On Perfectionism, Motherhood, and Taylor Swift
Plus, an introduction to Choreographed Chaos
Author’s Note: You probably thought my first post was going to be in response to Joe Biden’s historic Sunday announcement that he will no longer seek the Democratic nomination for the presidency, his endorsement of Kamala Harris, and the fact that in the first 24 hours since this happened, the campaign raised $81 million, the single largest day of fundraising this election with 60% of donors making their first contribution this cycle. However, I had always planned for the following essay to be my first Substack post. I hope to write more about the presidential election when I’ve had a bit more time to process and come down off of my adrenaline high. For now, you can find my thoughts on everything via my saved Instagram stories - spoiler alert: I’m absolutely thrilled.
The following is a piece I wrote last fall (2023) as part of an ultimately unsuccessful application to become a contributing writer to a local mom blogger community.
While I’ve edited and expanded upon it, I still feel every word of it in my bones, which is why I’m choosing to share it as my first-ever Substack post.
Content Warning: This post contains discussions about postpartum anxiety and childbirth. Take care while reading.
In Taylor Swift’s “You’re Losing Me,” the 19th track on the CD-exclusive Late Night Edition of her 10th studio album (not including the re-records - side note: our Capitalist Queen always has way too damn many versions of her album releases…can’t we just have ONE?) Midnights, she sings “A pathological people pleaser / Who only wanted you to see her / And I’m fadin’ thinkin’.”
It’s been widely speculated, and seemingly confirmed over the course of the last year+ that this song is about (the dissolution of) Swift’s six-year relationship with Joe Alwyn, but these lyrics, in particular, struck a chord with me as I have contemplated and begun to process my own journey into motherhood, as well as my shifting identity as a first-time mom.
Let’s back up. My son was born on February 11, 2023. Due to a few (thankfully minor) complications, he spent about 30 hours in the NICU, while I had a fairly difficult physical recovery. (P.S.: Pelvic floor therapy saves lives. I will die on this hill.) A precipitous birth (from induction to pushing in less than 10 hours) turned abruptly to the moment when my son was almost literally ripped from my arms so they could tend to his breathing. This altered my expectations into an experience, in which I now, through significant processing, understand my own birth story to contain a handful of “small-t” traumas. I don’t see the experience itself as traumatic, but it was harrowing. I still can barely look at pictures of my son during those first precious hours because it is so wildly distressing to see his face covered with an infant CPAP machine.
That said, he was discharged from the NICU after less than two days, so when my husband and I returned home from the hospital a family of three, I expected things to go…actually, I don’t know what I expected. That things would go smoothly? Predictably? That I would be so caught up in the dreamy “newborn bubble” and so grateful to not be pregnant anymore that I would…thrive? I’m 100% sure people tried to tell me what to expect in early postpartum when I was pregnant (read: you will not thrive), but I am also 100% sure I couldn’t hear them over my sciatica and symphysis pubis dysfunction (IYKYK).
Let’s back up further. I’ve always been someone for whom scripts, paths, ladders, and gold stars have been motivating, even comforting. A former professional ballet dancer and straight-A student with an advanced degree, I am basically the textbook adult version of “a pleasure to have in class.” All that “eldest daughter” content on Instagram resonates with me on a visceral level. While this means I am disciplined and driven, it also manifests in sometimes crippling anxiety, debilitating perfectionism, and, in the past, struggles with disordered eating. What it looked like in the early postpartum days was obsessively tracking feeds, diaper changes, and sleep; beating myself up over every tiny (and big) thing that would go “wrong;” feeling extreme loneliness; and a deep lack of confidence in myself and my ability to mother. I couldn’t figure out why it all felt so difficult and why I didn’t appear to be acing the test, which was this role I had deeply craved taking on for so long.
In other words, as a fellow “pathological people pleaser who only wanted [someone? anyone?] to see her,” those early weeks and months had me questioning everything from what the “best” schedule for a 3-week-old was to why I seemed to be taking longer to heal than the story I had told myself was normal. In the absence of certainty, I would take to Dr. Google at 3 o’clock in the morning, which would inevitably only make me feel worse. “What do you mean ‘the perfect wake windows for your two-month-old baby’ did not, in fact, result in an infant who “slept through the night” at eight weeks?” I would feel so frustrated by other newly postpartum moms in my circle who seemed to have it all together (though, I’m absolutely sure that was more projection than fact on my part). Of course, extreme exhaustion, hormones, and the sheer mental load of exclusive breastfeeding (and then exclusive pumping—but that could be its own post, so I’ll spare you the details now) exacerbated all of it.
Before I go on, I should make it clear that I had a robust and strong support system through my postpartum journey—my husband, parents, in-laws, family, and friends were truly angels. I also had a generous paid maternity leave (16 weeks), compared to the US standard (in which 1 in 4 mothers go back to work within two weeks of having a baby). I think that’s why my transition to motherhood felt that much more frustrating. I had plenty of help around me! Isn’t that what everyone wants?! That said, my penchant for anxiety and my extreme, irrational desire to embody some perfect version of early motherhood were really no match for the sheer magnitude of my experience of matrescence. It was a seismic shift in identity I felt happening to me, and I had seemingly no way to understand or cope with it. Mix with this with a failure to be diagnosed with postpartum anxiety (PPA) until well after my 6-week checkup, add a dash of the internet and social media in all its perfectly curated #momlife reels of women whose hair was done, babies were sleeping, and houses were picked up; and the absolute torture of early parenthood sleep deprivation—and, well, it was a recipe for disaster.
