An ode to breastfeeding

I once read in the comments section on facebook, that ‘breasts are for sex and for feeding children.’ This was quickly followed up by guffawing of other commenters “Ahem, breasts are for babies!'

After four years of continuous breastfeeding, I can assure you breasts are most definitely for babies. Everything about their design, the softness, the lumpiness, the silky nipples that are such a joy for babies to grab onto, babies love fondling tags on toys, and nipples on boobs. the squishiness, their warmth, the position on the body so you can hold the child to your breast, lie with them and stroke their little heads. The love hormone oxytocin release stimulating bonding between mother and child, all for babies.

When my milk first came in about two days after giving birth to my daughter I looked like I’d had a boob job. They were so big and round and sat up just so. Now I understood that what my culture agrees to be the perfect breast, is the look of a breast engorged with breast milk, and completely capable of sustaining new life. It made sense, I forgave mankind a little bit that day. I hoped my boobs would stay like that, they didn’t.

My time of breastfeeding is drawing to a close. we have no more babies planned. For over four years my boobs have been at the beck and call of my babies. First one, then both, and then the other one.

Now my son is 2 and a half and the weight of his body and the feel of his latch tell me instinctively that it’s time to wean. My daughter, who is 19 months older, was also 2 and a half when I weaned her. I breastfed them both - as in at the same time tandem style, yes one one each boob, - for almost 12 months. They offer the best of convenience, delicious warm milk on demand, comfort when sad, bonding and togetherness, play and enjoyment. A remedy when hurt. My children both loved their boobies.

Breastfeeding hurt at first. They tell you it doesn’t hurt if the latch is right. Not true, it hurt. It hurt no matter how many times I had my child's latch checked and assured it was fine, no matter how many times I ‘made my boob into a burger and squeezed it in her mouth', breastfeeding hurt. They say that fair skinned red heads feel the most pain when breastfeeding. I’m a fair skinned brunette so perhaps I come in in a second or third on the pain stake. My nipples became sore and cracked and bled. By day 11 feeding was agony but I gritted my teeth. I was determined. I used a nipple shield for every feed for three days out of necessity. I healed, and then it never hurt again.

My milk sustained them and though they both were born rather skinny, they grew chubby very quickly. Fat little rolls over their thighs, up their arms and on their cheeks.Sweet little smiles and shiny eyes, only for mummy.

I love the snuggly closeness, the shared bed convenience. How easy it was to stumble out of bed at that first wake up cry at 5.30 and climb back into bed with them, warm and cosy, feeding away. The beautiful smells of my babies head, their chubby little hands, their innocent sweet eyes taking in all around them, always happy to be on the boob.

They say not to feed to sleep, but feeding to sleep was one of the most relaxing parts of my day, and personally one of my favourite things about breastfeeding. Feeding to sleep absolutely saved me when I was home alone with two babies who needed to nap. A chance to lie down and often snooze with my little one. And in the evenings, guilt free time scrolling my phone amidst the dinner/bedtime routine and then the clean up grind.

My child was safe, happy and warm in my arms with all their needs being met.

With my first baby I tried following a sleep routine to get her in the habit of 12 hour nights by three months old. A 12 hour night didn’t happen until she was way over 18 months. I couldn’t follow the advice, it went agains all my mothering instincts: “let baby feed for 40 minutes, otherwise they’ll be hungry and wake up sooner” My child wouldn’t feed longer than 15 or 20. Don’t feed to sleep, put baby down relaxed but awake, yeah right. Being separated from her boob wasn’t relaxing for my baby or for me. Leaving the child on the boob was much more relaxing for everyone involved.

Even now, removing my toddler from the boob isn’t relaxing. We’ve cut out the snuggly wake up morning feed, and my mornings are much more accomplished because of it. Next we’ll cut out the night feed, and last of all, the midday nap feed. This one is last because I’m not convinced I’ll be able to get my son to sleep in the day without breastfeeding, but we shall see.

As I write this, I’m relieved I still have breastfeeds left to give, because the thought of stopping completely will mark the end of my baby-mummy years, and that’s sad. It’s also beautiful, as now I have gaps in my days to create and accomplish what I could never have done with two under two, or even two under three. Coming out the other side of extreme baby years is like rediscovering who you are all over again. And I still get to cuddle (and sniff) my children every day. There’ll be no risk of my child pulling out my breast in public. And I’ll be keeping the necklines of all my clothes intact.

This was the first major family outing I’d been on since giving birth to John John. We’d been driving for about half an hour and the kids were both losing it. We stopped for a booby break.

4 surprising ways to get True Rest

So often we hear advice to ‘rest’ but what does that really mean?  I’ve noticed, especially when taking what I think of as physical rest, that I often feel like it goes too quick and I’m not any more energised. 

True rest comes in many forms. 

1 Physical Rest

This is what I most regularly think of when I hear the word rest. Quite often I fantasise about lying on the couch watching netflix for as long as I want. Or even better, lying in my bed reading books, laptop and phone within reach,  teapot at my side, uber eats at my fingertips. And then of course, there’s the holiday style of rest, lying by the pool at the resort, sun on your face. Most importantly of all though, there’s sleep. Adequate sleep. That you need to get every single night. 

I used to consider myself a night owl. What my fuzzy brain struggled to understand at 2pm became clear at 9.00pm and suddenly all my resistance was gone and I could work away. When I would eventually get into bed I’d lie awake for a while, and I’d tell myself because I’m not falling asleep there’s definitely no point in getting to bed earlier. 

But then I discovered that by getting into bed at 9.30, reading for half an hour and turning out the lights strictly at 10pm I’d fall asleep almost immediately. I’d sleep all night long and I’d wake up rested. Absolute game changer. 

A ritual bath is another wonderful way to get some physical rest. Run a bath, add flowers, crystals, magnesium salts, essential oils. Light candles and dot them around the room. Play music. Soak. 

And then of course there’s bodywork and massage therapies. As humans we have a fundamental need for physical touch. Receiving kindness in the form of bodywork therapy heals on several different  levels. 

2. Active Rest

The best way to go about this one is to get into your body. Deeply. Perhaps with exercise, such as a run, yoga poses, breath work, slow and deliberate walks in nature. Wonderful sex. Being present in your body can take you out of your mind in supremely positive way. Have you ever had inspiration hit you right in the throes of some heavy exercise, like in a cycle class? I have. Getting into your body can open up some channels to your higher wisdom, because you’re no longer blocking it with lower vibrational or fear based thoughts. The word Inspire is from the Latin word inspirare meaning ‘to breathe in'

3. Emotional Rest

Sometimes a break from the constant worry and pain we put ourselves through, or our loved ones put us through, is a pure blessing. Life can drag you through the ringer. It’s completely normal to be controlled by our emotions, but it’s not necessary.  And then there’s the tight and restrictive emotional anguish caused by guilt, anger and regret. 

This is where forgiveness practices, gratitude practices and acceptance practices shine their light. Finding peace, even temporary peace, with a situation that has been causing anguish and worry offers immense relief, if only for a short time it’s still worth it. Look our for free meditation podcasts on forgiveness. Practice wild compassion with yourself and others. Come into the present. I love the subtle vibrations of flowers and crystals for helping heal on the emotional sphere. Seek out flowers or rocks that attract you. Sit with them with the intention of relief. Or book a flower essence consultation with a qualified practitioner and get your own personal blend. 

4. Mental Rest

Our inner dialogue can really beat the hell out of us if we leave it unchecked. We are so often our most unforgiving critics. Here forgiveness (of self and others), non-judgement* and again, conscious acceptance practices, can bring happiness. Journalling, with a focus on what you like about yourself, lessons you’ve learnt, and advice to your younger self can really help. Exercise, such as in active rest, is wonderful here. If feeling stressed out and anxiety are common there are many wonderful herbs that can help you boost your resilience and find balance. 

So when you’re feeling worn out consider what kind of rest you could most benefit from. Be kind to yourself and schedule some in. Then you can rock on shining your light and being the beautiful, necessary and important beacon you are with a full cup.

*I loved Gabrielle Bernstein’s book Judgement Detox, for understanding and de-constructing our own judgements (hint: all your judgements about others are a reflection of your own fears or pain). And understanding the judgements of others. 

Womb-Calming Berry Cacao Smoothie with Granola (for that time of the month)

The second day of my cycle and my womb was angry this morning. Usually my period greets me with a hardly bothersome twinge in my womb space that lasts about an hour and then is gone.  

BUT with christmas, two plane trips alone with two kids under 3.5. And then ALL the dysfunction of my family in between. The past cycle has been particularly stressful. My health habits were wanting, a side effect of being back amongst my bloodline amidst the festive season.  More grog, more crappy foods, less exercise.

Experience has told me that ALL OF THIS leads to a crampy sad uterus come the  dark moon.

The craving for chocolate, or Cacao in its raw form, is more than just pleasurable desire at this time of the month. Cacao is a good source of magnesium, a mineral that helps muscles relax as well as about 160 other actions in your body. Therefore it’s wonderful for helping your uterus calm the fuck down. I love the berries for boosting my energy and my insides as well.

Anyway

1 cup of raspberries

1 cup of mixed berries

2 cups of water

1 banana

2 tsp of cacao

1 tablespoon of hazelnut cacao butter

2 tsp of maple syrup/honey or to taste

Blend Blend Blend, sprinkle granola on top. Those granola carbs at bleeding time are delicious.

