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Sophie Messager

Author: Sophie Messager

  • Embracing the void

    Embracing the void

    Both discomfort and power lies in transitional times.

    Since I decided to stop doulaing in April, I have felt unsettled, agitated and overwhelmed. I’m having a hard time feeling comfortable in this transition time. I’m finding it difficult to surrender to what is, and to trust that the path will unfold before me at the pace it’s meant to.

    I’m an impatient person at heart, and this is a big challenge for me. In previous blogs I have shared about my leaving doula work and the wisdom of fallow times. Today I want to reflect on embracing the void.

    The void is the fertile space in which you are no longer what you were and you are not yet what you are to become. It is a death space of sorts, a bit like the time where you are heavily pregnant and you wish your body would hurry up and give birth. Being heavily pregnant often comes with both physical and emotional discomfort, and this is no different.

    There are many metaphors, from the metaphysical process of transforming lead into gold, which goes through a phase called Massa Enigma (where is it neither lead nor gold), through to the death and rebirth of the mythical phoenix.

    I’m in this space now. And like waiting for birth, I have moments of quiet acceptance and moments of rage and irritation, as well as moments of despair. I notice that I will myself to be further along the path, and there lies the suffering, in not accepting what is.

    I am undergoing a huge transition in my sense of self and my work. There is added discomfort in the complexity of my family situation, with a child who is too anxious to attend school and on behalf of whom we are fighting the education system to get the support needed, and a young dog whose needs are intense, much like a new baby.

    I feel stretched and overwhelmed a lot of the time, with balancing the demands of my family and my work, and end up feeling that I’m not doing any of them very well. The fact that I am nearly menopaused, so going through an inner transition and discomfort at a physical and spiritual level is a big part of it too.

    I notice that there is something in me that wants to be ‘ahead’ of where I currently am. That I have impossibly high expectations of myself (of which I mostly fall short). I think this is a very important thing to be curious about and to learn to recognise and tame. I’m currently reading a book called How To Keep House When You are Drowning, by KC Davis. She talks about self-compassion and of recognising when your inner voice isn’t kind.

    Last week-end I met with a young couple who have offered to look after my dog from time to time. My dog is a 6 months old, 25kg, energetic golden retriever puppy. I’ve spent the last 2 months taking him to dog obedience classes, and I’ve been berating myself because I haven’t practised the training exercises enough for my liking. I was worried that the couple would find it hard work (he pulls on the lead and his recall is hit and miss still), but instead they said they found him very well behaved. And these are people who are used to dogs, and the woman is a vet. I felt this deep sense of relief. Then one of my daughter’s tutors commented on how amazing it is that Blue doesn’t jump on visitors. I reflected that, once again, what was stressing me was the impossible expectations I put on myself.

    I told my husband of my overwhelm (thankfully he is a trained counsellor) and he replied that if an athlete was unwell he wouldn’t be expected to run.  And I stopped and nearly laughed because I use this analogy all the time, but I had forgotten to apply it to myself. Isn’t it funny how we have this inner wisdom, yet how blind we are to our own process? Indeed, nobody would expect an injured athlete to train until they had healed. Yet when it comes to mental health challenges we try to push through and force ourselves to carry on, when we need to focus on our healing first, and cut ourselves some slack. After all, we are doing the best we can.

    In her book, Rising Strong, Brene Brown asks herself and people if they believe that people are doing the best they can. At first she believes that no, people aren’t, and that they are annoying on purpose. And then she asks her husband who says “All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgment and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be.”

    After the athlete’s conversation, it dawned on me that I was, yet again, trying to force myself out of a funk by working harder. I realised that I needed to surrender to my discomfort and take the time to tend to the struggle and emotions inside. Instead of trying to push through and tackle my ever growing to-do list, I took myself to the office to do some work on what I need to start doing to be more connected to my heart. I will write about why I am doing this and why it is the most important thing I need to do right now in a separate blog. 

    I took this time for myself, about one hour, and I lied down and listened to a drum journey track, asking to be shown how to connect to my heart, and I was shown what to do. I felt much better afterwards.

    A few days later, I was listening to Lee Harris’s energy update for this month (I used to feel I didn’t have the time but now I listen to this kind of things on a  speaker in my kitchen whilst making diner and I love it) and he said that there is wisdom in overwhelm, because it is teaching us what is no longer working for us. I hadn’t thought of it this way, and it helped.

    As serendipity would have it, later that day not one but two people I follow shared a similar message. In my inbox, I received this message from Shelley Young, who channels Archangel Gabriel:

    “Dear Ones, you can’t be controlling and guided at the same time. You can’t decide you are going to do it all yourself and be open to receive at the same time. You are going through profound change, both individually and as a collective. You are being made aware of what is not working for you so you can let go of the old and find new solutions and ways of being.

    If you are perpetually exhausted by your life it is a sign that you have outgrown where you are and you are ready for expansion and new discoveries. It is an indicator that you are ready to up-level into something that is a much better match for you and your soul’s agenda. Your soul is beckoning you forward into the new.

    So allow yourself to be led. When you don’t know what to do next, get curious. Ask to be shown what is possible that you aren’t aware of. Give the reins to your team who have the vantage point of being on the other side of the veil and allow them to show you the way.”

    And then Toko-Pa Turner, the author of the wonderful book Belonging, Remembering ourselves home, shared this on her Facebook page:

    “Drop your maps and listen to your lostness like a sacred calling into presence. Here, where the old ways are crumbling and you may be tempted to burn down your own house. Ask instead for an introduction to that which endures. This place without a foothold is the province of grace. It is the questing field, most responsive to magic and fluent in myth. Here, where there is nothing left to lose, sing out of necessity that your ragged heart be heard. Send out your holy signal and listen for the echo back.”

    These messages were very soothing for me. They were just what I needed to hear. I don’t need to force it, to be further ahead in my path than I am right now. There is power in the in-between now, and power in embracing the void. It is a fertile ground for the new.

  • The importance of switching off when you work for yourself

    The importance of switching off when you work for yourself

    I’ve been working as a solopreneur for 10 years.

    The first year I went away on holiday, as a newly self-employed birth worker, I noticed that I was still responding to work emails, something I never did when I was an employee. I didn’t resent it but I was very conscious of the difference. As an employee, I used to truly switch off when I was away, and I rarely worked outside of my contracted hours.

