While cleaning out my purse recently, I came upon a note I’d written to myself on New Year’s Eve 2014. It contained intentions for the new year. Be brave. Be confident. Be joyful. Say, “Yes and…” Lean into discomfort.

I began 2015 determined to challenge myself. I had goals to accomplish and boundaries to push. This was going to be the year when Joshua and I successfully moved up to intermediate!

Two weeks later I was pregnant. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but it wasn’t long before I realized that what I’d be doing this year—while probably the biggest risk of my life—wasn’t exactly what I imagined when I wrote that note.

Being pregnant certainly involved a lot of leaning into discomfort. And trying not to fall over as my new center of gravity and relaxed ligaments transformed my normal lack of grace into downright klutziness.

But jokes aside, I struggled with confidence. I wondered why I’d decided to trade in my good life for the unknown. I had a fantastic marriage, a talented horse on the brink of moving up a level, the ability to travel at a moment’s notice (OK, maybe not that, but I did have an impressive array of horse sitters on call!).

Now, rather than cross-country schooling, I was barely able to pick my horse’s feet. Instead of heading out for a sprightly 5-mile jog, I could just manage to shuffle the half-mile to my mailbox and back.

And while I knew the physical woes would pass, what I really wondered was: Will I still be me when this baby is born?

Because I realized the way I define myself is by what I do. I’m an athlete. A competitor. Someone whose job takes her all over the globe to cover the highest levels of equestrian competition. Would any of that be true after the baby was born? I just didn’t know.

Post-partum depression has become a much-discussed condition, but pre-partum depression isn’t something you hear as much about. You’re just supposed to be thrilled that you’re expecting. Especially after I had to stop riding, I struggled to be motivated, to experience joy. I was bored, uncomfortable, and shuttling back and forth between impatience to get this pregnancy over and meet my son and anxiety that I wouldn’t like what I found on the other side. I told myself I’d paint fence, organize my tack room, and finish cleaning out the corners of the house while I waited. Instead, I read books, spent too much time on the Internet, and worried.

The day before I went into labor was actually one of the best ones I’d had in months. I was overdue by a few days and enormous. Walking was painful, and sleeping through the night was a long forgotten pleasure. However, I was living vicariously through my good friend Tracy, as she was moving Joshua up to intermediate. I was determined to watch them accomplish this long-dreamed-of goal.

“You can’t come to the show unless your husband comes with you,” she only half-joked. “I won’t be able to concentrate on competing if I’m worried I’ll need to drive you to the hospital!”

Watching Tracy ride Joshua around cross-country was a fantastic way to spend the day. 

Eric did consent to come with me, and the day was lovely, and I found that the nerves associated with setting out on cross-country don’t go away just because it’s not you in the saddle. Although I hadn’t run in months, adrenaline sent me jogging around the cross-country course, as I rode every step with Tracy. I might have even cried a few tears when she and my little OTTB galloped through the finish flags.

“OK, now leave!” scolded the EMT. He and the attending veterinarian had been joking about whose job it would be to deliver me if I went into labor right there on course.

Hugs were exchanged, and I headed home to spend the afternoon bush-hogging the horseless pasture. Need to induce a pregnancy? I highly recommend an active cross-country jog followed by a few hours jouncing around the field on a tractor!

Zachary Kenneth Lieser arrived 36 hours later at 10 a.m. on Columbus Day. He weighed in at 9lbs 6oz and had a full head of hair. All those mommy hormones kicked in, just as everyone assured me they would. The doubts disappeared, and I marveled at my baby’s perfect soft skin. We cuddled and bonded, and I spent the week after he was born on a sleep-deprived adrenaline high.

As I suspected, after taking care of horses, cats and dogs for the last 30 years, an infant wasn’t so different. I had my share of new mother fears, but feeding, bathing and caring for someone who’s helpless, demanding and can’t communicate in words wasn’t exactly a new experience.

But while I was making it through each day, and it turned out I did actually like my baby very much, I still hadn’t answered the question of: Was I still me?

Two weeks after he was born, I had my first inkling. Tracy was planning a jump lesson with Josh (she kept him for about a month after Zack arrived). Did I want to come watch? I hemmed and hawed over whether I should bring the baby with me or could my husband and mother keep him alive for two hours while I was gone.

They pushed me out the door, assuring me it would be fine.

And it was.

I set fences and took pictures. No longer pregnant, I felt comfortable again in my own skin. For two hours my mind followed its familiar course of analyzing form, exercises and equine response. I wasn’t unaware that I had a baby, but I didn’t stress about him. (God bless cell phones!) When they finished, I drove home with a slightly lighter soul. It was indeed possible to feel an overpowering love for my baby and still enjoy a few hours away, immersed in horses.

I got back in the tack by late November. Joshua arrived home the Saturday before Thanksgiving, and I hopped on and took him for a spin a few hours after he arrived.

Did I feel any different as a new mother in the saddle? Was I more cautious or fearful? Was I still me?

Just like riding a bicycle, as they say. Sure, my muscles were weak from long disuse, but the muscle memory was fine. I slid into the saddle, looked between two familiar brown ears, and went right back to work. I kept my first session short in order not to cripple myself, but it basically all felt great. I even fit into my largest pair of pre-maternity breeches!

Yay!

Relief and joy co-mingled in my brain. For those 30 minutes in the tack I felt the new motherhood fog lift. I felt normal. I felt…like me.

Every so often, we feature a blog from a member of the Chronicle staff. We’re just like you—juggling riding and competing with work and family. A graduate “C-3” from Penobscot Pony Club (Maine), Sara Lieser spent a year working for Denny Emerson before attending Amherst College (Mass.) and is now learning the sport from the ground up by training her own horses. She and her husband, Eric, and son, Zach, share their 20-acre farm with two dogs, three cats, and an ever-changing number of horses. Read all of Sara’s blogs—including her latest, about her journey to motherhood—here.