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Author: Sophie Messager

Rebozos, shawls and scarves-the lost art of supporting women through the childbearing years

I was introduced to the art of using the traditional Mexican shawl called the rebozo back in 2013 when I attended a workshop by doula Stacia Smales Hill on rebozo use for labour and birth. During the same year I also attended a workshop by Dr Rocio Alarcon, who taught us a postnatal massage technique called closing the bones, some elements of which included rocking and binding with a rebozo.
Over the course of the following years I pursued my knowledge further by doing several more workshops with Rocio, and several other rebozo workshops with different focuses, such as the rebozo for labour progress and malposition with Selina Wallis, micromovements with Francoise Freedman, and 2 iterations of spinning babies with Jennifer Walker and Gail Tully, and a workshop on healing diastasis recti with Birthlight which included many rebozo techniques, and training with Mexican midwife Naoli Vinaver.
I am also a babywwearing instructor and tutor, and as such use rebozos and wraps to carry babies too.
When I started teaching workshops around closing the bones and rebozo work as well as babywearing, the incredible versatility of the cloth really blew my mind.
As I met people through teaching, I constantly ask questions to people I met about their culture’s practises, I started to build a picture in my mind of something much more universal than the rebozo.
It seems that every culture had a piece of cloth of some kind, call it a shawl, a sarong, a scarf, or a wrap.
Cold countries have thick, woollen fabrics (think Welsh Shawl or Scottish plaid), and warmer countries, cooler, thin, cotton fabric (think African Kanga or Indonesian Sarong).
There are almost too many fabrics to count, but one thing is for sure, women have used all sorts of cloths in incredibly versatile ways, and what I’m going to say below about the rebozo is true for many other cultures too. It’s a truly universal practise.
I spent a few years believing that the rebozo use for labour was uniquely South American but I have met a Somalian midwife who told me how they use their traditional shawl, called a garbasar, in a similar way during labour. I also had a birth client from Somalia who confirmed this, and her mother showed me how to wrap her belly with the garbasar after birth.
I trained a Moroccan birth worker in doing closing the bones, and when she started offering the massage, women came forward and told her they’d had a similar treatment in the local hammam (using a Moroccan cloth called a mendil). Tunisia offers a similar practise called a fouta massage (the fouta is a hammam towel, which is very similar in nature to the Turkish towel).
I am lucky to be part of a multicultural family, being French and married to a man from Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, they use a long piece of muslin cloth to bind the woman’s hips and abdomen after birth, and my mother in law also showed me how to do it with a towel.
It’s also quite fascinating to see how contact with foreign cultures can influence each other. For example I acquired a Dutch postpartum girdle called a sluitlaken. I couldn’t help but notice how similar to Indonesian postpartum binding it looks, then a friend pointed out than Holland used to have Indonesian colonies.
Hip carry with a rebozo
What can you do with a rebozo (or a scarf of shawl)?
Pretty much all cultures on the planet, some kind of cloth is used to cradle and carry a baby. In some cultures is used to rock and soothe the baby too. Rocking is such a primal rhythm we all experienced it in our mother’s womb, that we find it soothing all through our lives. Even in Europe there are pictures of women wearing their babies in Welsh shawls which date from the 1940s.
Later, when the baby grew into a toddler and child, she would use the cloth to dress up, pretend play (including carrying toys and/or animals, pretending to carry a baby), make a den etc.
As the child grew into a young woman she would use the cloth as a shawl to keep warm, as a clothing accessory, a blanket, to carry siblings ( in traditional cultures women learn baby care from a very young age as they tend to live with extended families), and to carry loads on her back or head.
Later still when she became a woman, she might have been given her own shawl as part of a menarche ceremony. She might have worn a special cloth on her wedding day.
When she became pregnant, she would have used the shawl to support her belly, and her midwives would have used it to alleviate the aches and pains of pregnancy, and maybe to help the baby move into the best position for birth.
During labour she would have used the shawl to hang from, to pull on, and her birth attendants would have used it to provide comfort measures, such as sifting, rocking, shaking, and wrapping.
After the birth she would have had a “baby moon”. Again this is something pretty much universal in the world-women the world around have been alleviated from household tasks and cared for by family members for the first 30 to 40 days postpartum. During this time they would rest so they could recover from growing and birthing their baby and get to know their baby and learn to care for them. Her birth attendants and the community of women would have come to feed her nourishing food, and close her bones and help her body heal from the pregnancy and birth by using a combination of their hands, massage techniques and using the cloth to help move and bind her hips and abdomen to help them back into place. In the West we used to have this practise called “churching” you can read about it here.
She then would have start to use the cloth to carry her baby and start the cycle all over again.
Later as she grew old, her family members would have used the cloth to rock and soothe aches and pain.
Women would have been buried with their shawl using it as a shroud.
So you see, a traditional cloth, rebozo, shawl or cloth can be used to support a woman throughout her whole life. It is a universal phenomenon on our planet.
As the shawl came out of fashion and modern practises like using pushchairs became seen as more fashionable and desirable, this skill was soon lost, and because like most traditional women-only practises, it was just passed on orally rather than written about, the knowledge was lost very quickly, in one or two generations. We also tend to embrace “modern” practises mindlessly, seeing traditional ones as backwards and old fashioned.
Mexican and Chinese friends tell me that nobody wants to use the traditional shawl or carrier these days as only remote farmers or beggars still use them.
This is something that we need to reclaim and teach all women, as it is part of the essence of women circles and supporting women through life transitions.
This is why I am so passionate about passing this skills to both expectant and new mothers, and to anybody who works with expectant and new mothers. It is our birthright!
You can learn more about Rebozo and its many wonderful uses in my online courses: Rebozo for an Easier Birth and Postnatal Rebozo Massage and Closing Ritual.

