Birth plans remind me of hospitals, so instead I’m calling this my birth guide – flexible but strong, and really rooted in exactly what I want; an empowering birth at home, with my babies around to meet their new sibling.

I’ve included my pronouns (she/her) in an effort not only to notify the birth team that I refer to myself in this way, but also to highlight and emphasise the importance of checking, every time. The birth world is moving towards inclusivity, and though it’s long overdue, it’s a step forward in the rights of transgender birthing people; and so if a birth team gets used to seeing pronouns on a guide, it becomes normal – I think even though I fall into the she/her category which most birth teams will use automatically, it feels important to include them.

Keeping it simple and easy to read with minimal text should help information to be picked out easily.

Interventions – I have emphasised that I do NOT want any; because while they may be useful when needed, I know that often, 1 intervention leads to another and I want to feel in control of what is happening. I trust my body, and I also trust my birth partners to let me know if I really do need to consider something more radical.

Pain relief – water works magic. I’ve read about sterile water injects, and may add them to the list, but haven’t made my mind up, and haven’t discussed them with my midwife yet (which I intend to do). We’ve hired a pool, and so for now I am pretty content with that; and though I have never used one, I thought having a TENS machine might be useful – I’m quite excited really!

Environment – did you know that most mammals give birth best in late evening or nighttime? It’s why there is a stereotype about labour starting the in the middle of the night.. though of course it doesn’t happen for everyone. Low light, quiet conditions often signal safety and warmth, comfort and a sense of hyyge, so we our bodies feel like we are in the ideal space to bring our babies earthside. Going into a hospital with bright lights and lots of noise often interrupts that feeling of hyyge, and so this saying comes to mind: “the first intervention in birth is stepping out the door.” I don’t know who said it, but it feels extremely apt.

The first intervention in birth is stepping out the door.

Labour – meaning Active labour – is something that most people focus on the most, but somehow for me, after Ila-Rae’s birth, I am the least bit concerned about this stage. I know the waves will come, I know I will breathe them away, and I know there will be a point I feel I cannot continue. But birthing my daughter empowered me to trust my body in it’s primal instincts, so my guide says to allow the natural fetal ejection reflex, because I am confident my body will know what to do.

I hope that Theo and Ila will be awake for the last hours, so that they can be there when their new sibling arrives; but that, I have neither confidence nor control over, so it’s there, it’s a hope, but it’s not something I am worrying much about.

I trust my body.

My body and soul are working together to birth my baby

My baby is an active member of their birth story

All these affirmations are ones I have made into cards, to hang in the birth space, and to ground me on the day.

Lastly, postpartum – do most people plan for this? I have included the first hours of immediate postpartum in this guide, but I am also creating a postpartum guide for the weeks and months ahead. After all, birthing a human means we are born anew as well – and nourishing myself, though it feels a little radical, is so important.

I encapsulated my placenta after my 2nd birth but haven’t planned for that this time, instead I am still trying to decide what we will do. It is probably the one thing I regret not planning for sooner; but my hope is that in the next 8 weeks I’ll figure it out, because the placenta is sacred, and the idea of it going to waste is not one I can comprehend.

It makes sense that the placenta almost looks like a tree with many branches – a tree of life.

Ricki Lake

Skin to skin, golden hour, delayed cord clamping; these are all becoming more normal so there isn’t much radical there… I requested all of these with my 1st born, and though there was a little chaos around his birth, for the most part we were able to have at least a little time. With my 2nd, we had almost 3 glorious hours of unrushed skin to skin and bonding for both H and me… this time, there isn’t anywhere to move, nobody telling H to drive home and no rush to change, so I am dreaming of a slow and sleepy immediate postpartum, where we can just stay within our bubble of bliss.

It is the time I am most excited for our photographer to capture too, especially those first moments with Theo and Ila-Rae.

