Celebrating ‘Motherhood’ – in all it’s forms.

Celebrating ‘Motherhood’ – in all it’s forms.

              To all the women waiting to become mothers; the women waiting for ovulation, waiting for a positive test result, waiting for an embryo to implant, waiting for the next round of IVF….I see you. Happy Mother’s Day. May today your mother heart be strong and patient. May you celebrate this part of your heart that is holding space for motherhood – preparing and planning and focusing on faith. Be kind to yourself today; hone in on your self love and self care skills.
              To all the women out there navigating baby loss today. The mothers who miscarried, the mothers who gave birth to sleeping babies, the mothers whose babies went to sleep one day and didn’t ever wake up: the mothers whose every single cell of their beings aches today with a love and a pain that words can never begin to do justice to. I see you. Happy Mother’s Day. Today we celebrate your strength and your humanity and your love –  the most tenacious Mother’s Love there is – a love that crosses an incomprehensible veil between this earth and a place beyond. May today you offer yourself the most tender self compassion you can muster. No doubt the heavens will make sure the night stars shine even brighter tonight.
              To all women out there who are pregnant, at 6 weeks or 42 weeks pregnant and any or all of the weeks in between; the women who are feeling like ethereal pregnant goddesses and the women who feel grumpy and heavy and who are praying for labour to begin just so they can see the end of the physical struggle of pregnancy. Maybe you woke up this morning to the first signs of labour. Maybe today you will meet your baby for the first time? Wherever you are in pregnancy (or in labour!); I see you. Happy Mother’s Day. May you take a moment of stillness and connection with the baby/babies inside your body to acknowledge and process this miraculous and radical transformation internally and externally. May you enjoy the unfolding; even if it’s just for a moment here and there amongst the physical discomfort.
              To the women out there in the beginning of the 4th trimester or “the newborn cocoon”, the women mothering singletons and twins, triplets or quadruplets even: those early weeks of parenting tiny little humans who are acclimatizing to life on earth is really intense. You’re probably feeling like “all you’re doing is feeding, eating, sleeping and soothing” and yet this is some of the most important and the hardest work in the world – and you’re doing it! I see you. Happy Mother’s Day. Keep on taking it one day at a time, one feed at a time, one sleep at a time….and if that all feels like too much….?
One. Breath. At. A. Time.
Relax your shoulders, make space to breathe, close your eyes and allow my promise to sink it: “It will get easier!”
              To the women out there parenting bouncing babies, one year olds, two year olds, threenagers, teenagers, grown up children….whatever stage of development or sleep regression  or rite of passage you are parenting your little humans through: I see you. Happy Mother’s Day. As you look back on all the Mother’s Days that came before I hope you can give yourself a huge pat on the back for all your flexibility, your perseverance, your tenacity, your patience and your commitment to parenthood. Parenting little humans is such a juggling act – and you’re there in the thick of it (or you came through it!) doing it year after year after year, no let up. On this Mother’s Day I see your hard work on all those 364 days in between the annual day of recognition. Look in the mirror today and offer yourself three things: acknowledgement, appreciation and forgiveness. Forgiveness for all the moments that you didn’t quite parent the way you wanted, and more importantly forgiveness for the moments that you didn’t acknowledge and appreciate yourself for the fantastic job that I am certain you’re doing; for the moments that you let yourself be racked with guilt over something and nothing and you forgot your fabulousness. Walk away from the mirror and somewhere today indulge in at least one act of radical self care. Even if it’s just enjoying a scoop of your favorite ice-cream in the bath once all the little humans are in bed with their eyes closed.
              To all the women out there navigating parenthood alone; and to the men navigating parenthood alone – for there is significant part of you that plays the role of “mother” too. To those parents flying solo….even if they regularly feel like they can barely swim with their head above the surface. Maybe you feel a little lonely this morning; maybe your little human(s) didn’t know it was Mother’s Day and perhaps no-one reminded them or wrote you on their behalf.
I see you. I feel you. I hear you.
Happy Mother’s Day!!!
May today you Mother yourself too. May you offer yourself the unconditional regard and love that you offer your child/ren today. May you celebrate your breathtaking strength and tenacity and energy and perseverance and all the other powerful forces that you embody. And whatever you do – don’t forget your super hero/ine cape today! Wear it with pride!!!
              To all the women out there who are grandmothers and great grandmothers – who have seen and mothered through multiple generations. We are here because of you; you bore babies who grew ovaries and wombs which made and carried your grandchildren and great grandchildren – you brought us to the earth – and we have the pleasure to watch you dote on the generations that came after you. We cherish your wisdom and experience, you laid the foundations for our mothering and sometimes that means that we learnt through you what not to do, and sometimes we see you making sense of the new ways of mothering.
I see you. You are awesome! Thank you!!!
              To everyone out there missing their mother today….maybe your mother passed away, maybe your mother lives on the other side of the world, maybe you are estranged from your mother, maybe your mother has Alzheimers, maybe your relationship with your mother is not as close and emotionally nourishing as you wish it could be, maybe your mother abandoned you.
I see you. There are some significant taboos around our relationships with our mothers and around familial struggles which still persist and can make talking about anyone of these scenarios really difficult. That struggle is so real and so hard, and can be very lonely and isolating – especially on Mother’s Day. May you find an aspect of your mother, or your ability to self mother, or another mother figure in your life, or even simply the ‘Divine Mother’ who you can celebrate today. May there be a memory or aspect of your life which you can access easily and comfortably which can bring you some joy to reflect on today. Be kind to yourself and offer yourself adequate space to honour the varied emotions which may come up on this day…..it’s all valid.
              To all the other one of a kind mothers out there: the step mothers, the adopted mothers, to the foster mothers, the fur baby mothers, the motherly figure who chose not to have or who couldn’t have babies, the not so motherly figure who chose not to have or couldn’t have babies, to the women who are contemplating motherhood but are not quite decided, to the mothers who gave up their child/ren for adoption, to the mothers who aborted their babies, to the mothers who mother projects or art or gardens or the earth or who mother other women in their care provider roles…..and to any person who identifies within themselves their mothering abilities who I have missed here:
Happy Mother’s Day.
I see you. I love you.
 Thank you for all that offer the world as a mother.
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This incredible image was created by https://www.instagram.com/merakilabbe/ please go check out the rest of her fabulously feminine creations.
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?