June 6, 2018
The gentle warrior-how to support women through a broken maternity system
During the first year I worked as a doula, I suffered massively burnout, and I had t learn to develop a new way to look after myself.
One of the things I do, is try to always have some kind of bodywork treatment after each birth I support.
I do this because supporting a woman through a pregnancy and birth takes a lot out of me, so it’s important to regenerate myself.
I have a handful of favourite therapists who really get me, work on an energetic level, and know how to reset me after a birth (and best of all, we do skills swaps together!).
I usually get some insight about what I was meant to learn from the birth during the treatment. I think the deeply relaxed state facilitates that.
Recently as I was receiving such a treatment from wonderful osteopath Teddy, I had this huge insight about how difficult it is to do what I do as a doula.
First I saw myself as a mother wolf protecting her cubs, growling fiercely. This represents how I feel when supporting a women through birth.
Then I saw some kind of enlightened being. I saw how important it is to stay in a state of love, something I know deep down is the right way to go, and which I have written about before here.
Finally, I saw a tightrope walker. It symbolised the challenges of protecting my client whilst staying in a state of love.
This struggle is very real for most of the doulas I know.
I remember when I was a new doula, and I poured my heart out to my wonderful mentor Suzanne, after a very challenging birth, and Suzanne used this expression of being a gentle warrior.
Very early on in my doula career I had to face these kind of choices, there is a particular story that happened, which I talk about in this post, that keeps reminding me of this.
How do we stay kind, supportive and compassionate in a maternity system which lacks humanity (how on earth can birthing women form trusting relationships with people they have never met before?), and in the face of sometimes, harsh, unkind behaviour?
I can think of several examples in my doula life.
The time were an obstetrician walked into the room and proceeded to examine my client vaginally without introducing herself, treating my client like a piece of meat (I no longer let this happen, which means that I sometimes have to place myself between my client and the doctor in question, plaster a big smile on my face and say “Hello this is John and Sarah, and your name is?”).
The time when an anaesthetist walked into the room, talked to my client mid contraction, and when she didn’t get an immediate reply, said “What’s wrong with her, she doesn’t speak English?”
The time when a client who discharged herself against medical advice got told ” Well I hope you don’t get a stillbirth during the night”
The countless times when fear, coercion and unkindness were used against my client in order to make her comply. I wish this was a rare occurrence but sadly it’s not (read this).
How do we stay calm and compassionate in such a broken, dehumanised system? How do we defend our clients right to choose and feel supported in their choices? How do we hold space for all involved?
And most importantly, how do we stay in a state of love?
It is challenging because the answer is NOT to respond to the lack of humanity by behaving in the same way (however tempting it might be).
And how do we navigate the unpredictability?
Because, within our unfit for purpose, broken maternity system, I also witness incredible kindness and humanity, all within the same hospital.
A few weeks ago I supported a woman through an elective caesarean. For medical reasons, the birth had to happen much earlier than term. Whilst my client was in theatre, the nurses in recovery were just incredible. Normally I find myself sitting alone in a room whilst waiting, sometimes even outside the unit. This time the nurses chatted to me, gave me coffee and biscuits, and kept me updated of the surgery process (I normally get very worried for my client if the caesarean takes longer than usual, which was the case here). Then, when the babies had been born and had to go to the neonatal unit, they took me to get changed into scrubs so I could support my client during the rest of the surgery whilst her partner was with the babies. Later on, they wheeled her, on her bed, to the neonatal unit so she could see her babies. And they even made sure that she would go to the antenatal ward instead of the postnatal one so she wouldn’t be surrounded by crying babies whilst her own was not there. I was touched and humbled by the kindness and humanity I saw.
I can remember many other examples like this, and that this kind of behaviour mattered especially when the birth didn’t unfold as hoped, for example the anaesthetist who kneeled next to a woman who couldn’t have an epidural, to talk to her gently about what other options were available.
Or the obstetrician who took the time to talk through the options, and to read my client’s caesarean birth preferences, when she ended up needing to go to theatre after a very long labour, and then let me accompany the couple in theatre for the birth.
Recently, I was denied access to the local NICU whilst trying to support a client in tears, because it wasn’t visitor time. I had a difficult time holding it together not bursting into tears myself. I left the hospital feeling bereft and powerless, not knowing what to do with myself, and feeling sad and angry at a system which applies inflexible rules in the name of “safety” and leave no place for humanity.
I am walking on my own tightrope because I feel angry at a maternity system that applies rules blindly and leave no space for women’s unique circumstances.
I am listening to what’s happening inside myself and it’s not pretty.
Yet I know, deep down, that anger isn’t the answer, that staying in these angry feelings doesn’t make change happen and only hurts me.
I feel frustrated, and I feel like I’m failing to protect the women I support and I feel like I’m failing to change the system.
I’ve been in the birth field for ten years now, and when I started, I thought in the time I would work I would see the system improve.
It’s been the opposite. Lack of staff, lack of funding, means that women rarely see the same midwife more than once throughout their pregnancy and therefore fail to build trust with their caregivers. It’s not satisfying for midwives either.
Women no longer have a named midwife they can call when they are worried, and I’ve seen a really worrying trend towards medical questions being directed at me instead.
I’ve seen a general tightening of rules and women’s choices. Less access to homebirths, more inductions, more caesareans, and generally more interventions, increases which aren’t backed up by any solid evidence.
Famous obstetrician Michel Odent one said “I used to say we’re at a crossroad, but now I believe we’re at the bottom of the abyss”
I believe we have reached the bottom of the abyss and started to dig.
As well as worrying that I’m failing my clients, I also feel somewhat responsible for my powerlessness to change the system for the better.
I feel like I’m going at it the wrong way, and that I ought to do more, to fight more, and to do more campaigning or stuff like that.
Only this is not what I am about (and this isn’t how change happens either-I take solace in this model about how ideas spread-through small groups of innovators and early adopters, not through the majority of the population, see here)
And deep down, I know that the negative changes in the system aren’t my doing (or lack of doing).
Coming back to the analogies I made at the beginning of this post, I believe the challenge of the gentle warrior is to harness the fierce energy of the mother wolf protecting her cubs, whilst staying in a state of gentleness, benevolence, and love. Yes, even towards those unkind, coercive professionals.
In her book, “eat, pray doula“, midwife Robin Lim reminds us that some health care professionals have built a cage of ice around their hearts to protect themselves, and that our job is to try and gently melt it. You can’t go at it with a pickaxe.
It sounds corny, but it really is a case what Gandhi said: of “be the change you want to be in the world”
Wayne Dyer compares us to an orange: what do we have inside, and what comes out when someone squeezes us? (you can read the whole story here )
“Let’s assume that this orange isn’t an orange, but it’s you. And someone squeezes you, puts pressure on you, says something you don’t like, offends you. And out of you comes anger, hatred, bitterness, fear. Why? The answer, as our young friend has told us, is because that’s what’s inside.
It’s one of the great lessons of life. What comes out when life squeezes you? When someone hurts or offends you? If anger, pain and fear come out of you, it’s because that’s what’s inside. It doesn’t matter who does the squeezing—your mother, your brother, your children, your boss, the government. If someone says something about you that you don’t like, what comes out of you is what’s inside. And what’s inside is up to you, it’s your choice.”
So it starts with me, how I treat others, and how I treat myself. How I look after myself, and my immediate circle of family and friends.
It’s about what I move towards, and not what I move away from.
The reason it is a tightrope act is because it’s always a challenge not to fall off the rope and also to manage fierce protection whilst remaining kind at all times.
March 30, 2018
Today I give myself permission to do nothing
Today is the first day of my cycle.
Since attending a menstrual cycle workshop with Alexandra Pope of Red School a couple of years ago, I have come to understand that that the first couple of days of my cycle are days when I need to retreat into myself and do very little.
Last month I started writing a blog like this and didn’t finish it. Then I wasted my day not getting much done all but not really giving myself when I had promised myself not to, and not feeling great of it.
So today I am giving myself permission to do nothing.
In a world that glorifies busy, it’s nothing short of revolutionary.
I have a to do list as long as my arm and frankly tons of shit to do (who doesn’t?), but I know that by giving myself time to retreat inwards, look after myself in nurturing ways and ignoring most of what doesn’t absolutely needs to be done today, will help me recharge and actually be more productive in the next few days.
Just like I’m usually full of ideas after a holiday (only whilst on holiday I don’t actually realise how much good the relaxation is doing me until I return to work and all these new ideas come flowing).
Today, I need to shut myself from the world and go inside my cave.
I’m going to do stuff that makes me feel good, like sit and meditate and self treat with Reiki, have a long bath with a special blend of essential oils that I like to use during my cycle (I also massage my tummy with it every day whilst I’m bleeding- my favourite blend is the sacral chakra blend from Katseye blends), I might wrap my hips and abdomen with a rebozo, and pack a heated wheat bag in it too. I’ll make myself some comforting and nourishing foods and probably watch a feel good movie.
I’m not technically really going to do nothing, but I’ll only do what absolutely needs to be done today and ignore the rest, just for today.
In the menstrual cycle workshop, Alexandra compared the menstrual cycle to the 4 seasons of the year, and the bleeding time is very much like winter: the trees are bare, the soil is bare, so it looks like everything is dead and nothing good is happening. But this all needs to happen, and whilst it looks barren, potent stuff is happening underneath, to prepare for new growth.
That time, going inwards whilst it looks like nothing is happening on the outside, is a very powerful time.
Our culture doesn’t want to see the winter woman, it only wants to see the sunny spring and summer woman.
And yet so much power lies in the dark, retreating times.
You can choose to see this time as a pile of poo, or you can choose to see it as manure.

