I wish I had…

I wish I had…

I wish I’d been more prepared…

I wish I had read more about what to expect…

I wish I’d known that I could say no…

I wish I had known that I could question their decisions…

I wish I’d made a birth plan…

I wish I’d asked them to follow the birth plan…

I wish I had known I didn’t have to lie on the bed…

I wish I’d learnt how to breathe…

I wish I had waited before agreeing to induction…

I wish I’d known about the other choices…

I wish I had known I didn’t have to have constant monitoring…

I wish I’d been more assertive…

I wish I had been given a clearer picture of the consequences…

I wish I had really understood what a doula does…

I wish I’d had a doula!

I hear so many different mothers and fathers saying these things or variation on these themes.

Even long before I became a coach and doula, people have told me their stories and secrets. I often joke that I have a sign on my forehead that says “Tell me the things you would normally never tell a stranger”. I love hearing these details, despite them often being difficult or painful to hear. I believe passionately in people telling their stories, owning their stories, giving their stories space and time to heal, to evolve and to transform. Ultimately it is these eclectic stories I’ve heard that led me to become a coach.

It is a strange thing now as a doula though (perhaps it’s also that I’m a mother) that I catch myself so often wishing that I could have met them sooner, told them about the myriad of wonderful birth workers in Amsterdam that they could choose from – that their regrets over how their birth unfolded or how their trauma occured could somehow have been less painful, less rueful. It’s a nonsensical line of thinking though of course – because these experiences of birth; be they ecstatic, traumatic, blissful or agonising – have the power to reshape our lives and experiences and propel us into a new direction or simply propel us forward to begin to question the paradigms we had previously accepted without a second thought. And that is beautiful.

I’ve been privileged to have supported many second time mothers and fathers, and after having experienced a very different type of birth the second time round they say things laughing like “I wish every family could have a doula” or “I wish we had had a doula the first time” or “I wish every family could have the chance to prepare like we did this time around”

I previously wrote an article on “what a doula does” which goes into a little more comparative detail about what a doula can support you with compared to other people in the birth team, but I didn’t speak of how doulas can offer so many different support options and how affordable a doula can be.

Obviously I can’t speak for all other birth workers but I can speak for what I am able to offer aside from my doula support packages as stated here:

  • Birth Planning Session: 2 hours discussing birth, labour, post partum and induction/interventions in detail. I leave you with a few birth planning templates and review the document with you a week or two later over the phone/email. 175 per couple.
  • Best Birth Support Companion Ever: 2.5 hours teaching your birth partner “how to doula you” 175 per couple.
  • Birth Story/ Birth Trauma Healing: 2 hours speaking, counselling and coaching through your previous birth experience and ending with body or energy work to finish the session. 150

And two last points:

  • It is never too late to hire a doula! Don’t be the one that says “I wish I’d gone for it and hired a doula”! I offer a last minute package (if I have availability) which is priced at €695 for one two hour prenatal appointment, being on call for you 24/7 from the moment of hiring, and one post natal appointment. I am even open to you keeping my phone number in your phone and if you end up in hospital thinking “right about now I would appreciate having someone here to support us” then try me – whatever the hour!
  • To put the cost of full doula support into context, the Principal Doula Package will cost you less than 20 per week of pregnancy…doesnt it seem much more affordable when put like that?! Please see the testimonials page for more insight into how others have valued my services.

And the very last point(!) – my teachers Jennifer, Jacky and Joyce at JJ Doula Training have details of many student doulas who have completed the education with them but who are looking for experience – and a student doula support will cost between 200 – 350 in Amsterdam (level and experience dependent) for two or three prenatal appointments, birth support and post natal support. I’m happy to facilitate contact or you can reach out to them directly.

Doulas are for Dads too!!! A father shares…

Doulas are for Dads too!!! A father shares…

And then all the pursuing, the hustling, the meditation, the love, the fear, the struggle and the efforts to make your dream a reality is worth it….when you receive jaw droppingly lovely feedback from a dad you supported; a man of few words.