    Sure, in my pre-parent years whilst working a postdoc and then for a biotech start up I worked very long hours, including weekends and evenings, but chose to do so myself and didn’t resent it. After becoming a parent, I did the odd bit of work in the evenings and at the week end, but mostly I went home and did not work, and certainly never worked whilst on holidays.

    Since I left science and started working for myself, my business has kept growing. There is always stuff to do, and at the beginning I was rarely switching off in the evenings or during the week-end.  I also interact with a lot more people than I did at the beginning, so there are messages coming from many different sources and apps, messages on my business page, comments and questions, and so on, which need replying to.

    In the digital age with live in, where the boundaries between work and home are somewhat blurred, I might have ended up there anyway if I’d remained a scientist. I read Cal Newport’s book, A world without email, and his description of the corporate world of today certainly seems fitting with a constant barrage of messages.

    As I’ve grown older and a more experienced self employed person, I have become more conscious than ever of the need to establish firmer boundaries in my life between work and play, to be more present to myself and my family, and to resist the desire to answer yet one more email or message. The downside of being self employed (the upsides far than make up for it however!)  is that I used to have an underlying feeling of guilt when I was not working.  I found myself thinking that I ought to work 9 to 5 and be productive all the time, something that I now see as a hangover of our education and workplace system.

    About 4 years ago I embarked on a journey to get out of this productive overwhelm, and I blogged about it here. I ended up writing a whole collection of posts on the topic, which you can find listed in this post. It has been so utterly transformative that I am think I may end up creating a course to help others do the same.

    The other important aspect to consider is, when you have chosen a path that involves giving and caring for others, you need to spend time away from that, refilling your own tank and giving to myself, before I am ready to give again to others (I wrote a post about that too).

    During my first summer break as a self employed doula/birth educator, I was quite shocked to notice how tired I was, because for the first for the first 3 or 4 nights of my holidays I slept for nearly 12h each night (a normal night for me is usually between 6 and 7h of sleep).

    In recent years, I’ve learnt to plan for time off work by putting in in my diary so I know what my availability is and I also know not to over commit myself. I’ve also become much better at feeling my body’s energy and wellbeing, that when I need to slow down I feel the need before I reach crashing point. February to April this year were an intense time for me, supporting my last doula clients, and having a new puppy to care for, and launching 3 online courses (the postnatal rebozo closing ritual course, updated rebozo for pregnancy and birth course, and my new How to run a mother blessing course). I really feel the need to slow down and recharge deep in my bones.

    Ahead of my holidays, I plan my work so that I can truly switch off. I am going to have long leisurely days with a lot of time outdoors, some long, social family diners, I’m going to read more books and swim in as many bodies of water as I can. Bliss.

    And when I’m back at my desk, I am going to continue refining my work-life balance, so that I am in a state that works for me, keeps me purposeful and happy, to keep putting the things that keep me fuelled like drumming, wild swimming and dancing as the most important things in my to-do list,  and spend as much time as possible being joyfully present.

     

     

  • The wisdom of fallow times

    The wisdom of fallow times

    A few weeks ago I attended my last birth as a doula. As I explained in a previous post, this was a long drawn-out decision that took me a couple of years to reach.

    When I wrote the previous blog whilst on-call for the birth, after attending my last birth, I expected to feel relieved, free, elated even. Instead, the month after the birth I felt  unsettled, irritable, anxious, and I have even been physically unwell (I had a nasty fall which left me in pain and unable to move comfortably for a couple of weeks despite 2 osteopathic treatments).

    Transitions aren’t comfortable and the body has a way of forcing us to slow down when we do not heed its wisdom. 

    I experienced a similar time in 2020 after I published my book. Finishing to write the book on time and the whirlwind of promotion, press article and interviews surrounding the book launch were an exciting and high energy time. Then, I had a period of fallowness that lasted months and I beat myself up endlessly about it, as if I ought to be staying in a high energy state all the time.

    I have been reflecting on the cycle of birth and death around us, and in particular, on the importance and wisdom of fallow times. If you look in nature, trees don’t bear fruits all year round. The cycle of birth and death is very visible. Right now the spring energies are rising and it is very clear in the growth of  plants everywhere around us.

    A few days ago it finally occurred to me: I’m in the same transitional process as a pregnant woman waiting to give birth. The Zwischen, the in-between time where you’re not what you were and not yet what you are about to become. And it’s wholly uncomfortable. And the wait is met some days with patience and acceptance, and some days with irritation and impatience.

    Now that I’ve given up birth doula, my sense of professional identity is shifting.

    I’m not doing nothing, I’m in the process of giving birth to my new self. I need to give myself the same gentle nurturing care as I tell new mothers to give themselves. I remind myself of the words I often speak when a new mum is telling me that she is doing ‘nothing’ when caring for a new baby, and I remind her that she is doing the most important task that there is.

    The process is heightened by the fact that I’m transitioning towards the menopause, having been in the perimenopause process for over ten years, which is a transition in itself.

    I had several healing treatments over the last few weeks, including osteopathy and womb massage. Whilst these things help and play a role in recovery, they aren’t enough. I have to make a true commitment to accept the slower, less productive nature of this time, and to stop fighting against it. 

    I reached out to the lovely herbalist who is supporting me through the hormonal challenges of the menopause, and asked what may be causing the resurgence of hot flashes and night sweats despite the support of the herbs, and she said “it’s a sign that your yin is out of balance and that you need to rest more”.

    I have written about embracing rest several times in the past (For example in a post called resting after birthing a project, in which you will find links to my other posts on the topic), and I have come a long way from the place where I was before, where I wasn’t even conscious of this pattern of wanting to keep all the time. But it’s still difficult. The pattern is deep, and it is strong, and we are bathing in a culture that worships productivity, and which is completely blind to this pattern.

    It’s a process of continuous self development and growth, to become aware of one’s patterns, of the negative self-talk that come from deep cultural programming that says that your productivity is your worth.

    I like the idea of being more like an egg than a sperm. The egg does not ‘go and get it’, it simply sits there, sending signals that it is ready. In her book, The Anatomy Of A Calling, which tells her process from being a mainstream thinking Obstetrician to becoming a holistic doctor and energy healer, Dr Lissa Rankin tells how Dr Christiane Northrup told her to be more ‘eggy’:

    “Lissa is brilliant at doing, but she needs to learn how to receive. Lissa needs to be less sperm, more egg. To be ‘eggy’ is to set goals but release attachment to outcomes, to surrender to what wants to happen rather than pushing for what you’re trying to make happen, to put your desires out there without doing anything to bring them into being, to simply trust that when you move in the direction of joy, ease, peace, harmony, love, and the highest good for all beings, the Universe, like an army of sperm, falls over itself trying to bring your desires into form.”

