The Ripple of a Supported Postpartum Period.

August 31, 2023September 1, 2023 | Rohana Aisha Dewfall

The experience of welcoming a new human earthside is a remarkable journey. I’ve done it 3 times… and the feeling I get when I share my experiences, and listen to others is incredible. There is something so sacred about birth.

However, though absolutely deserving of the attention it gets; birth is the highlight in media and many conversations; with postpartum being a little left on the wayside. For first time parents, there is some emphasis placed on the changes of this transitional period (though by no means enough); but after that, it kind of just dissapears into the noise of everything.

Postpartum is just as – if not more – sacred that birth.

As I prepare to deliver a session next month on the postpartum period to some wonderful Doulas in training, I am called to write about it here too.
In part, this is because, through the whole rollercoaster of parenthood, the attention, support and social associations between male and female parents is so different. I honestly cannot speak from stories of same sex couples; because to date I only know 2 same sex parent families who’ve had children, both of whom are female identifying. That said, we’ve all seen the memes where mum goes to the shops and is expected to ‘control the toddler’ versus dad who is ‘so wonderful’ for literally being a parent.

Nonetheless, outside of social expectations, speaking to men about their experiences postpartum – it is just as lonely, if not more so for them. It is isolating. It is hard. They receive even less support, with many (much needed) services aiming to support mothers as they transition into motherhood, and few doing the same for fathers.

Yet, it is, in my opinion, vital to recognise, support and celebrate the role that fathers play in the postpartum period.
Supporting families as a whole unit here, in these early months, can lay the foundations for a family life that is built on a strong sense of connection, trust and nurturing. Not only is the child or children in a far more stable, healthy environment for their emotional growth, but both parents are more likely to communicate kindly with each other, have compassion, and connect in a more intimate way – which, let’s be honest, isn’t going to harm anyone’s sex life.

How can we support families as a whole unit?

In my postpartum prep session I dive deeply into conversations about the 4th Trimester and ways we can really support families.

If I could gift any new parent something, it would be this support. A step towards that is this information.

Nourishing the Body with Good Food:

One of the most fundamental ways to provide support is by ensuring that postpartum families are nourished with good food. In the absence of being able to literally take someone food (because honestly thats a BIG task), recommending recipies or supporting them to create a meal train where friends/famkly bring food, can make a huge impact.

The demands of parenting, combined with sleep deprivation and physical recovery from labour and birth, will massively affect new parent’s energy levels. Fathers, in particular, often are expected to step up to ensure that the family is well-fed during this vital period – and a sense of support and direction is helpful.

Nutrient-rich meals not only aid in physical recovery but will contribute to state of mind. When both parents are nourished with wholesome, healthy foods, they are less likely to falter in moments of stress, because they are physically having this need met.

Rest

In a fast-paced world, the idea of rest that isn’t justified by some kind of productivity beforehand might seem elusive. However, the fourth trimester calls for a major shift in perspective, where rest is acknowledged as a precious commodity. This is as true for fathers, who at least in this country are required to go back to their day jobs only 2 weeks after baby arrives, while still adjusting to their role as supporting the family in this new way.

Many conversations centre how fathers can take on more responsibilities. In part, yes I agree, because nursing a baby is a full time job and mums need rest. But, radically, I also assert that fathers should prioritise rest.

This should absolutely be a conversation before baby arrives. Dishes can be minimalised. Hoovering doesn’t have to be as often as it was. The house will be a mess and that’s okay. When dad’s rest is prioritised alongside mum’s, there is more balance, more opportunities for meaningful conversation and more joy.

Mental health

The last big focus in creating a supported postpartum experience, without diving into the other (essential) aspects mental health.

Yeah that’s too vague Rohana … we all know mental health matters, but how do we do anything about it?

Chat openly and honestly. Before having baby and after. Every step of the way… honest, non-judgemental conversations are essential. This is probably best done when everyone has been fed, and there isn’t insane levels of sleep deprivation being used as competitive advantage in the who feels worse game. But seriously, taking to partners about the JOYS and the things that are hard, makes a difference.
Divide and Conquer. Divide jobs/tasks. Remove everything that isn’t essential to be done by you/your partner. Delegates the none essentials. Easier said than done… I’m banking on the idea that you’ve got a gorgeous groups of family and friends who want to help (and can) OR a wonderful doula. If neither applies (it didn’t for me!), then lower the bar massively. Do the essentials. Survive. This isn’t forever.
Find friends. Groups. Peanut. Facebook local groups. Whatever is an option… if you can, use it. Parenting is isolating, and by having someone to give and receive some solidarity around, it helps. *careful not to just find ranting buddies who keep you feeling low*
Lastly, do things for joy. Don’t give up hobbies. Don’t ask your partner to. In fact, schedule them in with extra vigilance, because being reminded that you’re a human outside of helping this tiny person grow and survive is really important.