“I would like to have on record that I was initially sceptical about having a Doula present during my partners pregnancy and birth. After my first meeting with Ilena I was immediately put at ease and I am convinced that Ilena has had a hugely positive impact on the happiness and well being of my child. The whole experienced was very humbling for me and has improved my own relationship with my partner and children.”

“Outstanding. Ilena was a calming influence in the room and was available at anytime for both my partner and myself. I was very appreciative to Ilena personally for helping me during the experience when required. All of the techniques used during the birth were familiar to us as we had gone through them in our appointments. Ilena gave us the support and confidence to ensure the birth was handle in the way we wanted.”

IMG_6647

To put it into context further; this man stood by his partner’s side as her sole source of support at the birth of their first child. After what culminated in a traumatic assisted birth of their first, he was understandably a little apprehensive about the second upcoming birth due to having some residual feelings about witnessing that trauma that were not quite resolved.

He confessed that he was a little squeamish(!) too about certain things,  and was uncertain whether or not he could cope with the unfolding of birth and its mess at home, which is what his partner wanted in her heart. For this squeamishness we agreed upon a “safe” word between us; which he could say to me quietly during labour if he needed me to step in to support so he could take some distance and regroup.

This dad was incredible throughout the labour and birth***. He was his partner’s rock. He organised the birth pool between contractions, he pressed acupressure points, he massaged and rubbed at varying pressures, he had his hands and arms squeezed and squeezed, and he remained calm throughout; reassuring his love and ready with hugs, kisses and little jokes to keep the oxytocin flowing. He even cut the cord! Then managed to not succumb to nausea whilst I prepared a placenta smoothie(!) AND he never once needed the “safe” word!!! *** needless to say his partner; the labouring mummy, was an absolute goddess too! ***

Witnessing his experience of the birth story of his second child was already an absolute honour – but to then receive this feedback in black and white is indeed the cherry on the cake for me.

  • choose a doula who you both have a good click with; often our gut instincts when we first meet with someone will tell us whether or not we will get along. There are lots of doulas and birth workers out there; choose the best fit for you AND your partner so that you BOTH feel safe and comfortable.
  • birth trauma is real for men and partners too; let us acknowledge and honour it
  • processing those difficult experiences and emotions, making a comprehensive plan for every eventuality are invaluable steps in supporting a father in being calm and present during the unfolding of labour
  • a doula’s support can benefit a happy beginning for the whole family
  • never underestimate the depth of feeling from a man of few words
  • this quote is what guides my beliefs about my role as a doula:
“Our doula really helped bring me together with my wife as she gave birth. My wife remembers my constant support and never failing love or knowledge. She remembers the doula as a nice person who did some stuff in the background. We won’t give birth without a doula.”
I’m able to take a last minute booking for October, and have space for one more booking in November and December….and roll on 2016 – the booking pages and my heart are wide open!!!!
Please make contact using the contact form, email or directly on 0648688308 to arrange an acquaintance meeting.
12063749_1724859974400897_6445693496348003131_n
3 Things….

3 Things….

11850165_489734981193627_1112951378_n

Two days ago I downloaded the series of podcasts from one of my top five most inspiring sheroes/heroines Elizabeth Gilbert who I was so privileged and inspired to meet in November 2013 at High Tea at the De Hortus Botanicus here in Amsterdam as a celebration and promotion of the release of her then latest book The Signature of All Things.(It’s a really wonderful read btw!!!)

Last night I started to listen to them, this morning I was aching to hear the rest, so the Teletubbies were put on the iPad for the little person and I indulged. Creativity explosions! Ideas galore! Gratitude beating through my body! Thankful faithful heart.

The two quotes in the Instagram picture which literally made me catch my breath when I heard them came from Episode 4 of Magic Lessons where Liz speaks to Rob Bell, had to be written on my fridge immediately. I recently discovered (thanks to my tenants who were living here for the first half of this year) that you can write on my cupboard surfaces with dry wipe marker – anyone who knows about my sheer love of both stationary and playing teacher(!) will atest to the fact that this is wonderful news.

