growth

Day 30 – 3am Thought Spiral

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

Last night I thought I’d missed something, when I checked and realised I’d already written for the day. It felt like a big win, becauee I had been organised. The reality was I seized the moment, and I’m so glad I did.

I’m half doing the same now, it’s very early hours, and I’m listening to babies snore; I got up for a wee and have been tossing around, so thought, “what’s the time?” and landed here.

In many ways I suppose I’m already intimately familiar with the early hours, 3 and 4am particularly. I’m not exactly getting reacquainted since my kids are often up needed cuddles or to change position, go toilet or even have a snack – though this is rarely. However, I know in the coming weeks I’ll be far more likely to see these hours with leaky breasts and nappy changing… and I’ll be experiencing the darkness of not quite morning in whole new ways.

It’s day 30 now, and I’m genuinely considering joining a container where for 7 weeks there’ll be daily prompts, knowing full well I cannot 100% guarantee I’ll even have 2 of those 7… but also knowing that I might have nearly all, and it’s something I’ve been looking at for over a year. If I do, I’ll have the last 10 days of this 40 day practice, alongside packing and new writing prompts… and I keep thinking how exciting it is. Other voices (who I deeply respect, value and have asked opinions of) have concerns that I’m not resting enough. I probably am not, but that’s more based on having 3 kids under 7 and a 10 month old labrador so I am still gallivanting on adventures regularly through the week.

I don’t want to open the door of relying on technology to fill gaps just yet, because I know in the early days of new baby, I will lean on tablets and TV more; something I’m entirely at home with, becauee honouring a restful period of postpartum means I want to spend many of my first days with baby in bed, and that also means cuddles, books, screens and space to hold my older ones.

For the first time preparing for a baby, I feel wholly content; I feel confident, and I am calling in seamless transitions. This past year of practices has changed so much for me, I cannot put into words just how much has shifted.

Last year, in early 2023 the thought of having another baby terrified me to the point of desperation. Now, 18 months later, it feels like doors have opened wide, I’ve cried more and shed many many layers in healthy ways, and I’m new.

An incredible creator I follow called Rebecca Oakiah says pregnancy is the gestation of the mother and it feels so absolutely true. I’ve learning so much from her and various other birthkeepers since K was born. I’m inspired by them all, and more confident in my own work and sharing than I could have imagined I’d be.

Truthfully I didn’t do my Doula training because I wanted to work in birth. I did it because I wanted to be empowered after Ps birth, so that when I had A, I wasn’t left processing trauma and trying to figure out life with a newborn. I knew Hs job would demand a lot, and I was resourcing myself in the way I knew how – learning from people who’d been there before me.

Now I look back and see these life events were catalysing me towards a deeper calling. I was turning to the wise women, and looking further than my village because I knew that in order to learn and heal and hold others, I needed to be held myself. I found wisdom in spaces and I have for the last 5 years inhaled it all…

Before P I thought learning looked a certain way, through the trajectory of school and uni, I planned a masters and career and all the ‘normal’ path kind of things. I thought that’s what I should do, and ought to do.

Even after he was born it was still my plan… though I’d begun to spiral away a little. Meeting other women in a retreat while I held him in my womb, and hearing their wisdoms. That was one the transitionary stages for me. Those women, my beautiful mother included, held a blessing for me, crested a web of well wishes and sat in circle with me.

I long for the day where I can sit in circle with women again. It is healing.

Tracking these experiences back I’m so aware of how blessed I’ve been, and I can see, though P was a surprise baby, his entrance to the world was the most powerful thing. I didn’t understand manifestation or anything back then, but I manifested him … just as, in other ways, I have all my children. I have in each circumstance send out some energy into the universe, not even consciously at the time, calling in these babies, these experiences, these path changes.

Now, at 4am, as I spiral into the memories of it all, I feel like there is an unfolding and awakening.

I am meant to be here, holding this baby. I am meant to be on this path, working with others who want to do the same. I may not be ready to support a birth and capture it (though I am in my heart) becauee my capacity is filled with the abundance and attendance to my own children right now, but I am able to offer support in every ripple I create.

It isn’t about fighting the system, which it felt like with K.

It isn’t about being seen and heard loudly like it felt with A.

It isn’t about being quiet and submissive or apologetic like it felt with P.

It is about standing with my feet on the earth, rooting down and being supported by the land. Land that I stand on where ancestors have moved across, land that I cannot reach, where my ancestors were rooted. It isn’t about anyone else… its me, my body, my baby, my family.

