From the shock of suddenly being responsible for a tiny human, to the deep loneliness that can creep in even when you’ve got a baby constantly by your side, the darker reality of new motherhood isn’t always talked about – and that silence can make new mums feel like they’re the only one struggling.

To help break the stigma of the postpartum struggle, eight amazing mums from our MadeForMums Club opened up about what those early days and weeks really felt like. They talk about everything from not feeling that instant love, to grieving the life they had before, to the struggle of recovering from a traumatic birth while learning how to be a parent at the same time.

Whether it’s your relationship that’s suddenly under strain, feeding journeys that don’t go to plan, or the overwhelming sense of being left to get on with it after leaving hospital – this is the side of post-baby life we need to talk about more. Because you’re not the first mum who’s cried in the shower, googled “am I a bad mum?” at 3am, or wondered why no one warned you it might feel like this – and you certainly won’t be the last.

So, let’s be honest about both the wonderful highs and major lows of the newborn bubble and face them all together, one baby step at a time…

1. It might not be love at first sight – bonding can take days, weeks… or longer

TV shows, magazines and social media would have us all believe that the second your baby is placed on your chest you’ll love them more than life itself, but that may not be the case. In fact, it’s estimated that up to 30% of new mothers don’t feel that sudden rush of love and instead it develops slowly over time.

When you consider the post-birth exhaustion and pain you might be in in the moment you meet your baby, it’s little wonder you might not be feeling 100% favourably towards them – after all giving birth to them is why you currently feel like you’ve been hit by a truck!

The speed of bonding may also depend on how prepared you felt to have a baby, what you’re having to give up in order to become a mother and your personality – some of us just develop relationships and feelings more slowly than others.

“I never felt that rush of love when mine were born,” says Tanya Griffiths. “For me, the love has built over time. When I was pregnant with my first, a colleague of mine told me she didn't feel it with her son, and it took years to develop. I cannot thank her enough for pre-warning me this could happen, so I knew it was not something wrong with me.”

Mum Emma Gatenby agrees: “Everyone says that the moment you first hold your baby you will feel this deep love. I don't think this is true for everyone. I remember feeling ashamed to admit how I felt as then I'd be seen as a failure. As we got to know each other, a couple of weeks in I got that sudden feeling of overwhelming and indescribable love. That feeling has never gone away and we now have the best relationship ever. If you don't feel an instant connection, you aren't alone. Some things take time.”

2. You’re never alone – but you might feel lonelier than ever

You’d think having a super cute little sidekick with you all day (and night!) would mean you couldn’t possibly feel lonely, but many new mums admit that having a newborn can be extremely isolating. After all, your new baby isn’t going to be much of a conversationalist!

“With my first baby I felt really lonely,” says Tefi Pelligrino. “I didn't feel comfortable breastfeeding in front of people so I would go to a different room to feed and would miss all the interaction. Also, I struggled so much breastfeeding him, it added to my feelings of loneliness.”

You might not realise you’re feeling lonely and isolated until a few weeks or months in, so it’s a good idea to try and plan some small outings or baby classes once the post-birth excitement and exhaustion has passed. The thought of getting out the house with a baby can feel overwhelming, but you’ll be glad you did it afterwards.

“After the first few weeks when everyone wants to come and meet the baby, things start to drop off and it is lonely,” says Hannah Hutchings. “I really had to push myself out my comfort zone and get to baby groups just to find a new group of friends.”

3. Nurturing a newborn might just be the most overwhelming thing you’ll ever do

In your pre-baby life you might have run a company and managed 50 employees or perhaps you worked three jobs, ran marathons and had a full social calendar… so surely taking care of one (or more if you’re a twin or triplet mum) tiny little baby is a doddle?

Many very capable women are amazed by the chaos and complete lack of control they suddenly feel when they have a baby. Poonamis, two-hourly feeding schedules and sleep deprivation can’t be neatly formatted into spreadsheets or timed to fit around your needs, and, at times, it can feel like someone has thrown a grenade into your nicely ordered life.

“It was not the “hearts and flowers” time that you see on the TV,” says Louisa Hodges. “It was long, hard and absolutely exhausting. Putting this little person first in every single situation is just so much harder than you expect. My husband and I often say that those first six months were both the absolute best and the hardest months of our lives – sometimes it could be both those extremes in just one day!”