Other tricks that helped tame the angry womb this morning: Laying in a hip opening yoga pose while I listened to a guided meditation by Dannielle Laporte that placed me deep, deep, deep in a green rainforest of creation. I nodded off towards the end and woke cured.

Fertility: For all the people with heartbreak

It’s national fertility week. Here’s a shout out to the women and couples with heartbreak.   

For the terrible two week wait. Where you wait and hope and believe “this is my month” but then your period arrives, just like all the other times. Your heart sinks.  

When you’re not sure when you ovulate, and the performance anxiety that comes with the pressure.  

Taking yet another pregnancy test. Negative.  

For the losses, all the devastating losses. 

For the expense, those fucking needles. The hope. The disappointment.  

The well meaning acquaintances who ask “when are you having kids”  

the friends that get pregnant at the drop of a hat.  

Infertility is shitty. x 

Sending love.  

Nurturing your feminine spirit in a misogynistic world

Once, sitting on an outside table having a drink and a laugh and chat amongst travelling strangers, I witnessed an assault that was born of nothing other than pure misogyny.

I was 18, and was earning my living and a bed, by doing a bit of cooking and cleaning at a ‘backpackers’ I use the term loosely.

Graham, the owner, was hiring out rooms, mainly to young backpackers in Byron Bay.

On this night however there was myself, my friend Tasman, a 28 year old Australian male, Graham, 52, grey hair and sharky eyes, another person my memory no longer places, and a new arrival, a 27 year old petite, pixie cropped, red head from Sydney. I can’t remember her name, but she was a writer, and she had booked a room for a couple of weeks to concentrate on her writing. She was filled with hope and optimism and self assurance. She spoke with conviction. I was impressed by her. To my 18 year old self she seemed mature and worldly.

We were all chatting, smoking cigarettes, laughing. Getting to know one another.

And then out of the blue, while this pixie-haired vivacious woman expressed her opinion, shark-eyed Graham picked her up by the hair, and threw her like a rag doll against the balcony railing, disgust and fury on his face. She bounced from the railing to the floor, knees buckling.

I screamed at Graham to stop, so did she. It’s a bit of a blur, 16 years ago now, but I ran to a couple of doors to a much friendlier backpackers to use the phone to call the police. Tasman took the victim to his room downstairs and sat with her until she figured out where she was going to go next.

I was shocked. There was nothing in the conversation to provoke an attack like that, particularly from a complete stranger. They weren’t in argument.

I don’t know why Graham attacked that woman. But I can make a few guesses. I believe that shark-eyed Graham felt he was being outdone by this intelligent, beautiful and driven young women,and he was threatened by her.

He didn’t believe she was entitled to her opinions. She was talking, sharing her story and he wanted to silence her. So he used force.

I moved out of shark-eyed Grahams backpackers the next day. He spoke to me in the living area. After a string of derogatory slurs aimed at the assault victim, he threatened me indirectly “I don’t know who rang the cops but if I find out anyones been speaking to them I’m going to …………………” I can’t remember his exact words. He knew it was me of course, this was his way of silencing me. It worked, I didn’t make a statement when the police dropped by and invited me to the station.

This is an extreme example, but all women have been silenced or ignored in our culture in one way or another. We’re spoken over socially, and corporately. We’re judged negatively for speaking with firmness or certitude. We’re seen as less worthy both physically and financially. And it’s complete bullshit.

This is why womens circles are important. This is where we can speak, be heard, not be judged or disregarded. Not be forcefully silenced. And when we sit together, we help heal these long held wounds. And we can overcome them, and in turn help our community overcome them. And little by little, we will heal the world.

The divine feminine is rising. And she is just as worthy as the masculine.

Womens circle is starting this Saturday at The Meeting Place, South Fremantle. Bookings are essential. Send me a message or email. xxx I'm be honoured to sit in circle with you.

Addiction: Are you in a cycle of desire and distraction? Read this:

Life is full of cycles. I like to think we cycle upwards, each time we come around to the start we know a little more, we’ve become a little wiser. We crush it a little better then before. Ideally we ride a spiral of continual improvement.

But obviously this isn’t always the case. I know personally I’m aware of cycles that come up over and over. I know they don’t serve me but there I am, yet again addicted to sugar, drinking to much coffee, staying up way to late, whatever.

Often there is a deep shame about the things we do that we shouldn’t. Yet we do them because we get something out of it, deep in our brains our reward centres are being triggered.

Repeated often enough the behaviour that gets the reward gently turns from compulsive to impulsive. Suddenly we don’t even recognise we’re about to stuff some carbs into our mouths and we do it without thought. The trick is to override the desire, the cravings. Like we need to learn to tolerate them because the outcome where that desire leads us is not serving us.

That’s the thing, what we desire isn’t necessarily what we want.

I have a hunch that talking about these issues out in the open, sharing out stories, becoming aware of where and why we do them, and practising mindfulness will go a long way towards healing unproductive cycles of desire and distraction.

This is exactly what we’re doing in circle. We’re going to sit and share our stories, whatever they are, what’s good, what’s bad, and what we want to be doing better. We’ll be sharing in a sacred, female only, non-judgemental, supportive environment.  The goal is to find more joy through what truly nourishes us, rather then the cheap and easy solution that does you a disservice.

We’re starting on September 8th,

and please send me a message if you have any questions.

naturopath + shiatsu massage

When women gather in circle

A few years ago now, I was visiting my in-law's with Evie, who was then perhaps nine or ten months old. I usually dropped in on them at some point during the week so they could see their Grandaughter.  I sat in the light-filled lounge room as Peter interacted with his granddaughter and Judyth arranged masses of tea cups and saucers on her extended dining table. She was expecting her bookclub within the hour. They had been meeting monthly for over 30 years. We chatted and Evie crawled about. Then the women started to arrive.

They began filling the room in a whirl of colour, warmth and grey hair. There was a buzz of chatter and laughter as old friends joined together yet again. Peter politely escaped to his study.

I witnessed the room fill with wisdom, lifetimes, stories, love and heartbreak.  I noticed a shift in energy that was extraordinary, it felt divine. Something about the pure female presence. There were perhaps 15 women, all in their 70's, coming together to share and chat.

It felt like home.

I realised I yearned for this, this supportive group of women. I was living interstate from my mother, my sisters, my aunty's and all my childhood friends.

Several months later I found a womens circle, it was being held almost an hours drive from my house, but I was happy to make the journey at the time. I got a baby-sitter, popped on an audio book and away I went for a couple of hours. The first freedom I'd had since becoming a mother.

I wasn't really sure what to expect at circle but was pleasantly surprised. All the beautiful women, of all ages, who gathered there had a turn at speaking about whatever we felt like that week. We were all heard and celebrated without judgement. The facilitator, the gorgeous Tracie McFie of Wyld Tribe, led us in meditations and a theme. Sometimes we danced, and at the end we'd all choose a card from a oracle deck that had been arranged around an altar in the centre.

It was healing. At the time I was in my third trimester of pregnancy with John John and notably I had this insight into childbirth through one of the meditation sessions there.

When women come together in support of one another, we begin to heal ourselves. And therefore, by healing ourselves, we begin to heal our families, our communities and the world.

I've had my eyes open but I've noticed a lack of circles available in my own home town. So I've hired a room at The Meeting Place South Freo and I'm running a womens circle starting Saturday September 8th.

My wish is to bring women together in community to support each other through discussing what nourishes us and what doesn't. The focus is to begin to heal negative behaviours and self sabotage.

, I'll be honoured to sit in circle with you.

Pre-conception Care Works

If you knew you could enhance the health of your future children wouldn’t you do it?  

You can. There’s good solid evidence that suggests the health of you and you partner at the time you conceive, while you carry and in the early life of your child has a profound outcome on their lifetime health.

At the age of 30 I wanted to conceive a child but I’d literally spent the past 12 years partying almost every weekend, because, well, I like a good time. My party days were over however and I was willing to do ANYTHING to ensure a healthy pregnancy and baby.

I’ve always been into healthy food, and I was a regular exerciser for years. but I also loved good healthy (read robust) drink on the weekends.

I wanted to undo this damage as much as possible before conceiving. I completed a preconception care program, you can read about it here through this link, and I have now have two gorgeous healthy children to show for it.

Your eggs lay dormant in your ovaries your entire life until it’s their time to ovulate.

It’s only in the three months prior to ovulation that the eggs start to mature. It’s during this critical window that your egg determines whether it’s going to have,  say, 23 pairs of chromosomes for example (the ideal number) instead of an anomaly. Sperm are produced in the two months prior to conception and are easily affected by environmental stressors and toxins. Good levels of nutrition and avoidance of toxins - such as those found in plastics and household chemicals, and oxidative stress from both the mother and the father reduce the risk of miscarriage, and support a full term healthy pregnancy.  This is backed by research.

But there’s more. What if your preconception behaviour helped switch on all the healthy genes? The intelligence genes? The creative genius? The athletic prowess? We don’t know for sure what’s possible, and this stuff is hard to prove. But if you’re as healthy as possible wouldn’t it make sense that the healthiest possible DNA is passed on to your offspring and allowed to thrive?

We know that nutritional deficit or absence of health affects the unborn negatively, so couldn’t the opposite be true to?

