We had the incredible honour of getting to share Kim Crossman’s pregnancy journey here at Capsule through her column, Pretty Pregnant. Well, Kim is no longer Pretty Pregnant! She’s the proud mum to her gorgeous little girl, Coco Joan.
Pretty Pregnant has become Pretty Postpartum and Kim has been generously sharing all the ups and downs and startling discoveries of postpartum with us. If you haven’t read her updates you can read her story about Coco’s birth here to read it now! Her update at two weeks here, a month in, here, at six weeks, here, eight weeks here and ten weeks here, 12 weeks here, 14 weeks here , 16 weeks here and 18 weeks here.
And this week Kim is most certainly back with her genuine, ‘tell it like it is’ perspective at seven months!
Welcome to seven months.
I wrote on Instagram this week about feeling like I’ve hit some kind of confidence stride, so let me lull you into a false sense of toxic positivity before I get into the nitty gritty – I am so in love.
I really feel like I listened to the people who said “enjoy it, it goes so fast,” and over the last seven months I’ve genuinely tried to check my priorities, be as present as possible with Miss Coco, and be intentional about how I spend time with her. I’ve been trying not to do a million things during her wake windows and instead actually be with her, show her things, do things she enjoys and soak it up. I’m definitely not nailing that every day, but I do feel like I’m getting better at it.
It feels like the first time I’m really setting some boundaries or little rules for myself as a mum. Being overly available at all times is very 2026, but it’s also not especially healthy when you’re trying to be present with a baby. So this month I’m working on being really efficient when Coco sleeps so that when she’s awake I can actually enjoy being with her, rather than slipping into my usual mode of trying to achieve, tick things off and get everything done.
Shout out to all the mum influencers posting reels of things to do with babies at every age bracket, because sometimes minutes can feel like hours if your baby isn’t interested in whatever activity you’ve confidently presented to them. Having a few things up my sleeve has been a game changer. Filling a pot with water and throwing toys in for Coco to splash around with has been a hit. We’ve also discovered she loves going to the pet store to watch the fish and even the mice!
I know babies aren’t puppies, but one thing I noticed with my dog Honey, who was a Covid pup, is that because she wasn’t exposed to much early on, she’s quite anxious around loud noises and crowds. I’m hoping that by showing Coco lots of things and introducing her to sounds, construction, markets, animals and all the general chaos of life, she might grow up feeling less fearful. At the moment she’s particularly obsessed with the snakes and lizards at the pet store, so a zoo visit might be next on our list when we get back to New Zealand.
One of the biggest shifts this month has been in me. I feel like I’m finally stepping into a bit of a mumma bear energy – more confident, more assured of myself and more willing to advocate for Coco and, slowly, to advocate for myself too.
Apparently a lot of women hit this magical new phase of confidence around the six month mark. I seem to be a little late to the party, but I do feel like I’ve arrived, and it’s taken me a while to get here. I’ve loved every second of being Coco’s mum, but if I’m honest, I’ve also spent a lot of motherhood worrying – worrying if I’m doing enough, doing it right, being the kind of mum I want to be. This month feels like the first one where joy is finally getting louder than worry.
That’s not to say there haven’t still been hard moments.
I had a pretty upsetting experience recently where someone (a man) suggested I was making up my prolapse for attention. It takes a lot to really get under my skin, but that one did. For one thing, if I was going to invent something for attention, I don’t think shitting myself would be top of the list. But more than that, it really drove home how far we still have to go when it comes to women’s health, acceptance, understanding and grace.
I’ve felt this before. I experienced something similar when I was diagnosed with depression and it was almost treated like I was jumping on a trend. I know I’m a public person and I know I’m someone who shares. I also know I love attention in the way any actor probably does. But the idea that it’s somehow more believable that women are exaggerating or making things up for sympathy than it is that they might actually be navigating something difficult feels so archaic and, frankly, boring.
I understand there’s a school of thought that says “just get on with it,” and I do get that to a degree. But I also think that if we don’t talk about these things, there is no awareness. And if someone is dealing with prolapse, birth trauma, incontinence, postpartum depression or anything else that feels new, embarrassing, gross or isolating, the last thing they need is to feel like they have to carry it alone in silence.
So yes, I think part of what’s happening this month is that I’m becoming more protective. More willing to say, actually no, this matters. My health matters. Women’s health matters – and maybe that’s part of the confidence shift too.
The other thing I’ve been thinking about a lot this month is America. I’m both a US and NZ citizen, and even though Coco was born in New Zealand, she’s now a dual citizen too, so we celebrated the Fourth of July in the most subtle way possible: patriotic bikinis and photos, obviously.
My relationship with America is an interesting one because on a global stage I have many notes. But from an energy perspective, I can’t get enough of it. Americans have such a strong can-do attitude. They really believe something good could happen, should happen, will happen. There’s a kind of optimism and expansiveness to that which I find incredibly contagious. My success doesn’t take away from your success. There’s room for everyone.