Later this morning as I was walking The Pig and was still reverberating with the thankfulness, creativity and gratitude I decided to share one of my daily practices with you.

My “3 Things”

  • 3 things I am grateful for today.
  • 3 things I am hoping for today.
  • 3 things I am trusting today
  • 3 things I am releasing today

So here is today’s list – even though it’s a little earlier than I usually put them together:

Today I am grateful for:

  • My friend Liz and all that she is; her work, her generosity, her spirit and her laugh!
  • The incredible late summer weather that Amsterdam is bathed in
  • Amsterdam Oosterpark – where The Boy, The Pig and I walk every day and enjoy the daily changes where we really notice “It is a new universe every second!”

Three things I hope for today:

  • That the forecast is right and that we can enjoy this late summer bliss for three whole days
  • That my client is enjoying being 9 days postpartum and that breastfeeding is establishing well
  • That my next client is ready to contact me and move forward with our work together

Three things that I trust today:

  • That I will be divinely guided to take the next perfect step toward helping my clients to find me
  • That the universe in all it’s glorious abundance is taking care of my finances
  • That I will start “The Book” when the time is right

Three things I release today:

  • The need for perceived originality in my writing  – surely if I write from my heart and soul voice then that in itself is unique?!
  • Worry – it takes so much energy and focus away from the areas I wish to direct my energy and focus like The Boy, The Pig, my desires and my dreams.
  • Guilt about the iPad and Teletubbies: listen to Magic Lessons Podcast episode number 1 for the justification

Disclaimer:

A) as much as I say “daily practice” I confess it doesnt happen every. single. day.

B) sometimes the same thing will take up space on the list for days/weeks at a time

C) sometimes I don’t manage 3 – but I still write 1 or 2

Ina May Gaskin comes to Amsterdam – and YOU are invited!!!

Ina May Gaskin comes to Amsterdam – and YOU are invited!!!

HBA-Ina-Mays-Guide-to-Childbirth.Ina-May-Gaskin

Maybe you have heard the rumours???

Often described as “The Mother of Authentic Midwifery”, “America’s Most Loved Midwife” and notorious for her practice’s exemplary results and low intervention rates, Ina May Gaskin has gained international notoriety for promoting natural birth: and it is true – she is coming to Amsterdam!!!!

Maybe you thought, “Tickets will be sold out – no chance I’ll be able to join”

Well the daytime event with Ina May Gaskin on the 25th September 2015 was so popular it sold out in a matter of days, but the organizers and Ina May got together and decided to arrange another event on 24th September 2015 and so here is…

> > > YOUR INVITATION < < <

to join us for………..

AN EVENING WITH INA MAY GASKIN

24/9/2015

19h00 – 21h30

@ CREA Theatre, Nieuwe Achtergracht 170, Amsterdam

This event promises to be an inspiring evening listening to Ina May’s stories from the notorious natural birthing mecca “The Farm”
Ina May is keen for the last hour of the event to be a dialogue: so bring your burning questions!
What do you want to ask Ina May Gaskin?
ina-may-gaskin-photo
Event costs:
#EARLYBIRD# 65.00 euros* before August 31
75.00 euros* from September 1
*Prices are BTW inclusive
 Birth-Story_612x380
HOW?
To register for your ticket now before the event sells out and still at the early bird price for another five days, please e-mail Lievnath Faber at lievnathfaber@gmail.com
or
Dana Esther Lindzon from Mamawise at dana@mamawise.nl
Ina May’s books will be for sale at the CREA before and after the event, please bring cash should you wish to buy (no PIN on site)

I’m attending with the organisation: so I hope to welcome you to the event and enjoy the evening together!
In case you haven’t already seen it – check out Ina May’s TEDTalk

LaborQuote_Kindred

Assuaging parental doubt….just for tonight

Assuaging parental doubt….just for tonight

IMG_5646

Have I held you enough? Stroked you enough?

