Please Stop Telling New Moms "All That Matters Is a Healthy Baby"

When I found myself single in my mid-30s living in New York City, I was still undecided about whether I wanted to be a mom. However, I really wanted to ensure that I had the option. I explored avenues like egg-freezing and becoming a single mother by choice but ultimately decided those weren't for me. I feel very fortunate that I met my now husband at 36, in the fall of 2020, amid the pandemic. We moved in together 11 months after we started dating, and eventually got legally married about a year and a half later in May 2022, with an elopement ceremony in Switzerland a month after that.

At the end of 2022, we moved to Chicago, since we wanted to have children and live closer to my family if we did. I was nervous about getting pregnant at 38, but we were very lucky that I got pregnant quickly. Since I was having a very smooth pregnancy we took a trip to New Zealand when I was 17 weeks along. While there, we took scenic photos holding a onesie to eventually share with our announcement on social media.

Back home, we went in for my 20-week anatomy scan, which admittedly made me a little nervous. Since I worked as a certified registered nurse anesthetist I already knew a lot of things that could go wrong, so it was a big sigh of relief to have a healthy scan. However, that week, I was having some hamstring tightness, which I brushed off because it's a common issue for long-distance runners like me.

The next day my left calf and hamstring developed the absolute worst pain of my life, and I laid in bed all day because I couldn't move. I kept telling myself, "This is weird, but if I just stretch it out, maybe it will go away." By the middle of the night, my husband had to lift me up off the floor to get to the hospital.

The following morning, I called my obstetrician, who wanted to rule out a blood clot since we had just been on a long flight. Since it was a Sunday, the only place to do that was the emergency room. At the ER, they determined it was likely sciatic pain, which is very common in pregnancy, though 20 weeks is a bit early to experience it. They gave me a steroid pack and sent me home. However, the pain returned overnight and I had to return to the ER.

Back at the hospital, they ruled out other causes like a potential electrolyte issue and I was seen by a physical therapist but nothing provided relief. I was admitted to the hospital to expedite an MRI of my back. They ultimately determined that I had a herniated disc in my lumbar spine, or lower back. But there was nothing more they could do for me at the hospital, so they sent me home. I started using a walker since I couldn't put any weight on my left leg, and my husband had to do everything for me. I couldn't stand in the shower or be left home alone, and we had to send our dog to live with my parents since it was too much for my husband to take care of both of us.

I started physical therapy, which, for most people, helps resolve a herniated disc within six weeks. But mine wasn't getting better, so after following up with a neurosurgeon, it was recommended that I have a microdiscectomy, a surgery in which they remove the part of the disc that is herniated. Things got even more complicated from that point. The neurosurgeon was adamant about doing the procedure to prevent further long-term damage, and my obstetrician encouraged me to wait because I was 24 weeks pregnant, which is considered viability. This meant if there was an issue during the surgery, they would need to deliver the baby immediately.

Meanwhile, I slept only a few hours a night, upright in an armchair for four weeks because I couldn't lie down due to pain. I knew the longer I waited to get the surgery, the worse my condition would become, including the risk of losing function in my foot. But my biggest fear remained: That I wouldn't be able to take care of my child because I needed to recover from a debilitating surgery that could potentially disable me.

I continued to go to my OB appointments where everyone would emphasize how great the baby looked. I wanted to say, "Yeah, he does . . . but look at me." This was very much a wanted baby, but I felt like what I was experiencing didn't really matter. I was completely disregarded as a separate human being.

My first surgery date was ultimately canceled because of pregnancy-related concerns. I tried another steroid injection, but after about three more weeks, the pain was the worst it had been, to the point I was now crawling up and down my apartment stairs. My neurosurgeon agreed we'd waited long enough. I finally had the surgery at 28 weeks pregnant, and thankfully it was successful – my pain was gone immediately.

From there, I used a walker for two more weeks before transitioning to a cane. I started physical therapy for my leg and was finally able to walk a quarter mile outside. It took me about 15 minutes, which was crazy to think about for someone who used to run marathons. I finally announced my pregnancy at 34 weeks, which was never how I imagined telling people that I was pregnant. I talked to my therapist often about how I felt very robbed of the pregnancy experience.

With the surgery, I ended up taking 12 weeks of disability leave from work, and made it to 40 weeks and four days pregnant. I was past-due and induced, but I'll admit, I was afraid the pressure from pushing would re-herniate the disc. Luckily, I was able to get an epidural with no back issues and my healthy son, Martin, was born on August 21, 2023.

The immediate postpartum period was pretty dark, which I understand is common, but I really wish it wasn't brushed off like it shouldn't be a concern. The "baby blues" is a cute term for something that is a truly awful way to exist. I feel that way about a lot of pregnancy-related issues — like incontinence and pelvic floor prolapse — namely that we're just expected to live with them.

The general attitude towards these types of things has been, "What did you expect? At least you have a healthy baby." And it's always a joke, like "Haha, I had a baby and now I pee when I laugh." Why should that be considered acceptable and something you just have to deal with? I shared this online and more people responded to it than anything else I'd ever posted, from women sharing their own experiences to thanking me for sharing mine, saying it made them feel less alone.

Things were looking up by March of this year. I returned to running and by April, I finished physical therapy for my back. In June, I was beginning to feel excited about signing up for a 5K in the near future, with Martin waiting for me at the finish line. One evening, I was about to head to my final pelvic floor physical therapy appointment, and after putting my son in the car, I stepped around a curb, rolled over my ankle and fell to the ground. I couldn't walk, so I called my husband to come help me. I thought it was just a bad sprain, but an urgent care visit with X-rays the next day confirmed that my ankle was broken. I just sobbed. My biggest fear with my back injury was that I wouldn't be able to take care of my baby, and then it came true in a different way. I was on crutches for about two weeks, and then in a walking boot before getting cleared to go back to work in July. I can now walk again, though I'm still not cleared to run yet.

I always pictured having a child who knew me as a runner, and I'm hoping I'll be able to do that 5K with Martin there soon. He's almost 1 and is so much more fun now that he can interact with the world more, and I see the world through his eyes.

More than anything, though, I think we need to do away with the narrative that all that matters after a difficult pregnancy is a healthy baby. We need to give women the space to talk openly about the hard parts of pregnancy and new motherhood. Because while I'm thankful to have a very healthy happy baby, I also have lasting issues both from my back injury and pregnancy. That's one of the reasons why I'm so thankful that I saw a therapist to validate how I was feeling and help me understand that it was temporary.

Whether support is coming from people in real life or online, having a community is so essential for mothers to go through these tough times postpartum. And I think if more women share their experiences with motherhood and pregnancy struggles, perhaps that would bring more attention to them, and people wouldn't necessarily be expected to suffer in silence. And although it is already a very isolating experience, no one should feel alone in new motherhood, or that the only thing that matters is a healthy baby. The wellbeing of the mom is just as important.

Emilia Benton is a freelance health and wellness journalist who is particularly passionate about sharing diverse stories and elevating underrepresented voices. In addition to PS, her work has been published by Runner's World, Women's Health, Self, Outside, and the Houston Chronicle, among others. Emilia is also a 13-time marathoner and a USATF Level 1-certified run coach.