March 8, 2018
What’s in your doula bag, and does it really matter?
When I started working as a doula nearly 6 years ago, I spent much time researching what other doulas had in their bags.
I loved looking at blogs and getting ideas from other more experienced doulas.
I discovered and bought much stuff, from honey straws to massage tools.
Interestingly, many more experienced doulas told me that my bag would get smaller as I got more experienced. I didn’t question that, they had been doulaing for longer than I had, so they must have been right.
I started with a smallish tote type bag (pictured above).
But this soon became too small, and the tote bag is now my antenatal appointment and postnatal doula bag.
I also had a period of having a spare sports type bag in the car with change of clothes, and heavy stuff I could only use at homebirths, like microwaveable rice bags.
I moved on to using a rucksack.
The problem with the rucksack is that, whilst it was roomy, getting stuff from the bottom meant emptying the whole bag. This annoyed me.
When my friend Maddie raved about her skip hop twin duo bag, I got myself one off eBay too and tried that for size.
But I still needed something bigger, because I couldn’t close the skip hop bag once I had put all my stuff in it.
Also, I like things to be organised in different compartments and being easily accessible and organised.
So last year, when I bought myself a new gym back called a Workplay bag (aptly named “the goddess” bag!), I realised it would work very well as a doula bag. Workplay bags are expensive but I got mine second hand on eBay for about £20.
It’s great, there is plenty of room and it’s very organised and easy to find stuff. The only problem is that the bag is very heavy when full, and I cannot carry it on my back and still have my hands free for my client mid contraction when we walk from the car part to the hospital. I’m now toying with the idea of buying something on wheels, I’ve been ogling a midwife friend’s new Zuca bag…
Interestingly because my bag has so much kit, I’ve shied away from sharing it online over the last couple of years, because so many doulas say they take almost nothing with them at a birth, that I felt that I was somewhat a lesser doula for having so much kit, that there was something wrong with me.
So I’m super grateful for doula Staci Silvan to having stated that she likes to bring a lot of kit in her bag, and to Zara de Candole, for saying that she should embrace all the kinds of doulas, the ones who just bring themselves, and the ones who bring everything but the kitchen sink.
It’s interesting how most of us can’t help but judge and compare ourselves to others, instead of seeing the beauty in the amazing variety of uniqueness each one of us brings.
So I’ve decided to embrace the fact that I am a “hoarder” kind of doula, and not be ashamed of my enormous doula bag.
I’m coming out as a big doula bag doula 😉
The thing is, I am also a fully paid up member of the “doulaing is about being not doing ” school.
I know that the most important thing I bring to the table is me, and how I hold the space for the woman during her labour and birth (which is also why a large chunk of the contents of my bag are actually designed to keep me going rather than for my client)
Most of the time I don’t take much stuff out of my bag at all. But I’m the kind of person who would hate not having something available if I knew it could help.
I really want to emphasise the fact that, (especially as I’m a doula mentor and the last thing I want is my mentees to think that they need to have everything that in my bag-it’s not about me), I am not writing this post to encourage you to do it like me, or to say that my doula bag contains the perfect kit.
But I often see posts from new doulas asking what people have in their bags, and I know how useful it was for me when I started, so I want to pay it forward, because I think it’s really helpful to have it in a link that’s easy to find rather than trawl through stuff on facebook.
Just remember: This is my kit. It fits me. This isn’t necessarily the kit that is right for you.
I would like to encourage you to look at my very large amount of kit, and and thing to yourself: do I need this shit? Do I want all this stuff in my bag?
You may want to experiment and try it for size, and when you realise that you like something, then by all means keep it, but also feel free to dump it when you realise it’s not working for you.
Heck less than a week ago I went to a birth with only my handbag-it was for an elective cesarean and I knew it was likely to be short and that I wouldn’t need my labour comfort bits and bobs.
Let’s embrace variety and celebrate all doulas, the ones who go to births with just their handbag, and the ones who go to birth with a ginormous bag, and everybody else in between!
The right doula bag is the one that is right for you!
Here is my current birth bag. I know it’s big but I love it!

Here are some other doulas who favour big bags

Staci Sylvan who is another member of the big bag club, sporting her doula bag, which a Stanley tool bag

Zara de Candole another fan of big doula bags

And for balance, here are some examples of doulas who prefer small bags!

Eva Bay and her basket (Cards, rebozo, notebook, diary, birth beads and water)

Mars Lord and her tote bag

Amber Strong and her handbag style doula bag (contains snacks, lip balm, essential oils and homeopathic kit, straws and honey. For me – clean underwear, deodorant, mints, charger and purse)

And if you’d like to know what inside my huge bag here are some pics
My antenatal/postnatal bag (pictured at the top of this blog) contains a small pelvis and baby, a beaded birth line and client notebook (for antenatals), a small knitted boob, baby and syringe, to explain hand expressing/positioning, some slippers (I hate getting cold feet), and most importantly, some good quality, dark chocolate (I once got caught up without chocolate at a postnatal job, mum was taking a nap, baby was asleep in the sling (I usually chuck a stretchy wrap in my bag too), I’d done what I needed to do and was having a cup of tea and there was NO chocolate-never again).