What we do know for sure is that preconception care DOES impact the success of conception and supports an uncomplicated full term pregnancy. The nutritional status of the mother, her weight, and the population of her micro biome (her gut bacteria) impact whether the child eventually develops allergies, asthma, obesity, autoimmune disease and autism spectrum disorders. Emerging science associates the fathers age, diet, stress levels and alcohol consumption to the health of their offspring.

Pre-conception care really is the ultimate in preventative medicine. And it’s easy. I show you how in my upcoming online course Make the healthiest baby possible: A four month journey preparing your body to conceive. Sign up for my emails to stay in the loop.  In the meantime keep an eye out on my blog and Facebook live vids for tips on a healthy preconception care lifestyle.

Fertile womb breathing to calm your mind

This is great to spark your innate creativity or a wonderfully relaxing exercise when trying to conceive.

1. Lie or sit comfortably

2. Place your palms on your wombspace

3. Shut your eyes and breath deeply in through the now and out through the mouth

4. Feel your belly rise and fall. Let thoughts pass through your mind, keep coming back to your breath.

5. Visualise breathing the colour orange into your womb.

Continue for as long as you like, but try for at least three minutes to start. The more you stay with this exercise the better you will feel at the end. Much love.

Why I'm quitting wine time

When I went on holidays four months ago now I started a nightly wine habit. At the end of the day with all my time taken by the demands of my children, sipping a glass of wine while I cook dinner gives a consistent and easy ‘break.’ An delightful escape while still in the throes of dinner, bath, bedtime and clean-up. Its dependable, wine doesn’t let me down.  The subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle shift in sobriety feels like a reward for being prevented from thinking in complete sentences or following a thought process through to action by the constant interruptions and demands of toddlers.

But it’s bad for me. It’s so bad for me. the sugar, the useless calories, the inflammation.  I’m sure it’s ageing me, and I’ve become such a snacker. I’ve gained weight to a point where I no longer feel that great about my hips. And definitely not my calves. My kids have started talking about my tummy. My intuition is cloudier, and it’s starting to take me longer to get going in the morning. I don’t want this anymore.

I know, from experience that once I abstain for a couple of weeks I won’t ever think about it or miss it. But it hasn’t been easy to stop. I open a bottle and have one, maybe two glasses, Andy has one or two, and then there’s still plenty left for the next night and even the night after that. It becomes a nightly habit so easily.

I might go two or three days without wine most weeks. After this short break it feels like wine is a non-issue and rather fun, so I or my husband get another bottle and then we have another couple of nights supply. The habit is fed. It’s a subtle addiction cycle.

The physiology of addiction generally means a release of neurotransmitters such as GABA and dopamine in a rush that is mildly to strongly euphoric. And then in the absence and lack of the neurotransmitter the cravings come. 'Have that substance again so you can feel good’ Your brain and body calls out to you. It’s a cycle, an unnecessary cycle that keeps you trapped always wanting more.

I need to wade through the discomfort with grace and elegance like a dancing crane, according to a reading of my Kuan Yin oracle* cards today. Wading through the discomfort is most definitely necessary.

The challenge is leaning into the discomfort instead of away from it with yet another glass of wine. It takes is a willingness to get to the other side. When in those moments of discomfort if I just allow myself to be there feeling it (oh my god the kids are driving me crazy…) and experience that it’s really not that bad.  It’s bearable.  I have to keep my own promise to myself by choosing not to pour a glass.

With some patience and focus the cravings will disappear, the habit will be forgotten and I won’t even think about it.

My desire to do better is divinely guided.

The secret to excellent health

When 'The Secret' came out 10 years or so ago my colleagues at my office job used to make fun of it. “Oh yeah, I want that diamond ring…look, theres one on the floor”

This documentary, now available on Netflix, sensationalised the concept of The law of attraction, and focused on material objects as the focus.

This is a tricky subject to approach. In many respects it sounds too good to be true. The law of attraction sounds impossible in a universe built on randomness and chance.

However I don’t believe this is a universe built on randomness and chance.   I’m sharing this today because in my experience, the law of attraction works. As a health practitioner, I feel I’d be doing a disservice not to talk about this.

The law of attraction isn’t just about dreaming up a perfect house and a flush bank account, it encompasses everything. Your relationships, your health, your experiences, the people you meet.

What we focus on becomes our reality. 

The trick is learning how to focus on what we want, not on what we don’t want. A practice much harder then it sounds.

This practice of deliberate focus and gratitude are interwoven components of the good life. The life you want to live.

No matter how much effort you go to, how many long walks and special diets.  if in your head you are battling with bad health, bad health is what you’ll have.

Instead embrace the good health you have. You have a bad hip, concentrate on the feeling in your good one, or in your pain free toes.

 In debilitating conditions this takes a masterful amount of self control. I’m not there (yet), we’re all learning, we’re all on the path. This is something that takes practice.

 When sick we focus on the feeling of the symptoms. It hard not to when it’s right there in your face. The pain, the discomfort, the disability. Instead try and focus on what’s going right for you right now.

The other night I had a tickle in my throat, my son has been coughing for a couple of weeks. Maybe I’d caught his bug. Instead of concentrating on the tickle and slight cough that was developing, I tried hard to focus on the times in between, where my breathing was easy, my nose was clear. Where I felt healthy, normal and comfortable.

The next morning I was better. My cough didn’t return the following night, though I had a slight sore throat in the evening again. .I’ve healed. I’ve had to blow my nose a couple of times, but of much and I’m not uncomfortable at all.

Over the two days I also chomped down a couple of doses of a herbal immune support supplement including echinacea, withania, andrographis and mushrooms to boost my immune system. And took a load of vitamin C and zinc. You have to take action if you want your desires to manifest. 

According to the book Money and the Law of Attraction by Jerry and Esther Hicks,  the best way to practice positive thinking is to upgrade your thoughts.

So if you have a thought that makes you feel bad or defeated, try for another thought that makes you feel slightly better, and then another thought that makes you feel slightly better again.

This was me the other night:  Oh no my throat hurts and I’m coughing. I hope this doesn’t develop and hang around for weeks.

To:  I’m not coughing right now this is good

To: I feel so relaxed, comfortable and well.

Do you see how being very much being in the moment makes these thought upgrades possible. In the above scenario - the one I lived the other night. I would cough a few moments later, but I brought my thoughts back to how well I feel in the moments I wasn’t coughing, and kept this up until I fell asleep.

This is not always easy, but all you can do is your best.

So what do you want to attract into your life?

Focus on feeling connected with your partner, your children. Focus on the love and respect you have for them. Focus on how well you feel, and all the things your body does right. Focus on the abundance you have available to you, the pay deposited in your bank account, the savings accumulating, the extreme comfort you live in.

And what you focus on will multiply. Not necessarily in a physical sense, but through your perception.You will perceive more of the good stuff.  

I highly recommend some further reading, such as the books by Esther and Jerry Hicks.

Marianne Williamson The Law of Divine Compensation.

Author Pam Grout has written a couple of books setting up experiments using the Law of Attraction. I haven’t read these but they’ve been sell outs so they might be fun play with.

Watch 'The Secret' on Netflix, there’s also a book of the same name.

Have you had a good experience with the law of attraction? Please share your story in the comments below.

Blessings

Spiced Root Vegetable Shepherds Pie

Aka Ignite Your Earthly Passions Shepherds Pie  

The beetroot in this pie blends through the carrot and complimets the lamb wonderfully. It’s just the colour you want to see when you sink the serving spoon into the white golden crust of this crowd pleaser.  It’s also a fabulous way to get vegetables into children and husbands (or wives).

I had guests over for dinner this last full moon on Saturday night just gone. It was a full moon in Taurus was a moon for passion, so say the astrologers.

I thought it would be fun to make this pie with the intention of heightening our earthly passions in following the energy of the moon. I served this with kale sautéed in garlic with avocado and pumpkin seeds. The leafy greens, the root vegetables and the wonderful lamb has a wonderful earthy energy, keeping us grounded. Adding in the circulatory stimulant and anti-inflammatory spices, coupled with the mineral rich lamb and antioxident packed root vegetables we have both a physically and spiritually nourishing dinner.

Spiced Root Vegetable Shepherds Pie

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 500 grams lamb mince
• 1 clove garlic
• 2 teaspoons ginger, grated
• half teaspoon cumin
• half teaspoon coriander
• half teaspoon cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons ras el hanout
• 4 carrots, grated
• 2 beetroot, grated
• handful dried cranberries
• one third cup pistacio nuts , toasted
• 1 tablespoon honey
• one half a lemon, juiced
• 25 grams unsalted butter, melted, cooled
• 1 - 2whole cauliflower

Heat the oil in skillet over medium heat. Add the lamb and cook, breaking with a wooden spoon until browned, about 5 - 6 minutes. Add the garlic, ginger and spices. Season with salt and pepper. After a minute add the grated carrot and beetroot, cranberries, pistachios, honey and lemon juice. Cook, stirring for a few more minutes. When the carrot and beetroot has softened turn off the heat. Preheat oven to 190 deg C.

Steam the chopped cauliflower for about 10 minutes. Remove from heat, places into a bowl with the butter. Mash or puree, whatever you prefer. Spread the cauliflower mash over the lamb mixture, covering completely. Steam the chopped cauliflower for about 10 minutes. Remove from heat, place into a bowl with the butter. Mash or puree, whatever you prefer. Spread the cauliflower mash over the lamb mixture, covering completely.

