That first night after having a baby is a fever dream of otherworldly magic. Congratulatory phone calls ping-pong around you while you’re locked in an intense staring contest with this tiny human who looks simultaneously like an alien and the most beautiful creature on earth, your body humming with exhaustion and amazement. 

The truth is, those precious moments of an angelic baby peacefully sleeping next to you do exist but they’re just one small part of a much messier, more complex journey. Real motherhood is a full-spectrum experience – beautiful and brutal, often in the same breath. Most new mums end up feeling like they’re failing a test nobody studied for as they stumble through early motherhood feeling isolated and unprepared.

When I had my baby, the gap between expectation and reality hit me like a ton of bricks. After speaking with friends and my midwife, I discovered my experiences were completely normal. Which begs the question: if it’s so normal, why does it feel like we’re all participating in some underground postpartum cult where the first rule is “never talk about how weird this actually is?” Consider this my contribution to normalising the ‘weirdness’ – a peek behind the curtain at the less glamorous (and sometimes smelly) side of postpartum life.

From Miracle to Mayhem: Postpartum Pain 

Alhamdulillah, my entrance into motherhood revealed the profound strength that lies within every mother—simply surviving the experience of bringing a child into this world is a testament to that strength. That first night was a beautiful blur that initially left me floating in an other-worldly state of wonder at Allah’s ﷻ miracle. But then came day two, and oh sister, that’s when my body decided to send me an itemised bill for the miracle it had just performed.

Childbirth is like running a marathon while simultaneously wrestling a bear. Every single muscle in my body—including ones I didn’t even know existed—were screaming from pain. Walking became an Olympic sport, sitting down required a strategic battle plan, and getting up? Let’s just say it involved a lot of creative manoeuvring and sound effects.

The stitches—ah, the stitches. Nobody tells you that you’ll develop a whole new way of moving just to accommodate them. Want to sit? Better perfect your hover-squat technique. Need to cough or sneeze? Quick, cross your legs and pray. Laughing? Hold onto your dignity (and your pelvic floor) for dear life. And don’t even get me started on the first time you pee after giving birth, imagine trying to pass hot lava through your urethra. The midwives cheerfully suggest using a water bottle to rinse while peeing. Trust me, that bottle becomes your new best friend.

The true test of patience isn’t just the physical recovery—it’s having to smile and play gracious host to well-meaning visitors when all you want to do is shout, “GO HOME!” through gritted teeth and wrap yourself in a Harry Potter-style invisibility cloak. Just ask my friend Khadija, who had to weather a tsunami of post-baby visitors while fantasising about a magical disappearing act that would make Houdini proud. “There I was, 5 days postpartum, leaking from literally everywhere, when my husband’s entire extended family decided to ‘surprise’ us. I’m talking milk stains on my shirt, bleeding through my adult diaper, and crying because my nipples felt like they were on fire. I hid in the bedroom claiming I was ‘resting with the baby’ while sending furious texts to my husband to get rid of everyone. The cherry on top? My mother-in-law knocked on the door to offer me her ‘special’ postpartum recovery tea, and I had to pretend to be asleep while actively spraying breast milk everywhere. Now I laugh about it, but I also put a ‘No Visitors Without Permission’ sign on our door for baby number two. My house, my rules, my leaky body!”

Postpartum Water Works: All the Leaking  

Speaking of a leaky body, welcome to the postpartum splash zone where I discovered motherhood was basically an unexpected water park adventure. Firstly, there’s the postpartum bleeding, or as I like to call it, the forty-day farewell tour of pregnancy. Nobody warned me about the postpartum penguin shuffle; that distinctive walk where you’re sporting industrial-strength pads that feel like you’re smuggling a memory foam mattress between your legs. Every step is a reminder that comfort is now a distant memory, replaced by a constant awareness of parts of your body you never used to think about. There you are, waddling through your house like a duck with a grudge, trying to find that one magical position that doesn’t feel like you’re sitting on a cactus.

No one warned me that giving birth would transform me into a human fountain—from postpartum bleeding to surprise breast milk showers, constant sweating, and that newfound B.O. situation (yikes!).

When Aisha shared her tale of night-time tsunami sweats, I realised I wasn’t the only one discovering all these delightful new ways my body could spring a leak. “Nobody told me about the night sweats! For the first two weeks after having my son, I would wake up absolutely drenched—like I’d just run a marathon in a sauna. My poor husband thought I was having a fever, but no, it was just my hormones throwing a farewell party. We had to change the sheets every single night, and I went through more pyjamas in those two weeks than I normally do in six months. The worst part? The smell wasn’t exactly roses and jasmine if you know what I mean. SubhanAllah, the things our bodies go through!”