Did I smell you enough? Taste you enough?

Did I kiss you enough? Hold your eyes in mine enough?

Did I laugh with you enough? Did I cry over you enough?

Did I guard you enough? Release you enough?

Did I buy you enough? Shield you from consumerism enough?

Did I feed you enough? Weigh you enough?

Did I hear you enough? Speak to you enough?

Did I document you enough? Email you enough?

Did I share you enough? Spend time alone with you enough?

Did I watch you enough? Did I let you roam enough?

These are just a fraction of the questions that plague me as a new parent daily it seems. Fortunately when you are awake I don’t have time to think – you get everywhere; your hands in the butter, your feet in the cat food, your whole body underneath the dog….climbing the step ladder, coasting from sofa to sofa. My mind is glad of the break as it focuses on the development of eyes in the back of my head to make sure the sockets are protected and the radiator pipe isnt too hot for your little paddle hands as they curl around it anyway and you look up and ask “Whaaaaash da?”

We are approaching your first birthday so I’m not really sure I can class myself as a new parent anymore?! Yet every day I wake up with you it seems like I meet you again for the first time, or maybe thats just right now as the Wonder Weeks ap tells me you’re going through a very significant leap.

Here we are in bed. You asleep alongside me. Starfished between me, the sheepskin, the duvet discarded and your chunky little thighs resting akimbo. Your breath calm and shallow. A half smile on your face; the remainder of the “tickle tickle giggle giggle” call you were making as you slowly surrendered to sleep. Moments later you whimper, heart breakingly heart broken….a memory from today?

It passes and you sigh. So do I.

I take in your curls, they were dark, they have lightened in the sun – you adore the great outdoors. Your perfect button nose, your long curled lashes framing those eyes of yours. Your wonderful, deep, soulful and opalescent blue lagoon eyes. Your skin a shade darker, bronzed slightly in the sun.

And my mind whirs into action again. Did I offer shade and protection enough from the elements today?

Pfffffffffffffffff! Enough.

Just as I tell you nightly:

“You are, you have always been, you shall always be – enough – just as you are. For you are you, perfectly imperfectly you; and that is enough, more than enough for me. There is nothing you could ever do to stop me loving you.”

Tonight I might tell myself the same.

An Open Letter To…..

An Open Letter To…..

Dear Natural Birth Movement,

In June this year I gave birth to a beautiful bouncing baby boy. He was born 2 weeks and 3 days over his due date. The 36 hour journey he and I took together was in parts both the highest and the lowest, the lightest and the darkest hours I remember living. The nearly 16 weeks I have spent with him since have been pink, fluffy, warm, fuzzy and heart explodingly incredible. There have been moments where I have had to pinch myself, to check if this new life is really real and even now as I write my heart is full and my body enjoys another flood of Oxytocin just thinking of him.

But then I remember why I write to you, and my heart hurts a little as I access again the grief, the shame, the guilt and the confusion you have caused me. This is a cocktail of emotions I never thought you’d inflict on anyone, let alone me, and yet I see you inflicting it unwittingly on others too. Perpetuating the same self important, frequently impossible standards, the same standards I feel you have measured me up against, and against which I feel I have measured short. I want to write about and share my full birth story – sing it from the rooftops!!!! But before I do, I need to lighten my load and create some more space inside by getting something off my chest.

We need to talk.

I’m leaving you.

I’m moving in with the Empowered Birth Movement. She and I, well we’re better together than you and I ever were. Let’s face it – there were a few moments we stood high on that soap box together weren’t there? My getting together with the Empowered Birth Movement is better for the people around us; our female peers, their partners and birthing companions, the care professionals nurturing new mothers and their babies; and it’s certainly better for me and those I am privileged to assist as a birth coach and doula.

I notice you’re shocked.

When I came to the realisation that I have to break up with you – I was too.