Overall this birth guide isn’t asking for much, but it also isn’t asking because I know what I want, and what is realistic. It’s a guide, it’s flexible and it’s something tangible too.

Did you plan for birth? Are you planning? Is there something here that’s made you think? If so, I hope it’s helped.

Xox

Rohana

When the pandemic hit in 2020, I was fortunate enough to have already found Eloise Rickman on social media and given the spare time we suddenly had, I signed up to her course ‘A Beautiful Education’. Home educating had been something I had noncommittally thought about since Theo was around 18 months, when I really began to plan activities and see how our everyday life allowed him to thrive.

But it seemed so radical.

My friends and family didn’t really have any resources for me, and it was (and is) a very out of the ‘norm’ within the circles I was in. So I hadn’t given it much serious thought – until my husband had a breakdown and got some time off work, and suddenly this course came up, so we did it together. Timing with the pandemic was a total coincidence, and somehow, for our family it worked out perfectly.

I began to really consider the reality of home educating – and I began to dream of the years that we would gain. The time we could spend together, and the amount of memories would create as a family, learning together – without any pressures of time or school years and curriculum. It seemed too good to be true. I listed the pro’s and con’s…

The reasons hardly seemed to compare; I had very concrete positives, and abstract worries… and so we decided to roll with it; give it the year and make the choice before Theo was due to start school. Harrison returned to work and Theo turned 3, gaining allocated childcare hours at nursery – so he went, for some. The nursery staff were fantastic, and some very supportive of delaying education where possible; so suddenly I was not only hearing about home ed online, but having real life conversations and support too.

There is no school equal to a decent home, and no teacher equal to a virtuous parent. ~ Ghandi

In the year, this quote has reminded me many times that no-matter how much I feel like I’m not doing enough, we are all learning and living together; and that is more than good enough. So as 4 loomed, and school placements were being discussed, I returned to our WHY, and added to it. Designing a simple and beautiful print for our home, so that when I feel worried or unsure, I can return to the reasons about our decision.

But I also know, that at any time, if it’s not working for us, we can choose to change our minds. That’s the beauty of home educating for us, we get to CHOOSE.

Print (customizable) will be available from a Shop, coming soon…

Today we woke up after a long night of baby teething, snotty nosed snoring and Ila-Rae crying for more bottle but not wanting the milk when she had it. It was a groggy Monday and if I had let it set the tone for my week I would be in for a miserable one!

I’m used to running on little sleep, but I do see the impact of a bad night versus a decent one… so instead of starting the day with books and breakfast, I went to the kitchen, made myself a tea and grabbed some fruit for skewers. We had a picnic breakfast right in our bed with me enjoying the warmth of my tea instead of leaving it to get cold while chasing cranky toddlers around.

I sat there with them, watching them push the fruit onto skewers as I bounced on the birth ball – something I am trying to get them used to because we’re into the final months of pregnancy now – and all I could think was, how perfect this morning actually was.

My beautiful babies had muslin cloths behind them for runny noses, Theo was still sleepy and almost stabbed himself with the skewer, Ila-Rae was half crying about her molars and half concentrating on the apple she held; and I bounced there with a tea and my notebook, marveling at how lucky we are that this was our Monday morning.

No rush for school or nursery

No push for books or experiments or class

No specific reason to go downstairs

So I grabbed my pen and wrote out the first half of my fantasy labour – and it started exactly like this morning… with a beautiful slowness and peace. With me watching my children and allowing love to take over entirely.

I began to create the perfect image of my love bubble… and though of course nothing is set in stone; I am going to try and manifest exactly this for us. This morning, in 2 months time… slow, peaceful, filled with small laughs and concentrated faces. A perfectly ordinary morning, and yet an extraordinary day.

Xox

Rohana

A few weeks ago, when my husband was at work we had a particularly hard morning. My anxiety was really making it hard for me to focus on what the kids needed, and I found myself watching the way I was getting irritated and snappy, for almost no reason at all.