    I posted this meme on Facebook, to remind myself and others of this truth.

    I still have some work to do before I am freed from beating myself up when I’m in a fallow time, but I am a lot more able to recognise it, and to at least try to embrace it and to trust its wisdom. I have noticed time and time again that the minute I surrender to the wisdom of fallow times, and embrace the need to slow down instead of fighting it, things seem to shift almost instantly, because I finally allow the energy of what wants to move through me instead of trying to direct it.

  • Do you long for more sacredness in your life?

    Do you long for more sacredness in your life?

    Do you long for a more meaningful life, for a sense of connection to something bigger than yourself? Do you feel this longing in your heart, in your bones? Like something is missing but you don’t know what? Do you have this deep knowing inside that life is meant to feel bigger than it does for you now?

    I used to feel the same. I can still see myself witnessing my first closing the bones ceremony and wishing it was me on the floor receiving the ritual. I can still feel the excitement, as I attended my first doula retreat in 2013, how beautiful and sacred it all felt, and then how much returning to my normal life, especially with 2 young children to care for, felt so bland, so lacking in connection and full of drudgery. I longed to go back to the feeling that this amazing, spiritual retreat gave me.

    Now I know that the issue was that I was looking elsewhere, outside of myself, for the sacred. The issue wasn’t’ with the lack of sacred in my life, but with my narrow view of what constituted sacredness.

    When I attended women’s circles, red tents, retreats and such like, something in me believed that the ‘sacred’ only happened in this limited container. What took me a long time was to learn to weave the sacred in my everyday life.

    I had the same issue when I started to learn to meditation because I believed that meditation only happened sitting on a special pose on a special cushion in a special room. I was unconsciously victim of a culture that puts form over substance.

    I was missing and longing for more sacredness partly because it IS missing from most of our culture, but also partly because of my own unconscious and narrow definition of what the sacred was.

    It has taken me a long time to create a sense of sacredness in my daily life, in a way where it feels natural and normal and simple. There is a saying  I love : “Before enlightenment, chop the wood, fetch the water, after enlightenment, chop the wood, fetch the water” which illustrates this beautifully. 

    As I explained in my previous blog about mother blessings, I started offering such ceremonies to meet my own, and my community’s needs for more rituals and sacred celebrations. 

    I also pursued my own energy healing training, as a Reiki , then Reiki Drum practitioner, then teacher, first and foremost to fulfil my own longing, and for my own development. What came from it though was a lot more than I had hoped for, as it started to reconnect me to my own sense of the sacred.

    I wanted to be part of a shamanic drum circle. There wasn’t one locally so I started my own early in 2020. I had assumed I would gather a handful of friends who already had a drum, so it was a surprise to see that most people who attended didn’t own a drum nor had taken part in a drum circle before. And it was also a surprise to find a lot more people attending than I had expected. Clearly those people also experienced my longing for spiritual connection in community. The pandemic meant that I ended up running circles in a physical venue, then online, then outdoors in the woods, then in a friend’s garden, all of which were diverse and rich experiences which deepened my practise. Now I’m planning to run them in a new venue in the woods, near Cambridge, in a private woodland.  We will drum around a fire and maybe even in the beautiful geodome built by a dear friend of mine. Feel free to contact me if you’d like to join us.

    In 2020, I started a practice of drumming in the woods at dawn weekly or more with 2 other women. We have drummed in all weather, including in driving rain and in the cold and dark before dawn in winter. I am grateful for owning a synthetic drum which can cope with the changing weather! We are still doing it 2 years on. We make an altar, set intentions, smudge, drum, and then we sit down with a flask of tea to chat about more mundane things. I love it.

    The other 2 practises that have transformed my life in terms of sense of connection are year round wild swimming in the local river (read about how I started that here) and 5rhythms dancing.

    Since the Autumn of 2019, every Friday night, I have danced with the Cambsdance community. We dance 5rhythms, ecstatic dance, freedom dance, open floor and other forms of conscious movement. There are no steps, or ‘right’ way to dance. Teachers bring a playlist they have created, which moves from slow and flowy music to fast, strong paced music and back again. They hold the space gently, providing limited guidance, a few words here and there to remind you to pay attention to your breath, or your feet, or another body part, or to each other. All that is required is to dance according to what is moving inside of you. It is a moving meditation, in community with others people who also love to dance. It lasts a couple of hours. It is the antithesis of clubbing. There is a wise range of ages and genders, a range of cultures and styles. Everybody dances in their own unique way, and nobody gives a fuck about what you look like when you dance. It is one of the most liberating practices I have taken part in. It is joyful and beautiful and oh so transformative. You can dance your joy, your grief, everything is welcome. It was a big part of my recovery when I suffered from depression in 2019.

    Some of the dancers have become close friends, with whom I take part in regular community gatherings, celebrating the wheel of the year, and generally connecting as humans in a simple, fun and loving way. I especially love that all the gatherings are drug and alcohol free. We are high on connection, feel good hormones and love. There is often some dancing involved, and singing and drumming too. 

    I have been reflecting on the fact that all cultures around the world used to have 3 practices that belonged both to everyday life and to the sacred. But here, today in the modern world, we think that only special people, gifted people can do them. These practices are singing, drumming and dancing. 

    Having taught workshops that involve a big element of spirituality since 2014, I have witnessed the same longing in others again and again, especially when leading people throw circles and ceremonies.

    This longing I sense in others is why I want to offer more ceremonies, more mother blessings, more drum circles, more intuitive healing, and teach more rituals (such as the postnatal closing ritual). We need to create new rituals for our modern times. A sense of spirituality is as important to wellbeing as eating and drinking.

    As I explore what sacredness means to me in my everyday life, I encourage others to follow their own journey of reintroducing sacredness to their own lives.

    If you feel the same longing in your heart and you want to create a more beautiful life for yourself, listen carefully to what your heart is telling you. We aren’t meant to live such disconnected lives. You deserve a life where you feel more connected to yourself, to your community and to the world around you. Start small. Be gentle. Try things and see what works for you.

