Our favorite thing about Solly Baby is you; the community of parents doing the beautiful, messy, important work of raising little ones. And the more we have the privilege of getting to know you (over emails and DMs and social media and real-life bump-ins), the more we’re inspired by your stories. So much so that we knew we needed a way to share them. Which is how our Full Heart Series came to be. As we share stories from moms around the world, we hope you’ll find something here that resonates, encourages, and reminds you that parenting with a full heart comes in many forms. Enjoy.
Let’s start with a quick introduction. Tell us the facts.
Name: Becca Beckman
Children: Owen (15 months)
Location: Waco, Texas
Occupation: Director of Photography
What’s a “full heart” moment you experienced recently?
I was away for work all last week, so coming home to Owen was the best. He was reading a book with his grandpa when I walked in, so he didn't notice when I sat down on the couch next to him. Once he did, he pointed at the book to show me what they were reading, and then did a double-take and actually saw who I was. He stood up and wrapped both arms around my neck and squealed. The best ever.
Something that’s surprised you about motherhood?
How much more capacity I had in me. I was reluctant to start having kids because I didn't think I had enough energy or emotional stamina or mental bandwidth... etc. And while there are days I'm totally drained, I also realize that the limits I was placing on myself were hindering the fullness of this life I'm living now. When I became a mom, my limits cracked wide open, because they had to. It's been incredibly empowering.
What was the fourth trimester like for you?
It was pretty intense. I had managed anxiety and depression for several years before getting pregnant, so I had a feeling I would have some difficulty in the immediate postpartum period. The medication I normally take for my mood wasn't safe for pregnancy, but my doctor and I decided once I gave birth, I needed to be back on my regular dosage. It seemed under control for the first couple weeks, but ultimately, by the time my six-week appointment came around, I was presenting symptoms of PPD and was having to force myself to eat every few hours because my appetite disappeared due to anxiety. The mental load was so heavy, my husband's paternity leave had ended, and I had no frame of reference for knowing how to care for an infant and myself at the same time. As is true for all my experience with depressive episodes, the only way out was through—by putting one foot in front of the other, and letting my support system know I wasn't okay.
Knowing that PPD was a real possibility for you, is there anything else you did in advance to create a safety net of support for postpartum?
My husband and I spent a good amount of time talking about postpartum expectations throughout my pregnancy. He has walked with me through most of my mental health ups and downs, so he was as attuned as I was to the possibility of a rocky postpartum experience. He’s an incredibly stable presence for me, so just knowing I had his attention fixed on my well-being as much as Owen’s was a huge comfort. I think he spent more time than I did researching the physiology of pregnancy, and found several recipes he was excited to stockpile in our freezer to help restore nutrients I would need most after giving birth.
We were also incredibly thankful to have both of our mothers plan to come help keep our chores moving along those first couple weeks. Laundry, dishes, preparing meals, repeat. I knew that having a clean space was going to help me feel much more calm while we got our footing, but I also took comfort in the notion that our mothers had gone through this exact sequence before. Their experience felt like a safety net I could fall back on if I needed a moment to doze off or take a shower.
Is there anything specific that people within your support system did or said that helped you as you walked through your PPD?
Around month 7 of pregnancy, a few of my oldest friends gave me a “blessingway” – a celebration of my transition into motherhood. They gave me letters of encouragement to open at different times throughout the next few months, including during postpartum. In the letters, they called out traits of mine they knew would be strengths, wrote out scripture to point me towards healing, and ultimately gave me assurance that I was not alone in this. I ended up reading those any time I needed a boost.
I’m also really fortunate to have had a very similar timeline of pregnancy as my closest friends in town. One by one, each about 10 weeks apart, we gave birth and were going through the first few months of newborn life in tandem. It was an incredibly essential lifeline for me to get to ask them panicked questions and chat with them about the fears we were all facing as first time moms.
Something they did (and still continue to do) was reassure me that however I could show up was good enough. As a mom, as a friend, as a wife. If I was anxious about bringing Owen over to their house so we could spend time together, they offered to come to mine. If they didn’t hear from me for a couple of days, they’d offer to drop off coffee or ask to go on a walk together. If I needed to speak my worries so they didn’t stay trapped in my mind, they listened and affirmed my instincts. They allowed me time to come back to myself, and stayed the course with me. In my darkest moments, that’s all I really want to know – that I’m worth keeping around, that I’m enough just as I am.
How did your PPD impact your postpartum experience with Owen?
There was about a two week period in the second month that I felt quite numb. That included a numbness toward Owen. In that state of mind, it’s so easy to get stuck in the fog – your body going through the necessary motions, but feeling detached from what’s in front of you. While I never felt like I was a danger to him or myself, I knew I wasn’t as present as I wanted to be with him. There were some days my husband would come home to find me and Owen in silence, just staring at each other, because I couldn’t feign playfulness or excitement.
Eventually, through creating rhythms like getting out of the house once a day or playing music to fill the silence when we were in the nursery together, my emotions were able to catch up to my body. So much of my fear was coming from not knowing what the hell I was doing, so getting more reps of diaper changes or snot suckings or car seat transfers under my belt was stabilizing.
If there’s anything I’ve stepped away from this first year with, it’s the understanding that our babies expect so much less of us than we expect from ourselves. Owen was entirely content to be staring up at me from his nursery floor at two months old—and if that’s all I could offer in that season, it was enough for him.
I have to imagine every mom understands this—that the experience of having your first baby will break apart everything you used to know about yourself, and offer you a vessel to rebuild your identity as more self-assured, more competent, more tender, more self-compassionate than it’s ever been before.
What’s something about motherhood you wish others talked about more?
How much of motherhood depends on the support of others. There's certainly an inherent value in shining a light on how much mothers do—how much they love, how much they hold on their own—but so much of motherhood begs for the sustaining power of family and community to come alongside and shoulder the weight of it all, together.
Rapid-fire round…ready, go!
Favorite indulgence: Getting to style my hair (rare but makes me feel like a real adult)
Best children’s book: Goodnight Gorilla (there aren't many words, so I make them up each time we read)
Drink of choice: A miel latte (honey + cinnamon)
No. 1 sans-kids activity: Taking my time to browse through a shop
Motherhood topic you could talk about forever: The breastfeeding journey
Post-bedtime with the kids snack: A few handfuls of goldfish and a gin martini