4. A new baby can reshape your closest relationships

While you’re navigating a brand-new relationship with your baby – be prepared for the other relationships in your life to be tested or to change. Whether it’s feeling distant from your partner because they don’t share your postpartum emotions, or a strange new rivalry with a sibling because you’re now a mother too or perhaps you already have children and you’re working out how to share the love… it can be hard to accept the new tensions.

“What I found the hardest was the shift in relationship to my other children when I had my 2nd and 3rd babies,” says Hannah Bentley. “When the new baby arrived each time, my other children seemed to grow up overnight. I had to get them to do more, like dressing themselves and settling themselves to sleep, rather than the long bedtime cuddles and stories we enjoyed before. I worried that this shift would exacerbate any jealousy my other children would feel towards the new baby.”

For mum Louisa, the fact her husband didn’t feel the same as her was a source of stress: “It was overwhelming learning to trust new responses to my baby crying or needing food (when I’m a massively insecure person) and then realising that my partner was not feeling those same impulses,” she says. “I assumed that my now husband would have the same immediate bond with our son, but that really didn’t happen for at least a month if not longer. It left me feeling very alone and doubtful if I’d made the right decision.”

5. Your birth experience can have a huge impact on those first few months

No-one quite knows what giving birth is going to look like for them (unless you’re booked in for a planned c-section, and even then, things can change!). Nature, your healthcare professionals, your birthing environment and your baby all come together to dictate the progression of your labour and occasionally things don’t go to plan.

If your birth experience is traumatic or not how you expected, it can have a huge effect on your post-birth emotions and those early days at home with baby.

“Despite an amazing pregnancy and practising mindful breathing techniques, I experienced a fourth-degree tear and a birth injury that ended up in me having an ileostomy operation and being left with a stoma,” says Dina Thachar.

“My entire recovery took well over a year. I wish there was a support system in place at the hospital providing continuity of care and contact with others who had experienced the same situation. I did my own research and found a fourth-degree tear social media group. The women on there were my saving grace – allowing me to feel not so alone.”

6. Feeding your baby can feel like a battlefield

You’d think getting milk into a baby would be the most natural and easy thing in the world, but for many mums it’s so much harder than they could ever have imagined. Whether you choose to breastfeed or bottle feed, feeding your baby is a highly emotional experience. After all, that milk is how you’re keeping them alive and well.

So, if your baby is constantly bringing the milk back up, won’t latch on or is losing weight (there’s nothing quite like being told your baby’s slipping down that centile chart to make you freak out), then feelings of failure can come thick and fast.

“My little one was really unsettled, constantly bringing back up breast milk and had a rash on his face and I couldn’t shake the feeling it was a milk allergy,” says Stacey. “I had wanted breastfeeding to be this magical bonding experience, but for me it was just riddled with guilt. I began to feel like an awful mum – how could I not fix my child, why was he still being sick and the constant reminders from the health visitor that he was losing weight was a kick in the teeth. I feel the first 4 1/2 months were robbed from me as I gave myself the hardest time ever – when I was actually right all along.”

7. You can be grateful and still grieve – adjusting to motherhood can take time

The baby you’ve dreamed of for nine months or more has finally arrived… so why do you feel like you’re grieving? Becoming a mum might happen overnight, but shifting your identity and accepting the “new you” can take a lot longer.

Suddenly you don’t have the freedom to do all the things that made you who you are – your job, your hobbies, your social engagements and it’s OK to really miss your old life. The good news is, it’s not forever and one day you’ll even look back on the newborn bubble wistfully.

It might not just be your life that you grieve for either – you’ll have a new body to get used to at the same time and that can take some adjustment.

“With both of my babies I loved my pregnant body and the instant after I gave birth I hated my body,” says Tefi. “It was hard dealing with this together with the feeling of loss of self.”

Of course, amongst all these lows there are just as many incredible highs, and those first smiles, the smell of your newborn’s skin and the super cute newborn yawns are what all mums are remembering when they talk about the newborn magic.

So, soak it all up, accept it’s a wild ride that you’ll never forget and when things get too tough remember you’re not alone and there’s plenty of help out there – you just need to ask for it.

Read more:

• “My daughter is everything – but after postnatal depression, I know I’ll never have another.”
• Not coping as a new mum? Asking for help is the bravest thing you can do
• What is D-MER? And why you might get it when you're breastfeeding

But this was more than the usual pregnancy rollercoaster of emotions. It was my second experience of postnatal depression (PND).

I was actually glad to be feeling these things – or at least recognising them. This was a monumental improvement on my first experience of PND, seven years earlier.