Breastfeeding: Cracks in My Nipples and My Sanity 

The journey of breastfeeding deserves a book of its own—a saga that involved cracked nipples, midnight Google searches about proper latching, and enough lactation cookies to open a bakery. It took three support groups, two lactation consultants, and countless YouTube tutorials before we finally figured out how to feed without seeing stars from pain. And just when I thought we’d mastered that skill, my wrists decided to join the rebellion with carpal tunnel syndrome from all the awkward feeding positions.

The reality is that breastfeeding challenges are incredibly common, yet they are often not discussed enough.

According to the UK’s Infant Feeding Survey, while 81% of mothers in the UK started breastfeeding at birth, only 34% were still exclusively breastfeeding at six weeks, with many citing difficulties as a primary reason for stopping earlier than planned.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), nearly two out of three infants are not exclusively breastfed for the recommended six months—a rate that has remained stagnant for two decades. Challenges like latching difficulties and concerns about milk supply often contribute to this early weaning. These statistics underscore that behind every successful breastfeeding journey lies a narrative of perseverance, a solid support system, and the occasional cry into a batch of overly optimistic lactation cookies that may or may not taste like cardboard.

The Great Constipation Saga of 2024 

Let me tell you about the thirteen days that shall live in infamy. Yes, you read that right—thirteen days without a number two. I was eating like a champion to boost milk production, but my digestive system had apparently decided to go on an extended strike. My stomach felt like a time bomb, and desperation led me down some interesting paths, including my sister’s TikTok-inspired concoction of water, lemon juice, and salt. Pro tip: drinking a litre of this mixture only results in what I can only describe as “colon contractions”—like labour, but for your intestines.

Let’s just say the bathroom needed a hazmat team: the saga’s climactic resolution came courtesy of my other sister’s emergency enema kit (a fact we now laugh about, but at the time was about as funny as a root canal). My saint of a mother, bless her soul, helped me through a journey of utter torment.

The scene can only be described as Birth 2.0: The Sequel Nobody Asked For. The pain was so spectacular that it made childbirth feel like a gentle warm-up act. There I was, gripping the bathroom rails like I was back in the delivery room, except this time I was traumatising the neighbours. When thirteen days’ worth of backed-up traffic finally decides to make its grand exit through a newly renovated area, it’s an experience that deserves its own chapter in medical textbooks. The kind of pain that makes you see stars, question every life choice that led to this moment and silently vow never to take your digestive system for granted again.

This adventure in human endurance left such an impression that I’ve since become a fibre evangelist. I drink so much water my family thinks I’m training to become a camel. Because trust me, when you’ve survived what I now fondly refer to as “The Great Constipation Saga of 2024,” you’ll do absolutely anything to avoid it happening again. 

Imagine my relief (and amusement) when I spoke to my friend Fatima and discovered that  I wasn’t alone in dealing with a post-baby digestive system that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. “Three weeks postpartum, I finally felt brave enough to venture to Tesco. Big mistake. HUGE mistake. I was in the cereal aisle when I felt it – that rumble that every postpartum mum fears. I tried to make it to the bathroom, but apparently, my pelvic floor had other plans. Let’s just say I left my shopping cart right there and waddled to my car with my coat tied around my waist. I called my sister crying, and she just laughed and said, ‘Welcome to the club!’ Now I can laugh about it too, but I didn’t shop at that Tesco for a good six months after!”

The Hormone Roller Coaster: Am I the Drama? 

Post-birth hormones are like having an emotional DJ who’s had way too much coffee and is randomly switching tracks. One minute you’re sobbing because “the sky is too blue” (yes, that happened), and the next you’re feeling euphoric about the way your baby’s ear curves (also happened). My poor family never knew which version of me they’d get from one moment to the next.

The eight-week check-up brought the all-clear for intimacy, but my sex drive had packed its bags and moved to Antarctica. Without monthly periods to help regulate hormones (thanks, exclusive breastfeeding!), my body decided to compensate with random hot flashes that made me feel like a human furnace.

The rollercoaster of hormones can affect you in different ways, as Zahra discovered when her hormone imbalance led to a hair-raising tale. “Everyone talks about postpartum hair loss, but nobody prepared me for the full horror of it. Around three months after giving birth, I woke up to clumps of my hair on my pillow. Every shower my drain would get blocked. I’d find my hair everywhere – wrapped around the baby’s tiny fingers, in his neck rolls, in his diapers (how??), in my food… I started wearing a head covering not for hijab, but to contain the shedding! My husband once found a strand of my hair in his socks at work – I still don’t know how it got there. Ya Allah, the things we go through! My mother just laughed and said ‘Sabr, it will grow back.’ Eight months later, I’ve got these weird baby hairs sticking up all over my head like a crown of tiny antennas. My husband calls it my ‘motherhood halo’ – bless him for trying to make me feel better!”

