An Open Letter to the Mama Staring at Her Postpartum Reflection

Dear Mama,

I know you. You are standing in front of the mirror, pulling at the waistband of leggings that used to feel roomy, wondering if your body will ever feel like your own again. You scroll past “bounce-back” posts online while you are still figuring out how to shower without someone crying in the background.

Postpartum is beautiful, but it is also messy. It is leaky bras, sore everything, hormonal tears in the middle of the night, and a fridge full of snacks you swore you would only eat “in moderation.” It is googling “is it normal to still look pregnant weeks later” at 3 a.m. with a baby in one arm and your phone in the other.

And then there is breastfeeding. If you are doing it, you already know it is a wild ride. One minute you feel like a goddess feeding your child with your own body, the next minute you are crying over cracked nipples, milk stains on every shirt, and wondering how on earth you are this hungry all the time. People say “the weight will just melt off” but forget to mention the part where you feel like you could eat an entire pizza by yourself after every nursing session.

Here is the truth: this body is not broken. It is remade. It stretched, it carried, it delivered, and now it shows up for you and your baby every single day. Yes, it feels softer. Yes, it feels different. But different is not failure. Different is proof.

You do not have to rush. The jeans can wait. The scale can wait. Even your old sense of normal can wait. For now, feed your baby, feed yourself, rest when you can, and remember that healing takes longer than social media will ever admit.

And when you look in that mirror again, try to see what your baby sees. Not the stretch marks, not the curves, not the tired eyes. They just see home.

Signed,
Jalyn