    “The worst thing we ever did
    was put God in the sky
    out of reach
    pulling the divinity
    from the leaf,
    sifting out the holy from our bones,
    insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement 
    through everything we’ve made 
    a hard commitment to see as ordinary, 
    stripping the sacred from everywhere 
    to put in a cloud man elsewhere,
    prying closeness from your heart.
    The worst thing we ever did
    was take the dance and the song
    out of prayer
    made it sit up straight 
    and cross its legs
    removed it of rejoicing
    wiped clean its hip sway, 
    its questions, 
    its ecstatic yowl,
    its tears.
    The worst thing we ever did is pretend 
    God isn’t the easiest thing 
    in this Universe 
    available to every soul 
    in every breath”

    ~ Chelan Harkin, in poetry book ‘Susceptible to Light’

  • Why I offer mother blessing ceremonies

    Why I offer mother blessing ceremonies

    I would like to tell the story about how I came to offer mother blessings ceremonies and the journey that led me to do this in the hope that it may inspire others to do the same.

    I’ve always had an intuitive sense of the lack of ceremony and rituals, and sense of everyday sacredness within our culture. And I’ve had a longing for it all my life. 

    I was raised a Catholic. I left this faith behind as a teenager as it didn’t feel right for me. I noticed that, after leaving the church, I was left with nothing in terms of spiritual life. As a culture, it seems to me that we have squashed our innate wonder and unique sense of spirituality and that it’s only allowed to fit in the neat boxes that belong to organised religion.

    It took me many years to re-create a spiritual life that fitted my unique self, and becoming a doula was a big part of the process.

    In 2013, during my first year as a doula, I attended a doula retreat. There I learnt the closing the bones ritual and attended a shamanic drumming workshop. After the retreat I had a deep longing to create more sacredness in my life. I found the return to normal life, especially with 2 small children to look after, full of drudgery and so lacking in the connection I had experienced during the retreat. A doula at the retreat had mentioned that I could create the sacred in my everyday life, but I didn’t know how to do this. My desire to create community ceremonies came from this longing, and to fulfil this need for myself and for my community.

    When I completed my mentored doula journey in the Autumn of 2013, I didn’t want to celebrate with just a meal, but have a meaningful ceremony instead. I asked a couple of friends to help design such a ceremony for me. The ceremony, a small intimate affair with my doula and my doula mentor, and a doula friend, was perfect. I then used the same process to organise recognition ceremonies for other local doulas.

    Altar centerpieceI started offering mother blessings in 2016 to local doulas because I felt that doulas gave a lot to their clients but rarely received the same attention themselves. I felt very strongly that they should be celebrated and nurtured by their community when expecting a baby themselves. You can read about such a gathering in this blog.

    I was blessed to lead many beautiful blessing ceremonies, and sometimes even organised for the same group of women who came to the mother blessing come back after the birth to do a group closing the bones ceremony.

    I had impostor syndrome, so I spent about 3 years doing mother blessings for free to doulas, friends and clients before I felt ready to offer it as a paying service. Even then, when I did get booked for my first paying mother blessing, I worried that my client would not find it good enough. However, she loved it, and she was very happy to pay for it. 

    I’m not someone who does things by half, and I poured my heart and soul into preparing for the ceremony, spending many hours researching activities, discussing options with my client, and preparing equipment to bring to the ceremony. All in all I think I spent well over 15h for this blessing between the prep and the blessing itself.  I hadn’t realised how time consuming it would be and I put my price up afterwards. Luckily my first client was also self-employed and reminded me to make sure I charged her for the time I spent with her on emails and phone calls as well as the face to face meetings. 

    Soon I found myself doing a lot of mother blessings. I loved that, with each new experience, I would learn new things to add to my repertoire of options. One woman asked to have a collage activity to create a vision board for her birth, and I love it so much I have done it ever since. 

    I also learnt about the importance of offering options and let the person choose rather than imposing my kind of ceremony. There was a Christian doula who wanted to make sure nothing in the ceremony would clash with her religious beliefs. There was a client who wanted the full hippy ceremony complete with red fabric, red clothes, smudging and drumming, and painting her belly with henna. There was a client who loved the idea of the a very hippy affair for herself,  but knew that her family members would be put off by it so we toned it down, replacing the smoke smudging by creating a bespoke auric spray, and having a very simple, low key decoration. There was a woman whose partner was very sensitive to smells, so instead of using smoke or sprays, she made little individual essential oil roll-on bottles for people to apply to their wrists at the beginning of the ceremony.

    Last year I organised a ceremony for a pregnant friend, and her partner went off with the rest of the men had their own father blessing in a different location, then we all came together for a meal afterwards. I found this particularly lovely. 

    I also ran the biggest group I had ever run, with about 25 people in a building within a private woodland, with another doula friend to help me, and it was beautiful and very spiritual. 

    Now, with several years of experience behind me, running these ceremonies feel within my comfort zone, and I have so many options and ideas to offer that I can easily create a beautiful bespoke ceremony.

    In 2021 I ran my first live workshop on how to run mother blessings  for a group of doulas and midwives. I loved teaching it and I got incredible feedback from my students. Several said that they’d found it the best workshop I had ever taught, and that it was hard to believe that I was teaching it for the first time. Here is some of the things they said:

    • “I loved the beautiful energy you created here”
    • “The experiential learning was fabulous”
    • “I particularly liked the circle energy, the flow, and the drumming, it was all beautiful”

    I decided to teach people how to offer mother blessings because I want to encourage more sense of sacredness into the lives of pregnant women, more celebration centred towards them and more community building, as well as help put in place postpartum support in place by gathering pledges of support during the ceremony. I’ve just launched a new online course to spread this even further, and I’m delighted to report that I have students from all over the world booked on the course.https:https://sophiemessager.com/how-to-run-a-mother-blessing.

    Today I charge clients but I also still do free ceremonies for friends. I did many of these in 2021. In one of them I remember driving a long distance and asking myself why I’d agreed to do this. However, the ceremony itself was so touching I was moved to tears (and so were all the other guests in the room including the mother’s mother, who told me afterwards that she had found in extraordinary). It made it so worthwhile and left the gathering with a very full heart.

    What do I love about mother blessings? I love that it creates a sense of community and support around the expectant mother. It gives me joy. It make the mother feel very loved and special, and it makes everyone who attends feel this way too. I love that it helps put community support in place for after the birth too. I love that the feeling of belonging lasts beyond the ceremony. I love wearing the red thread on my wrist as a reminder until the baby has been born, and I love telling everyone to light their candle when we hear that labour has started. Most of all I love that I help bring a sense of wonder and sacredness back into people’s lives.

    I love that it spills over into the rest of my life and how I often use some of the honouring activities (like washing someone’s feet and massaging their hands and feet, or telling someone what we love about them) as part of the birthday celebrations of my friends. I love that, with mother blessings, we can help start a cultural shift from a culture where all the attention is focused on the baby, towards one that is more mother centered.