There’s so much more to say… creating a supported, wholesome postpartum and beyond experience isn’t going to magically happen. It is worth the work though, because when you are supported, you feel safe.

When you feel safe, your nervous system capacity can hold more.

When you feel safe, baby (and other children) feel safe too. Their mirror neurons mimic your regulated state.

Then, the cycle of safety, support, joy repeats. It cycles. And grows.

This time for growth and unity as a famkly builds the sturdy foundations of trust and connection, which, when toddler and teenage years come by, will be something that holds everyone through.

As ever, thank you for reading.

Rohana

The Birth of Ezra Krishna

October 24, 2021December 11, 2023 | Rohana Aisha Dewfall

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.

My Birth Story: Ila-Rae

December 30, 2019August 4, 2020 | Rohana Aisha Dewfall

4 weeks on from welcoming my daughter into the world, I am finally ready to share our story. It’s taken me this long to write because life has been a perfect blend of chaos and love and I haven’t wanted to miss out in daylight hours. But before we begin 2020, I want to share one of my biggest and most incredible 2019 moments: birth.

Ila-Rae decided exactly 1 week early that she was ready to come earthside and so was born in the first week of December. Throughout the last trimester of my pregnancy, I had said that I didn’t mind, and in fact wanted to carry her over our due date because I enjoyed being pregnant. However, the night before her arrival, I was very ready to no longer be pregnant: I was tired, heavy and sore. I wanted to be able to play with and run after Theo Prana (now 29 months) without the constraints of my giant belly. That night Theo was sick, he ran a temperature and at 1am cried and cried that his throat hurt. He wanted the telly so we left H in bed and I took him downstairs for the dragon movie (How to Train Your Dragon) hoping I’d manage some sleep. We never watched the film, he snuggled up and fell asleep again quickly, waking frequently for reassurance that mummy was there with him. I was exhausted.

Baby girl must have known growing her was taking its toll, the next morning I went to the toilet and realised I’d had a ‘show’. My real contractions started around an hour later (8am) and slowly got worse through the day. H had his usual lie in while I played with Theo and we had a spinach omelette breakfast. The morning was calm enough, I did the washing, sorted out some house bits; the labour pains were becoming more obvious and I knew that this was it, but we’d had a few false alarms in the 2 weeks previously so I kept quiet. Played with Theo, snacked, sang, danced, cuddled and breastfed. Theo was extra attached to me, possibly because he’d been unwell, or possibly because he knew we were maybe getting close to our new arrival.

H came down mid-morning and he asked if everything was okay. I told him that this could be another false alarm, pains were not frequent enough to tell. At some point, he left me and Theo so he could buy a new computer game, which later he joked he’d never get to play since baby was coming: I laughed and somehow as silly as this may seem, it is significant memory of the early stages of my labour. I’d also very last minute ordered a bump cast kit. It arrived that afternoon.

At 2pm we took Theo to the GP to check on his throat. By this point my contractions were frequent enough to know we should time them, but still irregular. Priority was having my son checked, and making sure he was alright. Once he was given the all clear: we went home and immediately my contractions intensified. I had mentally given my body permission to keep going because I knew that Theo was okay. I think if we’d been told he had an infection, labour would have stalled.

Harrison got everything ready for the bump cast. I took Theo upstairs and we played with blocks and he fed and cuddled me. I told him baby would be arriving soon, and mummy’s body was getting ready to have his sister come to live outside of my belly. I contacted my friend who’d offered to have Theo while we went to hospital, and the photographer I’d hired. They both knew it was going to happen in the next 12-24 hours. I watched my son and cried knowing it was my last day with only him as my baby. Our relationship has become so sacred to me, I was scared beyond measure that I was going to ruin it by bringing a baby home; I mourned the fact he was suddenly going to be so grown up.

We put the Teletubies on for Theo while Harrison cast over my bump. I lay down letting it set and my contractions got stronger. It was lying on my kitchen floor breathing and moaning through the pain that I understood the sensuality of labour, and how it could be, in its own way, orgasmic. I breathed heavily, closed my eyes and let the wave-like feeling build and then drop off, it was magical.

I asked Harrison to take the cast off and after getting cleaned up, began to make dinner. The boys ate wraps but I just wanted to be sick. I’d already taken an anti-sickness tablet so I tried to eat though I didn’t manage much, instead a bounced on the birth ball. The nausea reminded me of Theo’s labour, except this time I was better prepared. While we ate, we made sure everything was packed and got Theo ready for his sleepover. My 4th night away from him, ever. I walked him to our friends house and he was off, didn’t even say goodbye. He happily went off to play and though he struggled to sleep, he did a lot better than I thought he would. I am truly grateful that he stayed with them, because I could relax and focus on myself and baby, knowing he was safe and well cared for.

Music on, we set off for hospital in Paisley. I texted our photographer and told her we were leaving: she said she’d meet us there after a while.

