It must be called postpartum because 'weeks of leaky tits and adult diapers' is too long

Let me paint the picture. Your photographer comes over to your house for a beautiful newborn shoot. While getting your child dressed in the most angelic ensemble, you are going through your closet wondering which outfit you can lactate in and still be able to get the stains out of and what pants won’t accentuate the diaper lines on your booty.


Full disclosure, thinking of myself in a romantic newborn shoot wearing an adult diaper wasn’t exactly the picture I had in mind. But it’s reality. 

We are so focused on baby that we forget about mama. Now mama just did some WORK in the hospital and while everyone’s birth story is unique, some things came out of some places and no matter where they came out of, things are looking and feeling a little different. 

Just as babies don’t come with a manual it’s the same for your postpartum journey. 

I remember going to my child’s first doctor's appointment and having to take breaks walking up a short set of stairs (also was the elevator out of order because I didn’t need to be a hero in that moment). I sat in the car after the appointment feeling awful and burst into tears.  Even in the moment, I couldn’t tell you why I was crying. Was it the lack of sleep? Probably. The physical pain I was in? Sure. The hormones that SLAPPED me in the face? 100%. I was overwhelmed and unprepared.

Physically I was hurting. For the first few weeks I couldn’t stand up and hold my baby for longer than 5 minutes and let’s not talk about sitting. It’s almost as if you should be suspended in some type of horizontal position and just carried to and from the kitchen to the couch to the bedroom. Well, since this hasn’t been invented yet insert my trusty and sexy booty cushion. 

What got me through my postpartum journey was my people. My family, my friends, my team constantly cheering me on and checking on me. It was my girlfriends who had gone through it before and knew what I needed. One brought over a basket of diapers and ice packs so I would actually take care of myself. One friend left lactation cookies on my doorstep so I could stop stressing about my milk supply. One of my coworkers baked yummy goodies to feed my soul. It was all of these small moments that made a big difference. 

Postpartum is hard. Let me say again for the people in the back. IT IS REALLY REALLY HARD. 

That is why in good company began. It is for the mamas in the trenches from day one to day 1,001. It’s for women on their postpartum journey to feel supported, cared for, and heard - plus we sprinkle in some well-timed humor because if you’re not laughing you’re not living. Just as I was in good company with the mamas who came before me, you’re in good company with us. 

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