9 Months Out – A Reflection on My Matrescence: The Ultimate Paradox of Love and Grief

There is so much to say for this entry it’s hard to know where to begin. How do you put such complex emotions and circumstances into words that will do them justice? I’m not sure, but I’ll try and give it a go. 

If you asked me at 40 weeks pregnant if I would be running a half marathon at 36+5 postpartum, the answer would have been unequivocally NO. But here, I sit at 37 weeks postpartum and I have done just that. Despite meeting most of the postpartum return to run criteria, if I were my client, I would have never counseled them to increase their load as fast as I did. But this was a true case of where life circumstances and mental health trump where the strength of your body is. 

I need to give this post context - in 2019 just before my husband and I started dating my dear mother in law was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer. In 2022, I married my husband and we were blessed to conceive soon after we got married. Our son was born in July 2023. 

Throughout this journey, my mother in law had two cancer recurrences. The first was in Singapore in 2021, where she had a nasty metastasis to her brain, in which they were able to operate and radiate. 

The second, was at the end of 2022 where the cancer had returned to her lymph nodes and brain. My in-laws were living in Manila at this time, so they rapidly packed their bags and headed back for their home country, England. No doctors could ever figure out if it was in her lungs, but my suspicion is that it was. 

I was pregnant while she was battling her cancer and I was facing my own pregnancy complications. It just seemed like one thing after another for me. At 7 weeks pregnant, I got a nasty bug and was the sickest I had been since I was 16. In bed for 2 weeks, fever, vomiting, and coughing up a storm. Once this subsided, I started getting right rib pain, which turned out to be a gallstone. This took 3 weeks to pass and was 9/10 painful - it was definitely more painful than labour. As my gallstone was subsiding, I started bleeding, right at 12 weeks pregnant. It was just brutal - after all of that I thought I was miscarrying. 

Thankfully, I didn’t miscarry, I had a subchorionic haematoma which is deemed benign. After a little break from complications for about 3 weeks, I had my anatomy ultrasound where they found placenta previa and also told me the way that the haematoma was healing placed me at risk for premature rupture of membranes. I had this grand plan of continuing to run, snowboard, and exercise during my pregnancy - and also start Matrescence Moves, I had dreamt creating something that could help people during their pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. But safe to say that didn’t happen because I was put on pelvic rest. Due to the physicality that comes with being a physio, I went off work as well. I had never felt so delicate in my entire life, I felt like my job right then was to sit there and be pregnant. Which was so foreign and alienating to me. 

I eagerly awaited a fourth ultrasound to see where things were at: did my placenta move, had the hematoma healed, and was the baby growing sufficiently? Luckily just as I entered my third trimester, things were cleared up for me and baby, so that was a huge relief. I was cleared for exercise and a spontaneous vaginal delivery. 

This was such welcomed news because at this same time my mother-in-law was admitted to the hospital, with a chest infection. Given I was now categorized as ‘low-risk’, my husband went to London to spend time with her. The good news from our end was such a glimmer for her. 

My husband and I made the decision that postpartum, we would go to the UK to spend time with his family while she received treatment. We wanted to be close to her so she could be Granny and give her a little bit of tonic for her life. 

During my last trimester, I really prioritized moving my body, connecting with my pelvic floor, and regulating my nervous system to prepare my body for birth. I knew that my birth would influence my ability to be able to travel postpartum. I knew that breastfeeding was going to be challenging, but that we needed to prioritize it because it would make traveling easier. And I knew that the transition to postpartum can be greatly influenced by birth. I really hoped for a physiological birth, as I was confident that this would support our needs the best. 

I was able to give birth physiologically - it wasn’t without its challenges or its complications - but it really did hold me in good stead to embark on the postpartum journey we did. 

At seven weeks postpartum, my husband, son and I jumped on a plane and came to London. We landed on the hottest weekend of the year - temperatures were up to 40 degrees. We were staying in a west facing apartment with all glass windows, which basically meant it was a greenhouse. I was sleep deprived, jet lagged, and our son was so unsettled - it was a hard landing, I questioned everything, but I am so happy we did it. 