It all started about 14 hours into my birth story. The first sign I was in labour was that upon waking I noticed my waters had broken and I had “menstruation pain”. As Thursday wore on my labour intensified and I was happily astounded by the amniotic fluid which intermittently gushed out around the house (Note to self: I must remember to thank my best friend and doula again for following me around with towels) Then I saw a pale greenish colour appear. The fear kicked in: would this mean that we would have to go to hospital – that dreaded place of unnatural and intervention riddled deliveries?

It did – neither my midwife nor I wanted to stack risks with me being a first time mum, carrying a big baby and being already 42w2d. I felt disappointed. As if I had failed at the first hurdle somehow. My contractions, which I had enjoyed riding at home in the shower chanting Ong Namo with Snatam Kaur, felt painful for the first time as I had to navigate the short 5 minute journey to hospital. The bright fluorescent light seemed to embody all that was unnatural; all that went against what you had promised me when I prepared for this day, told me to believe in myself and in my body, and since I chose to birth at home. I could almost hear you say “I told you so”. I rallied back and forth with the question “Is it really meconium? Do I really need to be here?”

Well there we were in the hospital; you and I and our strongly worded birth preferences which I had negotiated fiercely with the hospital at 42 weeks, then again at 42+1 to gain more clarity in the “grey areas” which had appeared in the conversation you, me and my midwife had had with the senior midwife and the gynaecologist at the hospital. I was fearful. Despite the fear, I drew on the oxytocin my body was saturated with and opened up to the midwife who was on duty. I asked her to stay present with me, to maintain eye contact with me whilst doing internals – to speak to me about the interior of my vagina and cervix and no one else. Hour by hour in doing so with such consideration and tenderness she gained my trust and I in turn hers, and she let me labour on unassisted. You seemed surprised, but I didn’t linger on the growing ill feeling between us, as my son and I had work to do.

Fortunately you stuck around and set up the birthing pool in the labour suite bathroom, you nodded approvingly at the various essential oil compresses, the crystals, the yoga postures, the homeopathy kit, the relaxing music and the affirmations.

Cut to 30 hours into our birth story following a couple of interventions, a journey back and forth and back again between 6cm and 8cm (YES that can happen!); I had an IV dripping synthetic Oxytocin into my veins and my uterus was leading my body in an almighty fight against the invading chemicals. And that’s the moment when you really flaunted your true colours: I felt like a failure asking for pain relief. I asked however, and my wish was granted. I avoided your gaze. During the three hours I spent floating away on the magic carpet of Remifentanil, intermittently glimmers of conversation came through;

“You’re nearly there! 9cm – great!”

“Your contractions are really effective now….”

But I was exhausted; from chanting, swaying and squatting, from the fight for intervention free plateaus and progression, from the 32+ hours with only 2 light meals, from being my own advocate throughout as a solo parent, from you and me fighting about our conflicting expectations of eachother. And despite all that fighting, during those hours floating away I found my truth: that my son had brought me healing enough throughout pregnancy without having to make the passage through my cervix and vagina and heal that trauma too. (I am a [sexual] abuse survivor)

“Don’t worry” I heard, “You’re 9.5cm and in minutes you’ll be at 10 – if you can’t find enough energy to push we have everything we need to help you achieve a vaginal birth.”

‘No. Thank. You.’ I thought. ‘Stay away from my vagina.’

“I want a Csection” I heard myself say with conviction, clarity and absolute certainty.

Whilst my relief at finding the surrender I had been looking for was almost palpable, I couldn’t make eye contact with you.

In the four months since little JT was born, we have come head to head at many crossroads. I have found you tutting in the sympathetic “Oh what a shames” which I receive when I explain he made his way earthside via his own stargate; my Caesarean wound. I have found you lurking self righteously in the Facebook comments of an “informative natural parenting piece” on how epidurals do indeed pass through the placenta and babies’ alertness is adversely affected; callously telling a woman who said she shouldn’t be shamed for giving birth to a dead foetus with the help of an epidural that in her case “it didn’t matter that the epidural crossed the placenta”. I have found you in the form of a prenatal yoga teacher withholding the happy stories of babies born by Csection to clients in my new friends’ post natal meet up class; the insinuation being that these stories weren’t the optimal outcome that the teacher had been encouraging her students to strive for. I found your influence in the story of my brave warrior friend who gave birth to her beautiful daughter at 27 weeks – where she defends the fact she had a Csection by explaining how dangerous it would have been for baby to have become at all distressed during a “natural delivery”.