Place in oven for 35 minutes, until the top is golden. Serve.

We ate this yummy pie all up and I wasn't quite quick enough to capture an image of the finished product in all of her magnificence. Instead I'll leave you with an image of my kitchen altar, see on the circular marble platter below. Here the altar is hanging out on my back deck while I meditated on Saturday afternoon. She came inside for the meal preparation though, and there she stays.

A love/non-love relationship with tandem feeding...okay mostly non-love

I fell into tandem feeding by accident. Gorgeous little John John, now 3 months old took us by surprise when those two little lines appeared on the pregnancy test. Evie was only 10 months at the time.  

My doctor, my mother, and pretty much everyone else told me to wean. I took their advice on board and fully intended on weaning at least 3 months before the due date. I hadn’t heard of tandem feeding a toddler and a newborn, had never even considered that would be a thing. But there I was with a baby and pregnant with another. I certainly wasn’t ready to stop breastfeeding yet. It seemed unfair to force Evie to wean due to unplanned circumstances. I went searching for nutritional information for pregnancy and breastfeeding concurrently and found none. What I did find was an article about tandem feeding and it seemed to be encouraged. I was relieved. I felt like I had options.

The months passed, Evie never indicated she was ready to give up breastfeeding just yet. Breastfeeding was her downtime, her comfort, her relaxation at the end of a long day. It was quiet time bonding with mummy. Breastfeeding was cuddly and close. We both loved it.

 As the pregnancy progressed my milk supply dwindled. Evie’s interest in feeding gradually declined accordingly. She still enjoyed a feed to get off to sleep, or whenever she was feeling discomfort, or just felt like a snuggle. We got to the stage where Evie didn’t seem to mind if she fed or not. Some nights she’d go off to sleep without feeding at all.

But then at 36 weeks my colostrum was in and Evie, now 18 months, suddenly became booby obsessed. She loved it. The due date got closer and I didn’t mind the breastfeeding so much, I thought it would help bring on labour. I realised it was now too late to wean her. Even if I did wean as soon as she saw her little brother feeding she’d want in.

Evie didn’t come meet John John until he was two days old. I’d been missing her terribly. When she saw me sitting to feed her little brother of course she wanted some too. She hopped up on my knee and grabbed my spare breast. It was a juggle and awkward to feed them both, but we managed. We have some gorgeous photos of the moment.

My earliest memory is of my mother breastfeeding my sister, 20 months younger than me. I wanted some too, but Mum refused. I told myself before John John was born that I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. Unfortunately by the time I’d been home 24 hours I’d rejected Evie’s requests for breastfeeding more times than I could count.

Once home the reality of feeding two children of different ages set in. I was producing milk for a newborn. Yummy fatty deliciously sweet milk and Evie loved it. She wanted boobies all the time. More than was necessary or practical. Sometimes I’ve been sitting down for a long time feeding John John. Sometimes he’s asleep in his bassinet and I can finally do a bit of housework or whatever in the few minutes until he wakes up. Sometimes she just doesn’t need it, and I want some space.  And so the tantrums begin.

Tandem feeding is much harder than I expected, and much harder than any breastfeeding support information page or online mother’s forum let on too. I was managing the newborn, who was as floppy and helpless as a rag doll, trying to balance him one arm, as he learned how to latch properly, and managing my now giant looking toddler Evie on the other arm. She was curious of her brother and had trouble keeping her hands to herself, not yet old enough to understand that she might be hurting the baby, or introducing germs with her poking and prodding. When I put her down after she’d had way over and above what a normal feed was for her to focus on the newborn she screamed the house down, looking at me from the floor with tears in her eyes and shaking her head.. It was a nightmare. I felt tremendous guilt for having another child, and loss that my ‘just us two’ relationship with my daughter had been interrupted.

If only she would eat some food… Food has been given the flick for breastmilk. I’ve been trying to offer foods she likes, and restricting breastfeeding until she’s had a decent meal. She usually doesn’t manage more than a couple of bites. After 7 weeks I was starting worry. I don’t want to deplete her nutritionally. My sore muscles and achy teeth told me the breastfeeding was depleting me. I up my supplement intake. My symptoms improve.

I love breastfeeding my toddler when it’s just us two. We snuggle together and have a little chat and a giggle about our day, eventually she’s had her fill or goes off to sleep.

There’s times when both children are screaming, I sit on the couch, or lie on my bed, give them a boob each and then there’s silence. Sweet wonderful silence for 5 - 10 minutes. I can even hold my phone in my hand and entertain myself during these quiet feeding moments.

My favourite tandem feeding moments though, are when baby John John loses the nipple, and Evie reaches over and guides it back into his mouth for him. It’s the sweetest thing, a sister helping a brother out.  And when John John catches sight of Evie across the other side of my chest and gives her a big gorgeous smile it melts my heart.

Realistically I see no easy way out of tandem feeding in the near future. Sure I can hardline it and cut her off, but she’ll be reminded of the goodness of breastfeeding every time little John John cries out for a meal. It’d be like taking away a smoker’s cigarettes and then lighting up in front of them 8 times a day. But “No - you can’t have any.”

My instinct is that breastfeeding serves her emotional wellbeing. The times when I tell Evie no to boobies she becomes incredibly enraged. I can actually use my boobs as a bribing tool. “Do this for me and you can have some boobies” not that I want to bribe her, but you know, desperate times call for desperate measures.

So I’m feeling stuck with this, waiting for a green light to tuck my boob away for the last time ... as far as the toddlers concerned anyway. I’ve been waiting for this light for about six months now and it’s just not coming. It’s now clear it would have been much easier to wean when my milk supply naturally dropped off during pregnancy…at around 14 or 15 months old. She would have missed it for a few days and then it would all be forgotten about. Now she’s tasted the sweet nectar that is newborn mummy booby goodness, she’s not giving it up in a hurry. It must be like ice-cream, all sweet and fatty.

A new resolve to start a loving-kindness weaning process was shot down a couple of weeks ago by what I initially thought was severe teething with lots of clinginess and boobies required. It soon became apparent it was actually hand, foot and mouth disease making her so miserable. Everything she put in her mouth was hurting and her response was to eat nothing. On day 5 of no food whatsoever breastfeeding had become a true hero, offering not only nutrition, hydration and comfort but an immune boost as well. I was grateful I have such good breastmilk to help her through that week of horrors.

Her health is now restored however and I don’t feel tandem feeding is sustainable. A 21-month old toddler surviving primarily off my breast milk is not healthy for either of us.  I could be waiting months or even a couple of years for her to self-wean.  And so I tentatively embark on a weaning journey. I anticipate lots of struggle, lots of resistance. Many a time when the small baby will be woken and disturbed and resented by a toddler screaming for boobies. It’s going to suck and perhaps be one of the greatest battles of will I’ve ever known. We’ll get there in the end.

Mummy Pep Talk: Be the Hunter, not the Hunted

The Sunday before last: John John was a week home from the hospital. Home life had been resembling somewhat of a shit storm (sibling rivalry was large). It was midday and both the children slept, and I took the opportunity to contemplate the new moon that was two days prior. I went outside and managed to arrange an impromptu altar with a rose quartz crystal, a candle, oracle cards and some closed eyes. It was heaven.  

I pulled a card: Be The Hunter Not the Hunted (Sacred Rebels Oracle, Alana Fairchild)

The crux of the message: Don’t let the needs of others get in the way of your own journey and self-care. This message was so relevant, so needed at that time, so needed EVERY DAY as a mother. When Evie was born I lost myself for months, understandably. She was so new, I was anxious. I didn’t even use a day planner or make any to do lists for half a year. Her priorities and needs were number one of course, the rest of the world, including me could wait. That was my choice.

With John John things are much quieter. I’m taking the new baby in my stride. My to do’s are getting done. My day planner utilised. I’ve got this. I’m inspired.

I see opportunity to create and contribute. Self-expression and indulgence seem possible whereas with Evie it was almost unimaginable. As a first time mother I was shocked at the lack of time I had to myself. It took a while to adjust.

In contrast, now I accept that there is no time. I haven’t meditated since I gave birth and I’m totally ok with that. In accepting this situation of mothering two very young children means accepting their constant needs, interruptions and interaction. And in amidst this unrelenting noise and whirlwind of childcare the moments of peace and space to myself become more noticeable when they arise.

So I commit to staying present and enjoy these freedoms when they come up. To remembering who I am by doing stuff I love, reading stuff I like and grooming myself to a standard that makes me feel good. By asking for help when I need it and offering help when I can give it. Yeah mummy-hood, bring it on.

And when it gets really hard, I try to remember: With the biggest challenges  comes the opportunity for the biggest lessons and potential for incredible growth both spiritually and creatively. Phew.

Mother Earth. Fear of Childbirth.

My belly grows bigger by the day. Nursing my 17 month old on my lap has officially become uncomfortable most of the time. The weeks rush forward and my new baby will be born not quite a month after Christmas.  

Preparation for this second baby is different from last time. A first baby is a luxury of endless hours devoted to daydreaming, rubbing your belly and connecting with your unborn. I'm finding this second pregnancy occupied with the care of my first, a chatty little toddler now but still very much in need of mummy for most of the day, and very much my focus.