    Understanding what attending such a ceremony feels like isn’t something you can be told about. You have to be there to get it. Often, guests approach me at the end of the gathering to tell me how they had never taken part in something like this, and how much they loved it.I love giving people a positive experience that will remain with them for the rest of their lives.

    How does this post make you feel? Does it resonate? Have you have a mother blessing, wished you had one, or taken part in one, or led one? Please comment below. I would love to hear what you think.

  • Baby shower? Have a mother blessing instead.

    Baby shower? Have a mother blessing instead.

    What is a mother blessing?

    You probably have heard of a baby shower, but have you heard of mother blessing? It is a celebration and honouring of a woman’s transition into motherhood. A mother blessing is a celebration that takes place during pregnancy and which is designed to celebrate and support the mother and her upcoming birth and postpartum period. Contrary to a baby shower, where all the focus and presents are on the baby, a mother blessing places the mother at the centre of the attention and support. It is a gathering, usually of women, coming together to celebrate the expectant mother, to honour her and give her loving attention, good wishes and support for the birth and the postpartum period.

    I wrote about this in the past  but I want to expand and explain the process a bit more, as I have gained a lot more experience in running these rituals.

    What happens during a mother blessing?

    Altar centerpiece

    There is no prescriptive recipe. It is about having a gathering to celebrate the mother in a way that feels good for her. The most important aspect is that she feels loved and nurtured, and that the event is tailored to her needs. I used to think that mother blessings where always a hippy affair, but I have come to realize that, whilst they are powerful and spiritual in nature, it is not the way they look like that makes them special but rather it is the intention behind it and how people come together to hold it.

    Offering mother blessings through the years has taught me a lot. For example I organized one for a mother who is Christian, and she was worried that the event would involve spiritual aspects that would be incompatible with her religion. I reassured her that this wouldn’t be the case and that we would make sure that what happened was in line with her beliefs.

    A mother blessing is a gathering a friends and family of the mother. Here are some simple logistical aspects to think about:

    • Discuss the gathering with the mother
    • Plan the structure of the gathering, with a beginning, middle and end
    • Choose a venue and date
    • Invite the guests
    • Ask people to bring things to share such as reading a poem, or a singing a song, and meaningful gifts for the mother, and something to eat at the end
    • Run the event

    Here are some of the things I like to do to make a mother blessing special:

    Setting up the space

    I like to make the space special with colourful fabrics, flowers, candles, and lovely smells and sounds, like a sanctuary. Be guided by what the mother likes and tailor the level of woo accordingly.

    Starting the ceremony

    I like to have a simple ritual to mark the beginning of the ceremony, such as smudging or ringing a bell. Start the process with a short sharing circle, for example, having everyone introducing themselves saying their name, the name of their mother and maternal grandmother (in my case: I am Sophie, daughter of Michelle and granddaughter of Jacqueline).

    If it feels right, singing a short circle song can be lovely too. For example, I like the song The river is flowing.

    The ceremony itself

    Here are some simple ritual activities to build into the ceremony can involve:

    • Ask everyone to bring a bead to give to the mother. As each person presents her bead, they explain why they chose it, and what it represents. The beads get threaded on a string to make a necklace that the mother can wear or use like prayer beads during labour or the postpartum to remind herself of the circle of support around her.
    • Pass some wool or string around the circle and have everyone wrap it a couple of times around one of their wrists. Once everyone is bound by the thread, pass scissors around to cut it and have everyone knot the thread around their wrist or ankle and keep it until the baby has been born.
    • Gift a small candle (like a tealight) to everyone, and a bigger one to the mother. When the mother goes into labour, people will be notified (for example in a WhatsApp group) to light their candle and send love and good wishes for the birth.
    • Have guests read texts, poems or sing songs (some lovely examples here)
    • Do something nurturing for the mother, for example massaging her hands or feet.
    • Have people bring or pledge some gifts for the mother for the postpartum. For example vouchers for postnatal massage or closing the bones ceremony, postnatal doula vouchers, food delivery, feel good products like postnatal herbal baths or massage oils, promise to come and clean her house/hold her baby whilst she sleeps etc.
    • Have a final sharing circle at the end.

    Finally, have some informal time afterwards to share food, some tea and cake (a groaning cake would be lovely) or a potluck meal. It is always lovely to have some informal chatting and eating time after the ceremony.

    What are the advantages of having a mother blessing?

    The main point of the mother blessing, besides making the mother feel loved and cherished, is to redirect the focus of the support towards the mother rather than the baby. Encouraging the mother to write a postnatal recovery plan, and/or using said plan to ask friends to provide pledges for the postartum is a good way to think ahead about what the mother might need after the birth (you can use my free postnatal recovery plan download as a template for this).

    Beyond the mother herself I have found such ceremonies deeply moving for the facilitator and for all the people involved in the gathering. Western societies lack rituals to celebrate life transitions, and bringing this back into our culture is very powerful and meaningful. People often say that they had never taken part in something like this and how much they loved it, and wish they had one themselves.

    I especially love to bring the whole process full circle, by bringing back the same group of people to honour the new mother a few weeks after the birth in a closing the bones ceremony.

    In 2020 I have also participated in mother blessings over zoom. The process was the same e xcept that we sent cards and beads by post ahead of time. It was still very special and meaningful.

    I am offering an online course on how to run mother blessings.

    Here is a short video showing snippet of mother blessings and workshop I have run in the past

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    (The Henna tattoo belly painting on the main picture, was designed by Jo Rogers as part of a mother blessing)

  • The maternity machine

    The maternity machine

    Today I went from a house
    Where a woman swayed as her body opened
    Gently vocalising, in tune with herself
    Warm water ready to embrace her
    With candles as the only light
    And two women sitting quietly
    Watching and waiting
    Whispering words of encouragement
    Holding her and her space
    Today I went from this sacred space
    Where time slowed down
    And all that mattered was this moment
    And this woman
    I went from this sacred space
    Into the belly of the machine
    With its bright lights
    Its beeping tech
    Its dry, cold, clinical rooms
    And its dry, cold, clinical staff
    In this space where everything is timed
    Measured
    Counted
    Calculated
    Where numbers are more important
    Than the person they are supposed to be caring for
    Today I went into the belly of the machine
    That ‘saves’ lives
    But destroys spirits
    Where the sense of the sacred is lost
    Where it’s just another day at the office
    Where kind people are a rare find
    And the mother is just a vessel
    Where the machines take over
    Where babies are born distressed
    And nobody comforts them
    The machine eats birthing women
    Like an unsatisfiable beast
    And spits them out, emptied of life
    And emptied of spirit
    Because as long as the baby is alive,
    Who cares if the mother is broken?
    Today I watched in a theatre
    Medical staff milling around
    Like a swarm of busy bees
    Doing the tasks they have been trained to do
    Told to do, programmed to do
    Where nobody saw her
    As she lied on the table
    Reduced to her body parts
    I heard them say “congratulations”
    Like repeating a script, without meaning it
    And as I sat there, I wondered:
    How did they become so dehumanised?
    And as I watched them, I wondered
    How did they forget?
    How to connect and how to be kind?
    And as I watched, I told myself
    I never want to be there again.
    It is too late
    They are too far gone
    Blind to their own conditioning
    In the maternity machine.