The snack section. It’s all for me, so I can keep going when I am at a long birth and can’t get away. Hospitals are a very dehydrating environment so I have a Hydaway collapsible silicone water bottle. I’ve tried plastic water bottles in the water and didn’t like the taste they gave to water. It’s much more convenient than the horrible polystyrene cups from the hospital, and also helps in not creating more waste. I usually add some squash or some sports tablets in the water too, to encourage more drinking (has to be balanced against not needing to pee every 5 min though) I also have a Pokito silicone collapsible coffee cup, for pretty much the same reasons I highlighted re water. Good coffee is important to me (hospitals usually only have the most vile cheap brown powder instant coffee) and I love the coffee “teabags” from Taylors of Harrogate. I have some cereal bars, some nuts, and sweets and other high calorie, nutrient dense stuff.
The “therapy” section of my bag. Helios homeopathy childbirth kit, rescue remedy pastilles, essential oils in a tiny little keyring pouch (I take lavender, clary sage, peppermint, frankincense, and Katseye blend 10 and 1) , sports tablets, earplugs and eye mask, washcloths, honey straws, various smelly sprays and roller balls and crystals and amulets (mostly for me), and a homemade poo-pourri (a small, essential oil based product to spray onto the toilet because you do a poo-so if your client goes in straight after you it doesn’t stink), and some disposable gloves just in case. The little pouch on the top left had toiletries for me, toothbrush and toothpaste etc.

The birth pool kit: plastic mirror, thermometer, collapsible jug to pour warm water on the mother’s back, torch, and a wet bag.

The comfort measures section: wheat bag, birth ball pump, portable air conditioning unit, fairy lights, massage balls (got mine really cheap in Tiger), small hot water bottle, portable essential oil diffuser.

The spare clothes section: tshirt, knickers, socks, leggings, swimsuit (in case I need to go in the pool with mum)

The comfort/rebozo section: 2 rebozos (you can buy some here), one blanket and one poncho (for when both me and mum or dad feels chilly in the middle of the night, I once lent both my poncho and blanket to cold midwives at a homebirth, and wrapped myself with my rebozo), one cooling towel for when mum feels too hot, a couple of inflatable neck travel pillows (handy for a labour nap for me or the partner, especially in hospital)

A shewee. Sometimes the labouring mother loves to labour on the toilet. If you’re in a flat this might be a problem for the doula, hence this handy piece of kit (I have not had to use it yet)

The book section-speaks for itself

And I also always take two more things with me at a birth: when I go on call, I bake and then freeze a groaning cake for my client, and I also freeze myself a sandwich made with something that won’t perish quickly at room temperature (like cured ham and cheese). I take these with me when I get the call (the sandwich is for me). Once the baby has been born I share the cake between the parents and the midwives.
Update November 2018: I finally got a bag on wheels as my big gym bag was getting too heavy to carry comfortably. It’s a Santoro wheelable craft tote.

February 22, 2018
The value of a doula
3 years ago I wrote my first blog post, in response to an article in the independent, accusing doulas of being money grabbing opportunists.
Today I feel compelled to write another blog post, as this time a medical professional is saying that we charge “extortionate prices”.
Dr Ahmed Rashid, an NHS doctor, wrote this piece in the British Journal of General Practise
” I first came across a doula as a junior doctor working in obstetrics and the idea has fascinated me since. In case you haven’t heard of them, they are trained or experienced lay women who provide social, emotional, and practical support during pregnancy and birth, but do not provide any clinical care. Although the practice has ancient origins, the modern doula movement began in the US in the 1970s and private doulas, hired by mothers (often for extortionate prices), have been popular in certain parts of the UK for some time. A recent Oxford study focused instead on volunteer doulas, trained by third-sector organisations. After interviewing 19 doulas and 16 mothers who had received their support, the authors concluded that they can play an important role in improving women’s birth experiences by offering continuous, empowering, female-focused support that complements the role of midwives, particularly where the mothers are disadvantaged. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all.”
The part of this piece that triggered me, was the ” often for extortionate prices” comment.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
When I left a prestigious career in science to become a doula (you can read why I did that here), I also left behind a salary over 40K, regular and predictable working hours, and job security.
I did this to follow a calling, something that pulled at my heart, the deep need to support women through birth and make a difference to their experience.
I sure didn’t do it for the money!
I started as a new mentored doula (Doula UK, the association of doulas in the UK, has a strict mentoring process in place, which means that new doulas called themselves mentored doulas, and usually charge lower fees to reflect this, until their mentor feels that they have acquired enough experience and can become recognised doulas), charging £250 for a birth.
When I wrote my first blog post, after 2 years as a doula, I was still not earning enough to pay tax.
Now, 5 years down the line, I only just paid my first tax bill. And this wasn’t because of my doula work, this was because of my other hats, in particular the fact that I teach workshops. Most of us have “side jobs” to complement our income, because it is very difficult to make a decent living at a doula.
5 years down the line, I am still quite far from earning what I earned as a scientist.
Doulas charge as little as £300 to as much as £3000 for a birth. On average, most of the recognised doulas I know charge between £600 and £1000 for a birth.
My birth fee now starts at £950.
What does this include?
This includes several antenatal meetings (those tend to be at least a couple of hours each), and unlimited support on the phone/email, accompanying clients to medical appointments etc. Whilst I offer a system with a set number of appointments, I find that I cannot restrict my support when a woman needs it. For example, I have been supporting a woman pregnant with twins , there have been many complications to her pregnancy, and I have attended well over 10 appointments with her. I am also in contact with her several times a week. It takes a lot of headspace, and I am more than happy to do it, but, with this in mind, it is easy to understand why I feel so rattled by the accusation of money grabbing.
At 38 weeks, I go “on-call” until the baby is born. This can be a week, 2 weeks, or up to a month or more. The majority of my clients are first time mothers, and on average they tend to birth beyond 40 weeks (last year, one of my clients birthed at 43 weeks so I was on call for 5 weeks).
During this time, I need to be able to leave everything and go to my client at very short notice when she goes into labour, at any hour of the day or night. I (like most of the doulas I know) have young children so this means complex, multilayered backup childcare arrangements, sometimes including at night (which cost money).
Whilst on call, my phone is always with me (I even bring my phone to the side of the pool whilst going for a morning swim so I can check half ways through that she hasn’t called). I cannot go anywhere more than an hour away from home. I do not drink alcohol, and I always tell everybody I have made plans with that I’ll come “unless I’m at a birth”.
This also means that there is a lot of pressure on my family and social life, as births have to take precedent over almost everything. This means always knowing that I may not make important family events, like birthdays or other celebrations (yes even your kids). My husband and I rarely go out and I have had to cancel a rare evening out more than once as I was called to a birth. Being on call makes us lose “brownie points” with our friends and family – who as much as they try and understand it, still find it stressful. I remember once during a difficult on call period (my client was a repeat client and her first birth had been very traumatic, and I was very invested emotionally in making sure this didn’t happen again), my parents were visiting and my mum said “you’re not there”-meaning I was physically present, but mentally, I was with my client.
The on call period, up to 30 days, 24h a day. This can mean a total of 720h or more.
When on call we also tell all our other clients, including the ones who have hired us for postnatal support, that we may need to cancel at short notice. Of course, when we get called to a birth, it also means that we lose out on the money we would have earned for supporting other people that day.
Then there is the birth. Many of my clients are first time mothers, and it’s quite normal for a first birth to take anything between 24h and 48h. One year, all the births I attended were between 30 and 40h long (that’s the length of time I was with my client). The shortest birth I have ever attended was about 3h long, but I was there for 6h because I always want to make sure the mother is settled and her baby feeding well etc before I leave. The longest was 4 days (a long induction).
Then after the birth I make a postnatal visit (again at least a couple of hours), and I am available for 6 weeks for unlimited email and phone support. New mothers contact me for support, for example when feeding isn’t going well, and I do everything I can to help them. I put no limits on the hours I spent doing this. This means many unseen hours talking to them, sending them links, and signposting them to other professionals. For example, last year when my nephew’s daughter was born, and they had problem with breastfeeding, I couldn’t support them myself because they lived too far, I spent a couple of hours late at night, when I should have been in bed. contacting my network of doulas, until I found a breastfeeding counsellor who was able to visit them the next day. We doulas constantly pull incredible feats like this because we’re all very passionate in supporting women.
Many of us have discussed this in the past, and found that when we break down the hours spent on average with our clients, it usually works out at less than the minimum wage per hour.
To top this, up, I personally only take 6 to 7 birth clients a year. This is because being on call in an intense, emotionally demanding time, and I have suffered burn out in the past and learnt that I need to keep the Christmas, Easter half Term and the last 2 weeks of August free for relaxing time with my family in an absolute requirement.
Because I make a strong commitment to my client to be available for her, I also almost never take clients with overlapping on call times. This means turning clients down, or working as a shared-care team with another doula, splitting the fee in half. Most of the doulas I know do the same. So if you imagine taking on a maximum of 12 clients a year, even at my fee of £950, this only makes an annual income of £11400 before tax (and doesn’t take account of all the other expenses associated with this job, like travel, hospital parking fees, etc).
Even the rare, top of the range doulas, who charge £2 to £3K, assuming they took on a birth client every month, would be looking at earning between 24 and 36 000 a year. Hardly a six figure salary.
And let’s not forget that Doula UK has an access fund, which allows women in personal or financial hardship to access the services of a doula for free. The doula, in this situation, only gets paid expenses. I have done this myself, and so have most of my colleagues.
I love my job, I love supporting women, I love making a difference, seeing the transformation that true, unconditional support does, especially when women have had a traumatic first birth, and end up with a positive, empowering one with doula support.
I wouldn’t go back to my previous job for anything in the world.
The value of a doula, how transformative and life changing it can be for many women, goes well beyond how much we charge, and most of our clients, after they’ve been doulaed, feel that our support was worth a lot more than what they paid for. You can read some of the testimonials my clients have written about I supported them at the bottom of this page.
But please, do not ever imply that this is an easy, money grabbing job.
February 8, 2018
The mother blessing -a mother centered alternative to the baby shower

