As far as our family goes, we don’t really celebrate very much from my own upbringing. To be honest, though my mum is Indian, my dad is English, so growing up, we had a mix of culture, but also didn’t really do much for either I guess.
Diwali though, we always celebrated.
It was a part of our rhythm; and sure enough, the diwali playlists create a sense of home and comfort for me. A physical sense of being back in the familiar, even though I have actually been trying to navigate this familiar with a totally new set of people. My 3 children have very little knowledge of my Indian heritage – and I am definitely feeling some guilt around that. Recently I’ve been talking more and want to change this … because I want them to know their history – which means I need to as well.
But also, let’s be a little realistic here… because I’m often finding that I get caught up in my brain and need to ground back down to remind myself that sometimes things need to be slower.
My kids are 4, almost 2, and 3 months … they have an immense capacity to learn AND also, they don’t care. They’ve got no idea.. and so reading a bunch or talking isn’t actually going to have an impact. Ground down. What do they need? How can I tell them a little this year, so next year we can build on it?
YouTube.
I honestly wouldn’t be without it. YouTube a 4 minute clip about Diwali… make some rangoli powder from rice… craft a little… and light a lot of candles. It’s small. It’s nothing to write home about right? Wrong. It’s enough. I tell myself. I believe it. Small actions, done with love, repeated every year… they create the rhythm. That rhythm is a sense of home.
Today we’ve talked a little … lit the candles, done a pooja, played a lot, and in between the running of daily life for us, we’ve celebrated the lights and joy that comes on Diwlai.
It’s not been a perfect day. The house isn’t clean and I’ve barely cooked thanks to leftovers 🥰. It’s okay. It’s still wonderful and it’s still filled with life and light. It may not have been as well prepared as I’d like, but in years to come, maybe it will be.
Theo asked why we do this. And aside from the stories of Diwali… I told him that the reason why we do this; for us in our family, is to celebrate that we come from a mix of people from different parts of the world, and not to forget that there are different traditions in different places. That we may be different but that all have a light – and that light is powerful; just like the candle that brightens a dark room. We played a little with this, and enjoyed the shadows.
We spoke about the pooja, the milk, water, rice and petals. We also gave thanks to the earth and world we live in ( a nightly ritual now) and before bed, I saw him holding our Arti dish by the door and circling it just as we had done together for the pooja.
I guess for 2021, with 3 kids under 5 and a day on my own, I am proud. I am grateful. I am blessed.
I’ve avoided writing about ezras birth story. I keep saying I will but I’ve procrastinated constantly… and I know why.
It was hard. Beautiful, but hard.
** All images included in this post are taken by Gaby Sweet, our incredible photographer **
In many ways I think I’ll view it as the hardest birth of all of my children, and the most empowering experience by the end. I’ll endeavour to make this is chronologically as possible, but the reality is that birth isn’t. One thing happens after another but when we look back there are moments that stick with us – moments so intense that we are fully transported back. I know with each of my births those moments have been intensely different.
These are late in the third trimester, taken by Gaby on film, at our 2nd pre-birth meeting.
Ezra Krishna was born almost 2 weeks over the NHS due date we’d been given, and I was exhausted. By 35 weeks I had already starting counting down the days and weeks, never thinking I’d be pregnant for another 7 weeks from then. I was convinced baby would arrive by 38 weeks, and I was ready – or I thought I was.
But 38 weeks came and went. Then 39, then 40 and midwives started suggesting interventions. In the weeks leading to our due date, I’d had several periods where I thought labour was starting, only for things to frustratingly taper off again. At one point I was so sure I called Harrison home from work, only to find that the labour signs stopped with the kids bedtime. Exasperating! I learned a lot of patience through my impatience, and had to do a lot of letting go.
I was offered a membrane sweep, which I had made clear I would not be having early on. I was told at 41 weeks I would be booked in for an induction in 5 days; again I declined. I said I would go in for monitoring instead.
41+5 arrived and I lost a fair amount of my mucus plug, with the blood on my underwear to prove it. I called to inform the hospital I would not be attending my appointment for monitoring as I was in early labour. The response was shocking – passed around to various phones, I was finally told that I wasn’t on the system. This annoyed me, as if I had gone to the hospital I would have been alone, leaving my 2 kids upset with my husband … but I said okay, and goodbye. I was prepared and excited to relax and look forward to meeting my baby.
