My Story

My name is Jennifer Horst. I’m a visual storyteller and photographer. I’m a wife and a mother.

We’re bombarded with the picture-perfect imagery of what motherhood is supposed to be like, what mainstream society wants you to think motherhood is like. But when I think of my experience and talk to friends and other women I meet, it is so rarely like that in reality.

For me, postpartum has been a struggle. I had postpartum depression with my first, along with minor diastasis recti and some initial breastfeeding setbacks that took about six weeks to figure out. I put myself through so much stress and anxiety over these things and sometimes I wonder, what if I hadn’t? How would I look back on that time now? Would it have been better, less stressful?

A lot happened between babies. The COVID pandemic. Then my mom passed away in October 2020 from pancreatic cancer. My ability to find ask all those questions of her suddenly gone. I couldn’t call her and ask: “Did I do this when I was little?” “How did you handle this?” “What was this like?” I have a sister with children and friends with children but it wasn’t the same. The perspective was suddenly gone.

I went back to days in the office instead of days fully remote. I left the trauma behind, or thought I did. We started talking about having another baby. My husband was offered a career opportunity too good to refuse so we left Texas for Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Within two months of the move I was pregnant with my second child. My corporate career was ending and I was launching myself into the wild and crazy ride of entrepreneurship. I was just beginning to pick up steam with the business when it was time to stop down to have the baby. There was not paid maternity leave this time and I had savings, this was definitely not ideal.

At four months postpartum, I was (again) diagnosed with postpartum depression and learned, for the first time, about postpartum rage and postpartum ADHD – both explained so much.

After feeling like my belly had actually folded onto itself when I bent over, I found a pelvic floor therapist and was diagnosed with severe diastasis recti, which is when the abdominal muscles are stretched open. My diastasis was over 8 cm wide, and I looked like I was still 7 months pregnant. Needless to say, I was not in a good place.

I hated my body and wondered constantly why it was betraying me. Was it because I had children at an older age? I had my first at 39 and my second at 43. I had done everything right so far as I knew.

I wasn’t lazy; I took care of myself. My belly was a constant source of frustration and anger – all I wanted was to get out of my maternity clothes and back into clothes that I could feel normal and comfortable in.

My infant would not allow me to be away from her. I have many journal entries about the crying on top of the lack of sleep and what it did to my head. There were times I had to put her down and walk away to save my sanity. 

I had breast milk supply issues that I didn’t have with my first. I hated my breasts and resented that they weren’t working like they had before. I dreaded using the pump.

I couldn’t focus on anything. I beat myself up emotionally because I wasn’t doing enough for my business, when it turns out I was in a complete state of overwhelm. I was seeing other women doing it. Why not me? 

The rage would come at night when I couldn’t get her back to sleep, whether she was crying or not. I had to remember that she was just a baby and that she couldn’t communicate, couldn’t tell me what was going on. Would it be like this forever?

Then I started getting ridiculous hot flashes. One day I had one that must have lasted twenty to thirty minutes. It required multiple ice packs on my chest, belly, and legs to cool down.

I was convinced I had hit perimenopause, but no. I had been under, and put myself under, so much sustained stress that I was diagnosed with adrenal fatigue. I don’t recommend it.

My husband has been there for me this entire time, and I’m fortunate to have his help. I honestly do not know how people without support make it through time in life. This shit is hard.

Incrementally, things got better. I started anti-depressants. I kept up with my therapy appointments, mental and physical.

I began tapping using the Emotional Freedom Technique to help with stress and anxiety. I ate better. I stuck to my workouts and my core started to get stronger. I started to feel motivated again.

I became inspired by the work of other photographers I saw. I started to think more about what it would look like if I did something similar, but focused on listening to and sharing other women’s stories of the postpartum experience.

And that’s when the idea took hold. I saw it as a way to connect with other women as well as an opportunity to document this shared experience in a visually powerful way. If you have an easier time talking to a stranger than a loved one, let me be the one who both hears and sees you. We need to share more of our journeys with each other, not just with our journals and therapists. So I started with my own – these images are all of me, talking about various aspects of my postpartum journey: the toll on my body, the demands of breastfeeding, the mental load, the stress and overwhelm of parenthood, the anxiety and frustration of being a mom trying to build a business. Oh, and the snuggles and tender moments – those are important, too, and were often the things that got me through the darkest hours.

So no matter if you’re in full swing in your postpartum period, or if you’ve got some distance from it, I want to hear your stories.

I invite you to join me in sharing your journey so future generations of women can understand the dynamic ride that is the postpartum experience.