Recently I had the privilege to organise a mother blessings for one of our local doulas who was pregnant.
A mother blessing is an alternative to the “baby shower” were friends of the pregnant mother gather to give her presents.
The big difference is that in the baby shower, all the presents are for the baby.
In the mother blessing, it is the mother who is the center of attention, and the gifts are for her, not for her baby.
It feels very important to me to facilitate such gatherings, because our culture focuses on the mother only has a vessel for the baby, and usually once the baby has been born, nobody focuses on the mother anymore.
Therefore with the mother blessing we can help start a cultural shift towards a more mother centered culture.

I have written before about what new mothers really need, and how much of a raw deal we get, once our baby has been born, our partner has returned to work, and we’re alone at home all day, trying to make sense of this new experience, whilst trying to understand the needs of this new life helpless being we have given birth to, whose needs come before ours, always. We’re not meant to be doing this without a support network.
Organising a mother blessing does not have to be complicated. It can be simple yet beautiful and powerful.
This is what we did for our doula sister:
We sat in a circle with her.
We sang to her
We gave her a bead each to have during her birth and the postnatal period, and we said good wishes as we gave her our bead.
We threaded the beads into a necklace, to remind her of her circle of sisters being there with her in spirit, holding her, through the birth of her baby and the early postpartum weeks.

We bound our wrists, in a circle, with some wool, then cut the thread, tied the individual bits around our wrists, and all agreed to keep our little wool bracelet until her baby was born.

We read poems about motherhood.

We massaged her hands and feet with gorgeous scented oils.
We gave her a candle and all took away little tealights to light when we would hear the news that her baby was soon to be born.
We gave her a goody bag of nurturing gifts.
And of course we shared some yummy food.

It was simple, yet magical and powerful. It was, like birth, an everyday extraordinary event.
She knew this was meaningful, and it was touching and special for her and all those involved.
We reminded her she could call upon us after the birth of her baby for support and companionship, and we also offered to gather around her to give her a closing the bones ceremony after the birth of her baby.
This is what Ceci wrote about her mother blessing

” Today my doula friends gave me a “mother blessing”, which is a day to share before the baby is born, like a baby shower but more focused on mum, with food to share, poems, songs, made me a necklace with beads and a wish of each one. They gave me a candle and they also got one each also for when I start labour. We also sat in cicrle, each one told me a few words and we were passing a thread that we all tied up on the wrist and that we will have until my daughter is born. They gave me massages and we laughed a lot! I am super grateful to have them and to have had this day for me”

I would like to see the tradition of mother blessings to replace that of baby showers, I sincerely hope that it will help place mothers back were they should never have left, at the centre of the circle of support, with the reverence they deserve for bringing new life into the world.