I have two daughters, who are now 10 and 3 years old. It’s a fairly significant age gap, partly due to the trauma, subsequent PTSD and PND from the birth of my eldest.

Looking back, it’s clear what I was going through; but at the time it was anything but. New motherhood felt like a fever dream. I was sleep-deprived, didn’t know what I was doing (do any of us?), terrified and powerless to help myself or my screaming new boss.

I recognise now that I was fearful of the birth.  I spent a long time ignoring the fact that I was pregnant. I went through the motions of birth preparation, but largely ignored the prospect of childbirth itself.

This contributed to a long, exhausting, labour – because it was the first time my body had ever done this, and I didn’t want to surrender control. The baby wasn’t descending and, with heart rate erratic, I was administered first ventouse and then forceps to deliver her.

The umbilical cord had been around her neck, making pushing difficult, and when the obstetrician unravelled her, the cord snapped, she lost blood and was rushed off to NICU after resuscitation.

Ultimately, she was healthy, but I left hospital without my baby whilst she stayed for four days in intensive care. After she came home, I pushed myself to get on. I’m a practical and capable woman, and I felt like I “should” be coping. Plus I had a baby to look after.

I saw health professionals, but none of them picked up on my depression, because I hid it so well. And because they didn’t really ask.

Being publicly high-functioning is something many of us can relate to. Behind the scenes there was screaming, arguments, near-divorce, a very nearly fractured relationship with my daughter, self-loathing and more.

I was in denial, and only able to work my way out when my husband pushed me to finally seek therapy. With time and self-education (I’m now a women’s health advocate and author), I grew to understand and process what I’d been through, but it had got very bad before it got better.

The silver lining of my first PND experience is that I was able to advocate for myself a lot more throughout my pregnancy, despite crying in every midwife appointment.

I finally got a birth debrief and even managed to speak to the matron of the maternity ward where I’d had my first birth, helping me understand what happened and offering closure.

I asked for therapy, and was given 12 sessions with a psychologist from the perinatal mental health team; she was kind, understanding, and offered practical homework and strategies. She encouraged me to be open and forgiving of myself – postnatal depression wasn’t my fault – and to know that if it happened again I’d be able to work my way through it.

Beatific motherhood on social media, think perfect nurseries and cherubic babies, hugely influences what we think we should be achieving in motherhood.

Even your NCT friends sharing the one calm moment in their day on WhatsApp can lead you to believe that everyone is doing better than you. They’re not.

I said no to visits, or asked them to come when I was ready. When people did arrive, I asked them to do things for me, rather than feeling obliged to make tea, cake and small talk.

I found strength in courage to do it my way. If we were all still alive, that was good enough. Even if we were both covered in baby sick and the house was a tip.

Most importantly, know that there’s nothing to be ashamed of if you think you might have PND. Not everyone will get it, though most of us will understand the simpler lows of the baby blues. Whatever you’re going through, you deserve compassion (from yourself as much as from others) and you deserve support, so don’t be afraid to advocate for yourself.

Clio Wood is author of Get Your Mojo Back, Sex, Pleasure and Intimacy After Birth

I knew about postnatal depression – the ‘baby blues’ and other such unhelpful, fluffy phrases for this dangerous time, in which the mood-heightening pregnancy hormones fall off a cliff for some evolutionary reason we still can’t figure out.  

I have suffered mental health problems since I was 13. There was real darkness in my past, so I had been on and off antidepressants and in and out of talking therapies for a decade before meeting my husband. Our life together, our plans for a marriage and a family with three or four children was the bedrock of my joy. I fell pregnant in November 2021, six weeks before our wedding, and we were both so thrilled.  

Because of my history of poor mental health, I was assigned a mental health midwife for monthly appointments during my pregnancy. She was immeasurably helpful and even came to see me in recovery after my c-section. 

During one of our prenatal NCT sessions, the subject of maternal mental health came up. All very gently and scientifically, but I just burst into tears. I couldn’t stop myself. I thought about Laura Dockrill, and women like her, and I saw a vision of myself in their shoes. Somehow, right then, I just knew it was coming for me.  

I was determined to breastfeed – I had done bundles of research and was committed to making it work. My daughter Melody latched on for a few moments shortly after birth, and I was too thrilled to notice anything untoward at first. She fell off and on for a bit but by the time we were settled on the postnatal ward, she was hungry, and the horrors began. 