Just a few hours later, things felt slow but similar to Ila-Rae’s labour, when I got a callback from the maternity service. They wanted to know why I had missed my scheduled induction (the one I’d refused and said not to book as I’d be waiting for spontaneous labour!) and told me I was required to come in for monitoring. I said I would go in tomorrow for monitoring ONLY but I was not leaving the house that day – and so the Midwife began to rattle off the dangers of having an overdue baby, telling me “it would be a shame if something were to happen, or if baby was stillborn” because I had refused induction. I was talked to like I knew nothing, and told there was medical necessity for me to attend that day. I declined, telling the Midwife I knew my rights as a birthing person and that I knew my body and baby – I would not be leaving my house. The firm message for me was “the first intervention in labour begins when you leave the front door.” I knew I wanted a homebirth AND I knew I would transfer if needed – I wasn’t going to risk my health or baby’s… but I wasn’t going to be bullied either.
My oxytocin levels plummeted. The stop and start labour for weeks had been frustrating but this was 100× worse. I felt so angry. And sad. And annoyed by a system that believes so little in womens abity to birth their babies. I had no contractions for hours, and then when they came they were less intense… it was clear that our baby would not be arriving that day.
So I shared about it on social media carried on with the day, did bedtime and all that jazz. Once the kids were asleep, Harrison and I had an angry and enjoyable conversation about the social media responses I’d received, which let out a lot of tension I was holding. I am grateful to have a partner who gets angry with me, and who believes in me so much that he was perfectly fine going against the professionals.
After a while, decided to go to sleep. I knew this labour was the real deal, but like so many birth stories I’d read, I still didn’t feel safe enough so my body was holding on. I tried to create my oxytocin bubble again, using my affirmations, and visualising what I hoped for in this birth. I slept intermittently between 12 and 4, exhausted but unable to fully rest. I remember downloading a contraction timer app, but honestly gave up because it was more of a hassle. I knew this was labour, my back hurt in a way that it hadn’t in my previous labours, but the rawness was there. At 4am, I gave up, went to make a sandwich and started to watch the clock.
The surges got more regular. Every 5 minutes or so, raw but manageable. I text Gaby, and got busy getting into my zone. I was so excited. A day labour! I hoped we’d have some beautiful light and a day birth … by evening it was a point of joke that I’d even thought it would be possible.
The day was stop start… some moments extremely intense, some moments of laughter and relaxing. I was so frustrated at points because I felt like everything I thought I knew was going out the window. Ila was by my side, the whole day. Harrison made sure everyone was fed and had drinks, he kept checking on me, and was flitting between the kids and my needs. Theo spent the whole day watching Maddie’s Do You Know… honestly that woman has saved so many moments for me, she deserves a written thank you! He binge watched telly and ate and played a little… got in the pool briefly and then back to telly and sleep. Completely different to how I’d imagined – we’d spent hours over the weeks leading up talking about birth and waves and crowning, but on the day, he knew he needed his space. In the end, I’m grateful for that.
The pool with Theo and Ila was not what I’d imagined. I thought it would be nice and calm and homely to have them with me… but they were so excited. Theo kept splashing, Ila was stuck to me. She knew something was happening but she didn’t understand. And as the back pain got worse but contractions didn’t seem to regulate, I started getting more and more frustrated. She picked up on it all.
Eventually I kicked both kids out the pool to watch a film. It was needed but then the guilt and sadness began to take over. The excitement was fading… and I was struggling.
Midwives weren’t much help. They came which was a surprise as we’d be told they might if they could be spared, but we were given no time frame. I asked for a VE which was agony – but I couldn’t carry on without knowing…. I don’t regret it. They said 4cm… except, it could also be 6… they couldn’t decide. So they stayed and observed me for an hour. Contractions were irregular, some almost unbearable, some much more manageable. Before leaving they checked my dilation again – this time talking between themselves about babies position (but not telling me at all!) and then telling me it could still be 4, but they could stretch me up to 7/8 (that was painful AF!).
It was around this time with the midwives I think that Harrison suggested the TENS machine… I had totally forgotten about it, but it was a welcome relief. I had only used the water until that point, and lots of movement breathing.
Then came the most intense part. This memory holds the most strength of labour still for me, and the vulnerability I felt brings me to tears. I remember lying on my bed. Curled up into my inner space; this was my time for rest… and I did. I slept in between contractions so intense I felt like I was being ripped apart. In the later moments as I lay down, turning my TENS machine up so high I felt the reminence of those shocks for days after – I text a friend telling her I felt like I was dying. In that moment, though I knew this was the intensity of labour, I truly felt like I couldn’t go on.
In between my sleep Harrison brought me toast. The kids fell asleep.. Ila lay next to me, wanting to know I was close. But then things got too much… Harrison took Ila, and just as he got her to sleep downstairs, I had an intense contraction. Instinctly I moved onto all fours. Something shifted.
Harrison downstairs. I told Gaby – who had sat with me and gently assured me that I was okay, that I could do this, that I was doing this – that I was going to get back into the pool.
Tens machine off, I got into the pool and transition began. I was so deeply in the zone that although I registered Harrison telling me he thought we should call the midwives again, i couldn’t respond. He made the decision and got on the phone.
