my neighborhood friends and stuck a baby doll under my shirt to imitate a pregnant belly. I was an early babysitter, taking care of my first infant at 12 (which, in hindsight, seems way too early), and by high school, I regularly sat for a family with five children ages 8 and under. I was as accustomed to changing diapers and soothing fussy sleepers as I was to doing homework and going to track practice.
My attention shifted to my career in college, and I threw myself into the pursuit of journalism and writing. I started my first job at a Florida newspaper at 21, and spent the next decade following opportunities up the East Coast. I met and married my husband, and if anyone asked about our plans for a family, I told them the truth—we were dedicated to our career pursuits. I feel fortunate that our friends and family never put pressure on us, and that I never felt societal pressure to change my mind, especially because so many women have the opposite experience.
Around the time of that fateful office conversation, I started detecting signs of what I now know was burnout. I was easily frustrated, simmered with a rage that no spin class could quell, and could never get enough sleep. Through therapy, I realized that I’d been covering up painful realities about my abusive childhood. I wondered if, for much of my life, I’d been working hard—whether at a newspaper or at a babysitting gig—so I didn’t have to encounter the truth.
Six baby carriers making our lives easier (most of the time)
Like all things parenting, our babywearing story hasn’t been linear. When Cole was a newborn, he seemed to love them. He would fall asleep, nestled right up against my husband or me, while we could go about our daily life. But once distractions kicked in, it was harder to get him to stay in carriers for long. Now it’s hit or miss and very mood-dependent, but something we keep on trying out of sheer convenience. However, so many of these carriers—especially the ones constantly being pushed to us via the Instagram algorithm—are expensive as hell. So if you’re lucky enough to live near a babywearing workshop or have access to a gear swap, that’s a smart way to find a carrier that won’t break the bank or your back. Here’s what has worked for me. —Jess Mayhugh
The first carrier we ever used was the good ol’ Baby Bjorn. When Cole was just 11 days old, we put him in a puffy snowsuit, strapped him into this carrier, and got ourselves out of the house. No regrets.
A dear friend who’s also a doula gifted me a secondhand version of the Lark by Hope & Plum, and it’s been my favorite by far. It provides back support for hours, has super cute patterns, and seems to be the most tolerable.
Before Cole was big enough for the Lark, the Happy Baby Haven that I rented for a month worked like a charm. This was easy to put on by myself and had a hood that provided head support.
Solly is the king of the stretchy wraps, and it’s easy to see why. Half the battle is mastering the folding and tucking of it all, but once you do, babies love to snuggle right into this flexible fabric.
Similarly, people are very Team Ring Sling. What’s nice about the Moby version is its versatility: Babies up to 33 pounds can be carried in the front or on the hip.
Okay, I have never used a Tushbaby Sling, but I did chase down a mom in the airport to get her thoughts. (Call me Walter Cronkite.) She said it’s game-changing for traveling with toddlers.
Meet pregnancy and postpartum fitness coach Sam Stuart
Nearly a decade ago, fitness coach Sam Stuart noticed something was missing. “At the time, the gym was way more of a boys’ club,” she remembers. “Pregnant and postpartum people would come in, and it felt so icky that we didn’t have anything to offer them.” With a background in social work, Sam wanted to provide a safe space for that population, so she got certified as a Pregnancy and Postpartum Athleticism Coach. Now, she offers 1:1 personal training, postpartum fitness classes, and classes for non-birthing partners through her company Braving Wellness. I’ve taken her classes in every “partum” stage and they have been indispensable for my mental and physical health.
The classes hit even closer to home when Sam and her wife, Emily, went through the fertility process to have their now-2-year-old daughter, Finn, and now Sam is undergoing her own IVF treatment. “It’s wild because when I started this work, I never thought I’d be going through it,” she says. “It opened my eyes to just how vulnerable of a time it is.” Here, she talks about exercises for the pregnant and postpartum body, the unique personal training relationship, and navigating the fertility journey as a queer couple. –JM
On exercises for the pregnant and postpartum body
There are so many things that happen to your body in pregnancy. There are imbalances and weaknesses because you’re growing a whole-ass human. We focus a lot on posture, managing abdominal pressure, and breathing exercises. Plus, you have to factor in lung capacity and nausea. Some people only have issues in the beginning [of pregnancy], but some people have it throughout.