Experience is both a blessing and a curse. Leading up to Evie's birth I was positive, informed and confident. Leading up to this one I’ve been hopeful, brave, but admittedly, terrified. Choosing not to focus on the terror I’ve been ignoring it. I’ve collected a couple of resources to help ‘psych myself up’ for the impending labour and birth but have yet to read them. There’s a few gremlins hanging out from my last labour experience that I’d rather not think about.

Last week in my women circle* I was introduced to the energy of Pachamama, an ancient Andean fertility Goddess who presides over planting, harvests, mountains and causes Earthquakes when she’s pissed.  A Goddess I was unfamiliar with, but like Gaia, with Earth Mother as her description, I got the vibe.

I lay down and was led through a meditation, an invocation of Pachamama, Mother Earth. With an ethereal steel drumbeat in the background, random thoughts flitted through my mind. After a time I felt the Earth Mother in me. I saw myself in the forest, rock walls and greenery and trees surround. I was giving birth, trusting my body, trusting the process. I had this. I knew exactly what to do. And I was not alone. Bearing down, I had the support of millions of women before me who had laboured. They were all there standing behind Pachamama, who was holding my hand. She was squatting down next to me as I squatted, helping me deliver my child.  This was the mothers path: Holding the beautiful, breathing, heart-beating child in my arms. The one that I had birthed.

Afterwards, once the drumming had subsided and we returned back to the present, I was a new woman. I had courage in my heart. Real courage, confidence and honour for my body. This was going to be ok. I could do this, of course I could birth this child.  My perception had changed to see that I could go into this labour with trust in my heart. I so desperately needed that trust. In connecting to my inner Mother Earth I’ve witnessed trust in my body and the process of childbirth. And if there’s any trouble I have a frekking private obstetrician and the wonderful midwives at Murdoch SJOG to help me out. And drugs. I have the option of drugs IF I need them. Most importantly though, I have the Earth Mother, inside of me, as we all do, and she’s all over it. Thank Goddess I found her.

Artwork Pachamamita by Loreto Contreras Herrera

Motherhood and spirituality, it's tough but worth it

It’s a challenge balancing my creative desires with mothering. So much of what I was before is lost behind mountains of laundry, feeds and cleaning up after my precious precious child who is the very salt of my earth.  

This time of year, when the seasons change the air feels magic. Can you feel it. A feeling that makes me long to be more connected then I am. to celebrate life more.

Today I gathered Evie in my arms and before going out for some afternoon chores decided to go into the garden, breathe some fresh air.

I acknowledged the elements of each direction and blessed our afternoon with smooth sailing. I blessed our afternoon that all may be well. I gave open gratitude for the joy and abundance and health we enjoy in our family.

My afternoon was indeed smooth. It was like a running green light. Best of all though I felt connected. I felt like myself. I was whole and happy and open to more wholeness. My afternoon became effortless. This is a stark contrast to days where I don’t make this time and I feel not quite fulfilled.

Mornings of motherhood can quickly turn to afternoons and then become evenings where I just flop on the couch, overjoyed to have some time to rest, but to lazy or just plain exhausted to do anything that really feeds my soul.

It feels like effort to make some sacred space and connect, but I invariably find that after I do make the effort I am so much more energised. My happiness levels are up and inner peace more prominent. I know how I prefer to be.

A birth story

My first pregnancy was a much loved and wanted experience. I wanted my baby Evie so badly that my pregnancy, although progressing perfectly, was often fraught with anxiety that something might go wrong.

I’d been participating regularly in a pregnancy forum and read all kinds of horror stories. I was anxious despite not having ever had a miscarriage, despite perfect blood pressure and a baby that was growing at exactly the rate expected for dates.

And then at 34 weeks at my ob appointment, it became apparent that my baby had barely grown in the last two weeks. Barely at all.  My perfect pregnancy and my perfectly healthy baby were suddenly in jeopardy. The doctor checked blood flow to the placenta and although that seemed ok, she still seemed concerned, she referred me for an ultrasound. I fought back tears as I left the office and paid the account at the reception desk. The rest of the day I was unable to do anything except lie on the couch and google small birthweight babies. Friends and relatives told me not to worry, that maybe she was just small. That’s what I felt too. I tried tuning in to the little mystery in my womb and she told me

not to worry Mum

.

I tried not worry too but I couldn’t help it.

My baby shower the following weekend was fun until as the last guest was leaving it occurred to me that I hadn’t felt the baby move for

hours.

 Panic set in. I sat on the couch wondering if I should make the trip to emergency, hands on tummy, beside myself in worry. And then a movement, and another. I could relax again. Sort of.

The ultrasound showed a healthy baby with healthy blood flow. By the next appointment at 36 weeks she had grown the expected amount for the time frame, but had now dropped from 50th percentile to 10th percentile because of the lost two weeks. Weekly appointments from there on in showed consistent growth.

I attended a pre-natal intensive with a local doula and midwife. She spoke of how she breathed out her last two babies and instilled in me a firm belief that I could have this perfect drug free birth. I identified as one of those chicks, the ones that have spiritual and drug free home births, use doulas and experience orgasmic labours, even though I was using an obstetrician and a private hospital, and my husband didn’t like the idea of a doula at the birth. He wanted it to be just us two. My mother had five babies, drug free. My younger sister had two babies drug free. I was going to do this as close to nature as possible. I had this.

Pregnant, my birth story

I started acupuncture to help with a timely and well positioned birth. I’d been practicing maternity yoga. I started a little part-prep herbal to bring on a timely labour. I’d been attached to my babies due date, the 21 June. A solstice birthday like mine, the 21 December. I loved that my baby was due on the opposite solstice, it felt so right, we were meant to be.

My doctor suggested an induction at 39.5 weeks. She thought it was the best option as because now my baby was small there was greater risk. My heart sank. I’d imagined going into labour at home, having a lovely relaxing bath, woman-powering through contractions and not going into the hospital before I was well on my way to being fully dilated.  Once there I would breathe the baby out unmedicated and high on labour love.

I asked why? She said that there was a greater risk of stillbirth (horror) with small babies allowed to gestate longer then the due date. This was too much for my already anxious mind. She was the expert after all. I couldn’t bare to wait out what could be a labour that was two weeks late, freaking out that my baby would be born dead.

I asked if we could wait for the due date. Falling on a Sunday, the doctor agreed I would come in Sunday night for examination, and then be induced on the Monday morning of the 22.

I’m not really an astrology kind of girl but heres another thing that bothered me about inductions: Because her due date was the 21st on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer. Had I have chosen to induce on at the 39 weeks my doctor initially suggested I would have made her a Gemini. No I couldn’t do that, I had to let the Gemini ship sail before any inductions were going to take place. Besides, I wanted her to be a solstice baby, like me.

I was quietly confident I would go into labour naturally anyway and she would be born on her due date, the 21 June. I was doing all the things. Acupuncture, bouncing up and down on the bouncy ball. I had my herbal, I was meditating, doing yoga, taking ridiculously long walks even though I had a pain in my hip with each step from 37 weeks. I was rubbing clary sage on my belly. I created and practiced ritual for a healthy timely birth. I’d read JuJu’s Sundin’s book 'Birth skills' about the art of distracting oneself from the physical pain of labour and had created a birth poster with  affirmations and images of flowers opening to aid me in the birth.

The Friday two days prior to the due date rolled around. Slowly. I went for my last acupuncture appointment - my practitioner didn’t work on Saturdays. I felt it wouldn’t be enough. I made a final appointment for Saturday morning with another acupuncturist closer to home. I was determined to go into labour.

We went out to dinner, Andy and I, that Saturday night. We had a delicious cosy meal by a roaring open fireplace with the weather wild and wooly outside. we were home by 8.00pm and in bed not long after. I fell asleep lying on a towel in case my water broke,  expecting to be awoken by contractions in the wee hours of the morning.

My birth story

When I woke up to daylight streaming through my window I was terribly disappointed I hadn’t gone into labour the night before. In retrospect I should have been happily lazing in bed taking in the wonder of being able to sleep a whole night without interruption and wake up at leisure. A luxury that I still have not yet managed to experience almost 14 months later.

I was booked into hospital for 4.30 that afternoon. The time rolled around without so much of a hint of impending labour.   We packed our bags in the car, weather still wet and wild. Nature was well and truly reflecting the changes that were taking place in our lives that day. I didn’t really believe I would go through with the induction. I thought I’d find the strength and clarity to back out at the last minute. Andy and I drove to hospital, it was just us, like it always had been, for the past 11 years we’d been together.  It didn’t feel like I’d be returning home with a baby.  We hadn’t even picked up a the baby capsule yet.

A beautiful statue of the Virgin Mary was presiding over the end of the reception desk at the birth ward and I was immediately comforted. I took a photo of her.

Virgin Mary

Another patient had arrived with her husband and was first in line to be served. She had bags and bags of stuff at her feet. The Reception nurse wasn’t able to find her induction booking. We all stood around in shifty silence. What kind of operation were they running here? A call to her doctor confirmed she was meant to be there.

Then my turn. Thankfully they were expecting me. They took me straight to a labour suite, with a single cold bed, plenty of medical equipment and a teeny awkwardly placed television. I lay on the bed and waited for my doctor to see me. Being Sunday night she had brought her baby into work with her, a giant 10 month old baby. Of course the baby was not literally giant, just average I’m sure, but even a 12 week old baby looks huge to a first time pregnant mother. She was a giant looking baby.