This is one of the few really intimate moments we had … because he was so busy making sure I had all I needed. He’s exhausted, I’m in the deep space of Birth…but when I look at this image, I see the trust and support. I see the love.
The next contraction came, and my body took over. I was pushing.
I could feel our babies head. I screamed. I roared. It was intense.
"Sometimes we roar our babies out"
The midwives told Harrison to call paramedics instead, but I was pushing, the baby was coming and I would not have been able to wait even if I wanted.
I don’t know how long it took from then to holding him, but he arrived, roared out with such intensity that I woke Ila up.
Then he was here… Harrison told us baby boy. I just sat, having caught him and pulled him up onto me, unwrapped his cord from his neck, I was still in awe. Somehow my body had known I needed the water… that I was ready, but I had doubted myself so much that the reality of holding my baby was still a shock.
My loudness had woken Ila up, so Harrison had brought her in, and she tried to get into the pool with me again. Instead, I got out.
Before I even sat, our placenta was out. Easy as anything, and intact. I put it into a bowl and curled onto the bed, with Ila there, munching a biscuit and our baby boy wrapped in a towel on top of me.
Ezra. He was here.
I drank some herbal tea to avoid major bleeding – given my history with Theo, this was a precaution and a mental safety net.
Harrison was still on the phone. The paramedics were on their way… but it would be hours yet.
Theo woke up, cried and came up the stairs. So soon he was cuddled in… completely indifferent to the newest addition in my arms. Harrison was already sorting out the pool… checking in on us while he worked. I had afterpains… and they were Intense! It’s true, they get worse with every child.
We moved the towels I’d been sat on, put some fresh ones down and began to just settle in, trying to latch Ezra but he wss mostly sleepy and content.
When the paramedics arrived, 2 hours after we had called, they were shocked at the fact midwives hadn’t even called to check in. I showered, and was still bleeding steadily so, against my deepest wish, but following advice, I decided to transfer in.
I am a person who deeply believes we can birth in the way we want. That we intuitively know if something is wrong and that I was in tune enough with body to trust it. I knew I hadn’t torn, and that my bleeding was normal. I also knew my previous bleeding with Theo’s birth was for concerning, and that this pregnancy I had not been given an iron transfusion. I knew I was fine… but I also knew I didn’t want the trauma for my children of rushing mummy into hospital hours later because of bleeding. So I transfered, to be safe.
I have to say though, the paramedics were very respectful about my hesitation. The male paramedic was concerned by blood loss, because he couldn’t gauge it from the pool (which was gone) and towels had soaked up so much water as well as blood. The female paramedic was trusting, she gave me the space and made sure I knew the power was in my hands. It was my scene, and they were there as an assist.
Gaby was still with us too, hours after the birth by this point, so she prepared to leave as I did. She was so incredibly calm and centred. She was exactly who I had needed with us, not just for me, but for our whole family. I told the kids they’d pick me up in the morning and kissed Harrison goodbye. It was bittersweet and part of me hated it. I wanted to be in our bed, snuggled up with my children. But there was no Midwife coming… and I knew this was to be part of our story, so *deep breath* off we went.
Story to be continued in the immediate postpartum writings … below are more images from our day 💕
These are some more of the parts of our story.
I know that for some people, birh photography is something they wouldn’t dream of… but others are curious. These images form part of our story – they capture both of my older children on the day their brother was born, they capture the support I had from my husband, they capture the depths of my commitment to birth my baby in a way I knew I wanted. It hard, but ultimately healing.
If you think you might want someone to capture your birth… ask around. It is absolutely something I don’t think anyone would ever regret…. because it isn’t just a photo, it’s a story of the journey.
When I found out I was pregnant with my 2nd child, I immediately began to look for a placenta encapsulation specialist. I budgeted for it, and made it my non-negotiable gift to myself – placenta pills to help me through the 4th Trimester.
For anyone in the area, I cannot recommend Danielle from Afterglow PES enough.
However, with my last pregnancy, we didn’t have the budget for it, and so found myself searching for ways in which I could safely encapsulate my placenta myself this time. I shared what we had done on social media and had a few requests asking how … so here is what we did:
Birth the placenta on land. For encapsulation, your placenta must no be birthed in water, so after baby was born, I got out of the pool and my placenta arrived quickly after. We had a sterilised bowl for it, so popped it in there and let baby soak up all of the goodness.
If you are at home – make sure you either begin the process of encapsulation within 3 hours after birthing it OR refrigerate it until you can – this will allow it you approx 72 hours but the sooner the better.
I couldn’t do this as we transfered to the hospital so instead, we packed a box with ice and put the placenta in a bag inside the cool box. When I got home, it went straight in the fridge until Harrison cut it for me later that day.
