It’s already that time of year again – January yes, but we are thinking ahead.
Mothers day is in 52 days, or 52 sleeps if you count them with littles. That’s really not long!
Last year, I invited families to book in for a mini photoshoot celebrating mothers. We had mum friends, a mum who’s partner was a away, a dad who got involved too and the most beautiful little details in each one.
I was honoured to capture a snippet of these stories, and to share the beauty of each of these mothers, because often in the thick of it, you don’t see just how beautiful your interactions are.
Some of my favourite were the cheeky smiles that go to their eyes, and the joy in each mum as they held, walked and talked with their growing babies.
I won’t share the ones of their little faces, those are private.
But I can share these.
And now, I’m inviting you. If you’re local to Helensburgh or Rhu (or can get here), I’d love to capture your beautiful family and celebrate you.
Mums to be, mums of 1, mums of many, grandmas… and dads/grandads if they want to, all welcome to come create some magick. I know all too well that these moments are fleeting, even when they don’t seem to be.
Get in touch and we’ll book your date 💕
You deserve to be seen – not just in a selfie!
With love,
Rohana
Details:
Dates: 31st Jan, 7th Feb, 21st Feb.
£60 – a full gallery, 5 digital downloads, or the option to upgrade.
As the theme changes from spooky to sparkles, I am jumping on this trend with a quick note today, because honestly, while everyone sharing their fabulous decorations, costumes, and pumpkins – almost all of which have a HUGE impact on the environment and carry their own horror story, there’s also a 365 day crisis in perintal care that’s far scarier than Halloween.
5 truely spooky things, going on every single day within birth, because the system is build to conveyor belt families from pregnancy through to postpartum as conveniently as possible. This is not because those working in it want to, but because that’s the way policies and systems have been built.
Scary stuff!
So, heres just 5, of the many terrifying things going on in the birth world … all year round.
The lies in antenatal care from professionals in the system – I know I said above that it’s not those working in the system, and most of the time, it isn’t. But the truth is, sometimes it is. Sometimes it is professionals ticking boxes, sometimes it’s disregarding evidence based care, sometimes it’s policy and sometimes it’s someone who’s burnt out and exhausted. But the lies come. And the ripples they create are immense.
Induction rates are incredibly high. When there’s a medical need, induction can be an incredibly useful life-saving tool, and thank goodness for that. However for the majority of women and birthing people induction is often a result of lack of confidence, misinformation, scarmongering and guidance about ‘big babies’ or being ‘overdue’. It isn’t based on the latest evidence and induction – in its various forms – ends up being the first step in a sliding scale of interventions which often perpetuate trauam for all those involved.
Lack of trauma informed, neruodivergent aware, autonomy based care is in part related to the point above: induction. However, it goes well beyond that. A lack of well rounded training and resources means that a majority of healthcare professionals, while well intentioned, often don’t have the correct language or experience to be able to support the different women and birthing people that they are seeing. The lack of neurodiverse not knowledge means that a lot of the time, families are treated in ways that cause more harm, coerce all violate their rates to autonomy. The reality of this is that once again, women, birthing people, partners and the babies involved are coming away from birthing within the system with experiences they need to heal from right at the start of this new journey together.
When we have a lack of support and we feel out of control or in danger. Physiological birth is halted, and our bodies go into shut down. This means that a majority of families are starting their journey together with this new baby, and also having to recover from the experience of pregnancy and birth.
The maternal mortality rate for non white bodies is another incredibly scary aspect of birth in not just the UK but around the Western world. The reality is that biases exist, unconscious ones often doing more harm than we realise. Although most people don’t believe themselves to be racist, these are socialised biases that have informed everything we do, so of course, it is unsurprising that we see them unfold in preintal care too.
Lastly, the bullying, coercion, and violation that women and birthing are experiencing every day. Unfortunately, almost everyone who has been through the system will have an experience where they have been treated in a less than ideal way. However, the scariest part of this is that they leave, and I, myself have done this too, grateful for the fact that they have come out not as damaged as they could be, and that their baby is there, not damaged or as damaged as could have been.
Halloween is one day. One commercialised day adulterated from ancient traditions.
The crisis in perinatal care is all year round.
If you’re planning a baby or pregnant – get informed. You and your baby deserve better than what is currently happening.