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  • Why I am stopping doula work

    Why I am stopping doula work

    As I write this blog I am on-call for my last birth as a doula.  I’ve made the decision to stop doula work.  This might come as a surprise and I’d like to explain the long process that led me to take this decision.

    Being a doula is a very demanding and challenging job. It is not for the faint hearted. The emotional investment in our clients, and the logistical demands of the job are phenomenal. When I support a family during pregnancy, I’m always there for them, often at the expense of my own and my family’s life  (Read my blog post about this). The on-call period in particular, as well as not knowing how long I will be gone to support a birth, makes for very challenging juggling, especially with young children. Being a postnatal doula also comes with unpredictable demands as clients may need you at very short notice. The nature of birth and early parenting is unpredictable. 

    When I work with a family as a doula I become very emotionally invested in supporting them. I am 100% there for them. The first year of my doula work, my parents came to stay with me during a school holiday. I was on call and my mum said “You’re not there”, and that was true. I wasn’t. Energetically and emotionally, I was with my client. 

    As doulas we build a deep relationship with the families we support. We are there at every turn of the way. We are there listening to their hopes, their fears, their worries. We become deeply invested in helping them get the birth experience they hope for. We are deeply empathic so their challenges become ours. We share their joys, and their frustrations. Sometimes we share their disappointment, and sometimes we even share their trauma. We cry tears of joy and sorrow with them, or for them. 

    Sometimes people don’t get the birth they hoped for. Sometimes there is hurt, sorrow and trauma. Sometimes we are more traumatised than our clients by what we have witnessed. Because we know, when we witness callous care from medical professionals. We know when people are being pressured into consenting to interventions just because a guideline says so.

    I’ve been a doula for nearly ten years. I attended my first birth in the summer of 2012.

    In the past, the joy of supporting families through birth made up for the challenges. I adored my job. It energised me. It filled my heart. It gave me a deep sense of fulfilment. Because of this it didn’t feel too challenging despite the demands and extreme flexibility and sacrifices it required.

    It is a true privilege to support people when they bring new life into the world. There is nothing quite like the moment of birth, especially when the birth goes well.  No other job has made me cry tears of joy the way being a doula has. After supporting a birth, I often go home with my heart swelled with joy..

    When I started this job I thought that, in my time, I would see improvement in maternity services, but I’ve only witnessed the exact opposite.

    In 2020, it got much worse. The pandemic brought restrictions to visitors, and I wasn’t able to physically attend births in hospital from March 2020 to July 2021. I learnt that I could still make a huge difference even when supporting people remotely, but it robbed me of much of the joy doulaing used to bring. I remember a particular low point in the summer of 2020 when, having just remotely supported a client through a long induction (neither her partner nor myself where allowed in the induction ward-this felt so dehumanising), I met a client I had supported 3 times previously (this was her 4th birth) outside the hospital to give her a hug, and watched her walk inside the hospital alone, without even her husband. I drove home and told my husband I was done.

    Later in the year there were moments that gave me hope again, when I saw how much of a difference I still made, especially for families who had no family nearby and I was the only other adult they saw for weeks. But overall something started to feel amiss.

    Along the pandemic restrictions, and dehumanising decisions of only allowing partners in established labour, as well as many other disproportionate restrictions (my local hospital even stipulated that doulas couldn’t be present at a home birth when the midwife arrived!), the rate of interventions (inductions and caesarean) rose very fast without any evidence to justify it (I wrote about this in my blog: Induction of labour, does it really saves lives?).

    I noticed that, whilst in the past a small proportion of my clients would require support in fighting for their rights to birth the way they wanted, now, every single client fell in this category. The rise in induction rate in particular, saw almost every client being pressured to  consent to an early induction of labour (around 38 or 39 weeks of pregnancy). These clients were being told this at 12 weeks pregnancy because of their ‘risk factors’. 

    The energy of doing this work started to feel warrior-like. This was a regular instance before, but suddenly this was all I felt, all of the time. I started to find it exhausting. In 2021 I supported several clients who refused to be induced at 38 weeks and fought extremely hard for the birth they wanted. I saw so much bullying, and so many threats designed to make them comply. 

    I saw a level of bullying the likes of which I had never seen in ten years. I saw doctors scouring old medical records and bringing up historical medical issues against clients. I saw people I used to rely on for being women centred at my local hospital start to toe the line and talk the same fear speech as everyone else. Whilst I loved supporting my clients and seeing them experience positive births against all odds, it took its toll on me. I started to notice that the constant fighting was harming me.

    In a few weeks I’m going to be 52. I am nearly menopaused. Interestingly I started working as a doula when my perimenopause started (it’s normal for the process to take up to 10 years). As I enter this new phase of my life, cronehood, I feel a deep need to be in the energy of support and love. I want to be an elder at the back of the battle line, supporting people with more youthful energy. The energy required for being at the front line of maternity services in its current state feels at odds with who I am now. The maternity system has become so unhealthy and damaged, I no longer have the energy or the desire to fight against it. I want to use my experience in a different way.

    Don’t get me wrong, I am still an activist. I am grateful to my friend Scarlett who pointed this out to me. It started with my blogs and with my book. I can still affect change in a positive manner, by sharing my writing and knowledge with others. But I no longer want to bang against a brick wall all the time. This feels like such a waste of my energy.

    I need to live a quieter life. A slower rhythm. I want to spend more time being connected to nature. Over the last 4 years I have been on a journey of getting out of work overwhelm by immersing myself in nature. This has shown me that having the time and space for this is vital to my wellbeing, and for my business to thrive. I swim in the local river all year round. I drum in the woods with 2 other women. I practise mindful dancing weekly (5rhythms and other styles). I take part in land based rituals which honour the turning of the wheel of the year. These practices are the first things I put on my to-do list. They are the foundations on which I build everything else.