Here’s a step by step process of what we did:
After admiring your placenta and possibly taking pictures if you want to, begin the process.
Step 1 – with a sterile area, cut the placenta into thin slices OR small pieces.
Step 2 – place the pieces into a food dehydrator and turn it on. It will need to be on high for hours, possibly overnight.
Step 3 – check the placenta pieces are hard — they should snap when you try and bend them. If they are flexible still, they aren’t ready.
Step 4 – when they are ready, powderise them. I used a blending machine for this bit.
Step 5 – pour the powder into your capsules. This is time consuming – made a little eaiser by a capsule machine… but I struggled to make sure the capsules close effectively etc.
Step 6 – enjoy the benefits 🥰
I take 1 a day and made 100. There was about half the powdered placenta left over, so I made placenta truffles with this recipe and have frozen them for when I want them in a few weeks time.
Below are some images of the process – I assume if you’re reading this, you expect to see a placenta (image 2), but if you don’t want to, now you know to scroll past 😊.
The finished product My husband was incredibly supportive and even cut up the placenta for me while I fed baby and napped with the older 2.The cord can be kept and used in cord art or discarded as you wishPlacenta pieces dehydrated and ready to blend It made a lot of powder The truffles are definitely a great extra to have made, and simple to make which was a bonus
Placenta encapsulation is definitely not something I ever thought I’d be doing myself. However, I am grateful we had the opportunity to do it, and I would 100% recommend trying to if you can’t find an encapsulation specialist and you want them done.
It wasn’t as hard as I thought I would be, and though Harrison did the messy bit by actually cutting it, overall I think it was a fairly simple process. The benefits of hormone regulation, increased milk and a faster physical & mental recovery from our birth story has been well worth the time taken.
Overall, I’d report a success 💕
Have you encapsulated your placenta? Did you do it yourself?
We’re over halfway through July so in many ways, it feels a little silly to be writing out a July scope here.
I thought by now we’d have had our baby arrive earthside and we would be in the beautiful chaos of hormones and sleepy newborn days.
Alas, I’m over 40 weeks pregnant, with Theo’s 4th birthday less than a week away and Ila-Rae closer to 2 than 1 now; I feel as though somehow I’ve blinked and here we are.
I remember announcing my pregnancy at 15 weeks, I was scared, anxious and tentatively joyful. Now I’m joyful, anxious and absolutely terrified.
I had no plans this month. My parents visited the first week of July and I had hoped that baby would come that week or soon after. Making plans (or lack of them) really was a sure way for the universe to remind me that I cannot control things – least of all when baby will arrive. So the past few weeks have been a real lesson in detachment and letting go of my control.
It’s been exhausting But I’ve begun to see the days as an extra blessing. Another chance to fill my children’s cups. Another chance be their mum as they know her, before I am reborn into a new mother.
I am excited, but no longer impatient – though given the heat, I’m sure I’ll be there soon. There are moments of utter desperation; where I cannot wait for baby to come because I feel heavy and hot, and other moments where I pause and feel them wriggle, and I wonder why on earth I’d wish it away. This really is such a blessing.
Photography credit: Gaby Sweet Photography
Our July has looked extremely unstructured, even for me! We have had days out to the aquarium; once with my parents and once alone. We have done lots of woodland walking and a lot of garden water play. I have struggled a lot with screen time limits, but it’s brought up conversations with H about how actually our family benefits from days with 0 screens and then other days with a large section of the day where the kids can watch what they want. When we try to limit it to small (half hour or 1 hour) sessions daily, we end up with a very cranky Theo, and very little actual time to ourselves.
This has been a big leap for me, especially wanting to limit screen time; but realizing that despite research and recommendations, like with everything, we need to work with the lifestyle that fits our family best, regardless of ideals.
My parents visit was a breath of fresh air here, and though the kids struggled with all the excitement and overwhelm, it was a wonderful break and treat for them after so many months apart. My mum cooked SO much food, and I’ve got treats and meals in the freezer ready for when baby arrives. It was a few days of almost feeling a little useless and bored, because the kids love spending time with them so much, and I was at a loss of what to do.
Now for the last part of this month we’re looking towards Theo’s birthday (and baby arriving at some point). He wants a construction themed cake, to go with his early birthday present of a remote control crane from Facebook marketplace, and a fire truck from my parents. We will wrap a few bits for him, but we are not actually doing anything aside from making the cake … which he says he will eat with the help of his digger toys. I anticipate a cake smash kind of thing so will be putting some blankets on the floor/a messy play sheet and let him go wild on the tuff tray. At the end of the day, I am grateful that this is the main thing for him, he’s happy doing something simple and spending the day with us – and for a 4th birthday, that sounds perfect.