Postpartum, of course, is really about trying to heal. Your abs could be coming back together from diastasis. We’re just way more mindful about having a supportive core and not blasting your front abs. You feel stronger and more capable postpartum because you put in a lot of work prenatally. I’ve had clients thank me for their ability to push out their baby and it makes me feel really good. Whatever the delivery looked like and whatever postpartum looks like, you’re building blocks of confidence.
On the mental load of these life stages
My skills as a social worker are really helpful to meet people where they are each day. Things are always changing. Of course, there are physical considerations, but there’s also so many mental and emotional considerations, like your amygdala actually changes size and your sensory profile changes. Having someone who can see the whole picture is helpful for whatever stage you’re in. Sometimes you don’t want to talk about it, but having a way to release that physically and process it through movement, like slamming a medicine ball or pushing a kettle bell, can be a great outlet.
You don’t know what the vagina of the person next to you looks like—they might have prolapse or pelvic floor issues… There is no ‘one size fits all.’
On the unique approach to training
The type of relationship you have with your personal trainer should be similar to how you trust your therapist. You deserve to spend your hour with someone who has your back and sees you completely. You’re going through so many hormonal shifts and nervous system deregulation and lack of sleep. It’d be crazy to just say, well, this is what I have planned today and we have to stick to it. You can’t compete or compare because everyone’s birth and recovery is so different. You don’t know what the vagina of the person next to you looks like—they might have prolapse or pelvic floor issues. There are a lot of symptoms that people can experience differently. There is no “one size fits all.”
On the non-birthing partner
I was present with Emily through her entire labor, and being able to hold her up and have her hang on me and just support her, I felt really good about that. And in postpartum, I think [non-birthing partners] are hit with a lot of the same postural challenges: being slumped over, especially if you’re bottle-feeding, and always holding them for naps. Your body just gets rocked. To be clear, the birthing person should be prioritized; they have a huge recovery ahead of them. But sometimes that puts the non-birthing partner in a position where they’re not getting the support, information, and connection they need. We have to remember they’re struggling in their own ways.
On the fertility experience as a queer couple
Going to a [fertility] clinic comes with a lot of challenges and triggers. As a queer couple, there’s another layer to that and sometimes you have to rely on people you don’t want to. We’ve had people say hurtful things. Even little things, like when I’m like, can my partner come to this appointment? And they’re like, he can come. They make so many assumptions and can feel invisible. Or one doctor who was like, wait, which one of you is carrying again? It can feel dehumanizing, when you feel like you’re just a number. It’s similar to the feeling of coming out. You’re so scared of what people think and what they’re going to say, because we live in a world where some people don’t think we deserve the same opportunities to build a family.
On forming the community you need
The fertility journey really does become part of your identity; it’s so deeply woven into your life. Whether you’re in the two-week wait or you got an ultrasound that morning, it’s always with you. You can’t just leave it at the door. It’s very present and that was getting really hard for me. I wanted to protect myself from people’s opinions. And then at some point, you find your community and you feel, no matter who knows, I’m going to be okay. That’s what this job has really done for me, given me a lot of confidence and support. I helped create a community I didn’t know I would need so deeply.
Once you watch the edit of the Bluey episode “Sleepytime” set to Noah Kahan’s song “Orbiter,” you and your tear ducts will never be the same.
Newly obsessed with Dazzle Dry nail polish, which doesn’t require a UV lamp and lasts longer than any other quick-dry brand. Currently wearing Round Trip, a creamy papaya shade.
I just don’t have it in me to keep up with a detailed baby book. But jotting down one sentence a day? That I can handle.
“I was proud of myself for getting both kids out of the house to Trader Joe’s. My son and I were sharing a cute little moment enjoying their sample crackers and cheese while he was in the stroller. Then, in the checkout line, I realized I had crumbs all over my newborn daughter’s scalp because I was babywearing. Her head was a full-on TV dinner tray for my snack.” —Folly reader Rachael S.