New Zealand has so many beautiful qualities, but if I’m honest, one of my least favourite is tall poppy syndrome. It sits at the opposite end of the spectrum from that American energy of possibility, and as someone who has spent a lot of time trying to unlearn catastrophising and worst case scenario thinking, being in a place where the default setting is “why not?” has been good for me. I love the delusion of America. I love how generous it can feel with possibility.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling this little injection of positivity lately too. Not in a “everything is perfect” way, but in a “I can choose how I meet this” way.
Take last night, for example. I think Miss Coco might be teething. She’s usually pretty predictable, but she was up what felt like all night, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, settling for a bit and then waking up with a jolt and a cry. My poor angel. I hate seeing her uncomfortable. And then this morning she woke up smiling, reached out to touch my face and laughed as if the night had never happened.
I saw a video on Instagram recently about how babies reset each morning, and as a mum you kind of have to as well. Yes, we might have had a spicy night, but when the morning comes, the clock resets. I’m trying to let that be true for my energy too. Am I still tired? Absolutely. But staying grumpy or marinating in it doesn’t exactly set me up for success either. So this morning I had a coffee, put on upbeat music and decided to start fresh.
I’m saying that as much to myself as anyone else as I write this with Coco strapped to me, sound asleep.
I really do love being a mother. It makes my eyes well up just thinking about how lucky I am and how magical kids really are. And I’m trying to stay in that frequency. I’ve actually started asking friends with older kids what the best part of their current stage is, because I want to course correct away from the constant “just you wait” commentary that seems to follow motherhood around. Why do we do that to new mums? Why is every conversation layered with a warning? Wait until she’s moving. Wait until she talks back. It’s all downhill from here.
Of course there should be space to talk honestly about the hard parts. But I’d love for us to stop casting this weird spell of doom over people who are earlier in the parenting timeline. If someone is struggling and needs help, let’s lean into that. Let’s support them. But let’s not fear monger mums the same way we fear monger pregnant women about birth.
I say that fully aware that I’m a walking contradiction because I literally asked a new mum today how her sleep was going. I caught myself immediately. It’s so easy to default to those universal motherhood talking points because they’re the equivalent of discussing the weather with an Uber driver. But I’m trying to be more intentional about it.
I think that’s what this month has really been about: a little more intentionality, a little more confidence, and a lot more grace.
It’s taken seven months for joy to feel stronger than worry. Seven months to feel like I’m not just reacting to motherhood, but actually growing into it. Seven months to let myself believe that I am a good mum without doing everything perfectly. That I can trust myself a little more. That I can back myself.
And on the prolapse front, I’m still waiting to hear whether ACC will approve the additional tests I need. It’s a long process and patience has never been one of my spiritual gifts, so I’m trying to navigate it with as good an attitude as I can. The alternative is to pay out of pocket, which I may have to consider, but for now I’m just doing what I can to manage symptoms day to day.
I’ve become pretty slick at knowing what I need to carry with me, making sure I go to the bathroom before leaving the house and again when I arrive somewhere, and being mindful of the kinds of food I’m eating. Those are the tools that seem to help most at the moment. I’ve also been using my vaginal weights, my Femfit and doing my pelvic floor exercises to try and support healing. I could definitely be more disciplined with it, but I’m working on it. I’m hopeful I’ll have more answers and a clearer treatment or surgery plan in the coming months.
Something else I’m really trying to work on at the moment is the art of pausing. I’ve misplaced a few things recently and it has left me feeling completely disoriented. I’m a very organised person and usually know exactly where everything is. I pride myself on doing things properly the first time, like putting things away where they belong instead of creating a random pile for “later.” So when I lose things, even temporarily, I feel like I’m going slightly mad retracing my steps. Is this another postpartum symptom, or can we at least agree to pretend it is?
I think a big part of it is that I’m often doing everything in a rush, and I need to remember to pause long enough for my body and actions to catch up with my brain. Especially getting in and out of the car with Coco, I’m usually carrying a bag, a baby, and somehow trying to grip three other things with whatever fingers I have left available. It’s chaos. So if anyone else wants to join me in this “take a beat” era and try doing things a little more slowly, I would love the companionship and accountability.
And in the meantime, Coco is seven months old and absolutely delicious.
One of my favourite things about this stage is how engaged she is. I love dressing her in cute outfits and applauding her like she’s just walked the red carpet. She loves clapping. I love showing her every dog we pass on our walks and watching her squeal with excitement no matter what size they are. I love that whenever she hears music, we dance, or at the very least bob. I love that she looks at me and grins like we’re in on some big secret together. Her newest thing is touching my face all the time and patting my boobs or the floor like a drum and laughing. She is just pure magic.
And it’s probably a good time to say thank you. To everyone who has helped get Coco and me to this place, it’s not lost on me how much generosity, care and love we’ve been held by. We have been so deeply supported and I’m incredibly grateful for that.
So here’s to seven months. To backing myself a little more, to joy getting louder than worry, to advocating for my baby and learning to advocate for myself too. To the messy, beautiful, exhausting, magical chaos of it all!