Of course the other side of his birthday approaching is all the feelings that come with me seeing my firstborn turn 4. I cannot believe it fully, and having revisited his birth story, healing some of the wounds and watching him as the incredible human he is, I am in awe of what we do as mothers. I am so incredibly grateful for this life and time with my babies; and am sad to see how much time I’ve wished away in the hard moments, but forgiving myself because we really do just do the best we can.
Aside from that, the rest of our July will likely be filled with ice cream and water play. Beach evenings I think will feature until baby comes, and then perhaps H will take the older 2 for a few hours some days after s/he is born. Sea swimming is cathartic, and I have missed the ocean these past years more than I realised; but swimming alone, and paddling with the kids as they built their confidence has been the highlight of this month.
One of our days at the beach, Theo loved finding all the sea snails in the rockpools and was looking for a crab. His joy at marine life is a wonderful thing to watch bloom.
So despite writing being well overdue, I guess in some ways, this is perfect timing. A chance for me to reflect with gratitude and acceptance; and a chance to write a little before birth.
Whatever happens, I know things will unfold as they should.
I am tired, excited, scared, curious and filled with love… and all of them are allowed to exist within me simultaneously.
Autonomy is super important to us. Making sure that my children know that they can express themselves in whatever way they choose is something I strive for as a parent.
Allowing them to make their own choices; whether that’s if they’re eating dinner, wearing wellies or joining in when I go out into the garden for some air – they have choices. At the end of the day, relationship based parenting is more than just consent for me, it’s about allowing my children to know that they can ALWAYS be themselves, even when I have a different opinion.
But today, Theo decided to wear the extra large (aged 11) shirt he bought the other day, and it was a nursery day, so I found myself nervous. It’s long on him obviously. His 3 year old slight frame makes it a dress that easily passes his knees. To top it off, he didn’t want to wear his dinosaur wellies, but rather his shark sandals… and so I began to worry even more about the reaction and comments he may receive.
We talk a lot about how people are all different, and express themselves differently. I have only ever really interfered with his clothes when it’s been extremely cold, or pouring with rain … and even then, I often hold myself back, taking provisions for when/IF he changes his mind.
So why was today different?
Why do I have little problem (in fact I prefer it) for my daughter to wear her brothers clothes, and yet, when he feels so wonderfully confident in a dress, I worry ?
He asked how he looked. I told him he looked “super cool” and that I loved the red colour because I know it’s his favourite. He was ecstatic, and actually that’s all that matters. His joy, his confidence, his incredible ease; they are what I want for him, and what I want to preserve.
So after nursery, I won’t ask about it. I’ll wait for him, if he wants to talk about it, even though my mothering self is worrying. I’ll wonder; because I saw the other parents eyes; my long haired, beautiful boy in a dress – and I saw the other boys playing ball look at him, and I hope he has the joy and confidence to tell them that he’s just as cool as they are in their khaki shorts and England football shirts, but I won’t ask.
Image: Theo and Ila-Rae eating cereal before heading off to nursery this morning.
Interesting, as I write and share this, I feel more confident. I realise that this is part of my deschooling. My own healing from stereotypes, my own inner work to allow myself to get to a stage where this wouldn’t be a worry.
My worry is for his innocence; for his feelings, and for his ability to respond in a way that doesn’t make him feel sad. I hope that our conversations and attitude from home will allow that, and if they don’t, we will figure something more significant out together. A good response, a security to walk away, a confidence that he knows every single person is important and can wear what they want. All things we do and will continue to talk about nomatter…
Tonight I will be opening my journal, writing, digging, and working on my own biases – because, as I said to a friend this morning; I never imagined I’d worry, and so maybe I need to spend some more time deschooling; unpicking, and healing from biases I’ve held onto through the years.
Have you had experiences like this? How did you feel? How did the day go?
I hope that by the time my children are in this situation, there will be much less concern… parenting really is intergenerational work.
I don’t truly believe that we can prepare for a new baby. I’ve had 2, and each experience has been incredibly different… and though I tried to prepare, there were elements of pregnancy, birth and parenthood that can only be learned through living.
I used to wonder why nobody had told me about the little things that surprised me, but as I’ve grown in motherhood, I realise that nobody could.
It is undeniable that we NEED to talk more, about the hard days, and normalise the fact that sometimes we don’t like our babies; though we love them – and often even then, it isn’t instant. We also NEED to talk about the little joys, the beauty and the wonder, because sharing those joys raises our spirits as a community. Reminding and rejoicing in our wins as parents, and as people, means that we wire our brains to focus on the good, the joyful and the beauty we have. It’s almost always there.