    Many of my doula friends and clients have been shocked when I say I’m going to leave. They say that I’m very experienced, and very good at it. This is true. However, I am not leaving with regrets. And the work I will do going forward will use the skills I have acquired being a doula. As well as finding this work unsustainable over the last couple of years, I also have a strong inner knowing that this work is no longer what I am meant to do, and that, until I leave this work and its very high demands on my time and energy, I will not be able to do what I am called to do right now. 

    Ten years ago I left a 20 year long career as a research scientist behind to embark on my work as a doula. I remember feeling incredibly excited about it. It was a decision that took a long time to enact, because I retrained as a doula and an antenatal teacher and babywearing instructor, whilst working 4 days a week as a scientist. During these 4 years I also changed jobs twice and had my second child. It took me 4 years because I needed to build a new income, as well as wait until my second child was old enough to go to preschool.

    The decision I’m making to leave doulaing has a similar energy to it, at the cusp of something as transformative and different. Except this time there is a sense of calm and trust about it rather than excitement. I am also not leaving employment, but changing the focus of my self employment.

    Last time I had a plan and bidded my time until I had qualified and built a bit of an income. This time I sense that I don’t quite know what shape my new work is going to take. I just know that it is about helping people connect to their heart and inner knowing (which is something that has always been woven in everything I have taught for the last ten years already).

    If you have ever seen the Indiana Jones movie called The Last Crusade, there is a scene towards the end where Indiana has to take a leap of faith and step over a precipice. When he steps into the void, an invisible bridge magically appears underneath his feet. That’s where I feel I am. And surprisingly for someone who used to be a control freak, I feel mostly OK with it.

    What I look forward to:

    After ten years of being on-call on and off for most of the time, I look forward to living without the pressure of knowing that I may need to leave at a moment’s notice. Of not waking up in the middle of the night checking my phone in case I’ve missed a text message. Of not being able to stray far from home in case my client needs me. Of making constant backup plans and warning my friends that I may drop out at the last minute. Of not having to cancel things.

    I look forward to not having to worry about whether the midwives or doctors supporting my client will be kind. I look forward to being able to rest and relax and be present to my family, my friends, my dancing, swimming and drumming. I look forward to being able to serve my community more, both locally and further afield.

    I have had a sense, since I published my book, Why Postnatal Recovery Matters, in 2020, that I am meant to reach a bigger, more international audience. This has been reinforced by the fact that, without me seeking it, my book has been translated in 2 other languages (Italian and German. The French translation is under way too). Since 2020, having been forced to moved to teaching online courses, has also resulted in my gaining an international audience. Leaving doulaing, where all my attention and energy is given to one family only, also feels in alignment as I will then be able to share my knowledge with more people.

    What I will miss:

    I will miss the intimate interactions with families that I experience in this job. I will miss getting to know people deeply as we walk the journey together. I will miss sharing their joys and their sorrows, and rejoicing with them as they find their feet. 

    I know that I may miss seeing the direct impact I have on people’s wellbeing and confidence. This is not a new experience for me. I went through a similar process when I gave up  teaching NCT classes and running a sling clinic in 2016. I had run both of these activities for 6 years when I decided to stop. I gave this things up because they no longer made my heart sing, and because I knew I needed to make room to teach the people who teach to parents, as opposed to parents themselves. This feels similar. I won’t necessarily see the results as I do in one to one work, but I think this will help reach more people and make more of a difference overall. I hope to hear from people who take my courses or read my book what positive impact it has had on them and the families they serve.

    What I’m going to focus on now:

    I am still going to be present in the birth and perinatal world. I am going to carry on offering online courses, and the odd face to face course (I no longer want to run live courses at the frequency I used to before 2020, which was 2 to 3 courses a month). I want to create new online courses, downloading all the knowledge and wisdom I have accumulated through my birthworking years, to share with others. My next online course, on which I am working right now, will be on how to run a mother blessing. I want to carry on offering mentoring for women and for professionals, but not necessarily limit myself to birth professionals. This has already happened in my offering impostor syndrome sessions.

    I want to carry on offering mother blessings and closing the bones ceremonies. I want to offer training in spiritual and intuitive knowledge. To help others develop their inner knowing, intuitive healing and to listen to their hearts. To connect with nature. I want to help more people discover their soul’s purpose. To connect with themselves. I want this to be from a place that doesn’t belong to a prescriptive model, but helps people develop their unique abilities. 

    I want to carry on bringing more of the sacred to my life and help others do the same. I want to run more regular connection and community building activities, like drum circles, in my local community. 

    My word of the year 2022 is Opening. I am excited for what is coming.

  • Resting after birthing a project

    Resting after birthing a project

    Earlier this week, a short text by Sylvester McNutt popped on my feed. How apt, I thought. It said this:

    • “Creative people need to sit around and do nothing
    • Creative people do not need fully booked calendars
    • Creative people need to hear the world’s heartbeat
    • Creative people need stories and words to inspire
    • Creative people need space to feel, think, and be”

    I thought this was apt because I had just finished launching an online course. I had spent the last couple of weeks focusing exclusively on that, using what short time I currently have (whilst also looking after my new puppy), in short, sharp, focused burst. Then I ran a webinar which over 150 people from several different countries attended. It had been a lot of intense work to get it all done within the deadlines I’d given myself. 

    A day or two before I ran the webinar, I remember thinking: next week I need to rest. I’ve come a long way into accepting this process of growth and rest, but I’m still somewhat experiencing resistance to it. The conditioning of being productive all the is so strong in our culture, and even if my own wisdom speaks louder than ever before (this was the first time that my inner voice had told me ahead of time to prepare for rest), something in me still fights it. Something within me naively believes that I can carry at the same pace all the time.

    My body had other ideas: the day after the webinar I started feeling unwell, exhausted, with chills. This abated when I rested, but, like a convalescent who gets back to work too soon, I thought I could go back to business as normal the following day. My body would have none of it, and I felt unwell again the next day, and had to spend most of the day taking it easy and asking my family to step in and care for the puppy so I could rest. 

    This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. The first time I remember crashing in a spectacular way like this was the day after handing over my completed PhD thesis, 25 years ago. I fell ill and had to be in bed for a few days. Whilst working to a deadline can be exciting, we can only run on adrenaline for so long.