We arrived at 8pm. I said not to bother bringing in our bags in case we were told that I wasn’t far enough along to admit. H wanted to bring them but didn’t argue, and so came out for them again about half an hour later. We saw a midwife who did the initial triage, and then were left to our own devices for a while. I was sick from the pain of contractions and asked for an antiemetic injection but it only arrived after Ila-Rae was born.

Another midwife Emily introduced herself and brought us some toast and tea. She wanted to examine me but suggested we wait until I was more ready. She encouraged me to breathe through contractions, relax my body and blow the pain away. After a while she suggested it again because the contractions were making me visibly more uncomfortable: I agreed to have a vaginal exam in 15 minutes – we ended up waiting 35 and when she examined me, I was 5cm dilated. Though painful, it was exactly the news I had wanted: active labour meant I’d be admitted into the CMU (maternity unit) and could move to a labour room. It was around 9.30pm.

Just before we moved to the labour room, Louise arrived (our photographer) and got straight to work. She encouraged me and got on well with the midwives straight away. The night shift had started so Emma, a new midwife introduced herself. This made me uncomfortable because I had, in a short time built a rapport with Emily. Both women however, were exceptional.

The bath had been run at my request and I got straight in. I was still talking and joking between contractions though slowly began to withdraw. Emma made me feel like a person: she sat with me and encouraged me, she never requested I move out of a comfort zone and examined me without making me uncomfortable. At one point, when Harrison and Louise were both in the main room away from me, Emma sat near me and asked me about my hair: it was in 2 french braids for convenience and we briefly discussed how it is often much more comfortable to have hair out the way in labour but that it isn’t something many people advise pregnant women on. It was a simple conversation, but it made me feel like a human being not just a labouring mum.

I cannot remember full details about each contraction, but I remember getting quieter, more tired, withdrawing into myself, and connecting with the wilder, primal parts of me: I moaned, I cried, I breathed slowly and deeply. I was aware of my music, and grateful that the midwives had gone through my birth plan. Emma was at one point my advocate to tell Harrison and Louise to be quiet or leave the room.

As things got further along (though I had no real care or idea of the time), Emma asked about pushing, and we spoke about the fetal ejection reflex; she knew that I wanted to let my body take over, so she asked that when I felt my body begin to push or want to, that I let her know. She also told me that the birthe pool was being cleaned and then I’d be able to transfer to there soon. I was still in the bath and H poured water over my back and reminded me to relax my body through contractions. He sang to my music in between. In between the contractions I rested, eyes closed, not quite sleeping. I remember thinking they wouldn’t move me to the pool before baby.

My body began to push, I told Emma and she encouraged me. She again said we’d move soon but I knew we wouldn’t. I couldn’t talk, the next contraction came and Harrison told me how well I was doing “just a bit more” … but I felt like I couldn’t cope. I moved from my kneeling position to a half kneel, half squat and said I couldn’t do it anymore, I wanted to ask for pain relief, but had no time. I was pushing involuntarily and my body took over.

Pushing my daughter out was hard, birth it, but it was an incredibly powerful feeling.

Emma said as I pushed that my waters had gone, but I knew it was my baby; I couldn’t talk, just pushed and moaned. Then I heard “no that’s the baby!” and Emma had tried to catch her but I reached out and pulled her through my legs and she was on me. It was bliss.

We were ushered out the bath fairly quickly due to my history of blood loss and the fact we needed a managed placenta delivery. On the bed, I had skin to skin and Ila-Rae latched onto my breast. We delivered my placenta and the midwives checked for any tears etc – absolutely none. I threw up again, and then my antiemetic finally arrived.

Skin to skin, quiet time, we were able to bond and relax. Ila’s newborn check and weight wasn’t done for over 2 hours, we were brought toast but I couldn’t stomach any of it. I still felt sick. I was happy to just let her feed and watch her, resting in small spouts.

We moved to the recovery wing and then sadly Harrison was sent home (3.30am); this was the only tainting experience of our labour and birth, because he was so upset and really I didn’t want him to leave. But we didn’t argue, he went home and I nursed and slept. I held Ila almost all night, something that was entirely impossible with Theo because I could hardly stay awake after his birth.

In the morning I spoke to Harrison and he brought Theo to pick us up. Theo wasn’t sure at first, more interested in his milkshake than his sister but that soon changed when I said he could hold her. My beautiful boy told her he loved her without being asked to, he said hello beautiful and he cuddled her on the bed. It is a moment I will cherish always.

And there ends my birth story.

My postpartum experience has been entirely different to the first time round. I am of course tired, and there are many hard moments, but I’ll share those bits later. I am starting 2020 as a mum of 2 beautiful babies, feeling empowered by my birth and excited by it too. I hope that this year I can start my journey into birth-work, and after this experience, I hope I can empower other women, whatever their choices are or situation may be, to feel as in control and trusting as I did in the birth room.