The next 4 months we spent creating memories with Granny and Grandpa. We traveled to Germany, the British countryside, back to Canada, and to Italy before settling back down for Christmas in London.  I won't sugar coat it - these months were tough for me. It seems glamorous with all the travel we were able to do. I did have fun, and do feel lucky to have done what we did, but it didn’t give me the space I needed to focus on my postpartum recovery. I was getting in 1-2 movement sessions a week, focusing on my pelvic floor when I was in bed, and certainly didn’t have time to start running. That was so frustrating to me and I suffered from postpartum rage. Something I’m sure more people have than is talked about - well I at least tell myself that it’s not only me. I really did grieve for my freedom. 

Two days before Christmas, Granny went into the hospital. They found four separate infections in her body and on Christmas eve, she was transferred to ICU because her heart couldn’t keep up.

This certainly wasn’t how anyone pictured our first Christmas together. We spent Christmas morning doing presents over Zoom. We weren’t allowed to bring our son into the hospital because he was too vulnerable to all the nasty bugs that were in there. So that was so hard. 

Things were looking up for a bit, she was transferred back to the ward with the hopes of getting good enough to be discharged home in the coming few days. Unfortunately, on the morning of January 6th, her heart gave up, and she passed away. 

Grief is such a peculiar time, no one gives you a handbook on how to process death, but despite all the heaviness that came with her passing, we were just so thankful that we were able to spend time with her and that she was able to meet her grandson. As a part of the grieving process, we decided to sign up for a half marathon and raise money for the hospital that she received care at - we really hoped that it would give someone else just one more day with their Granny. 

My role was to support my husband through this time, so that meant I was spending a lot of time as Mum, with a lot of one-to-one time with our baby. When she passed, my husband was more free to support me, which meant more time for me to run and exercise. And this felt so damn hard. I felt so happy that I had time and support to move my body for me and it really felt so tangible for me to be back to my baseline fitness. But it felt so unfair that she had to not be here for this to happen. I’m sure you can appreciate the wave of emotion that makes someone feel…

Leading up to the half marathon, we ran in the London Winter Run 10km. She knew that the boys were running this race  and knew that I had chosen not to run it - a) because I didn’t think my body was there but b) we were supposed to watch the boys cross the finish line. I registered in the run the week before and spent the entire run reflecting. I felt so happy to be running again, and was surprised at how my body felt while running, it felt good BUT I just felt angry that it was only because she passed away, it just felt unfair. 

We ran the half marathon two days after Granny’s Celebration of Life. This weekend brought so many people together that otherwise wouldn’t have had the chance to be together. Again, here is another example how grief works in peculiar ways. We got a bonus weekend with my side of the family and were able to spend some quality time with great aunts and uncles. My husband was able to catch up with dear friends he hadn’t seen in years.

We raised a remarkable £19,810 (CAD$33,556) and were the highest fundraisers at the event. Despite there being undertones of sorrow and sadness, we all took the opportunity to be thankful for the time we had with Granny, and celebrated her achievements in a way she would have enjoyed.

For me, the first 17km of the run were actually fine, but the finish was hard. I know I pushed my body just a bit too far; I felt some discomfort through my left buttock and lower back in part because my core and hip strength weren’t where they needed to be but because I quickly ramped up my distance in a short nine weeks. Luckily, my pelvic floor held up just fine. I felt complex emotions crossing the finish line - I thought I would cry, but I didn’t. I was mostly relieved I had finished, a sigh of relief that the run was behind me, and now we could move forward and focus on keeping Granny’s memory alive.

My brothers, baby, Mum & Dad, and father-in-law greeting me at the finish line.

Now, I am 37 weeks postpartum and Lachlan has almost been earthside as long as I was pregnant with him. He has brought so much joy to our life. He is such a curious, smiley, and active creature. He really gave his Granny the drive to survive, and we are so thankful that the timing worked out. He truly was her tonic. 

I am grateful that my postpartum physical recovery was as it was, I surprised myself by how I felt. I surprised myself with the run - and I really believe it’s in part because I was able to deliver him without intervention. I lowered my risk by choosing not to have the epidural, even though it was so tempting. I trusted my body - I understood pain - and I knew how to manage it through learnings of Matrescence Moves.

As we go forward, I am certain we will look back fondly on this year for all of its ups and downs, but now we will settle into our new normal. And with that, will come more time for rehab and strength training - and who know’s what that might bring for Matrescence Moves!

Emily

xo