Preparing this time, knowing and feeling this in the way I do; I am taking things much slower. There are no hanging hopes or pretense of constant sibling love, many less worries about the fact that sometimes we will all want a break, and that sometimes that won’t be possible. I am preparing myself mentally for a lot of time in bed, lots of telly and a lot of good food. Previous postpartum periods I rushed, I wanted to ‘do’ and ‘help’ and get back to productivity – ignoring my own inner wisdom, and my mothers! This time, I am prepared to do the exact opposite, and in doing so, I hope that I will allow my children to adjust to their new roles as siblings as well.
The immensity of adding a new person, with needs and wants and expressions of their own, into our life is immeasurable. The baby will be newborn earthside, adjusting to life outside my womb; I will be a newborn mother, adjusting to physically being 1 again, but being needed for everything by this little human. As a father, H will once again have to learn to balance parenting, work and being a person with his own hobbies and ideas too; and of course as children, P and A will have a whole new dynamic to figure out as siblings. The change is immense.
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P, almost 4 now, understands a lot more about the fact baby is coming soon. at 35 weeks now, he can see and feel the changes that are happening, and we are regularly talking about birth and our plans. We have spoken about contractions as waves, and how when the waves come Mummy will find some harder than others but that the waves are a good thing, because they mean my body is getting ready for baby. We’ve spoken about the pool, and have ordered a spare liner to test run it with them. I have talked to P about the placenta and the cord, and about how sometimes babies come fast and other times we need to work quite hard and might need to walk around or move my body until baby is ready. There are snippets of conversation that he holds on to, and some things I know will depend on how labour goes; but rather than leave these things a surprise, I hope that by talking openly, we are creating a space where he will feel safe to ask questions and reflect.
A is 18 months now, and though I often feel she acts older, I can see that she isn’t sure about this change, and she isn’t ready for what is to come. But that’s okay, I know we will spend the first weeks and months figuring things out, and whatever happens, both my children have every right to dislike the change in dynamic – as much as I will too probably.
Ilistened once to a story of sibling adjustment to a new baby; and how if we consider it as an adult, it really is quite a lot being asked of us.
Imagine that your partner brings home another partner and tells you that you will get on brilliantly in time, and that they love you both equally, but that they must divide attention between you both now.
Imagine the rivalry or jealousy you might feel, and resentment because you were here first, and you feel like this new partner takes too much time away. It would be hard. Very hard. And I’d venture to say most adults wouldn’t stand for it… yet we expect our children to without question. It’s really a huge double standard isn’t it?
I don’t remember where I read/listened to this, but if anyone knows, please tell me so I can credit the story.
When I began to think about new siblings like this, my view on it all changed. Yes, I still get annoyed and tell my kids off when they fight – especially as recently it involves lots of crushing each other and Ila is little – but overall, it has allowed me to really think about how actually, they don’t have to like each other all the time. They are being asked the impossible, and deserve the grace of time to figure out their own relationships with each other. They’ll learn through love and joy and failure and triumph, they’ll learn to dote on each other, and to fight, and they’ll learn that some hurts hurt more than others. I don’t think that as parents we can prepare them for that, in fact, I think if we try, they’ll only resent us for it.
So honestly, I don’t think we are actually preparing much in a physical sense. I haven’t got a ‘from baby’ present this time, nor have we got any new baby things. There is no cot or sleeping space set up, because we know and trust that we will be together, and that really there isn’t much ‘stuff’ needed. Instead our preparation is almost entirely mental; with conversations and practices of letting go… I think that instead of having huge expectations, I’m setting the bar low, being kind and prioritising rest. And if I begin to stray from that, I hope that I get a good reminder to SLOW down. There is literally no reason to rush… and every reason to take it easy; for me, for Harrison and for our children.
June feels like it has really crept up on us. I spent May mostly observing the kids with no formal plans and a huge list of housework/practical life things to do before baby arrives.
Last week I had a burst of energy and ‘planned’ June in terms of our home-ed days, and booked myself some space to nourish my own learning too – something I always know the value of, but never more so than when I let it slide and then pick back up. So our month looks simple really, and I am really excited for it; not least because by the end of the month I’ll be reaching my due-time, and be getting ready for our newest arrival.
June brings sunshine, probably rain (lets face it, I’m still in the UK!) and lots of time for slowing down, walking barefoot, reading and play. I’ve booked myself onto what’s promising to be a wonderful EFT course and so Harrison is taking the kids to the zoo – I am a little jealous – for the normal animals etc but mostly because they have an invertebrates section that I think Theo and Ila-Rae will LOVE! Millipedes and Hermit crabs are my anticipated favourite but honestly I don’t know what they will find wonderful and what might be too much – but because this is a planned trip, I’m leaving lots of scope this month to discuss their zoo trip. I haven’t planned activities but a minibeast hunt, observation and possibly some documentaries and crafts are all in the back of my mind.