February 1, 2018
Reflections on what I did in 2017
In my last blog, I suggested you spent some time reflecting on what you achieved in 2017.
Inspired by my favourite doula, Maddie Mc Mahon, review of the year (you can read hers here), I decided to blog about reviewing my year too.
As you will see, one should really do what they preach because I had a very interesting experience doing this.
I have many hats so I’ll break it down in sections: my doula year, my teacher/facilitator year, my personal development and self care.
My doula year.
This year I supported 8 families through birth and 4 through the postnatal period.
As usual in the doula world, it was a rollercoaster of variations and unexpected twist and turns. There was a woman who had had a very traumatic first birth, and who ended up with such a speedy birth this time that I only made it 30 min after the birth. The birth was a beautiful healing experience for her.
Then another woman went beyond 42 weeks of pregnancy and decided to have an elective caesarean, instead of the homebirth she had planned, because she said that with the lack of support and “risk” pressure from the hospital she didn’t feel she could go into labour naturally. This is one of my pet hates, the arbitrary induction for “postdates” and the pressure women are under when they reach 42 weeks of pregnancy. As a mother who birthed my first baby 16 days past 40 weeks, I feel very strongly about it. I have written about it before here , and in the light of new scientific evidence about the supposed “failing” of the placenta post term, I shall be writing about this topic again in 2018.
I provided backup support for a doula supporting a refugee mother, who didn’t speak any English. This was a new experience for me, somewhat reminiscing of my visit to a refugee camp in the North of France a few months before. Gone was the softly-softly, gentle approach I normally favour. here is no room for that, when all you’ve got is to communicate is an translating app that mostly spouts gobbledegook, and pictorial birth plans. Yet I know we made a massive difference to this mother, providing her with the information that allowed her to birth her twin babies vaginally with no interventions, and also with much needed donated baby equipment, and contacts with other local mothers who spoke her language. It felt really good to do this.
I found myself supporting a repeat client through a miscarriage, which whilst different from a full term birth, needed the same kind, and even more gentle and loving support, than for a full time birth. I accompanied her to hospital appointments, and provided much needed emotional support in a system that only went through the motions and never acknowledged her loss. As someone who experienced recurrent miscarriages myself, this is another area that I feel very strongly passionate about supporting. After the miscarriage had happened, I went to close her bones, and it felt really good to be able to offer her something that acknowledged and honoured her loss. I wrote a blog about how closing the bones can help with loss shortly after that.
I supported a first time mother through a long labour which ended with an instrumental birth in theatre. As in many occasions before, the couple requested my presence in theatre. In this particular case both the midwife and the obstetrician thought this was a good idea, but the anaesthetist said no. This had happened to me before, and had always felt so wrong, because when a couple ends up with a theatre birth and it wasn’t what they wished for, they are often very distraught, and for their doula to not be allowed to carry on supporting them through this difficult moment is very upsetting for them (and for the doula). I had tried to raise this with our local head of midwifery in the past, without success. This particular birth spurred me to finally try to do something about it again. A few months later I met with the head of my local delivery unit to discuss it. The meeting was very positive, and he promised to discuss it with the consultant anaesthetist. I was hopeful. Sadly, the consultant anaesthetist said no. I have been present in theatre in this very hospital with a couple myself in the past, and I know other doulas who have, so I know it can be done. I wrote to the consultant anaesthetist asking for a meeting, but didn’t get a reply. In, 2018, along with Doula UK, I will take part in a campaign to try and make this change happen.
Doulas often say that births come like buses, and this year I had my most unexpected experience yet, as I attended 2 births within 12h of each other. The odds of this happened were very small indeed. I am grateful to my doula buddies Ceci and Maddie, with whom we provided an awesome shared care doula team for the second birth, and I was safe in the knowledge that this client would be in good hands should I not be able to attend. As it turned out, both births were swift and straightforward, so I was able to attend both. It left me so high on oxytocin, that I only managed 4h sleep the following night before waking up for the day, and had the most amazing glow going for a few days. There is never a dull moment in doula life.
This was a year of firsts for me, as I also started supporting a repeat client through a twin pregnancy (she hasn’t had her babies yet), this is a foray in a new territory for me, with a lot of heavy handed medical approach and many appointments. There have been quite a few scares during this pregnancy, and I am grateful for the fact that I am supporting this client together with my doula colleague Ellie. Having another doula to share support, especially when faced with a complex situation makes the work lighter and easier, and means that there is always someone at the end of the phone who “gets” it, someone to share ideas and concerns with. I’ve also been able to reach out to the wider doula community to access knowledge. It makes a world of difference. Doulas need the support of other doulas too.
The last “first” of the year was supporting my first home VBAC. The birth itself was straightforward and the mother coped beautifully and got the birth she wanted.I hadn’t anticipated how anxious the midwifes attending her birth would be, and how keen they would be to try and transfer her to the hospital. Reflection is a very important skill for a birthworker, and it took me a few hours after the birth to understand what had felt so odd and uneasy about the atmosphere during the birth: the midwives were outside of their comfort zone, and it is amazing that the mother managed to labour so well within such a distrusting atmosphere. I feel that I was the only one there (apart from the mother and her partner) who trusted the process. Never in my 5 years as a doula have had ever had to do so much space holding and protecting, and been so utterly convinced that if I hadn’t been there, the outcome would have been completely different. Whilst on paper, the birth was straightforward, the protecting and managing the space left me completely wrung out, so much self care was needed afterwards.
Early in the year, I became a doula UK mentor. I loved every minute of my own mentored doula journey and wanted to be able to give this back to the doula community. This year I had the honour to support 7 mentored doulas. I had expected to enjoy supporting them, but not how much more depth of knowledge of my own doulaing it would give me, and how much I would learn from my mentees. It has brought me much joy, and I have loved this new experience of reflection and self-development.
I wrote 24 blog posts on topics ranging from birth to motherhood and I hope what I wrote helped women and birthworkers feeling empowered in making informed decisions. I also wrote blogs for other people and 2 articles for The Doula magazine.
My teaching/workshop facilitator year.
In 2017 I got to do a lot of something I love, facilitating workshops for birthworkers. I facilitated 34 workshops in total (Closing the bones, rebozo, babywearing peer supporter (one was with the local hospital NICU staff and one with my local nursery), and reiki workshops). I trained around 230 people. I travelled up and down the country (from Cambridge, to Peterborough, Bristol, Manchester , Sheffield, Liverpool, Brighton, Canterbury, and London (several times)). I meet some awesome people, and shared some incredible moments of connection. I also braved my ultimate nemesis which was driving through central London. I feel blessed to be able to do this.
I also delivered a couple of conference presentations about using rebozos at a babywearing conference.
I did several one to one babywearing consultations through the year, either as part of my doulaing or for a single one to one consult. It’s always a joy to witness the expression of joy on a new mother’s face when she realises she can meet her baby’s need for closeness effortlessly and get her hands back. I was particularly touched by a mother whose baby had a flat head, I suggested she visits my osteopath and I got a delighted thank you email later when the baby’s skull roundness had been fully restored.
2017 also saw me develop the beta version of my online rebozo course to a group of early adopters. I thought I’d get about 10/15 people but 115 signed up, and I was totally blown away by the response I got (and to be honest, a little overwhelmed!). I will launch the live version of the course in the first quarter of 2018.
I celebrated having trained 300 people in offering the closing the bones massage, and also launched a website dedicated to closing the bones, to spread the word further and help people find practitioners. https://www.closingthebonesmassage.com/. I hope this will help play a role in changing our culture’s attitude towards supporting women during the postpartum.
I developed and launched the second level of the closing the bones workshop, called Deeper into closing the bones. I also started developing the massage table version of the technique, which I will launch sometimes in 2018.
I also started an online rebozo shop at the end of 2017, something I’d sworn I would never do, as I’m more about services than products, but I had reached the stage where, having started selling rebozos at my live workshops only, there were enough people who knew I had them, and therefore I receive requests for them on a weekly basis, which was a time consuming process. My shop is a work of love, as I went to great length talking to suppliers to make sure the process is ethical. Have a look, there are some lovely stories (including videos) about the suppliers in there.
My healer year
Healing, with Closing the bones and/or Reiki is something I love to do, and this year there was plenty of this in my life too. I heard many harrowing stories and it felt good to be able to listen deeply and offer this powerful ritual to honour them. I got to treat a range of people, closing the bones in particular to women having experienced trauma or loss. I loved doing the massage 4 times on a new postpartum mum within 2 weeks of the birth. I taught closing the bones to a male doula (who had a fantastic healing experience from it). I usually incorporate Reiki into my closing the bones treatments, and I treated several people with alone Reiki too, and got to experiment with my new skills using the drum to channel Reiki.
My personal development year
Earlier in the year I set out that I’d like to attend a minimum of one day of personal self development/learning new skills per month. It’s interesting because until I wrote this post I didn’t think I had quite achieved that, but in reality I attended well over 15 days of training in 2017, which means that I beat my goal (I had no idea I had until I started writing this post!)
I attended Sara Wickham’s post term pregnancy course, Gena Kirby’s cultured doula programme, an advanced spinning babies workshop with Gail Tully, Diane Garland’s waterbirth workshop, a Birthlight course on healing Diastasis Recti (which to my delight, included a lot of work using a rebozo), and a 2 day workshop on Closing the Bones with Rocio Alarcon. I also went to the doula UK conference, to a babywearing CPD on inclusivity, and to the annual doula retreat, were I made the most powerful and magical drum. I have using this drum for healing since, and even more so after training in the Reiki drum technique in September.
My self care year
I kept to my promise to myself of having a body work treatment after every birth, often within days of the birth, mostly with my osteopath and friend Teddy Brookes. I tried something new too: I had two floatation tank sessions, which I loved. I did several healing/massage skill swaps with my brilliant massage therapist friend Emma Kenny, who gave me some of the best aromatherapy massages I have ever had. I did some kind of meditation/Reiki self treatment most days too. I was lucky to be invited to a one day mini retreat called “nurturing the mama” run by two wonderful women, Jo Gray and Suzanne Morgan, who are both Reiki masters, therapists, healers and general awesome women. I had met them when they attended a closing the bones workshop. I feel very grateful for the people that my work puts on my path. And of course the 4 days doula retreat in North Wales in May, away from the hustle and bustle of the “normal” world, was the highlight of my self care year. Huge thanks to doula Selina Wallis for organising it!
Another very important part of my looking after my soul, is that in 2017 I re-joined a community choir. I had spent 10 years in a Cambridge community choir before, but I hadn’t taken part regularly since my daughter had been born in 2009, so this was a big deal. Coming back to singing made me take stock and measure how much I’ve changed since my scientific career days, how much more in tune with my body am I. I also found the singing is such an important medicine for the soul, in a job as emotionally and spiritually demanding as doulaing.
Sports wise, I kept to my normal regime of 3 swims a week. In April I joined an online fitness club called Rebelfit and started learning lots of new fitness techniques I had never done before, including playing around with kettlebells. I can now squat and do proper situps and press-ups, something I couldn’t do before. I also started experimenting with eating a paleo type of diet and mostly eliminated grains and dairy. I’m make exceptions to this regularly, but I notice I have much more energy when avoiding these foods.