The doctor checked my cervix while the baby was minded out of the room. Hard and closed. It was a strong one.

She explained that they would use a prostaglandin gel to soften my cervix overnight and I would be induced in the morning. After the doctor left I started to cry.

I explained the the midwife that I hadn’t wanted an induction.

There was no inner strength rising up to say STOP! I will have a natural birth.

Instead of a beautifully orchestrated miracle of nature playing it’s symphony as I birthed my baby into the world, I was lying on a cold hard bed having my completely inactive vagina and hard cervix prodded with cold hands and looking at a medical induction.

So why not an induction

It would hurt more

the cascade of intervention - one thing leads to another and a c-section is all the more likely.

The syntocinon would interfere with the natural hormonal cascade of childbirth, including restricting the natural pain killer oxytocin that also creates the falling in love euphoria experienced once the child is birthed. I didn’t want to interfere with this natural miracle.

Yet here I was, interfering. The gel was applied.

Unable to hold back the tears, a midwife coming in to check on me asked what was wrong. I told her I didn’t want to have an induction and she went to find the obstetrician.

My doctor came in.

Don’t be sad

, she said.

You’ll have your baby tomorrow. This is a happy time. You should be excited.

Next thing I had been served dinner. My husband hung out for not very long. Leaving to go home to Sunday night television and his own bed. I tried to watch TV, and scrolled Facebook on my phone.  Started to feel mild contractions at about 8.00. They came regularly, perhaps every half an hour at first. I managed to fall asleep by 11pm but was awake by 1pm as the contractions were getting stronger. By 3.30 labour was definitely in full swing. I called Andy. “it’s happening babe. He arrived, we were both wildly excited. Pacing around the room, bouncing up and down on the fit ball. Trying out yoga stretches. Focusing on my affirmations.

Birth poster with affirmations

As they do, the contractions got more and more intense. I tried the shower. Got out, some more yoga stretches. Fit balling. Repeat. By about 5am I started to vomit. Anything that was in my digestive system came back out again.  Vomiting from pain? Vomiting because Evie was compressing my digestive system? Vomiting because of the adrenaline flooding my body?  I’m not sure but it was horrific. I’d vomit at the peak of the contractions, and it kept happening, until there was nothing left, nothing. Time went on, the vomiting subsided. I sipped some water. It was brought up with the next contraction, which by now seemed only seconds apart.

The exhaustion set in, I was so dehydrated, I was losing strength. The pain was worse and worse.  I began to understand that my baby was posterior. She must be for me to be feeling like this. No one had felt and checked her position for me the previous day, or if they did they didn’t tell me about it. She had been posterior at my ob appointment 5 days earlier. I didn’t give it much thought, optimistic she would turn. Now with contractions in full swing it was glaringly obvious this was a posterior birth. It just hurt

that

much. Contractions seemed to last a minute with only a few seconds in between, like 5 seconds, I’m not joking, they were back to back. All the labour literature I’d read said 'there is a 1 to 2 minute rest in between contractions.' Absolute horse shit.

By about 9am the midwife put a drip in my arm, bypassing my digestive system so I could get some hydration into me. I started to feel better. By now about 6 hours had passed since that 3.30am phone call.  I was offered gas and I took it. The gas made me feel dizzy and a bit out of it, but didn’t really touch the sides of the contractions. Once I’d started inhaling that gas I couldn’t give it away again, it became a crutch. My coping strategies were lost and replaced with this lightweight drug. My affirmation poster was pretty much forgotten about. My doctor came to see me as I sucked on the gas machine and blared out noises similar to a distressed cow, eyes watery and wild. She seemed to look at me with a disturbed look on her face. Possibly my imagination.

My cervix was checked. With contractions like this I must be at least 7cm along, surely.

"You’re 3 cm dilated.” What the fuck? I could die like this. I can’t even drink fucking water.

Dr Chua told me she was going to break my water. I closed my eyes. I knew that sac of amniotic fluid was helping cushion me from some pain and my baby from some trauma. I had no strength to argue, maybe it would make about go faster. I agreed. She broke it, it hurt as she was breaking it. I felt the fluid rush out, and immediately my contractions got worse, more grating.

I knew I needed an epidural.

I said this to the doctor. She said, “hmmm I think it’s a good idea” and asked the midwife the call the anaesthetist. He would be half an hour. Another half hour of excruciating posterior contractions. Fucking agony. I used the best of my mental capabilities to get through it.My husband was shocked that this was all so difficult and was clearly uncomfortable. I kept asking him to rub my back,

The midwife had been asking me to try and do a wee. I had absolutely no desire to wee and nothing came out when I made an attempt. Doing a wee was the last thing on my mind

As the epidural was administered, I sat leaning forward on the bed doing everything in my power not to move while a hideous contraction wracked my body. Thankfully no nerves were severed. I was given a dose just big enough to cut some pain, I was still able to walk to the bathroom and back and try for that wee. Still nothing, no desire to wee. The midwife knew my bladder must be full.

Everything quietened down once the epidural kicked in. I could lie on my side on the bed. “you can get some sleep” No there was no sleeping. Even though the pain was mostly gone. I could still feel the contractions rolling through my body, and I was still uncomfortable, and probably quite traumatised.

Andy asked if I minded if he went home for a shower. “are you kidding? NO”

He had a shower in the ensuite.

Meanwhile the midwife inserted a catheter to release my bladder. There was an awful lot of wee’s to release.

Within an hour the epidural was starting to wear off a bit and the contractions seemed to be getting more intense.

The midwife checked my cervix and told me I was 10cm and was ready to push. Only an hour after the epidural, 1.5 hours after being told I was 3cm.

Evie’s head had been pressing against my urethra not allowing any fluid to pass. However my full bladder was preventing her from progressing through the birth canal.

So once I had the epidural

I had the catheter

My bladder was emptied

Baby moves down canal

cervix opens

Viola, you’re pushing

Without the epidural and that IV drip who knows what would have happened. Labour could have been hours and hours longer. It could have been days. Severely dehydrated suffering hideous back to back contractions. I’m not really sure I would would have survived this birth without modern medicine. Sadly I’m not joking.

I tried and tried to push without an awareness of where I should be pushing, caused by the epidural. The midwife showed me with her fingers, and I asked her to keep them there so I could focus on that point.

A hour of pushing, we made some progress.

“I feel hair” said the midwife.

For some reason the pushing was the most terrifying part of the whole ordeal. My body was open, there was so much pain, was it getting worse? I couldn’t really get a good sense of what was going on. The epidural was wearing off. I was terrified, as well as being mentally and physically exhausted. I wanted this to be over.

My doctor came back. She asked if I wanted some help. Yes, I wanted some help. She asked me to lie on my back, propped up by the bed, legs in stirrups, the least favourable position for birthing naturally.  She got the vacuum, and vacuumed my baby out. There were a few contractions more, the head was out, she was 180 deg posterior, starting straight up. As posterior as they come.

The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her neck, three times. “Andy”  Said the doctor, if you want to cut the cord you better come a cut it now.” Another disappointment, no delayed cord cutting for Evie and I. There wasn’t enough umbilical length to birth the body of the baby without cutting it, and of course there were the strangulation implications, not so much a problem while the placenta is still attached and working.

Andy snipped the cord from Evies neck, her body still in mine.

She was out with the next push. At 12:50pm on the 22 of June. And this is where I cry.

Evie is born

They put her on my chest, wide eyed, but still. Breathing in tiny little gasps, not proper breathing. She was there, quiet. Come on I said to her, rubbing her back, or giving a little tap.

“She’s not a good colour” said the midwife. They took her to the infant incubator, put oxygen on her, called the paediatrician. He was in pretty quickly. he was working on her with the nurse at the incubator. I listened for a cry. He got her making a few sounds. Cry like sounds, but not continuous crying. The Obstetrician was stitching me up. She said “you’re not saying anything” to me. I was listening. Listening for my baby’s cry, listening for the words and body language of the paediatrician and midwives, listening for inner guidance about what was happening.

I asked for Evie  back. They brought her back to my chest, Only for a few more moments. Her breathing was still not right, she wasn’t moving, much,  her eyes were open. "We better take her into the special care nursery” said the paediatrician.

The midwife said on my right, like an angel

Her heartbeat is good

and for this reason I didn’t panic. I was calm, and I knew she’d be alright.  Andy was more concerned however and followed our baby out of the room.

I birthed the placenta, after an injection of syntocinin. The only syntocinin I had that day, thankfully. The prostaglandin gel had been enough to set me off into labour.

The midwife finished up what she was doing and left the room.

Everybody left.

I was lying there alone, a mere 20 minutes after the biggest event of my whole life.  No baby in my arms, no husband at my side.

The loneliest I have ever felt.

Then miraculously my mother called. Mum I just had a baby. She hadn’t known I was in labour. We had decided not to tell anyone that we were going in for an induction because I felt like it would be pressure. It was difficult telling her I’d had an epidural, as my mother had a negative view of them. I was relieved to perceive no judgement on her behalf.

Andy returned with a photo of our little girl and reported she was fine, but they’re keeping her in to watch her. She had some movement in her left arm but it isn’t behaving like the right arm. She had a birthmark on her right eye. Shaped like a little triangle. A bit David Bowie.