When I had my first child over 7 years ago, I had never heard of birth photography. I had the idea that I wanted to see my baby being born, and I asked if I could have a camera set up. I didn’t really understand why I wanted to, all I knew was it felt deeply important to me.
The hospital I was birthing at said no. I didn’t argue. I didn’t know how.
That birth, my first child, was traumatic in a number of ways and I’ve worked hard to heal my memories surrounding it. Still, I wish I had photos of it. I wish I could see the woman I was in those moments.
Alas, I cannot.
But I learned my lesson. When I fell pregnant again, I spoke to my partner about wanting to hire a photographer, and so we did.
I looked for a local photographer because at that time, nearly 5 years ago, birth photography wasn’t as popular as it is today. We found one who I trusted and got on with, and she agreed to venture out of her normal photography niche and capture my birth. Those photos are some of the most profound ones I have from that time. Unfortunately, my daughter was ready before anyone else, and the moment I craved capture of, was missed.
Still, having the details like the song she was born to, the pictures of me holding her as I stood up, blood dripped down my legs, cord still attached. They are frozen in time, ready to transport me back. They are a gift from my past self, and they are a gift to my future self too. Moments I have to hold forever.
When I got those images I knew that I wanted to give this to other families. I wanted to capture the rawness of these moments, and the intimacy of saying hello for the first time.
We say that you never forget the birth of your baby, and yes in part it’s true. But memories do fade. Time robs us of details. The haze of motherhood buries the deeply vulnerable early hours postpartum.
Documenting them feels like being able to save a sliver of one of life’s most powerful periods. Giving that to others is a privilege and honour.
When I had my 3rd baby, I hired another birth photographer. We planned a homebirth but ended up freebirthing. She documented the minutes I worried I wouldn’t be able to birth my baby, and she captured the moment where he was between worlds, head here, body not yet earthside, me, a portal.
In the months afterwards where I felt like I was drowning, the photographs she gave us reminded me that I could do the hardest things and survive.
Birth photography isn’t a trend, or just a photo to post on Instagram. It’s powerful, and healing far beyond what we may realise at the time.
Would I recommend it? A big YES! Not only because I do it, but because so many women I’ve spoken to have said, nomatter how their births have gone, they would have loved more images. Those who have them, treasure them deeply.
Baby’s are only born once after all, and no two births are the same.
I have been avoiding this; so here I am day 1 of 40. Committing to myself, possibly as a way to, once these days are done, say goodbye to my blog and move elsewhere.
I have no idea what I’ll write over 40 days, but tonight, I’m musing over commitment, and how, I am so deeply committed to some things, but then others are so goddamn hard. I commit to projects, or people and last year I deeply committed to my own personal practice. This year though, I have tried and tried and continuously found myself avoiding or excusing a lack of consistency.
Perhaps it’s the lack of novelty that my ADHD brain thrives of.
More likely, I think it’s fear. Showing up for myself was a fun experiment last year… but this year, it feels like IF I show up and ask myself to stretch, I might actually grow and change is hard. My type A control freak inside is squirming… because ultimately everything about this year has screamed a lack of control.
From an unexpected, joyfully (and quickly) manifested pregnancy that has me on the path to meeting our 4th baby soon, to a house move, new courses and opportunities, healing work that I have delved into and research that has me continuously taking notes, feeling triggered, and requiring space from. My kids have kept me on my toes more than ever and friendships have evolved through heartbreak, joy and curiosity. I am genuinely in love with my life, and also feel like there’s a whirlwind going on, and I have to accept that none of it is within my control.
So committing to this, 40 days of writing… is within my control. And that is scary! And exhilarating.
Tonight; my ramble on commitment has lead me to this thought: When I commit to myself, I heal the spaces where my ancestors didn’t have the opportunity to show up for themselves in this way, and I pave new paths, create new neuropathways in my brain, and in small steps, create spaces for my children and those afterwards, to commit to themselves with more ease. I am doing this work slowly, one trembling, uneasy, curious baby step at a time.
I like the idea of that, because when baby’s start to walk, though they are bold and headstrong, they are also trembling… and committed. The intrinsic motivation of a little person taking their first steps is one of the most incredible things to see… doesn’t matter how much they mess it up, they keep coming back, and of course they do it.
If I consider my commitment to myself over the past 6 months like that; it’s kinder, more graceful… it’s been a lot of hesitant steps, backing away, and now I’m trying again.