Writing all this, which I would probably not have done in so many details for myself if I hadn’t been writing this blog post, I’m oscillating between feeling very proud and feeling a little worried it comes up as boasty. I’m quite surprised that I have done so much because it really didn’t feel like it until I looked back. I’m getting a taste of my own medicine when I tell people to focus on their achievements. I’m quick to dismiss my own because I mostly focus on what I’m not yet doing, not yet achieving, against my own impossible standards. And yet, looking at it all written like this, this is rather a lot.
Because I wrote this blog, I spent a lot more time than I normally do reflecting on how I work. It has allowed me to see pattern and things I want to do differently, and plan differently. It’s been a real eye opener. Who knew?
I just took part in a live seminar on goal setting with my friend Charlie Ashley Roberts, from “your time to grow”. During the seminar, Charlie explained that only 3% of people write goals, 13% think about goals but don’t write them, and 84% of people don’t do any goals at all, yet research shows that people who set goals are much more likely to achieve them than people who don’t. I oscillate between the 13 and the 3%. My struggle is to find a good balance as I have such high standards, that I often use the goal tool to berate myself, to feel that I’m not good enough.
I just received an email newsletter from Lissa Rankin, a brilliant American doctor/healer, and her it said this:
“ Studies show that approximately 40% of people make New Years Resolutions, but only between 8–19% of people actually follow through on fulfilling those promises two years later which means that 81–92% of people who make New Years Resolutions wind up feeling like undisciplined losers…”
This year I’m planning to work more creatively around the goal setting thing, rather than making it a chore/or a stick to beat myself up with (I’m not finding bullet points type lists very exciting). I’m going to apply the principle that it’s best to do little and often, rather than setting unrealistic goals (for instance, committing to meditating 10 min a day is much easier than 30 min which I know I’m unlikely to do). I’m going to be playing around with a law of attraction diary and also meeting up regularly with a couple of friends to set goals together, starting with making a vision board.
Mostly, I’m making the promise to myself to spend more time having fun with my work, than trying to stick to a rigid working schedule.
I’d love to hear how you balance celebrating your achievements and finding the right balance in goal setting and work planning.

January 4, 2018
Are you focusing too much on what you’re not doing?
I’m writing this as a reflection on myself, but really hope it helps others too.
I have noticed this dichotomy between how I perceive myself professionally and how others perceive me. I tend to focus more on what I’m not yet doing, rather than what I’m doing. This means I beat myself up very often with feelings of procrastination and not doing everything I “ought” to be doing.
So it surprised me recently when I ran a workshop in London and the host asked me how I managed to “do it all”. It was interesting to hear how she perceived my work, versus how I perceive it, because I didn’t think I did that much at all.
This isn’t the first time I explore this topic, in fact, I wrote this blog about this topic a while ago, called “are you full of should?”.
I would like to invite you as the end of the year draws near, to sit down for a while and reflect on what you have achieved this year.
I did a bit of it recently as I did my accounts, and looking through receipts reminded me of lovely things I’d done through the year and forgotten about.
I like to sit down with my diary and a good cup of coffee, and write down everything I did in the last year.
Lists, bullet point style, don’t really work for me, so writing as it comes, mindmap style, is a better choice for me, especially with lots of different colours.
I’m thinking of doing some kind of collage of special moments pictures too. So I when the “not doing enough” gremlins attack I can look at it and remind myself of what I’ve achieved.
I also keep a file where I copy and paste all the lovely feedback I receive from clients. It’s a very uplifting read on a low day.
I’d love to hear what you do, and how you get on!
In the meantime I am myself permission that it’s ok that I’ve “only” booked my 2018 workshops for January so far.
I have plans for many more for 2018, and I will book them in the new year.
I’ve kind of learnt that although I don’t necessarily book things in advance as much as my inner critic would like me to, I always get things done when the deadline looms, and it’s what matter.
This week I only had a 2 day week as school finished on Tuesday, and I had much to do before starting the holidays.
I gave myself permission to tick less stuff off my to-do list, because they were short of volunteers at the local breastfeeding clinic on Monday, and I wanted to go an deliver cakes to the midwives at my local hospital on Tuesday afternoon, which a Cambridgeshire doulas tradition.
I had to remind myself that doing stuff which feels good, which fills the soul, like giving to others, was going to have more impact on my well-being than ticking stuff off my list.
I guess in this time-pressured time of the year, taking time to do this amounted as self care.