The Dark Side: When Happiness and Sadness Play Tug of War

Postpartum depression is like being buried alive while fully conscious – you can feel every shovel of soil being piled on top of you, but you’re also acutely aware that you “should” be happy. The guilt is perhaps the cruellest part: here I was, blessed with a healthy baby and support system many women dream of, yet some days I could barely stop crying.

My friend Maryam had a similar experience with postpartum depression. “The hardest part was feeling like I was the only one struggling. Here I was with a beautiful baby girl, a supportive family, and everything I’d ever prayed for, yet I felt like I was drowning. I would pray Fajr and just sit there crying, wondering what was wrong with me. It took my best friend noticing something was off and practically dragging me to the doctor to get help. That’s when I learned about postpartum depression and realised it wasn’t my fault. Alhamdulillah, with support and treatment, I started feeling like myself again.”

“But we need to talk about this more in our community – it’s not a weakness of faith, it’s a medical condition that needs attention.”

Postpartum depression is a complicated darkness that doesn’t play by any rules. I was fortunate to have access to help, and every day became a battle I was determined to win. For any new mothers reading this who recognise these feelings – you’re not alone, and it’s okay to reach out for help.

A Midwife’s Perspective: Sarah Thompson, Practicing Midwife for Fifteen Years

“What amazes me is how every single thing these women describe – from the night sweats to the unexpected bathroom emergencies, from the hormone crashes to the postpartum depression—is completely normal. These aren’t complications; they’re common postpartum experiences that almost every new mother goes through in some form or another. But because we don’t talk about them openly, each new mum thinks she’s the only one dealing with these challenges.

The more we share these stories, the more we normalise these experiences, and the better prepared and supported new mothers will be. I always tell my mums: your body just did something extraordinary, it grew and delivered a human being. The postpartum period isn’t just about recovery; it’s about transformation. Every leaked toilet trip, every sweat-soaked night, every tearful morning is part of that journey.

You’re not failing; you’re transitioning into motherhood, and it’s beautifully messy.

These experiences aren’t shameful secrets to be hidden; they’re battle stories to be shared with pride. Because when we share, we help other mothers feel less alone, less alien, and more understood. And isn’t that what community is all about?”

The Light at the End of the Tunnel: A Journey of Sabr and Shukr

While this might sound like a collection of horror stories, it’s a testament to the strength Allah has placed within every mother. Remember that even our beloved Prophet’s ﷺ mother went through the trials of childbirth and early motherhood. In the Qur’an, we’re reminded of Maryam (AS) who, during her labour, cried out in distress, 

“Would that I had died before this and been a thing forgotten!” (Surah Maryam 19:23) 

Yet Allah comforted her and gave her strength. Every sleepless night is an act of ibadah. Every tear of exhaustion is counted. Every moment of difficulty is an opportunity for reward. As Allah reminds us in the Qur’an,

“So, surely with hardship comes ease.” (Surah Ash-Sharh 94:5)

Truly, each day brings new mercies along with its challenges. The hormones eventually settle, the body heals, and somehow, amid all the chaos and confusion, you discover reserves of strength you never knew Allah had blessed you with.

To all the new mothers out there: yes, it’s hard, it’s messy, and sometimes it feels impossible. But take comfort in knowing that Allah Himself acknowledges the intensity of this journey. In Surah Luqman, He describes pregnancy and the first two years as “wahnan-ala-wahnin” which translates to weakness upon weakness or hardship upon hardship. Layers upon layers of it, recognising the profound challenges mothers face. Allah says,

“We enjoined upon man to be dutiful to his parents. His mother bore him in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning lasted two years. (We, therefore, enjoined upon him), “Give thanks to Me and to your parents. To Me is your ultimate return.” (Surah Luqman 31:14)

And yet, He also reminds us that no soul is burdened beyond what it can bear, (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:286). You’re not alone – we’re all here, making dua for each other, sharing knowing looks over our cold cups of coffee, united in our battle-scarred glory. One day you’ll look back and realise that these challenging moments were actually the building blocks of something beautiful. And yes, you’ll even laugh about that time you cried because the sky was too blue. In sha Allah.

A Dua for New Mothers

Ya Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate, Grant ease to every mother navigating the challenges of postpartum life. Fill their hearts with peace when anxiety creeps in, their bodies with strength when exhaustion takes over, and their homes with barakah in these precious early days.

Ya Allah, grant them patience during sleepless nights, comfort during moments of overwhelming emotion, protect their physical and mental well-being, guide them to seek help when they need it and surround them with understanding and supportive people.

Ya Allah, grant all new mothers the strength of Maryam AS, the patience of Hajar AS, and the wisdom of Asiya AS. Make their struggles a means of elevation in this life and the next. Allahuma Ameen.