I had Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, a rare breastfeeding-related condition in which the milk letdown triggers a wave of negative emotions like shame, depression and anxiety. By the second night, I was sobbing in my hospital bed, a nurse feeding Melody with a syringe of colostrum because I was too hysterical to hold her. My husband was being asked to leave, and he was trying to round up anyone in uniform that he could find to remind them that I was under the Perinatal Mental Health team, and I really, really needed someone.  

He went home, and no one came.  

Once home, those first two weeks were a blur of sleeplessness, exhaustion and well-meaning gift bags from excited grandparents. I couldn’t explain how I felt we’d thrown a grenade into our lives, and this beautiful child we’d so longed for was making me the most unhappy I’d ever felt in my life. I cried until I ran out of energy for it and spent hours staring out of our lounge window. I started to feel particularly despondent around 5pm each day; as the sun went down, I felt like my soul went with it. 

I’d cry if my husband so much as left the room. I had a couple of home visits from my mental health midwife, but she wasn’t overly concerned. 

I abandoned breastfeeding after a week, which compounded my feelings of failure. I used to talk to my daughter during night feeds in a sad whisper, apologising to her that I soon wouldn’t be here and how sorry I was that I’d miss her growing up – but I was certain, I reassured her, that she’d have no reason to miss me.  

I dreamed one night a man in a white coat hugged me. He was hugging too hard, and I realised he wasn’t embracing me – he was holding me down. 

“Where am I going?” I asked. 

“You know where you’re going,” he said. I awoke in a frenzy of panic and tears.  

Over those two weeks, all our plans changed. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – do this again. I believed I was an awful mother, and I couldn’t possibly put more than one child through the hideousness of what I was. The feelings I had – no matter how many websites and health visitors said I was ‘normal’ – were all-consuming, every second of every day. I had failed, I had failed her, and I wouldn’t on my life fail another one.  

One day, after my husband had returned to work, I managed to walk to a coffee shop with Melody in the pram – the sort of mid-morning I dreamed my maternity leave would be full of. I happened to get a text from my mental health midwife and I told her where I was, and what I was doing. She said that was great and then discharged me from the service without another word.   

It’s hard to say when the turning point came – and it did, just very slowly, especially without that support in place. I went back on antidepressants and have stayed on them, not sure what to do next.   

I met a friend recently and we discussed whether I’d have another baby. I was nonchalant, but she said she’d be concerned about my mental state. She reminded me of a text I’d sent her about four weeks in, in response to her asking if there was anything she could do to help, saying she could help by “mercy-killing me”.  

My Melody is the child of dreams. Unfortunately, still not a fan of independent sleep, but she is funny, beautiful, good-natured and clever. She loves me purely and unconditionally, and I her. I don’t believe our relationship has suffered in the slightest despite those first few weeks, which I am incredibly grateful for. 

But still, I feel robbed. The big family I dreamed of can’t possibly be a reality now, knowing this is there, lurking in the shadows of my psyche and my soul. And why me? Who can say. I feel desperately sorry for my husband, who always wanted two children at least, but he knows almost as well as I do now, what that darkness is like.  

Yes, it might be better next time – but what if it is worse?  

Images: Emma Marns

Read more:

• 'Not coping as a new mum? Asking for help is the bravest thing you can do'
• What is D-MER? And why you might get it when you're breastfeeding
• Study shows how saliva could reveal mental health struggles during pregnancy

The World Health Organization recommends that postpartum women aim for at least 150 minutes of moderate intensity activity every week, but a 2025 study found that only 30% of new mums meet this.

The researchers, from Ulster University, found that this was because the women in the study didn’t have the time, access to childcare, or confidence to get out and exercise in the postpartum period.

Natalie Brown, a fitness coach who specialises in pre- and post-natal fitness, thinks that running with a pushchair is the solution to these issues.

As a mum of one, she took up running with her daughter asleep in her pram when she was about eight months postpartum.

“Running has helped my recovery so much, it’s given me back my strength, energy, and confidence. I feel physically just as fit now as I did pre-pregnancy, which helps me to keep up with the demands of everyday life with a baby, especially now she is on the move,” Natalie says.

Running is good for you and convenient post-baby

Exercising after you have a baby can help you recover from birth and lose pregnancy weight if you want/ need to. It’s also great for your mental health and can help prevent postnatal depression, which affects one in 10 women in the year after giving birth, according to the NHS.

The NHS says you can start doing gentle exercises as soon as you feel up to it after your baby is born, like walking, stretching, and pelvic floor and stomach exercises.