I’m looking forward to a time of rest and enjoying the quiet time with my family.
Have a lovely holiday season.
December 20, 2017
Closing bones, the completion of one cycle and growth of a new cycle
Sophie Fletcher attended the closing the bones training in 2017. This is her account what the ritual did for her.
https://www.closingthebonesmassage.com/closing-bones-freedom-movement/
December 15, 2017
Motherhood is f**king hard and you’re not meant to be doing this on your own
Those of you who follow my blog know by now that most of my posts are inspired by something that happens to me in my work as a doula.
Today is one of those days.
I’ve just had a conversation with a new mother of two, who has a baby and a preschooler, and who wonders why she’s so exhausted, and why everybody else seems to be coping fine.
She also feels guilty at the idea of asking for support.
I’m so seriously pissed off at our society right now!
I’ve written several times before about what new mothers really need, and I’d love to see a shift in our culture about how we support new mothers, with a mother centered, and mother supportive approach, rather than one that only gives gifts to the baby and encourages the new mother to “go back to normal” (as if there was such a thing!) as soon as possible after the birth of her baby-as if nothing of significance has happened.
This post is about the lack of community support, how we’re not meant doing this on our own, and how much harm is caused to new mothers by a culture which encourages women to put up a brave face, and keep their challenging moments secret.
This secret part means that women feel inadequate thinking they are alone in their struggle.
I remember being a new mother and struggling massively with finding my new identity (another topic that isn’t discussed), but also being really tired, bored and lonely (all my social network was at work from 9 to 5) at home with my new baby, and feeling really GUILTY about it.
I had this stupid romantic notion in my head that somehow, motherhood alone ought to make me feel fulfilled.
Ah bloody ah!
So I didn’t reach out and talked to anybody about it.
Luckily I read a lot of books, and I remember feeling so vindicated when reading, in the book “The continuum concept” that it’s not normal for our species to be alone with a baby.
We’re meant to be with other adults once we have babies, and babies are meant to be around many of people too.
We’re meant to have experienced mothers around us, other women in our close community, who can help guide us and make us feel more normal and confidence as we navigate the treacherous waters of new motherhood.
I love this article called ” In the Absence of the Village, Mothers Struggle Most”
I was also amazed to read an article about the fact that women who live in traditional tribal societies have the same issues with breastfeeding as Western women but the difference is that they have the support of experienced women around them.
We’re meant to have other people who can hold the baby for a while whilst we sleep, who can take care of chores and provide us with nutritious food whilst we rest and recover from growing and birthing a baby, and get to know our new baby too.
So in our nuclear family culture, for the lack of a village around most of us, we shouldn’t feel guilty about asking for support, we should demand and expect support, because that’s what’s normal for our species.
What’ not normal in the unusual situation Western culture puts us in.
We also live in a strange, “fake” culture, one that is all about glossy Instagram pictures. Motherhood isn’t glossy. Motherhood is raw and messy. There are many moments in the day of a mother, that can be wonderful (the smiles and gurgles of a baby), and also many moments full of tedious drudgery, and many moments which are downright terrible. I love this article about it.
Coming back to my early days of being a mother, my feelings of inadequacy were exacerbated by the fact that I didn’t talk to anybody about it. One of my biggest regrets to this day is not to have hired my birth doula, Maddie Mc Mahon, as a postnatal doula to help me through make sense of things through these first few weeks and months. Knowing the magic of doula support, I know it would have made a world of difference, to have someone witnessing my mothering and reflecting it back to me in a positive light ,and reframing it like I am trying to do with this blog.
But hey I believed that I couldn’t justify spending money on myself, what with my reduced maternity leave pay and all that. It felt selfish and indulgent to spend money on myself. Yet I bought so much useless crap for my baby. Somehow, I don’t think I even realised at the time that I was a victim of the low value our culture places on mothers and motherhood.
Eventually I started going to baby classes, and met other mothers who became friends, and the informal discussions we had whilst feeding and playing with our babies were peppered with priceless nuggets of information-and made me realise that I was normal and not alone.
As a doula I have had more occasions that I can remember when I’ve witness new mums going through the same feelings of inadequacy.
“I’m not doing anything” they say. I usually reflect back to them that they are solely managing to keep a very helpless and very demanding tiny human alive-and that’s no mean feat!
The problem is that our culture place such a low value on motherhood, and considers it to the a “non activity”, so people assume that mothers just get to relax all day. But nothing could be further from the truth.
I remember when I went back to work when my son was a baby. I went back part time-working 4 days a week. On my day off , I hung out with my new mum friends, some of which had decided not to go back to work. One of them said “I don’t know how you do it”- referring to the fact that she thought that balancing work and being a mother was really difficult. I replied “no, I don’t know how YOU do it”, then proceeded to explain to her that the hard days weren’t the ones at work, but the ones at home. I told her that on my work days I got uninterrupted coffee and lunch breaks-complete with adult conversation, and that I even got to go to the toilet on my own (anybody with a small child knows that as soon as you sit on the loo they need your attention for something).
There is no breaks in the day of a new mum, no pauses, no quiet, uninterrupted time, no appraisals, no pats on the back, and no bonuses.
The days can be 14-16 hour long or more.
You cannot see the results of your mothering at the end of each day, the results of all the effort, all the patience, all the time and all the love you have poured into your child.
I love this dad’s response to a friend asking what his stay at home wife does all day.
The “I’m a crap mum” worry is another common one. We focus on where we’re failing, on the moment when we’re exhausted and loose our shit with our kids, not on all the love with pour into them all day. I did that a lot in the early days, I saw other mums do stuff I wasn’t doing with my kid, and I felt like I was lacking. I never did focus on the stuff I was doing well.
I have said many times before that there should be some kind of “bad mothers club” (a bit like AA but for mums), where mothers could safely talk about the less pleasant sides of motherhood without being judged.
I was inspired today by reading this story of a mum who hunted around her toddler’s bedroom for the source of the bad smell, only to find her toddler had done a poo behind the curtain, on the windowsill at that. (warning-graphic picture of a poo if you open the link).
This mum was judged and shamed on social media for posting this.
And yet this can be the reality of motherhood for many of us.
I once had my baby in a sling and he had an explosive poo which leaked all the way down his legs and onto the sling. And yes I was out in a park when this happened.
I for one, wish more mothers had the guts to post stories and pictures like the mum who wrote the toddler poo story.
We need a “real motherhood” Instagram account!
Let’s leave the glossy culture behind, the one that keeps on portraying motherhood as filled only with joy, let’s stop only sharing the perfect pictures, and let’s stop pretending that everything in our life is perfect.
Because if more mothers shared the less glamorous stories as well as the joyful moments, more of us would realise that we’re not alone and that motherhood comes with enormous highs, but also with terrible lows. And all within the same day, sometimes within minutes even.
More of us would feel connected, normal, and would have a good laugh in the process too!
Only in sharing the joys and the lows can we truly connect with each other.
If you resonate with this, please comment, and also please share stories of raw moments of motherhood.

November 13, 2017

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