In many ways, my “pathological people-pleasing” perfectionism robbed me of a lot of joy in those early days and weeks, making me feel like I was “fadin’” into the background, while forcing the supportive people around me to watch as I fell apart on a near daily basis.
This story has a happy ending, though. Thankfully, somewhere between 6 and 8 months, the newborn haze / daze began to fade. More importantly, I started taking an SSRI and returned to regular therapy—this time with a professional who had specific experience with perinatal mental health. Through time and distance, I’ve been able to step back and acknowledge the fact that there is absolutely no “perfect” way to mother, especially in the thick of acute postpartum. The intrusive thoughts, obsessive tracking, and lack of an instant “bond” with my baby were symptoms of a postpartum mood disorder and while not “normal,” they are common.
I learned that I am (and always have been) the “perfect” mother for my son, even if I couldn’t see it through the fog at the time. Now that the fog has lifted a bit, I’m so proud of the progress I’ve made and all that has happened since. In February, I celebrated my son’s 1st birthday, took him on a 2.5 week trip to Europe earlier this summer with my husband, and am watching him grow, ever more rapidly, into a fast-walking, chatty, curious, joyful toddler, which, dare I say is some of the most fun I’ve ever had.
To tie this back to Taylor, her songs have gotten me through some of the most difficult moments in my life, helped me to celebrate the good ones, and made me feel seen when I needed it most. “You’re Losing Me” is just one prescient example of that.
Lastly, in case you are, like I was, mired in a postpartum experience that has you overwhelmed, confused, or really anything short of “grateful and happy,” here’s a non-exhaustive list of unsolicited advice I wish I could go back and tell my postpartum self. This is caveated with the disclaimer that I am not a mental health or perinatal professional—take what you need and leave the rest:
Unfollow all baby sleep accounts immediately. Except maybe @heysleepybaby. She is a gem! She also has a Substack -
. If strict schedules and wake windows aren’t working for you (they didn’t work for us!) and instead are increasing your stress and anxiety, hear me when I say there is nothing wrong with you, and there is nothing wrong with your baby. You can tune out the noise.Accept help, and then ask for more. Don’t be shy. Welcome the meal train. Be grateful for the gifts, especially the ones that are specifically for you and not the baby. If other people’s help looks like “holding the baby” and that stresses you out more, make a list of household tasks that you can assign while you snuggle and enjoy a contact nap.
Find a way to do something each day that makes you feel just a little bit like yourself. I’m not talking anything extravagant. Maybe today you take a hot shower. Maybe tonight you listen to an audiobook or podcast while nursing. Maybe tomorrow you load the baby up in the carrier or stroller and take a walk to get coffee at your favorite local shop. Simply getting in your car and picking up a Target drive-up order can feel life-affirming. The impact of feeling like a real human cannot be overstated.
Treat yourself to a few new clothing pieces in a size or two up, especially if not being able to fit into your non-maternity clothes is contributing to your anxiety. I impulse bought a pair of H&M jeans off an influencer rec two sizes larger than my “normal” size at 8 weeks postpartum, and they literally made me feel like a million bucks. Jeans not your thing? Buy a really, really luxe pair of pajamas. I also know better than most people how the psychological games our minds play on us while we adjust to a changing body can be scary. Reach out to a professional for help if you need it.
Be gentle with yourself. Grace is a non-negotiable requirement here. You cannot extend yourself enough of it. Especially as a first time mom, you are learning how to do everything just as much as your baby is. It’s okay if you feel out of your depth. It’s okay if you don’t love every single minute of the newborn phase. It’s okay if none of what I’ve written here resonates with you, and your postpartum period felt like pure bliss. The beauty of motherhood is that all of our experiences are valid. All of our experiences matter. You are worthy of being your baby’s mother. You are perfect. We all are.
Hello and Welcome to
Why I’m launching a Substack now
I’ve enjoyed writing and sharing my thoughts on Instagram for many years now. Friends and family often comment that they enjoy and appreciate my commentary on politics and current events, books I’m reading / shows I’m watching / podcasts I’m listening to, and the just general “life” stuff I share in my everyday.
Since becoming a mom in February 2023, I’ve wanted to share more longer-form writing in a format that works for me, and Substack seems to be the place to do that, as I’ve watched the platform grow and subscribed to many publications from creators I love. My goal for this newsletter is to share personal essays and reflections on motherhood, advocacy about politics (particularly as they relate to the care economy), and more fun (and perhaps random) recommendations, suggestions, tips, and musings on everything from what I’m currently obsessed with (hint: it’s almost always Taylor Swift) to what I found while thrifting this past weekend.
This space
I hope this space will be a welcoming, inclusive, and informative place that allows us to connect on motherhood, politics, style and thrifting, books / podcasts / TV, Taylor Swift, and any of the other things I may choose to write about here. Think of it as a combination of personal essays, suggestions and recommendations, what I’m currently obsessing over, and hopefully a lot of fun, too.
What can you expect?
Right now, I plan to send a newsletter to your inbox approximately every other week, but that could shift as this project evolves. Right now, I plan to offer the newsletter for free, but I hope to add additional features for paid subscribers in the future.
This is so relatable in so many levels! I just had my daughter 4 months ago and am also doing PVPT. I feel overwhelmed 99% of the time and I don’t understand why can’t I just relax. Also agree with unfollowing everyone except for heysleepybaby! She’s been a life savior for me!
Wonderful insight and advice. Brought back thoughts of my first few weeks home with a newborn many moons ago. I look forward to political delvings soon!