I wrote this more than a yearago … for some reason, I thought it wasn’t right to share at the time. Perhaps because I felt raw from the day, or perhaps because I got busy … either way, I’m sharing it now. Because as I read it back, I realised just how much I needed my own words today… and I am so immensely grateful that I have this space to write.
With love, from a past version of myselfxox
” I was on the bus today, and of course, bus trips mean lots of people. Always opinions, some lovely, others not; but more recently, as I’ve been building up to solo trips with the kids again in the better weather, with them all being older, and E, now 20 months having lots more opinions about the buggy; I’ve thought about how we use the time travelling to connect.
Today, we played I-spy, our version of the game, using colours instead of phonics, and sometimes throwing in the odd shape or physical reference like ‘tall’ or ‘wide’ instead. The kids sat, and looked around, and E started to whine because he was strapped into the buggy. Luckily, another mum got on, and the connection between him and her daughter began, until he fell asleep!
We (mums) chat for a while, talking about kids and coping; she shared some wisdoms about being a mum of 7, and I shared some frustrations about villageless parenting. We connected – over the shared experience of splitting ourselves into multiple pieces, stretching so our children could have parts of us, and simultaneously loving the chance and choice to do this, and being exhausted by it. I told her I thought her family must be beautiful, and I admired her honesty. She told me that it gets easier and harder, affirming that no choice is right, but that we do what we can with the knowledge we have.
A brief, meaningful chat, interrupted by a gentleman getting on the bus and sitting down adjacent to my older 2. “you’ve got your hands full” he said gruffly to me.
“Oh I really do” I replied. “Full of love with my amazing children”.
“Uh, not all the time I bet” was his response!
The other mum looked at me and we shared a moment of horror at the roughness in his voice.
“They really are amazing” I told him. It was our stop. We left.
And once again, I thought about connections. Some positive, some negative, all, inevitably will have an impact on our energy fields. Why do some people feel so harshly about children? Why do they judge when there is more than 1? What did he gain? What was so triggering for him? I wondered aloud a little, with the general cautionary calls to my kids about the road. I thought about how hard it might be for some people to see kids being so free and confident, when they might have never been given the chance to be so.
I wondered how my children felt. Though they know we’ve had these comments and conversations before, so they said they were hardly ruffled, more interested in the scrap metal yard instead. But how does this impact children? How do we make them feel when we comment about how hard they are constantly?
What message do we send when we say, I’ve had enough of you? Because in most instances they never get to say that to us.
Thinking about my children, and the brief beautiful encounter with this lady, I remembered a quote I’d read in an email this week by Rupaul that “You’re born naked and the rest is drag”.
Kindness costs nothing.
The appearances we choose every day impact every single human around us. We are born naked, and needing others to survive… as we grow we create costumes for ourselves every season of life… and yet, when we die, we return to the earth .. dust. The short space of time in between, in the costumes we choose may be brief, but it is so powerful.
The lady on the bus today gave me hope… and it was thanks to her, that though the gentleman’s words stung, I could brush them away, and hold my babies close. A year ago, I might have been brought to tears (probably would have!). Thank you, whoever you are. I am grateful.”
That’s it.
That’s the post. A short meeting that left a big impact.
Whatever your day looks like. Wherever you are in the world. I hope you know this:
You are loved. You are important. You are so much more than enough.
I’m currently taking a Chinese medicine course, all about Traditional Chinese Medicine in relation to women’s health.
When I read about it before buying, it sounded fascinating.
Now, taking it, I’m really struggling to understand anything, and as a result, I’m putting off the study. There’s so no dopamine hit at completing units because I think I’ve understood it, and then realise I’m still very confused.
I’m learning about myself as I go though, because nobody is making me do the course. I could quit. Nobody would hold me accountable, and yet, I’m continuing – at snails pace – knowing that if I keep at it, by the end, things should fall into place and I’ll understand.
I’ve got pieces of the puzzle, but not the big picture yet.
As I watch this unfold in my own life, I’m also reflecting on our home education styles and where my children are at. P is 6 and he isn’t reading or writing yet, he can recognise letters, and even some words, though will often choose to say he doesnt know. A is 3 and showing a bit more interest in writing letters, though only on her terms. If corrected, she gets upset.
They are both at different stages, both with different pieces of the puzzle.
