I hired a postpartum stylist. It helped me find my identity as a mom.

• After having a baby I spent $1,200 in new clothes and hated everything except for a beanie.
• I didn't know what size I was anymore, or what I wanted to wear.

The boxes kept coming: Madewell, Levi's, Nordstrom Rack. They filled our apartment's narrow entryway, stacked on top of one another in precarious piles.

"I had to order multiple sizes," I explained to my dismayed husband as I ripped apart cardboard, tugged on three different sizes of the same dress, and just as quickly pulled each off.

I'd spent $1,200 on my mail-order shopping spree, and I hated everything. None of it looked right on my postpartum body, and none of it looked like me, whoever the hell that was anymore.

I returned everything except a $10 beanie.

I had just given birth and didn't know what I liked anymore

It was four months after the birth of my second child, and I was still wearing my stretch pants and milk-stained nursing tank every day. Because when did I have time to go shopping? What size was I? Could I still wear band shirts and crop tops? Did I even like crop tops anymore? What did I like?

The seismic shifts I'd experienced in my identity, lifestyle, and body since becoming a parent had manifested in fashion. I felt fundamentally and profoundly changed by motherhood, and want to present myself differently to the world. But how?

Social media fed me more and more clothes ads

Detecting my ambivalence, clothing ads populated my social media feeds during late-night nursing sessions: semi-annual sales, 30% Off's, Friends and Family, "We Never Do This But…" Sleep-deprived, lactation-depleted, and home-bound, I filled carts and double-clicked to purchase, getting caught in a consumerist vortex of ordering and returning clothes I couldn't really afford and wasn't even sure I liked.

One night, deep on my Instagram explore page, I saw something that stood out from the usual doom-scroll hellscape of parenting advice, color analysis, and gut-health biohacks. It was a reel of a normal-looking girl constructing a fun date-night outfit, pairing a secondhand dress with a chain belt and vintage cowboy boots. She didn't talk about old-money aesthetics or millennial makeover trends. She talked about finding something she liked that expressed how she wanted to feel.

Her name was Sophie Strauss, and she billed herself as a "stylist for normal people." Her website said that worked with all types of clients, particularly those navigating life transitions, such as new moms.

I messaged right then, at 2 a.m.

She went through my whole closet

We started with a closet consult, in which we went through every item in my closet to determine what was working and what wasn't, and most importantly, why.

Through her analysis, I learned I like dynamic, exaggerated proportions — like oversized jackets with cinched baggy pants and a tucked blouse — and deeply saturated colors. She showed me how to construct the outfits with these elements, using items I already had.

She taught me about fabrics and how I'd want durable, washable ones like cotton and denim to withstand the food, crafts, and body fluids of parenting young children.

I learned about proportions — the reason I always felt frumpy in a hand-embroidered cotton dress from Mexico was that it hit at the knees, truncating my legs. She suggested I get it hemmed, and since I have, it's become one of my favorite dresses, the kind that total strangers will stop me to compliment.

Not only was the consult educational, but it didn't involve buying anything. We were simply styling items I already owned together in new and interesting ways. And we did it all while my baby napped and, once he woke up, crawled around the piles of clothes.

She also helped me to shop for new things

Next, we went for an in-person shopping session — since, with a preschooler and a baby, I never have time to browse stores like I did in my single days. We went on a morning when my daughter was at preschool. Sophie expertly scoured the racks at several vintage stores, culling items I'd never have found, and then held my baby while I tried the clothes on. I almost cried.

I purchased several pieces that day that have since been in heavy rotation: fitted vintage overalls, high-waisted cotton pants, and a flattering pair of shorts. Not only did the items cost less than the new ones I'd been buying online, but I'm more confident in how I style them. Plus, buying used saved in production, shipping, and returning, making these items far more sustainable — because the diapers my kids have used already contribute enough to landfills.

More than anything, working with a stylist helped me to find my mom identity. I figured out what I liked rather than what social media was telling me to like. Now, when I get dressed, I feel like an elevated version of myself — the person I'd always been, but a little better. How parenthood, at its best, should make you feel.

It turns out that, styled a little more sophisticatedly, I still like crop tops — which are also extremely handy for nursing. One day, getting ready to go out and meet friends after the kids' bedtime, I threw on a cropped Ronnetes shirt, thrifted checkered work pants, white DocMartens, and an investment fanny pack — the only new item in the outfit. Everything else had already been in my closet. It felt like a metaphor.

"You look really cute," my husband said as I headed out the door. And none of it had arrived in a box.