H and I said when I turned 27 that every year I step into my identity as a witch a little more. Witch meaning wise woman. Witch meaning skilled medicine woman. Witch meaning someone connected to the energy around her. The word Witch holds so much energy… it was used for so much harm, but truly, I love the saying that we are the granddaughters of the witches they couldn’t burn. I know it’s more complicated but this sentiment resonates. I am more confident in my radicalness every year… and I have little concern that it turns people away.

It also brings people here.

Anyway, it’s 5am, the kids aren’t going to let me sleep in and we’ve got adventuring planned for the day. So, for now, I’m signing off. This has been the most interesting few hours to write.

If you’ve stuck with me through it all, and foe the past 30 days, I’m honoured. If you’re just joining, welcome.

Thank you for reading,

With love, Rohana x

Building Trust When Kids Lie

| Rohana Aisha Dewfall

Trust is a big word in relationships.

I had an old photo come up recently; one of those shared ones from a quote page on Facebook which read “trust is like a piece of paper, once you crumple it up, you can smooth it out again, but it will never be exactly the same.” It got me thinking about trust, and the way we bring it up with our kids.

They trust us implicitly in the early years. They have to in order to survive. As they get older, around the age of 4, they begin to experiment with lies – not to hurt us, but rather, to see what happens.

When my oldest started this, I was shocked! It brought up a lot for me; about the relationship I have with trust, and how its affected my personal life. So, despite being very triggered, and definitely not responding calmly at first, I got curious – why do children lie? It turns out, it’s kind of like discovering a superpower, where they can hold multiple versions of a story, and keep track of each one relating to other people, and then see what happens. They may be scared or worried, or maybe just curious; but lying is a developmental leap; and after all, adults tell white lies all the time right? Especially to kids.

So how are they meant to trust us?

And how do we build a relationship of trust with them?

I don’t the answers – if I did I wouldn’t be writing this – but I do have my experiences and reflections. In part because I think by getting curious and researching, I learned that I wasn’t the only mum freaking out about trust. It’s pretty universal, which I think is a good indicator of how messed up so many people over this concept, and how loaded it really it.

Trust is the foundation of relationships isn’t it? And yet, our kids see/hear us lie about the park being closed, or not going to a party or the big one: Santa! It’s confusing; because there are some socially acceptable lies – whether or not we agree with them personally.

By getting honest; which is harder and often leads to more upset, we set the standard.

“No, we’re not going to the park today because mummy is cold and it’s nearly lunchtime.”

“There are more biscuits in the house but right now we can’t have them because we’ve had enough for today.”

“I’m taking a few minutes by myself, because I am tired. I love you, and adults get tired too, so I need a few minutes to rest.”

None of these are fun; and most of the time they are going to result in a child getting angry or sad or both, but it means that when they have to regulate, or tell someone why they can’t do something, or need a minute, they are equipped with the language to do so. The hardest one for me, is time alone. The others, after practice, now result in some form of compromise or negotiation where I say no, and they say “when can we?” and we talk about it.

For example the other day we went for a woodland walk and my daughter really wanted to go to the park afterwards, but my oldest son was tired and it was nearly lunchtime. I said no, because we had to get home and she wasn’t happy. She said she’d go alone and I said I couldn’t let her, but that we’d go another day. She asked if the next day (i.e. tomorrow) I’d bring her, and I said “I don’t know, but I promise when we come out to this area again, I’ll bring a picnic and we can do the park as well. Today I don’t have enough food, and your brothers tired so it’s not a good idea.” She understood.

But what about when they lie?

At first, I struggled. I got upset, and I felt like I was failing at teaching them the importance of truth telling. Then, I stopped, dropped the idea that it was an attack on me or my parenting, and tried to understand why. When it involved hurting a sibling, or spilling the soap everywhere; it was because they were scared about what I’d do.

I don’t want my kids to be scared of me. This was a huge reality check for me. I wanted them to know, mistakes, big feelings, doing things we shouldn’t (often because impulse control isn’t a thing for tiny people), are okay, because we can clean up and repair, and we can figure out a way forward, together. Once I realised this, and I talked to them about it, we shifted. I got less upset; they didn’t lie as much. When they did, I asked them to tell me what really happened; or I played along for a bit; and teased the truth out.

Truthfully; when my kids lie now, unless there’s potential danger, I go with it – which for the most part means they turn around quickly and say “I tricked you” and then we play or laugh or chat about it. I don’t always manage, but when this happens, I also try and remind them that they’re body is stronger in truth – and that they can impact every single cell inside them positively by being truthful.

It’s not a perfect system, and we’re not perfect at it. But it works for us right now… and through adults setting the standard, we’re building trust, so they know they can rely on us, even if they don’t like what they hear. It’s building bridges, and it’s reminding them (and me) that we can live in truth far more peacefully than with white lies that crumple our paper in the long term.

Thank you for reading,

Rohana