Aside from minibeasts, construction vehicles are a strong trending interest for Theo right now, so I am searching for a home-made crane craft and have ordered play sand for the garden. Construction of course lends itself to various conversations, but right now I am hoping to gently focus on balance and counterweight which he is naturally exploring with his duplo creations, and will try creating some play invitations for them to enjoy.
The 20th/21st is Litha, celebrating the sun and summer solstice on the 21st (we have never before celebrated pagan festivals so I am tentatively researching and figuring things out as we go). As a fairly secular family, my goal is to help us tune in to natures rhythm and celebrate these markers slowly as we learn.
“I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.”
L. M. Montgomer
That’s as much as I’ve planned. It’s loose, guideline(ish) and very relaxed. I have hopes to read a little more, and introduce a monthly poem, but I’ve come to realise that though I enjoy the idea of morning time or tea time reading etc, my kids aren’t happy with it… so for now, I’m dropping all agenda and really trying to hone in on what works for us. I never thought I’d consider us an unschooling family but I really do feel like we are more and more going towards that route – because though it’s early years, I am already having to let go of so many of my own ideas and plans – and when I do, they are happier for it, and so we all are.
“June has never looked more beautiful than she does now, unadorned and honest, vulnerable yet invincible.”
Marie Lu
As the month draws its close, we are expecting a visit from my parents (happy dance!) and we enter the 37th week of this pregnancy. Weeks mean very little, but knowing this is an NHS safety marker has been a big thing for me, because our planned homebirth means that I really do want to be within the weeks that will create as little stress as possible.
I have baby clothes to fold, and a plan to fill our new chest freezer with meals that are wholesome and require little extra for those early postpartum weeks. I’ve got plans to create a little ‘goody bag’ of crafts and treats for the kids too, and have been chatting to Theo about birth, placenta delivery and how mummy’s body will need a few weeks of slow movement before I can run around with them again. It’s been hard as I’ve got heavier to run and jump and chase, and so I am deeply looking forward to the freedom that will come with my postpartum body.
So our June looks slow and sweet, with big plans and small plans; but overwhelmingly a feeling of letting go. The comparisons I had begun to build over April and May were creating a lot of self-directed pressures to have boxes ticked or activities planned… but stepping back and planning a little, I can see how much is really already going on. It’s enough.
Enough is better than too much. Enough is all we really need.
We met someone recently and the inevitable conversation about baby no3 began. I’m less than 8 weeks until our official EDD now, and though I am of course obviously pregnant, there is often a little confusion because between my baggy clothes and constant running around/lifting T and I-R, people don’t quite believe it. Regardless, any time we meet someone new, or even the odd stranger passing by will notice, and often they will comment – the usual name and do we know what we’re having questions, the notice of small age gaps, and then the seemingly unavoidable comment of “well you’re certainly going to have your hands full aren’t you?” comes; I smile and say I know, simultaneously checking to see that Theo hasn’t clocked on to what’s been implied.
I am dreading his realisation, and hoping it doesn’t come. Because at 3, he doesn’t need to be worrying that mummy will have to juggle all her kids; he knows, in his own way… and I don’t want him to feel like that’s something undesirable. We are going to have our moments of struggle; sometimes the fear of them overwhelms me, but never, ever, do I want my little boy to feel he has to ease it. We’ll all just figure things out.
That said, this particular comment got to me. Perhaps because it was made by someone close in age, or perhaps because she too had her hands full, with 1 child. Regardless, it led me to writing, and here is what I wrote:
I wonder if people realise How much joy and hardship come through pregnancy Planned or unplanned Growing a person isn’t easy It is a privilege that we have this life That we can make the choices we’ve made That we can afford CHOICE in the first place
I wonder if people could see The fear The tears The overwhelming joy The panic The blessings The love Always love
Would they still feel entitled to comment? Or would they maybe hold back?
However well intentioned, However comical it may seem, Commenting on someone’s life choices Is not as simple as one may deem.
When we think before we speak, We action love and understanding. It may not seem important, But for someone it’ll be like landing Somewhere soft and warm and safe Instead of putting up their guard.
Because no-mattter what we may appear Life is often hard
Our conversation wasn’t long. Our kids played together in the rain happily, oblivious to us and our small talk. Then Theo asked me to chase him in a game we made months ago, and Ila-Rae began to gain confidence on the park slide. Comments forgotten, parenting at 100% back full time.
Then we came home. Nothing special, nothing big… but it’s had me thinking, reflecting and learning – and writing. Because how can I teach my children about life lessons, appropriate behaviour, and kindness, if I don’t model AND stand up for it myself?
What would you do? Have you been in a similar situation ? How did you handle it?
Touched out is a term I came across with my first child; it was a saying that seemed so relevant, and alleviated a fair amount of guilt I had been feeling surrounding my want for space.