Evie's first portrait, newborn

I asked Andy to get me a coffee. I hadn’t had one for over 24 hours. He went and got them. We drank them, just us two in celebration of getting through the labour. We debriefed, we were used to it being just us after all, and because our baby was still a stranger to me, that coffee between just as two was our last as just us.

Then it was time to go see little Evie. I was anxious I hadn’t had my hour of skin to skin after the birth. That she hadn’t latched on to my breast. That the time with mother and baby together one-on-one after birth just didn’t happen for me. I was also worried about her health. She’d been what the doctors called ‘stunned.’ Not a medical term by any means. No one explained what they actually meant by ‘stunned. And perhaps they didn’t really know themselves.   She wasn’t quite present. It was like the lights were on but no one was home. Even for a new born.

I was wheeled into the special care nursery and there she was. My baby in just a little T-shirt and nappy. Tiny on a giant infant incubator, bright lights in her face, exposed, alone. She was jumping and screaming at every noise. My heart broke that she was alone and scared while my spirit was delighted to meet with hers in that moment. I was a curious and inadequate-feeling mother, as I hadn’t yet nursed her or taken care of her at all.

She had a sore head, they told me, from the vacuum. Indeed she had a cone head with a red circle on the top.

My first instinct was to brush her forehead. But she cried out and Andy told me “she has a sore head” I immediately felt stupid, but I shouldn’t have as this is a very normal first instinct for a mother.

The special care nurse encouraged skin to skin and trying to get Evie to latch on.

I sat there and she was placed under my hospital gown. There was no interest in my nipples, still stunned. “Is she alright? I asked the nurse,  contemplating the possibility I have a brain damaged child and feeling completely prepared to take that on.

I held her there on my chest, and she slept. I too became very sleepy and even began to nod off for micro sleeps. After an hour Andy held her for a little while, she was much more alert, and despite not latching on, seemed to be acting more like a normal baby. They told me to get into my room and have my dinner. The last time the doctor had assessed her before our skin to skin, they had thought they might keep her in overnight as she wasn’t improving to their liking.

I was wheeled into my room and presented with some food I found I had no appetite for. I was told not long after that the doctor was happy to release her into my care for the night. At 6pm a couple of nurses knocked on the door ‘We have a special delivery’ and wheeled in my gorgeous newborn child.

They helped me express a little colostrum and Evie latched on almost immediately, she started to suck. It was such a joy and relief. We had a beautiful little suckling.

Beautiful healthy newborn

An hour on mummy’s chest in the special care nursery and she came good. Her lights came on.  I believe if they’d brought her back to me once her breathing was stable she might have come good a lot quicker. We could have had that precious time together after birth. She wouldn’t have been terrified and alone on an infant warmer. She would have been fine. It’s difficult not to feel a little angry and sad when I think about this.

Evie is wonderfully intelligent and perfectly healthy.  Once she was in that hospital room with me she fed like a champion and gained a fabulous amount of weight. We snuggled and cuddled. In the beginning I could make all of her problems go away by holding her on my chest. It was divine.

And the mothering begins. The next few days are a blur of feeds, short sleeps, learning how to swaddle, bath and change nappies. My nipples progressively got sorer. And then in the quiet in-between moments, when I had time to think, memories of the labour infiltrated my mind like a shadow. After a couple of weeks the shadow began to fade away. Behind me now, babe in arms.

This birth story is not the one I wanted for myself, in a lot of ways it’s actually the opposite of what I wanted, and awful.  But the baby I birthed is the greatest miracle of my life and better then anything I could ever have hoped for.

 Though this labour didnt go as planned, I now realise truly it isn’t the way they are born that’s important, c-section, induction, home birth, whatever, but that you have a beautiful healthy gorgeous baby at the end of it. Of course there is evidence for a natural drug free birth providing the best outcome for baby, but a natural drug free birth isn’t always the best pathway to a healthy mother and baby.

What I will do differently next time

Unless there’s a damn good reason, I’m going into labour naturally. I want the experience of natural labour, starting at home, or in the supermarket, or wherever, just not on a cold hospital bed.

I’ll say no to my doctor more.

I won’t let my waters be broken before their time, unless of course, there is good medical reason

This all being said, I won’t be so attached to the method of delivery. Had I needed a caesarian for Evies birth I would’ve been devastated. However, having been through this, I now realise you really can't control what happens in the labour room, or before it, no matter how much maternity yoga, hypnobirthing, meditation and green smoothies you drink. Of course I’d read this before going into labour, but now I truly understand it. Of course do everything you can to have a healthy, positive pregnancy and birth, but let go of any attachment to the outcome.

If your body has abundant and balanced hormones, a baby in the right position, and you are mentally in the right place, blessings to you, you are so lucky to be able to have a healthy natural birth. Cherish it with all of your being.

If my next baby is posterior, (currently I’m in my second trimester of my second pregnancy) I’ll be prepared for an epidural, probably quite a bit earlier.

I won’t be so attached to a particular birthday. To be honest, the doctor scared me into an induction for ‘medical reasons,’ however my attachment to a set birthdate helped persuade the induction, and it’s just not worth it for me this time.

I’m already seeing a chiropractor regularly and will commence acupuncture earlier. Evie may have been posterior due to a rotation in my pelvis. If I can fix this, I will.

Trust more. I had so many freak outs something was wrong during the pregnancy, when everything was fine. This time I’m feeling much more relaxed.

What I will do the same

Be as mentally fit and prepared as possible for the experience of child birth (the pain, I mean the pain). I got through 8 hours of posterior contractions with the power of my own mind.

Make as beautiful an environment as possible to give birth in

Visualise the most perfect birth experience possible.

Use an obstetrician and private hospital. I loved the care I received by the midwives at St John of God Murdoch. They were all so lovely and attentive.  The only attitude I got was from the lunch lady! I had a private room with a view of a beautiful pond and a double bed.  I considered a home birth but to be honest, I need the rest after giving birth, and I got rest in hospital. I don’t want to clean up after my own labour thank you very much, and finding space to spend time with my new born will be tough with my toddler in the same building.

The Obstetrician and I had some differing views on childbirth, however she helped me when I needed it,  I’m feeling more confident to stand my ground when I need too.

Pray, create ritual, intend for everything to go as perfect as possible. Be grateful for the healthy baby I’m carrying and the wonderful care I am receiving.

Encapsulate my placenta. I really didn’t feel the ‘baby blues’ that nearly every woman feels about three weeks post-natal. I believe they helped me regain some strength quite quickly.

Love the experience.

I'll leave you with this link to a video of a very beautiful peaceful moment Evie and I had together soon after her birth.

Mummy blessings. React or Create the moment....You choose

  I’m not the first to find out that this mothering gig can take all of your time, and all of your energy. I find myself amidst gorgeous days filled with love and connection with my child, at the same time wanting to express myself creatively and do things that are just for me. However finding the time, energy or inclination to write/create in her nap times or when she finally goes down to sleep for the evening  is rare. And even if I do feel like sitting down to write, this desire competes with my need to have some adult time with my husband, and just some goddamn rest.

I go about mum things, cooking dinner, bathing, feeding and putting Evie to sleep, gazing lovingly at her all the while. Sentences and thoughts dancing in my head, I just want to write them down but I’m conflicted because I still have dishes to do. Oh to just sit down and create.

So how to maintain sanity...Hmmmm.... I’ve been trying to break the creative process into teeny tiny pieces that I manage to fit in around all the child-care and housewifery. This doesn’t always do the trick for me, my craving for self expression persists.

My dilemma has reminded me of a passage in one of my favourite books, Neale Donald Walsh’s Conversations with God. Neale writes 'You either create the moment or you react to the moment.' Create or React: These two words are made of the same letters. They are anagrams of each other.

The unconscious decision would be to simply react. So when I have plans that are a skewed by an inquisitive, curious and ever needing baby I can choose to be frustrated, perhaps even feel a victim or I can decide to be in the present moment, practice non-resistance and accept each experience in my day as is. Even the shit bits. Even the bits where I’m trying to experience a little connection to nature by setting up a natural altar outdoors and blessing a new key ring with safe travels, wonderful discoveries and plenty of opportunity to share what I learn. Instead of feeling the feminine divine I end up feeling stressed and annoyed because Evie won’t stop trying to eat dirt and kangaroo poo, or trying to suck the moisture out of all her baby wipes, between pulling the entire contents of my bag apart and spreading it in the dirt.

Often I go the way of frustrations, I get annoyed, I get upset. But I’m practicing on bringing myself back to the present, back to the recognition of the perfection, even amidst the mess, tears and crap. Because to react is to get lost in misery, where as to create is to express pure soul. I know which one feels better.

And some days, after a particularly gruelling night of baby-care, I’m just so goddamn tired that my brain chemicals aren’t right and grumpy mummy is practically inevitable. It’s easy to be conscious on 8 hours sleep a night, but try 4. It’s no easy task.

So, as with all mothers everywhere, my challenge is choosing to create each moment anew, and choose each response to the delicate and precious little human being in my care, taking my days moment at a time. I choose to bring myself back to the present when I feel my mood slipping into murkiness, despair, annoyance and frustration. I can choose to find a sense of balance and peace with my days in order to cherish as much of this precious time with my baby as possible. Because deep inside I know this time is a blessing. And like all things this too will pass.

