The last boundary of body shaming and the stories none of us want to tell

‘Rest works. It doesn’t heal everything but it helps. I wish I’d known that when I had my babies. For me, the compulsion to keep going compromised the chance of ever really recovering from giving birth.’ Illustration: Lilian Darmono/The Guardian

I thought it was stupendous, giving birth. I felt like an Amazon, pushing out those wonder-children – long and hefty, smooth pudgy skin, so tender under my hand. It was a miracle of world-making to see a whole human unfurl from my womb. But this other shocking reality: torn flesh, lumpy stitches, burning urine, painful pooing. A visceral damage – but one I thought would be short-lived.

When I had my two children over 30 years ago, I was a fan of the policy of the public hospital birthing centre: 24-hours-then-home-you-go. I thought I only needed an overnight or two in hospital before I whizzed home with our newborn. I didn’t see any sense in medicalising birth. It was, after all, a natural process. There was little awareness of or planning for the time a body needed for healing and repair.