I loved my son, but I was solo parenting and exhausted, and so understanding that I wasn’t alone in this feeling brought some comfort. But it did little to solve the actual feeling; knowing other mums also wanted a break gave me a sense of solidarity, and yet, I was still exhausted – and so were they. So why did we not do anything about it? It ignited a rage in me, one that would rear up in moments of burn out, and would simmer down when I caught that break.
Life, for so many women it seems, is a series of events where we burn ourselves out, and then get angry, chase that sense of relief and ‘self-care’ (a term I am really beginning to dislike), and then do it all over again. For mothers, this seems to be even more pronounced, with the average mum getting an average of 17 minutes alone time per day – it’s no wonder we’re touched out!
Last weekend that rage and exhaustion has reared its head again for me. But rather than leave it at that, I’m digging deeper – something I haven’t done before. I journaled a little in the midst of tears, both from my children and myself, and though an unconventional way to process feelings, I think by doing so, in the midst of them, getting to the root of emotion is easier.
Often I feel there is a hype surrounding journaling, one myself I have felt, but for mums, when we rarely get the chance to sit alone and just write, I think leaving it until the ‘right’ moment often means the depth of emotion fades, and we begin the cycle once again of telling ourselves all is well – until it’s not.
My writing brought up a lot;
Resent for my partner – for his ability to switch off in a way I often cannot.
Resent for my children – for the constant needs
Resent for society – for the guilt I feel surrounding this exhaustion
Resent for myself – for letting the cycle continue.
Resent for myself is the ugly one.
It’s easy to lay blame, say it is because our children need us so much, or because our partners didn’t unload the washing machine, or spent too much time on their hobby when the kids were in bed. It’s also easier blame society because we are conditioned into a view of womanhood, and specifically motherhood that often creates a martyr mother as ‘good’ and a mother who prioritises her needs as ‘selfish’. Yet, when we peel back all those layers, there’s more depth than that.
When we allow ourselves to see that actually there isn’t just 1 reason that we’re feeling this exhaustion, we start to see that the bigger picture we focus on for our family NEEDS to include a space for us. Whether it’s a shower every morning with music playing so you can’t hear the kids, or leaving the dishes for morning so you can catch that 10 minutes reading time, or saying no to your child because your needs matter too; it’s the little moments that build up into a big picture.
It isn’t rocket science (though sometimes it feels like that’d be preferable!). There is a lot of ‘self care’ culture constantly floating around – on social media, Youtube, podcasts and of course magazines etc… but the problem is that it often leaves us feeling more burnt out – because we must be doing it wrong if we can’t even manage self care right? WRONG.
The industry of self care is increasingly toxic, so honestly, if you can, avoid it! Entirely. Focus instead on little changes. Self care doesn’t have to be long baths, manicures or spa days – though it can be. It can look like getting enough sleep, eating healthy food and skipping the night time tea (or switching to decaf), it might be reading alongside your kids or making a meal plan so there is less mental load. Essentially, it’s about moving from feeling touched out to feeling tuned in.
This week, I’m lowering the bar and checking in. I’m continuing to practice taking 3 deep, full breaths and returning to presence (something I’m working on via an ongoing course I’m taking with Jodi), and I am focusing on 5 things to moved away from exhaustion and the anxiety I was feeling over the weekend. They are:
Starting bedtime 15/20 minutes earlier for the kids – this may mean they still sleep at the same time, but it allows me to feel like we have time to take things slow, read another book, or roughhouse on the way to brush teeth
Eat ice cream before bed – it sounds silly but it makes me happy AND reduces my nighttime heartburn (pregnancy heartburn is awful!) so it’s a small thing I can action easily
Write – even if its not in a notebook/journal, I can voicenote thoughts on my phone or type into notes and then process them later. I feel like this is more accessible than setting the goal to write every day in my journal because sometimes the moments gone, or I’m just too tired!
Prep for the morning – when we start the day off with something ready for the kids to get stuck into OR at least the playroom tidy enough to be appealing, the general mood is much sweeter than if we start it with duplo under my feet or magnet tiles on the stairs! So 10 minutes of a quick proper tidy before bed helps a lot!
Eat real food – even though my body only really wants snacks and small nibbles at the moment, I am weighing up the need to fuel my body in order to function properly … and if I am strict and actually eat properly then I am a calmer and happier human, and of course baby3 isn’t taking all the resources and leaving me on empty.
5 things… none of them require much more than a few minutes… starting bedtime early is probably the hardest one, but 2 days in and I can feel the difference already. With Harrison out the house for most of the week (Monday-Thursday), it’s feeling extra important to take these small steps as I navigate my way out of the trough of this cycle.
Hopefully, the cycle starts to fade – it takes a lot of work to break them, but I know I’m doing it not only for myself, but my children, grandchildren and their children after that too …
Supporting you from pregnancy to parenting 