High-impact exercises are best left until you are given the okay at your six-week postnatal check. This may be longer if you had a caesarean section or a more complicated delivery. And it's suggested not to run with a baby in a running pram until they are at least 6 months old and have better neck and head control. If you're worried your baby isn't strong enough yet speak to your health visitor.

Running with a pram can be a great exercise option for mums. You don’t have to buy an expensive gym membership, and you can bring your baby along with you in the pram. It’s flexible too — you don’t have to commit to a workout class, and you can fit it around you and your baby's schedule.

“I usually try to fit a run in first thing in the morning. However, some nights when my daughter Nellie was teething or unsettled, I’d prioritise getting some extra sleep instead,” Natalie says.

“Buying the running pram gave me flexibility. My baby sleeps in the pram and then it’s done for the day, and you feel good because you’ve started your day with some movement.”

Start slowly — even just getting outside can help

Natalie had a c-section and so started with core-strengthening exercises to make sure her abdominals had healed before she started running. She shares tips on how to do this on her Instagram account: @natbrown_active.

“My biggest challenge was just doing it for the first time. I felt a little nervous but as soon as I set off, I was absolutely fine,” Natalie says.

“My advice would be to take your time,” she says. “Take nice big breaths and don’t worry about your pace.”

Even if you start off just walking, getting outside and moving your body can make the world of difference.

“Sometimes after having a baby, you can feel a little isolated indoors. Getting fresh air and moving your body will help lift your mood and set you up for a better day.”

“Remember no one is judging you. You are doing this for your health and fitness,” she continues. “It’s such an amazing feeling to have completed a run with your mini bestie and get all the feel-good hormones circulating your body ready for your day.”

Do you need a running pram?

Lots of modern prams will be safe and comfortable enough for your child if you’re running on flat ground at a steady pace. But if you want to go off-road in your local woods, or you run with a buggy quite a lot, you might want to invest in a specialist running pram.

Running prams and buggies tend to have three wheels for easy manoeuvring and are “designed with stability and shock absorption in mind,” Kirsty Carroll, showroom manager at Kiddies Kingdom, a nursery retailer in Dewsbury, says.

“Look out for key features like solid suspension, large air-filled tyres, and a lockable front wheel for a smooth ride when navigating uneven terrains. A running pram with a hand brake can give you better control when travelling downhill and, so that your little one is tightly secured, a 5-point safety harness will give you peace of mind,” she says.

She recommends the Out ‘n’ About Nipper Sport V5 (£425), or the UPPAbaby Ridge (£699.99).

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• New Mum: Getting into a Routine
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But what's important to know is that pregnancy and childbirth have a definite effect on the muscles of your pelvic floor: they become weakened – sometimes so much that it leads to conditions such as prolapse and incontinence. It may be something that you notice straightaway; it may be that you only realise it over time. But none of us need to put up with a pelvic floor that's weaker than it was before we had a baby, let alone more serious problems.

What is my pelvic floor and why does pregnancy and childbirth weaken it?

Your pelvic floor is a group of muscles that work like a hammock to support your internal organs, as well as ensure bladder and bowel control, and sexual function.

It's also possible that labour and childbirth can damage your pelvic floor – it's known that tearing, an episiotomy or a forceps delivery can affect the function of the pelvic floor post-partum.

Contrary to the idea of our "core" just being made up of our abdominals, our core is better thought of as a 360° canister that comprises our abdominals in the front, our back muscles, our diaphragm (that sits like a dome under our ribcage) and our pelvic floor underneath. In order for us to have a functional core, we need all 4 of these parts to have the correct tone – which means that they have the ability to both contract and release.

When these 4 parts all work together in a co-ordinated way, they manage what is known as "intra-abdominal pressure" effectively. This means that, when there's a quick increase in pressure, like when you're coughing or sneezing, this whole system can work together to absorb that increase in pressure.

However, in the cases of pelvic floor dysfunction or with something called "diastasis recti" (which is where the connective tissue between the two sides of your abdominals – your 6-pack muscles – stretches and loses tone in pregnancy and postpartum), the mechanics of your core canister are faulty and no longer able to handle increases in intra-abdominal pressure. It's important, therefore, that pelvic-floor exercises address the abdominals, too.

Why is it important to strengthen my pelvic floor after pregnancy?

Pregnancy does transform this "core canister" of yours over a fairly rapid period of time. Your body may be able to adapt to these changes and then revert to normal function within a few months of the birth of your baby. But, this may not happen to you. The connective-tissue separation of your abdominals might remain weak and wide, bringing with it lower back pain, or you have some incontinence, or you may have a feeling of heaviness and drag in your pelvis, which could indicate a prolapse.