A conception story ... make the healthiest baby you possibly can

I met my partner at the age of 20, we were drawn to each other like magnets. He moved in with me after four weeks, we were married in three and a half years. Nine years later we’d bought our first house.  

At the time I got married, at 24, I figured I’d want a baby when I was 26. But 26 came and I was far from wanting a baby, and so was Andy.

27, no, still not feeling it. I was having way too much fun, and studying. 28, Babies were far from my mind, I could smell the end of a four-year naturopath degree. 29, we bought a house, I graduated. Babies felt somewhat closer, but I still wanted to get my naturopath feet wet, dip my toes in. Practice my skills. And then I turned 30. It was well and truly time.

I went to a 4 day pregnancy conference just for naturopaths. All about care during pregnancy, all the ways we can help our clients as a health care provider. They drummed into me a four month preconception program is ideal.

Nurture your eggs and your partners sperm, make the healthiest baby possible by getting your body and hormones in perfect working order.

Get rid of toxins, bad habits, anything that’s not whole and pure.

Go to yoga,

meditate,

Exercise,

Eat like a health queen.

First there was a detox. I started a six week detox on my own accord. I cut out all that was bad for me, but I kept losing motivation, falling of the wagon. I also had my inner party girl begging to be let out for a last hoorah before motherhood began, to kick up my heels and celebrate my freedom and youth. I got my 23-year-old sister over from Victoria to stay with me for a week so I could pretend to be 23 again. It was awesome.

She came and went, and I knew I had to get serious, and I couldn’t do it on my own. I didn’t want to waste any more time. I enlisted the help of Naturopath Cassandra Boylen, to set me on my path. Having her to hold me accountable was exactly what I needed.

She put me on some detox herbs and supplements. She gave me a diet plan, recipe ideas. I did swimmingly, much better then I was doing as a solo detoxer.

I did have one or two ‘educated’ slip ups, a couple of glasses of champagne on week four for a friend’s birthday. Its what you do most of the time that counts.

I was also taking supplements including probiotics, an antenatal multivitamin. I took Iron and vitamin D supplements after a blood test came back low.

The idea was to get my body in as prime condition for conceiving a beautiful healthy child. All nutrients topped up, hormones primed and ready to go. I also began eating meat after 11 years of vegetarianism. This is because good grass fed meat is packed with all the key nutrients you need for baby making, including B6, B12, zinc, Iron, essential fatty acids, saturated fats and high quality protein. And my iron levels were already on the low side. I intuitively felt that if my body was getting everything it needed, then baby making would be a breeze.

I was healthy in the first place. I could have been exercising a little more, but I’d been a diligent exerciser for most of my twenties. I’d been a super healthy eater for years. My one foible is that I’d regularly indulged in too much wine, and this was one of the major reasons I wanted the detox and preconception care. I wanted to heal as much damage as possible.

In order to make a baby you need a reproductive system that does what it's supposed to. I’ve been fortunate in that my reproductive system has always been reasonably balanced. I hadn’t taken any pharmaceutical contraception since I was 22, preferring to use natural contraception instead (ie I tracked my cycle and avoided sperm while ovulating). I’d noticed since turning 29 my cycle had lengthened by a day or two, and often I experienced a 29 or even 30 day cycle. This bothered me a bit as it meant things had changed, and were not as they were in younger years.

There's plenty that can be done with reproductive disorders such as PCOS and endometriosis. Please don't despair if you experience these or other reproductive issues, be proactive, think positive and please speak to a health care provider to get help.

Once or twice a year I would get crippling menstrual cramps or bouts of pre-menstrual depression, but I noticed these often followed a particularly boozy – coffee filled month. But mostly, my cycle was regular and dependable, an old friend.

I tried to get Andy on board with the preconception too. He’s not a big drinker, he eat’s reasonably well and has long given up smoking. However he is 46 years old (to my 30 years at the time of conception) and has a stressful job. I got him some special healthy sperm supplements, and nag as I might he didn’t take them.

When and if we go for round two the healthy sperm supplements will be non-negotiable however. Having the healthiest child possible is a no-brainer, why would’t you do everything possible to give your bubba the best start?

In my pre-conception phase I treated my body mostly like the temple it deserved to be. No one is perfect all the time, and it’s no use beating your self up for the odd mishap.

Truth be told, I didn’t manage to last the four months of preconception care. I was about at the three-month mark and I spent the week leading up to ovulation with an aching overwhelming urge to try for a baby. So we did, and little Evie (yes I named my unborn child when she was at about 8 weeks gestation) was conceived the first time we tried. She was meant to be, it was her perfect time to come into existence.

And there she was, just like that.     

baby evie at 12 weeks

It’s hard to know how much the preconception care helped, because we had never tried for a baby before, so I have nothing to compare it to. What is definite is that we had absolutely no trouble conceiving a perfectly formed child, and for this I am unendingly indescribably grateful.

I feel the pre-conception preparation invited a healthy pregnancy not only physically but spiritually and mentally. All of these aspects are important for welcoming a new little being into your life.

It also brought me piece of mind, knowing I did my best to give my baby a nourishing environment in which to implant and grow.

The key health points to take away from my preconception experience are

• Know your body. Understand your cycle and recognise when you’re ovulating. Ideally sperm should be ‘introduced’ about a day before you ovulate.

• Your body is a temple, a healthy age-appropriate body will happily reproduce… You are biologically wired to reproduce. So relax and give your body what it needs. A naturopath can assess your diet and arrange testing to correct any nutritional deficiencies.

• A pre-conception care program gives you solid guidelines to get into tip-top shape for conceiving. This is important for everyone but especially important if you have a history of food intolerances, IBS, auto-immune disease, and hormonal or reproductive imbalance.

• It takes two to make a baby, so two people should be engaging in pre-conception care to ensure the best start.

Photo credit: Hannah Jones of Keeper Creative

Pregnant: The difference between sexy & beautiful

I’ve never been so in awe of my body and also so shocked by it. I’ve never felt so much like an animal. Especially anticipating in another 19 weeks or so I will birth this bubba and feed her from my now more-then-ample breasts.  

I giggle with glee at seeing my bump enlarge week after week, a smile that becomes a little stretched out of shape as I catch site of my thighs that now rub together and the butt that won’t quit (getting bigger).

There’s a few things going on here, cravings for carbs and cheese aside. My capacity for exercise has reduced, a desire for rich, fatty and nutritious foods has increased.

My hormones are padding my body out, gearing it up for the many breast milk feeds that are destined for the future.

Breastfeeding can take 2000kj a day, with that in the pipeline I’m not surprised my body is becoming super efficient at storing fat. I’m just like that. Any periods of excessive exercise are usually coupled with weight gain for me rather then loss.

A few weeks ago I read a blog written by an anonymous father-to-be, who expressed, quite bluntly, that his ‘previously 10/10 wife’ who was now 6 months pregnant was not sexy at all. She was a zero, a turn-off. He couldn’t bring himself to make love to her, even though she was super horny (a pregnancy thing) and wanted him.

He then went on to talk about how her growing belly reminded him of his own personal anxieties about becoming a father. His disgust for his wife’s body was way more about him then it was about her.

Whatever ‘Man,’ I read this just two days after my husband left for a two week trip. Had he been coming home that evening, I would devised ways and means to coax whatever reassurance I could out of him. But he wasn’t here, nor was I going to see him for two weeks.

“Thanks Mamamia for posting this” I commented, “Participate in the denigration of the self esteem of your target audience why don’t you. “

The next day the words of the article still haunted me. I didn’t want to become repulsive for making this gorgeous, perfect, gift-from-God soul baby, who is an absolute treasure to the both of us. Who I already love so much it scares me.

I don’t want to lose my attractiveness. I’m a young woman. Who wants to be un-sexy?

I checked out my reflection often in the days that followed. I began to realise, Pregnant bodies aren’t, technically, sexy. It’s true, there’s no biological requirement for a pregnant women to be sexy, she can’t get any more pregnant then she already is.

What’s the point?

And further more, I don’t want to appear sexy to any man right now, (apart from my soul mate husband). I have no interest in having another man anywhere near me, I’m sure this is another biological mechanism for protecting my baby.

I became at peace with my inner struggle. I decided it’s okay to not be sexy. I’m okay with that. I’m growing a baby, and that’s where my energy needs to be. I can be sexy again after the baby’s born with breastfeeding, gentle exercise and a healthy diet. And time.

Then my husband came home from his trip.

I didn’t ask him directly, but I can tell from our conversations and the way he feasts his eyes on this protruding womb of mine….

He is just as excited at my growing belly and milkmaid breasts as I am. More than excited, he is absolutely enamored with his unborn child.

This morning I got dressed to take the dog for a walk down by the beach. I put on a singlet top that no longer quite covers my abdomen, with bump just slightly sticking out from under the fabric.

Is this a bad look? I asked him. He said, ‘I don’t think pregnancy is a bad look. It’s let it all hang out, It’s ‘I’m pregnant and I’ve got a flower in my hair, and I’m growing another little flower in my body’ “

His very sincere way of saying pregnancy is beautiful. It made me smile.

He’s so in love with his baby girl, he’s totally embracing all the change that comes with it, all the changes that happen to me. And I am too, and this is how it should be.