I hear you dripping all over the expression “normal birth” – for what is a “normal birth” these days anyway??? I hear you in my final doula course training – a fellow student defending a brutal sounding gynaecologist she had witnessed manually dilating a woman from 8cm to 10cm to keep her in the proper timeframe and avoid being transferred to an inferior public hospital (I verbally winced at that idea); and your final defence? “Well at least she didn’t have to have a Csection.”

I read you as I come across a quote stating that it is a women’s right of passage to give birth naturally and vaginally; and I am left once again wondering if somehow my own experience (which is that the right of passage is in fact becoming a mother: a journey which started from the moment I was conscious my body was housing an embryo and not from the moment I felt the ejection reflex and started to push) is somehow invalid?

So no; I’m afraid these militant ideas you keep don’t ring true for me. I’ve opened my eyes to the countless women who also feel they have to apologetically explain their choosing an epidural or outside intervention – through myself having felt that need to defend; and now I’m starting to understand and realise why so many women unquestioningly hand over their power to medical care providers completely in the face of your dogmatic alternative. They’re frightened they won’t make your grade.

There is good news for me, and my fellow sisters who think along the same lines as I do though!

The Empowered Birth Movement is working hard to inform women about their rights, the possible choices and the protocols and side effects of the choices available to us in birth. The Empowered Birth Movement is exploring and inhabiting that vast expansive space between your natural birthing utopia and the carefully scheduled medical approach to delivering babies. The Empowered Birth Movement is bringing information about all options – judgement free – to the public sphere, bringing candid new images from all types of birth stories so that women can visualise for themselves what will feel safest for them.

When we talk about healthiest birth experiences we have to look at “health” holistically; physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. And I have you to thank for bringing me to that perspective. Speaking as a mother, as a doula and as a birth coach though, I can tell you first hand that there are many reasons why the “healthiest birth” choices for a woman may well include comprehensive pain relief and or surgical assistance. Those reasons range from having a phobia of blood, to being a survivor of sexual abuse and being keen to avoid a trigger, to simply not wanting to experience the pain of vaginal childbirth…all of these are valid reasons.

Whatever the reason – we are entitled to make our own choices. As female peers, as mothers, as birth workers, and as birth activists we have to STOP pushing preferences and shaming women’s choices. Birth activism and reclaiming birth is about informed consent and empowered birthing experiences – not a natural birth at all costs. And it’s certainly not about attributing shame to any mother’s birth story because she fell short of the latest soft focus home water birth video on Instagram or Youtube.

So here we are.

My bags are packed.

I’m ready to go.

Shall I leave my keys on the shelf in the hall on my way out?

In Loving Memory of Margaret Standring 14.03.1931 – 19.08.2014

In Loving Memory of Margaret Standring 14.03.1931 – 19.08.2014

It seems befitting that my first post be my goodbye to this woman who meant to much to me, and inspired so much in me, particularly through her death this year.

“I confess I’d started to jot down some memories of Granny before she passed away. Partly because it was clear from the first doctor’s call in July that we were approaching the end, and mostly because in spending these beautiful last weeks with her and recalling happy times together, one memory sparked another, that in turn another, and I became anxious to make sure I got all these precious gems down on paper.

It was difficult however to know where to start in writing these words to say to you today, as knowing where to start; what best depicts the very best of our magnificent Granny is a tough job as there is such a wealth of memories to choose from. Such profound love, such generosity of spirit, so many valuable lessons taught, so much laughter, such delicious recipes, so many skills, so many gifts (and I mean both gifts of character as well as material, and we all know she loved to shop!); she brought so much to our family and no doubt to you her many friends.