Current statistics reveal that around 50% of woman who have had a child will have a degree of pelvic organ prolapse (POP). POP can come with numerous symptoms including stress incontinence and pelvic pain or heaviness. Depending on how severe this is, it is vital that you ask to see a women’s health physiotherapist who can give you the right exercise rehabilitation programmes.

But there's more to it than that. Even if your core canister does revert right back, it's important to know that as you age your muscles tend to lose strength. And, as your pelvic floor is a muscle, if we don’t do something about it, it will lose strength and the competence of our core canister will diminish. And when we reach menopause, that can also have an effect on the strength of the pelvic floor – so age and time will not make this situation any better!

How can I find out how strong my pelvic floor is now?

Most women realise there is a problem with their pelvic floor when they sneeze, cough, laugh, jump, run and they leak a bit of wee. For others it may be the heaviness and drag of a prolapse, and for women who have diastasis recti, the tone of their abdominals do not seem to have improved several months after the birth and they may also experience lower back pain. If these are things you are experiencing, it is an indication that your pelvic floor needs attention.

Our core canister should be able to withstand an increase in pressure and the fact that it is not consistently doing that, is an indication that things are not 100% and help should be found.

Unfortunately, the current 6-week GP check and sign-off for exercise mostly does not involve an internal check and may not involve questions about incontinence. And, in many cases a new mother may not know or be told if they have a prolapse or have their abdominals checked to see if they have a diastasis recti.

I therefore think that seeing a women's health physiotherapist (you can ask your GP to refer you) is vital in knowing where you are at post-partum, and if there are any issues you need to start dealing with.  A women’s health physio can do an internal check to test your pelvic floor and, if you are not engaging it properly, they will give you cues and feedback to know where and how to engage it.

The exercise you do in the early weeks after birth is crucial in how you piece back together your true core. And if you have suffered any birth injury, just like any other physical injury, proper rehabilitation is imperative for successful recovery.

What can I do to strengthen my pelvic floor – and how can I tell I’m doing it right?

Kegels (see how to do them below) are the most common method of pelvic-floor exercises and these are the exercises that may have been recommended to you by by your midwife or GP. They should be done 3 times a day and the general advice is to do both long holds for up to 10 seconds and quick-fire squeezes. The NHS Squeezy app is good for setting reminders for you to do them.

How to do a Kegel (you can do them anywhere)

• Relax the muscles of your thighs, bottom and abdomen (tummy)
• Squeeze in the muscles around your front passage as if trying to stop the flow of wee
• Squeeze in the muscles around your vagina and suck upwards inside your pelvis
• Squeeze in the muscles around your back passage as if you're trying to stop passing wind

What if Kegels don't work for me?

Kegels do not work for everyone. If they are not working for you, there are other options worth trying. In France, Belgium and Spain and, increasingly, in Brazil and the US, there is an approach to pelvic-floor rehabilitation called Hypopressives.

The method I teach uses the breathing technique of Hypopressives and is called Low Pressure Fitness. It is a core and pelvic floor training system that was devised in Spain by Dr Tamara Rial and Piti Pinsach. Whereas a Kegel relies on conscious control of the pelvic floor, a Hypopressive works with the reflexive nature of the pelvic floor – to improve the functionality of the core canister so that it can absorb the increase in pressure when it happens, as it does in life.

The word Hypopressive means "less pressure" and, in performing a Hypopressive (or stomach vacuum, see picture above), it is possible to strengthen your core without adding unwanted pressure.

It also works to strengthen your posture by focusing on strengthening the back of your body (the posterior chain) so that your skeleton can align better. This means that the forces that go through your body to your pelvic floor start from a place of less downward pressure.

For women with pelvic floor dysfunction, including prolapse, diastasis recti and incontinence, this technique can be life-changing. It gives women a toolkit to be able to work to regain strength and function in their own bodies so that they can heal from the momentous act of growing and bringing a baby into the world.

Pics: Anna Bachelor, Getty Images

About our expert Simone Muller

Simone Muller is the founder and creator of re-centre, an online platform that shares the Hypopressives technique with women, with the intention of making giving women the tools to empower their own body. Simone was a professional dancer for 15 years and has taught Pilates for 13 years. After training in Low Pressure Fitness in Spain in 2017, she now specialises in postnatal rehabilitation. She and her husband live in London with their 2 children