I don't recognize myself in the mirror. And no one told me this would happen.

I knew my body was going to change.

I read about it. Watched videos. Mentally prepared — or so I thought. During pregnancy it didn’t stress me because it made sense. I was creating life. Every pound, every stretch mark, every change had a purpose.

The problem wasn’t the pregnancy.

The problem was after.

Nobody told me that breastfeeding doesn’t make everyone lose weight.

Spoiler: some of us gain.

And nobody prepares you for that. For the body that comes after. For the stomach that stays there, sagging, different. For the stretch marks that showed up and won’t leave with cocoa butter or a good attitude.

The first time I tried on my old clothes was the first real blow.

They fit. But they were tight. Everything felt different — like wearing clothes that belong to someone I’m not anymore. And I just stood there in front of the mirror staring at a person I didn’t recognize.

Where am I?

Because that woman in the mirror isn’t me. She’s not the one I remember. She’s not the one I know. She’s someone else. With a different stomach. A different body. A different face.

And it’s not just the weight.

It’s that I don’t have time to get ready. I can’t shower in peace. I can’t do my hair calmly. I can’t put on something nice because what for? I don’t go out. Nobody sees me. I don’t even want to see myself.

It’s the insecurity that grows every day.

It’s getting dressed fast so you don’t look at yourself too long. It’s avoiding the bathroom mirror. It’s not wanting photos. It’s not talking about it with anyone — not friends, not your partner, not your mom. Because you don’t want to hear “but you gave birth, you should be grateful.”

And I am.

I’m grateful. Truly.

Because thanks to this body I don’t recognize — my baby is here. Healthy. Safe. Perfect.

And those two things have to coexist. Because they have to.

I don’t like what I see in the mirror. And I’m grateful for what my body did.

Both things are true at the same time. And nobody tells you that’s possible — to feel both at once and have neither cancel the other out.

They say your body goes back to normal after the first year postpartum.

Wowww.

A year. An entire year of not recognizing yourself. Of not feeling at home in your own skin. Of not knowing if this is you now or if it’s temporary.

And in the meantime, what?

In the meantime you walk around your own house avoiding mirrors, trying on things that don’t fit right, and pretending you don’t care.

I don’t know if I’ll go back to being who I was before.

I don’t know if this body is temporary or the new me. Only time will tell.

What I do know is that I’m not the only one who stands in front of the mirror and doesn’t recognize herself.

And if you’re reading this in the pajamas you’ve worn for three days, hair up because you didn’t wash it, looking at your stomach and thinking “is this forever?”

— you’re not alone.

I didn’t feel at home in my body today either. But here we are.