The Postpartum I Didn’t See Coming

by Kaileahna McCollum

I was always the woman who feared the unknown of postpartum, long before I had kids. What would it feel like? What would I experience? How would I show up? Who would I be? How would I handle it?

To be honest, I didn’t fully understand what postpartum was—or all it could be. I don’t think I was alone in that. We don’t talk about it enough, and not enough women get to share their stories freely, honestly, and as deeply as they need to.

Even with a few close, open women in my life and maternal wellness support at my fingertips, we had barely scratched the surface of what I was about to experience. Looking back, I wonder if I could have grasped everything that was coming my way. I thought I was prepared. My partner and I had the conversations. I had put support in place. I believed that no matter what came my way, I would still feel like me. But I was wrong.

When Postpartum Support Began to Fall Away

The first few weeks were pure bliss. I had a beautiful home birth, a month and a half’s worth of freezer meals, and a group of wonderful women ready to help care for our home. For six whole weeks, all I had to do was rest and care for my baby. It was beautiful, and I didn’t have a single worry in the world.

Then time went on, and that support began to fall away. I found myself sleeping alone next to my baby all night, taking half the day to eat a proper meal, barely drinking water, and breastfeeding on demand around the clock. I was building resentment toward my partner and getting frustrated when my baby cried for too long.

I just wanted to sit the f down, make a meal, or drink my tea while it was still hot. I wanted to do something without being interrupted. The feelings only got worse, and they were scaring me.

Postpartum Rage and the Fear of Losing Myself

Everything felt foreign. The person in my head no longer felt like me. I was lost. I was gone. And yet, I stayed silent. I thought this was normal—that this was what I was supposed to feel. I thought I would get used to it, that it would get better, or that it would just go away. I hoped it would go away, but it didn’t. It got louder and more intense.

There were moments that terrified me while I was in them but hardly crossed my mind once they passed. The guilt lingered, of course. What I couldn’t understand was how those feelings could consume me so quickly, then disappear once the moment was over. What was happening to me? I feared I would always feel like this. That the mindful, grounded, giddy, down-to-earth woman I had worked so hard to become—and the momma I had dreamed of being—was gone.

I loved my baby, and I was struggling deeply. Both were true. The disconnect between my partner and me grew wider. Resentment turned into intense rage, and our disagreements became hateful and heated. I felt betrayed. Everything I had feared seemed to be coming to life. Why didn’t he understand me more? Why didn’t he know how to handle this? Why was this happening to me?

I felt lonely and isolated, even beside the person I knew and loved most, with all my preparation and a village of mindful women around me. I thought there wasn’t a single person on earth who would understand. I was afraid I would be shamed for feeling this way during what was supposed to be the most loving, blissful season of my life. I felt like a shell of myself for so long, and I didn’t recognize the full extent of what was happening until I was four months postpartum.

Finding Postpartum Support Through an Honest Conversation

I had been going to Willa Walking Club, Mama Mastermind, and Yoga with Baby—the postpartum version of the maternal wellness support I had received during pregnancy. The owner, who is also a dear friend, asked to meet and chat. Only I didn’t have to say a thing. She already knew, and she made me feel seen.

Here was a mother of three who had been deep in the trenches during her own postpartum experiences, breastfed for eight years, and built a business from the ground up to support mothers through this wild, ever-changing season. She sat in front of me and shared what she had felt, imagined, and experienced. It sounded almost identical to what was going on in my head, day in and day out. All I could do was cry. She understood.

That conversation didn’t fix everything, but it gave me the deepest exhale of my life. It gave me the strength to recognize what I was feeling and the courage to share it. It also gave me the desire to let other mommas know they weren’t alone—and that they didn’t have to diminish what they were going through.

This part of motherhood can be hard, intense, vast, deeply personal, and wildly unknown. It deserves to be heard just as much as any beautiful, curated, magical moment. Speaking it out loud takes an enormous amount of courage, and it shouldn’t feel so taboo.

Healing After Postpartum: Grieving Who I Was and Finding My Voice

Coming out of the depths of this experience has helped me recognize the strength I carry. Sharing my story opens something in my heart that I can’t quite explain. I know other mothers have felt what I felt, but seeing and hearing the relief they experience when they realize they aren’t alone is something I will always hold close. It is a sense of purpose I never imagined I would carry. As scary and difficult as that season was, I feel honored to support other mommas through this lens.

At 21 months postpartum, I still have moments of depression, rage, and anxiety. I am still learning how to adjust my life so I can care for me, too. But I know the deepest part of what I experienced is behind me. I feel so much tenderness for the version of myself who was simply surviving for 18 months, and for everything she managed to move through.

Because of that experience, I don’t know whether I will ever have another child. If I do, it will require far more preparation around how my partner can care for me and help me care for myself. I am still grieving the old me, what I thought postpartum would be, and what I thought my future would look like. I am still making space for the fact that healing is taking a long time. I can recognize how far I’ve come and still grieve what I went through.

If you’re reading this with your heart sinking and tears flowing, I want you to give yourself an immense amount of grace and love. And if you’re pregnant and wondering how to prepare for the possibilities ahead, I want to share what this experience taught me.

For Postpartum Moms: Making Space for Yourself and Your Feelings

These are some of the things that helped me make room for myself during a season when that felt almost impossible.

• Speak your truth to someone you trust. Your partner, a fellow momma, a trusted friend—someone who makes you feel safe enough to speak fully and freely. There is something powerful about getting those thoughts out of your head and letting yourself be heard.
• Make space for yourself, slowly and simply. For me, getting up even 15 minutes before the rest of the house sometimes gave me a moment of quiet and stillness. That small pocket of time helped me feel a sense of control before the day began. Your version of that space might look different.
• Write it down if you’re not ready to say it out loud. Journaling gave me a place to sit with my thoughts without judgment. When I could, I also made room for gratitude. Recognizing something positive helped me find moments of relief alongside the pain.
• Give yourself time and grace. I know we hear this constantly as new mommas, and it isn’t always what we want to hear. But healing took longer than I expected. I am still learning to respect that timeline and give myself room to be where I am.
• Reconnect with things you loved before becoming a mom. Bring your baby along when it works for you. Take it slowly. Let yourself be nervous and try anyway. You don’t have to let every “what if” or “just wait” dictate what motherhood looks like for you. There is still room for your interests, your joy, and your own story.

Preparing for Postpartum: Build Support Beyond the Newborn Stage

I prepared for so much before my daughter arrived. Looking back, these are the conversations and plans I would give more attention to.

• Talk with your partner about caring for you over the long term. Go beyond the newborn phase or the first 40 days. Something I wish we had done was spend more time helping my partner understand what I might experience after having a baby and how to support me emotionally, as well as physically.
• Create a flexible schedule with people you trust. One of the best things I did was ask women in my life about coming over regularly. These were people I trusted with my baby and felt comfortable having around during my most vulnerable moments. They helped with meals and household tasks, and sometimes held my daughter so I could shower or nap alone.
• Plan for support that can continue as your baby grows. In those early weeks, I had someone coming over five or six days a week for a couple of hours, and it was glorious. Looking back, I wish we had planned more intentionally for what would happen when that help began to taper off. If your village can offer ongoing support, talk about what that could look like.
• Find a community where you feel seen. If you’re in the greater Seattle area, especially near Issaquah, Willa Wellness was that place for me. Ella, the founder, has poured her heart into helping mothers feel seen, heard, and held. Her support made a lasting difference in my postpartum experience.

Your story deserves room (all of it). The beautiful moments, the complicated feelings, and the parts you’re still finding words for. You deserve to feel seen, heard, and supported through every part of it.