When you feel no longer strong

For a long time, weightlifting was Chelsea’s sole focus of the day, every day. It was a great outlet for the stresses she faces, and it boosted her physical health as well as her mental health. The birth of her son threw her completely off course. She felt no longer strong: not physically or mentally. Chelsea writes about her path to healing and reflects on what helped her gain her strength back, in the hope to help others who can relate.

Strength has always been important to me. Growing up the way I did, having the relationships I had, moving to London alone at 19, working in the corporate world – they only made this desire to be strong more intense.    

My outlet
Physical strength felt a little easier to attain and control than mental. Weightlifting became the sole focus of my day, every day. It was my outlet for whatever difficulties or stresses I was facing. It never asked too much of me, only what I was willing to give. It held me up to high standards, but these were always clear to me from the start – there was no ulterior motive or hidden agenda. It never wanted me to look a certain way, never wanted my attention then took it away. I took inspiration from other strong women and used it to fuel me to push harder, knowing that positive results would always come. I felt healthy, which in turn boosted my mental health.

A kind of magic
January wasn’t the most jolly time to have a baby. It’s cold, wet, folks are hibernating and skint after Christmas/New Year celebrations. But I was excited. There is a kind of magic in the first time you do anything, this feeling isn’t limited to becoming a parent. I felt the strongest connection to this little human and I was indifferent to the impact it had on my body. I still felt strong. Who knew it would take me almost three years to feel even an ounce of that feeling again.

I ended up being in the latent phase of labour for almost a week. I was bone tired, hungry and I had this strange pain in my lower back that was worsening with each contraction. After what felt like the fiftieth examination, the call to move to an emergency C-section procedure was made, the evening my son was born.

“I was broken, unworthy and it was my fault that this happened”

Stuck and no longer strong
I was on the table for almost an hour and a half. Due to a rare complication, backed by almost no medical research, my son was literally and figuratively stuck. When he was finally extracted, he was immediately taken to specialist care. I wouldn’t hold him for another fifteen hours. This experience caused significant damage to my body, which I almost didn’t recover from, and as would become abundantly clear later, caused significant damage to my mental state. Unfortunately, I was no longer strong.

Unbelievable
In terms of the birth itself, there were other lapses in my care, intensified by the pandemic. I was treated for a quickly worsening infection, then contracted another advanced infection less than a week later, experiencing readmission to hospital another two times in a three-week period. I was isolated from the ward and denied my partner to assist in caring for my newborn, amongst many other things that become even more unbelievable as time moves on.

Cosmic payback
I can now comfortably state that for at least the first one and a half to two years of my son’s life I was adamant that I was broken, unworthy, that it was my fault that this happened, that there was something I could and should have done to stop it from happening. I was hypervigilant all day, every day, terrified of leaving the house, tired, angry and deeply lonely. Time stood still for me, but it kept moving for everyone else. I didn’t sleep, felt guilty for eating. I looked at other people enjoying their lives and I felt like nobody understood me, that most likely nobody ever would. I felt like I deserved what happened, as some sort of cosmic payback for every bad thing I ever did, every person I hurt.

“That feeling when you begin moving in the right way again, is unbeatable”

A different kind of strength
I was desperate to weightlift again. So, I reached out to a former physio of mine who linked me up with a Pilates instructor specialising in physio and treatment for postnatal bodies. I ended up seeing her almost weekly for around nine months, working on a different kind of strength. I can confirm without any hint of irony that Pilates is the toughest workout I’ve ever experienced. But that feeling when you begin moving in the right way again, is unbeatable. When you feel your nerves, muscles, tendons working together again – when you didn’t think they ever would. 

Processing painful memories
I separately reached out to my therapist, who helped me to find a psychotherapist experienced in birth trauma. She is the most incredible lifeforce, who got me, immediately. She knew from our initial discussion that I was experiencing birth trauma and PTSD – that I was reliving the traumatic experiences I suffered (not just during the birth, but throughout my life before) almost daily and that it was impacting everything I do, every decision I made. I am (still) working through a series of exercises, predominantly relying on EMDR techniques, to process some of the more painful memories. It can be really scary to start this kind of therapy. But for some reason I wasn’t afraid – I was more afraid of how I would turn out if I didn’t.

“The top song on my gym playlist goes: “This is my church, this is where I heal my hurt”

Up to me
My physio and my psychotherapist, along with the support of my incredible friends, husband, brother and colleagues, gave me the confidence to start weightlifting again. It is something that I get to do for myself that nobody else can interrupt or help me with – it is up to me. The words of the top song on my gym playlist spring to mind: “This is my church. This is where I heal my hurt.”

Path to healing
For me, the path to healing has been long, it hasn’t been linear, and is still stretched out far in front of me. My son will be three years old in a few months. That’s right, three! The standard recovery time is expected to be six to ten weeks, but it doesn’t mean it comes in that timeframe for us all. Learning that that’s OK, that you will recover at your own pace, is revolutionary. I don’t know much, but I do know that however badly you are feeling, that it will not last. Take whatever steps you can take at that point in time, however small. Keep pushing. Be gracious with yourself and with others. Most importantly, do not blame yourself. Seek out others who might understand what you are going through (like NCT groups, Make Birth Better, Maternity Voices Partnership, et cetera). Seek medical support from your GP or therapist if you’re feeling low, or suspect you are suffering from trauma. Remember that you are worthy as an individual in your own right, that being a parent is a great job, but it isn’t all that you are – it’s OK to feel whatever you feel about your experiences. 

My concept of strength looks a little different now – after all, strength does mean different things to different people. One thing I know for sure is that I am stronger than I ever thought possible.

Do you want to know what help is available and right for you? Take a look at our Step By Step Guide here and we’ll talk you through it.