I decided to share one of my first memories of Granny by way of a beginning. Being sat alone as a little girl of three on the stairs at Windsor Road watching a terrific storm brewing. The sky darkened and I ventured out in my thick Yorkshire accent which tickled Granny no end, “Granny?” No reply. No doubt she was busying about the garden or garage in her usual whirlwind way. The lightning struck, the thunder growled. I burst into tears. Seconds later Granny swooped in, her lovely face soft with concern, her wide open arms my very own port in a storm. She encompassed me in a tight cuddle, reassuring me that she would never be far away, and certainly would never leave me alone. My heroine. Unbeknownst to me at that moment she continued to be my unwavering port throughout various childhood and adolescent storms.

During one of these evenings we spent supporting eachother as a family recently, we laughed at the memory of an eight year old me flinging myself on my bed wailing “Granny! I want my Granny – she’s the only one who understands me….” Only two years before I had been the only one who could understand her in her hospital bed following her stroke. Perhaps the lack of fear and projection and the curiosity of a six year old meant that I was simply able to focus on the sounds she was making and was able to work it out, but it felt like, and I still believe it was mostly to do with our strong connection and bond we shared.

She made an incredible recovery from her stroke. Relearning almost all of that which had been lost or impaired in order to continue to pass it on; a teacher through and through. She taught me SO much. I remember getting to reception class and being confused why not everyone could recite the alphabet and write their name already. She taught me how to draw, how to paint, how to formulate perspective in a piece of artwork. She taught me the pleasure of playing a musical instrument, fondly encouraging my sometimes rather tortuous practicing of the violin, the piano and the flute. She taught me how to press tongue(!!!), how to make lemon cheese as soft as butter. She taught me that as women we must nurture ourselves, with good food on the inside and with luxurious products on the outside! She taught me the pleasure of having beautiful things in my home environment, the pleasure in buying, wrapping and giving gifts – she always so kindly poured over our gifts and their wrapping as we gave them to her; she was beyond question my favourite person to buy a present for. Thoughtfully she always wore one of the presents we’d bought her whenever we visited – some I even forgot I’d bought once or twice, she obviously never did.

In recent years her brain was affected by dementia. Sometimes this was difficult to see, and painfully was very difficult for her in her more lucid moments as she knew she wasn’t “quite right”. To be honest though we had some terrific laughs at the expense of dementia, like the Christmas day when I went in to give her a good morning cuddle and a cup of tea and sang “Happy Christmas Granny!!!” to which she replied not skipping a beat “Happy New Year!!!” Another beautiful gift of dementia was that it slowed her down. On my fridge I have a few cheerful pastel coloured photos from a couple of years ago when my sister and I enjoyed some warm sunny summer afternoons with her in Carwood Nursing Home’s garden. There we were – not “doing” much, not saying anything of any real consequence – just basking in our reflected pleasure in eachother’s company. Despite the illness; the twinkle in her eyes, the interest in her eyes, the kindness and the sheer love in her eyes all almost palpable, never lost.

Her last weeks, intense weeks of both incredible light and terrifying darkness as she progressed toward her transition, feel too fresh and too intimate to share today, so I’ll finish by sharing the words a close friend and confidante shared with me. “We live as we live, and then we die in just the same way we have lived.” In being beside Granny this last month I can confirm this is true. She died with tremendous strength, determination, courage and grace.

I believe that she also learnt an important lesson in the final steps of her journey however; how to really let go. And so it is with a mixture of strength, determination, courage, grace, and the vulnerability and the surrender required to really let go sometimes, that I will continue along my journey as a woman, a daughter, a sister and a mother. Grateful to the core for all she was, all she brought and taught me, grateful for the privilege of being at her side in her last weeks on earth and for this illuminating experience of death. Promising to share what I can of her legacy with my own family and friends.

Thankyou Granny.”