So, though there were some protests from Theo, we went out.

Usually, I always try and give ample warning before an outing, so even though he can’t say no – though he is always allowed to say he doesn’t want to – he knows beforehand and can mentally prepare. I try and talk through getting ready, getting snacks and make a fuss of jackets and shoes. This time, I didn’t. But though he said he wanted to stay home, within minutes of getting out the door, the wildness in him comes through and he was racing ahead as ‘leader’ towards the woodland walk.

We walked, Ila-Rae had the option of being carried, but for the most part, we walked.

We had a small picnic and they watched the ants crawl on the crumbs and crust that fell as they ate.

We fed the ducks, and we watched the ducklings.

They ran, and played, and sat and watched.

I joined in it all… and outside, the to-do list of chores, the household errands and the ache of exhaustion faded.

Before going home we settled on a bench for a while, looking at the trees and water… talking about how the ground felt under Theo’s now bare feet. We spoke about being careful when there was glass, but also about how our feet on the earth grounds us, and connects us to the world.

He may be 3 but he is an old soul… and though I thought he might not notice much, he did – he understood the earth beneath him, and how it is part of the trees, and water, and world. I cannot remember what he said, but I remember watching him. I remember feeling the opening of my heart a little more, and the sigh my body took… and I know all I could think was, the trees are magic, and they have some of that magic inside them.

How incredible is it I get to share a little of that?

Xox

Rohana

I write during the Covid19 pandemic, my parents are visiting after changing their flights due to restrictions on Spain. The world is still surreal in many ways, not least with the politics of masks and education.

My parents and brother are staying close, but not with us. It has been hard. There have been fights. Too many words said and not said, too many feelings blown up over the smallest triggers – I feel sad, but also stronger.

This trip had expectations of joy and laughter, of long walks and talks and cuddles and tears … there has been all of that, but in a very different way. I have grown distant, settled into a groove of life that I am proud of, but that has also made me very protective.

I think, as with all family trips, there are always things I would change, but I also believe that these hard parts are the parts that provide a real test of love and strength. I can see how my mother watches my children, with love and joy so immense she can barely contain it. I see her eyes fill with sadness and joy simultaneously, and I do wonder if it would be the same if we lived closer. Probably not.

I see my father create worlds of imagination with Theo, and talk in silly rhymes with Ila-Rae; he tells me he doesn’t want to get too attached and I understand, deeply I do, because I have for so long protected myself by staying distant from those I want and need most. It works, and I know that ultimately we will be okay, but it is also futile, because my kids adore their grandparents, and when they leave, it will hit hard. That’s part of life.

I see my brother too, whom I haven’t seen in over a year, play with his nephew and niece with such overwhelming love. He has a lot of learning to do in his life and I struggle with him the most out of these 3, because I have little people to protect and I do so fiercely. My brother threatens my sense of comfort with them, he doesn’t know it yet, but his small comments and actions that undermine my parenting put me on edge, because although he loves them, my anxiety levels are at an all time high.

The truth is, I didn’t expect to be so anxious with these people around. They raised me… and yet, I feel they no longer know me. I have moved into circles they know little about, and I have experiences they cannot relate to. I also no longer know them – our puzzle pieces are distorted. I had hoped we would make them fit, but as I write I realise that maybe we need to try making a new picture with them, one with different rules and colours, so that our pieces lay next to each other happily, even if they aren’t able to interlock anymore.

I am not sure where I go from here with my family, they have 1 full day left of their trip and 1 morning after. It isn’t a long time. It doesn’t feel like long enough for anything, but it also enough time to try and reconnect a little, like I do with Theo, because really, when I see them, I see love.

Love for me
Love for my children
Love to see them smile
To hold them
To play
Love to watch them
and
To Just Be.

Can we play?

It seems like such a simple question. Often we say ‘yes but first…’ or ‘in a minute’ or perhaps even ‘you can go play while I…. (insert chore or other seemingly important thing)’.

