Back to Movement - My Journey with Exercise After Having My Baby

Before I had my son, movement was simply part of who I was.

I was naturally energetic, which suited life as a nanny in London. It often felt easier to push a double buggy with two toddlers for fifty minutes than to wait for a bus that might never come. I chose to walk whenever I could. Running wasn’t my strength because of asthma, but I loved moving, especially outdoors, along the canal, pushing myself a little further each time. Structured gym classes or weightlifting never really held my interest, but anything upbeat and fun, like dance, felt freeing.

Movement made me feel light and strong.

During pregnancy, that shifted. I continued walking, but without the same drive to push myself. I was more focused on listening to my body. Towards the end, I found myself longing for the postpartum stage. Not only to meet my baby, but to feel like my body was mine again. I imagined eating well, easing back into exercise, and returning fairly quickly to the energetic version of myself I knew so well.

What I hadn’t factored in was birth, recovery, and sleep deprivation.

My labour lasted 30 hours, and I didn’t sleep throughout. It was traumatic, and I later found myself navigating PTSD alongside the intense physical and emotional demands of early motherhood. Breastfeeding, hormonal changes, and chronic sleep deprivation left me feeling completely disconnected from my body. It no longer felt like something I lived in, more like a vessel whose only role was to keep my baby going.

In the year after giving birth, my relationship with movement and my body was at its lowest. I ate in ways that didn’t nourish me, criticised myself for not “bouncing back,” and felt uncomfortable in my own skin. My body, once light and strong, felt heavy and unfamiliar. When I fell down the stairs and badly sprained my foot three months postpartum, I couldn’t walk properly for another three months. That deepened the sense of helplessness and disconnection.

I wanted results quickly. I wanted to feel like myself again. But recovery didn’t work like that.

Looking back now, I can see that change began in very small ways.

Swimming was the first step. It was the only movement that felt manageable with a painful foot and a breastfeeding body. I started going once a week from around seven months postpartum. In the water, I felt lighter again. From there, I began choosing to walk to town or playgroups instead of driving, even though we live at the top of a steep hill! I joined the gym with a simple goal: once a week was enough. I started gentle tai chi-style movements in the mornings. Slow, steady, and kind.

None of it looked like my old routines. But it was consistent.

My son is now 16 months old, and I’m only just beginning to feel strength returning. Not the same strength as before, something quieter, steadier, and more sustainable.

What I understand now is that I was trying to return to the “old me” instead of meeting the person I had become. I compared myself to others online, held unrealistic expectations, and spoke to myself in ways I never would have spoken to anyone else. I was focused on weight and appearance instead of what my body had carried me through.

Movement now has a different purpose.

It’s no longer about pushing, punishing, or proving anything. It’s about connection. About noticing what feels supportive rather than depleting. About building a relationship with my body again instead of trying to control it.

I still have moments of frustration, and I’m still learning. But I’m practising a new kind of discipline, one rooted in care rather than criticism. If a form of movement leaves me feeling better, I return to it. If it doesn’t, I let it go.

It’s a slow and steady process and I’m learning that slow and steady is progress.