There was a song. It was a nice song discovered at 38 weeks pregnant, hurriedly added to a birth playlist in a fit of mild panic and forgotten about. It was a song listened to in labour that took on new meaning, it would swell and swoop and with it my excitement would soar. I would grip onto the fireplace through contractions, knuckles white, and cry at the pain and the beauty of each…Read More
This is a story that is mine. It is one that I get to choose how to tell. The language is mine, the narrative I craft is mine, and the emotions that run deep and earnestly throughout are all mine too. It is a story that I have held back on sharing because I was scared of marring the face of birth positivity, something that I feel is so important. I was worried that by sharing an experience that is at the very crux and core of me I would be letting the side down. I do not let it define me, but it is inherently woven into the tapestry of our lives. To ignore it is to ignore the yearning I have to share with you, it is to ignore the important message I feel exists in its past and present. It is to ignore the all-encompassing empowerment it gave me now and at the time.Read More
I write the above title slightly sheepishly and with a caveat. This is not a how-to guide nor a prescription. The ability to look upon my birth as empowered is not something I took into consideration at the time, and came with its own set of hurdles for me to get to the point I am at today. It is a story for another time, but suffice to say that I count myself as the luckiest woman to stand here today with my daughter.Read More
It’s World Mental Health Day today, something that before having a baby would have been but the minutest blip on my radar.
Sometimes I feel like I have made my anxiety up. That I am undeserving of it being acknowledged at all. I brush it off as an “off day”, and push on until sometimes I break and sometimes I don’t. And then it perpetuates.
I was, and can still be, a person of laissez-faire attitude. Life goes on and I tended to be of the ‘it will all turn out alright in the end camp’, because usually it did. But then I gave birth, and it was pretty bad.Read More