P doesn’t get a dopamine hit from reading or writing in the same way he does from science experiments or inventing. A gets more joy from writing, but she also gets frustrated quickly. She loves making up pictures and will come tell me about them, and the delight in her sharing is something I am determined to preserve. To me, it isn’t worth pushing anything more that that, because I trust that it will all come in time.
If they were schooled, in this country (UK) generally, most kids are expected to have at least started on the writing and reading path by the age of 6 (earlier for many). If not, they’re the B word – behind! The pressure put on young children to write and read is immense, and I’m not immune to seeing others children and worrying about if I should push mine more. That said, even when I do worry, I come back to a place of trust, unpicking my own feelings of being ‘behind’ or not performing well enough when I was in school. This is the beauty of our choice to unschool – a label I’ve become more and more comfortable with adopting recently.
As I reflect on my course and study, I know that as an adult, I understand the long game and benefits of continuing even when it feels hard. The ability to delay gratification is a skill I work on, and in this case am leaning into. I can see that eventually the pieces will come together; and I’m giving myself permission to take it slow but also not give up.
As I watch my kids, especially P, I see this kind of grit and motivation when they do things that come from a place of pure love. When they build or draw or tell a story, or even climb a tree; and they fall or it goes wrong but they get back to trying, slower, learning, more cautious yet determined.
It is something so easily missed if not looking, but once you see it, the intrinsic motivation in our children is a beautiful expression of their humanity. The drive to accomplished something, not for a sticker or praise, but for the genuine love of it – it’s in all of us, stamped out by instant gratification systems and manipulative rewards.
I am learning to slow down more, lean in to the long game.
They don’t need to learn it; they already know it, innately.
When P turns to me and says, I want to read, I’ll be ready. When A asks, it’ll be the same. Maybe I’ll get the bonus joy of them wanting to do it together, a joint learning adventure.
Until then, I’m not worrying too much. I’ll learn for my own joy, and we’ll listen to audiobooks and read stories from the bookshelves. We’ll play and dance and take the pressure off… and maybe by the time I finish this course, I’ll be better equipped with new resources anyway.
As ever, thanks for reading.
With love, and a reminder that nomatter what, you are enough,
Rohana x
As they grow and develop their skills and understanding, more puzzle pieces fit into place. They’ll start to find more joy and less frustration and they’ll choose to both read and write for fun in their own time.
Motherhood is a marathon. It’s sweaty and exhausting and often filled with various bodily fluids, not many of them our own. We often find that we are in a cycle of doing and being for everyone else, wearing the same clothes for days or holding back hair while our kids are sick even when we just want to throw up too!
But somehow, despite doing all of the things, often on little sleep and a vague remembrance of what it feels like to have a full cup, we begin to wonder if we are enough.
Am I doing enough?
Am I cooking enough ‘good’ food?
Is the house clean enough?
Do I cuddle my children enough?
Have I been a ‘good enough’ partner recently?
Have I even thought about all the birthdays or friends or the appointments I need to book?
Am I enough? Or am I screwing up?
It’s exhausting!
The mental load of motherhood is enough to break us. We feel guilt glands grow with every ‘to do’ and every ‘should’; and eventually, we end up feeling like we just can’t cope – but that there’s also no way we can stop.
You are holding everything together; almost exclusively at times; with not even a thank you or any notice taken. You are not a superwoman, but you are being asked to be.
But what if there was another way? What if we could, at least, shift the guilt.
Move away from the guilt that we aren’t enough – because my goodness we are!
Our inner critic roars when we get frustrated by broken bananas and bedtime battles; because we are so stretched at every angle, that we cannot see how adding more big feelings is possible. Every time our inner critic pipes up, we buy into the belief that we ‘should’ be doing more.
I call bullshit!
And, in fact; I call so much bullshit, that I created a course on this exact topic. The Rollercoaster of Motherhood in all it’s messy madness doesn’t have to include guilt over not enoughness. It doesn’t have to include overwhelm at all the things society tells us we should be. And it doesn’t have to include days after days where we feel like we are failing; just because we haven’t met the impossibly high standards we (or others) have set for ourselves.
If you’re interested to learn more; contact me. I will be opening opportunity later this year, to work with mothers, and families at a much deeper level than I have been writing; because I believe it’s time we reclaim the power we have raising our children. Reclaim the political act that parenting is; not just so we move away from not feeling enough – but so that our children have better, more positive writing on the walls of their mind.
Supporting you from pregnancy to parenting 