My son turns 3 next month. Play is everything for us, and honestly, I am not that good at it. I no longer think that I could be doing more important things while he just ‘plays’ but I still have to check myself and actively remember that play is exactly what I need to be doing.

I was raised with play, I know this, but somewhere along the way from babyhood into childhood into schools with exams, play became something foreign. Worse, it became something wasteful. Why waste time playing? What is it about play that makes society jump back in fear? That we as adults could actually take time in our day to immerse ourselves in something we truly enjoyed, just for fun, and not feel a shred of guilt. Is play really wasteful? Or is the system and societal consensus that because play is not productive in terms of material wealth, it is not necessary.

Sitting with these ideas made me uncomfortable. It still does, but less so. I changed my internal narrative, because my son is asking to play, and I was creating excuses – for what? What is more important that getting on the floor and having a pretend picnic? What creates more joy than exaggerated stomping around with big dinosaur feet? The dishes… ? Or maybe it was the bed that needed to be made?

Or the washing, drying, folding, sorting, tidying up, cleaning the bathroom, sweeping baby food off the floor, hoovering, or hanging up the pile of clean clothes living in the baby cot? 

But truthfully, right in the moment… play is everything. None of the above list create danger to us, nor do they disappear (I wish!) if they are left waiting. My son turns 3 next month, and when he’s turning 6 I will still have dishes to do, and they will still be there at 16, and 20 and forever. But he won’t be almost 3 forever, and he certainly will not ask me to play forever.

The baby I felt would never leave my side turned into the wildest boy who wants to play.

Play means everything.

I catch myself now, actively reminding myself that play is anything but wasteful. It has so many social and physical benefits that are increasingly documented. But, though the research is incredible and much needed, I think if we stop for a minute and listen with our inner child, heart forward, we already know that play is exactly what our children need.

This feels foreign, like coming back to an old friend. I miss writing but the days are long and the nights are for rest, the little I’ve been getting.

We’re currently experiencing the strangest time in my living memory; I think many feel the same. I currently have 2 children and my husband home, my kids are 5 months and 2.5 years – or thereabouts anyway. I have a burning desire to create, to be present, to make my mark. Then I look at my baby monitor and the fire inside me burns smaller… I have tiny humans to look after. I am needed. I am their safe space. I am mum.

Part of me yearns for the days I had no responsibility, but honestly, I can hardly remember that time. It was so long ago, I was not the woman I am today. I look back at that girl and smile, but I do not miss her. I have grown. I have created life. I have sustained it. My babies are my life now, and for a long time they will be.

My desire to create, my fire, my love, it is for them. I wake and work and learn and love for their future. And sometimes, like tonight, I get a sliver of time to myself and it is timed beautifully so I can write, or paint, or move my body. I long for the days I can do this every night, and somehow even though they are not here yet, I mourn the fact they will come. My babies will grow. They won’t need me as much. I will be ‘free’ and I will miss their little hands holding while I listen to the big snores that arise from their tiny mouths.

How fortunate we are to have the benefit of hindsight and foresight. And how cursed too. I can get lost for hours and days thinking about the past which I cannot change and dreaming about a future that I cannot control… It is so easy to disconnect from the present. It is so easy to let them fly with the time, and they grieve the lost hours.

Life is strange. No doubt about it. Life is beautiful too. My babies are sleeping and I am here. I am blessed and loved and held and privileged. My burning passions could be something incredible if I were alone, if I could spend hours and days creating and sharing; but instead these desires are quietly kindling. They rise and remind me they are here and I listen to them, I hear what they ask, I try and soothe them. I have quietly begun to ask my soul to soften and be patient, to give my babies the time they need from me, to enjoy the peace and slowness, because when the time comes that I am less needed by these tiny humans, I will let my fire burn brighter and fiercer. I will let my soul roar.