    I have been exploring this topic, and my resistance to it, for years. I’m slowly getting better. At least I’m aware of the pattern. Recently, having a Human Design reading with Bingz Huang was very helpful to cement this knowledge further. In my design, I have the Hermit/Opportunist profile. This means that I need alone time after being with people.

    I have blogged about my process several times over the year. You can read about my journey in chronological order in the following posts:

     

    I’m going to turn 52 in a couple of months. I’m nearly menopaused. As I get older and more in tune with myself I am much more aware of the need to listen to my body’s needs for quiet and rest. In fact the need for a peaceful and slower pace of life is deep, and one of the reasons I am stopping birth doula work (more on that in a blog post soon), and moving into teaching online rather than face to face and travelling constantly like I used to pre-pandemic. When I give my energy to the world, I need to retreat and rest afterwards. In the past, when I taught face to face, the need for rest afterwards was very clear because it was intense physically as well as energetically and spiritually. When working online however, it was easier to ignore, despite my inner voice’s warning. I fooled myself into believing this didn’t count. However, I connected with a large group of people, and I think energetically it’s very similar in terms of demand to being face to face. I probably need to develop, beyond the post creative rest, techniques to protect my energy when teaching live online. This will be the subject of another post (research it) 

    More recently I wrote a blog about the birth cycle as a model for joyful productivity. 

    As I walked my dog this morning I thought: this is like a mini postpartum. Even the chills caused me to wrap myself with a womb belt and hot water bottle. 

    Going forward, plan to heed my own wisdom and plan for a mini “postpartum rest” after the birth of each new project.

    Since my inner voice warned me this time, I made a vow to plan for such rest in the future after finishing creating something new. To use my own template of the 4 pillars of the postpartum: social support, rest, food and bodywork. To book myself a special treatment ahead of time when planning to launch a new course or any other big creative birthing.

    Does this resonate? Do you experience this need to rest, to slow down, after an intense period of creativity and/or productivity?  Do you plan for the flow of birth and rest?

  • Three rebozo techniques for pregnancy and birth

    Three rebozo techniques for pregnancy and birth

    I’ve had so many positive experiences using rebozo techniques as a doula to support pregnancy, birth, the postpartum and beyond, I’m on a mission to pass on this skill to ask many people as possible.

    Every technique is extremely simple to do, anybody can do it. Yet this humble tool provides an unparalleled a level of comfort and relaxation.

    There are hundred of different things you can do with a rebozo (and it works with other shawls and scarves too). The techniques usually fall within a rocking or a wrapping technique.

    Here I share 3 simple techniques you can use during pregnancy, birth, and the postpartum period

    Pregnancy technique: Hip wrapping

    During pregnancy the rebozo can be wrapped tightly around the hips to provide support to the pelvic girdle. The rebozo can be twisted and tucked at the front or at the back of the pelvis. Whether you are tying at the front or the back will have slightly different effects on the sacro-iliac joints. Try both version and be guided by the feedback fon what feels best.
    Remember whilst this will provide support and comfort, this technique won’t ‘fix’ the underlying cause of the pain/discomfort and therefore won’t replace being treated by a skilled bodyworker (like an osteopath). In situations where pain is present, such as pelvic girdle pain (the Pelvic Partnership is an awesome resource), however it can provide support and comfort whilst awaiting treatment. It should be used mindfully, as a treatment, and not 24/7. You can also use the rebozo to hold an ice pack or a hot pack in place.

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    Teddy the osteopath‘s view of the technique

    Wrapping the hips-supports and stretches the pelvic ligaments (the broad and the round ligament) and helps support weight from the bump on the abdominal muscles and fascia. Many women experience lower pelvic tension and discomfort and band like pain around the front of the pelvis during pregnancy. This technique may also help the ache or soreness in the genitals that can happen during to pregnancy. Wrapping from the back instead of the front provides a similar effect but might be better later on in pregnancy as it provides a broader contact, less pressure at the front and more opening at the back. Both techniques have an impact on the sacro-iliac joints by opening them in slightly different ways. The front tying opens the joints more posteriorally versus anteriorally for the back tying technique.

    Rocking technique (for pregnancy and labour)

    Jiggling the hips or abdomen (or any other part of the body) can relax tight ligaments and may help a baby rotate in pregnancy or labour more easily, as well as provide relaxation and comfort. Being rocked elicits a very primal feeling  (reminding us of being in the womb) and it is very calming and soothing for anyone. It can help a pregnant or a birthing woman relax when she is tense or anxious. Generally, these techniques relax the body so that the baby is more likely to take a better position.

    Here I show you how to rock the pelvis whilst standing up. This can also be done with the woman resting her back against a wall for support.

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    Teddy the osteopath‘s view of the technique

    This provides movement between the lower thoracic spine and the lumbar spine, and helps with the compression forces caused by postural changes during pregnancy. It provides a passive articulation, completely removes the pressure, especially in the thoraco-lumbar joint. This can have a positive impact on breathing too as it also releases the diaphragm. Using a faster movement makes it more of a fluid technique/viscera (which can direct movement into the uterus and its ligaments) towards the front rather than the back. On the bump, faster movement again move the uterus rather than slower articulations.

    Fluid health is about transition of fluids. Movement in the body causes pressure changes resulting in fluid pumping in and out of tissues and right down to the cellular level, increased fluid movement leads to more healthy body tissues. Fascial tightness or looseness (connective tissue) can govern the ability of fluid to move in and out.

    Bump rocking on hand and knees

    The woman is on her hands and knees, kneeling over a sofa or birth ball or chair, and the rebozo is wrapped around the bump and lifted gently prior to sifting. When lifting, ask for feedback from the woman so you can lift enough to take all of the weight of her bump from her spine. As well as providing relaxation and comfort, this technique can  help restore balance to the uterus and with the positioning of the baby during pregnancy or labour.

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    Teddy the osteopath‘s view of the technique

    This loosens all the fascial tension from the front to the back: abdominal fascia and muscles, viscera (organ) ligaments, lumbar muscles and fascia. The vibration provides more movement into the uterus and uterine ligaments and helps to take the tension off it.

    All the techniques in this article are a taster version of my Rebozo for an easier birth course. The course contains over 25 techniques for pregnancy, birth and the postpartum.

    I have also made this set of techniques available to download as a handy PDF, you can get it by scrolling to the bottom of the Rebozo for an easier birth course page.

    Watch the video below, where I show examples of more techniques included in the course.

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