Author: Sophie Messager

  • The Myth of the Aging Placenta

    The Myth of the Aging Placenta

    Originally published in 2019, and updated in 2023 (see end of post for update)

    I am a birth educator. I also have a PhD in physiology of reproduction, and 20 years of research experience and I have a confession to make: I get REALLY irate when women get given poor quality evidence (or no evidence at all) in support of a recommendation for inducing labour.

    Whether I’m wearing my doula hat, or my scientist hat, I have to admit to getting really fed up with the growing epidemic of induction of labour for dubious reasons. This article is going to explore one of the most common stated reasons for induction of labour at term : The idea that labour should be induced before a certain point in pregnancy is reached because the ‘older’ placenta is not as efficient.

    I want to clarify one thing before we start: I am NOT anti induction, when it is justified by solid medical evidence and when a woman weighs up the evidence and decides that the risk of continuing the pregnancy is higher than the risk of inducing labour (like for example pre-eclampsia or reduced fetal movements, or when there are psychological reasons for the woman to choose to be induced).

    Over the last 15 years, between teaching antenatal classes and supporting women a a doula, I have heard and witnessed hundreds of stories of induction, the majority of which ended up being traumatic for the mother.

    In my area of work we often refer to this as the “car crash”, which goes something like this: 3 days of prostaglandin induction (often made more stressful because the woman cannot be with her family for much of the time), followed by 24 hours of syntocinon and a caesarean at the end for either fetal distress or “failure to progress” (if only women were told : We’re really sorry, we didn’t manage to get you into labour with our drugs, so now the only option is a cesarean, maybe women wouldn’t feel as traumatised as when they are labelled a failure. Language matters).

    I have listened and held women (and their partners) as they told me of their upset, their grief, their disbelief, lack of preparation and their feelings of failure.

    One of the top quoted reasons for inducing women when pregnancy goes beyond 41 weeks is the idea that the placenta somehow stops working after pregnancy reaches a certain number of weeks.

    The implication is that the placenta has a sell by date, like a piece of meat in the supermarket.

    Recently yet more papers have been published claiming as a fact that placentas “age”, “degrade” and “fail” in older mothers and after a certain number of weeks of pregnancy.

    I don’t normally like to write solely about science stuff these days. I like to write about how I feel about issues, and stick a few references in for people who want to read them. I spent 20 years doing scientific research in the academic and industry setting. I’ve moved on from this, I find most of the scientific world too dry and frankly, too blinkered.

    But I’m losing patience with this so-called science causing so much damage to women.

    I was very concerned a few weeks ago to watch a heated debate on social media about this topic; seeing many of my colleagues being gaslighted into believing the so-called science by people who claim to have all the answers, using jargon that they do not understand.

    I believe that my scientific background combined with my  experience as antenatal educator and doula gives me a unique, broad perspective on this topic.

    So it’s time to put my scientific hat back on, analyse the papers in question, and offer my rather alternative interpretation of the current evidence, so that women and birth workers can make truly informed decisions, not one-sided ones based on the opinions of a few so-called experts whose views are based on their existing belief and opinion rather than a considered weighing-up of the evidence in this area.

    I suggest you grab yourself a cup of tea, because this is going to be a long one!

    Before I start I want to make an important point: even experts in a field often disagree with one another.

    When I was working in the academic field during my PhD and 2 postdocs, working in a small niche area of biology research (clock genes, the genes which control rhythms, such as waking and sleeping), I published in fairly high ranking scientific papers, and became quickly perceived as an expert in my field. This led me to be invited as a guest speaker at conferences. I remember arguing until I was blue in the face about the interpretation of certain data with other experts in the field. It was done passionately, but it was entertaining, good humoured and fun. It happened because, as I will explain below, good scientists understand that science isn’t black and white.

    The conversations I see on social media about this research aren’t like this. I see experts pretending to have all the answers, presenting themselves as the only ones who have all the knowledge, and frankly bamboozling and bullying non scientists with jargon.

    In this particular case, they take the moral high ground, presenting themselves as saviours, as if stillbirths could be guaranteed to be prevented if only we induced all women at a certain number of weeks of pregnancy. They attack other people whose views are different, even when these people are equally or more qualified and hold PhDs in relevant fields.

    This isn’t right. This harms women, and this harms the people who are supporting them too.

    Even in science, things are never black and white. Nothing is guaranteed. There are many shades of grey. And pretending that things are this way isn’t science, it is delusion, and it is treating science as a dogma. If you want to find out more about this way of thinking, watch Cambridge scientist Dr Rupert Sheldrake’s banned TED talk on the topic.

    Now that’s out of the way, back to the subject at hand: do placentas really age? Do they stop functioning correctly towards the end of pregnancy? And most importantly, are they solely responsible for the (let’s remember, tiny) rise in stillbirth towards the end of pregnancy? These are the assumptions that currently underpin our induction policies.

    I feel I need to explain first that the risk of increased stillbirth at term, which is the main reason behind induction policy, is actually very small, rising from about 0.1% (1 in a 1000) at 40-41 weeks, to about 0.3% (3 in a 1000) at 42 weeks and about 0.5% (5 in a 1000) at 43 weeks (from this paper). The Cochrane review on induction beyond term , found that induction before 42 weeks reduced the risk of perinatal death from 0.3% to 0.03%, and that the authors of the review concluded that:

    ” A policy of labour induction compared with expectant management is associated with fewer perinatal deaths and fewer caesarean sections. Some infant morbidities such as meconium aspiration syndrome were also reduced with a policy of post-term labour induction although no significant differences in the rate of NICU admission were seen. However, the absolute risk of perinatal death is small. Women should be appropriately counselled in order to make an informed choice between scheduled induction for a post-term pregnancy or monitoring without induction (or delayed induction).”

    In practice I almost never see the part highlighted in bold being presented as an option to women (read my previous blog about it here)

    I would like to quote the seminal paper by the late Dr Fox “Aging of the placenta

    ” A review of the available evidence indicates that the placenta does not undergo a true aging change during pregnancy. There is, in fact, no logical reason for believing that the placenta, which is a fetal organ, should age while the other fetal organs do not: the situation in which an individual organ ages within an organism that is not aged is one which does not occur in any biological system. The persisting belief in placental aging has been based on a confusion between morphological maturation and differentiation and aging, a failure to appreciate the functional resources of the organ, and an uncritical acceptance of the overly facile concept of “placental insufficiency” as a cause of increased perinatal mortality.”

    Whilst I am fully aware that this paper is dated, having being published in 1997, and that much more research has been carried out since, I still believe his conclusion stands, the last sentence in particular.

    I’ve heard many maternity care providers coerce expectant mothers to accept induction (remember, if you feel coerced, this isn’t consent) to the cries of “your placenta is failing right now”. Yet, even today, we do not know what accounts for the tiny rise in neonatal mortality after 40 weeks.

    There seems to be a strong desire to prove the causality between placental aging and the increase in stillbirth and this desire is guided by a positive drive, which is to reduce stillbirth.

    I empathise with this drive better than you know, because my younger brother was stillborn so I fully understand the devastating effects the death of a new baby has on a family.

    But for the moment it’s just this: a theory.

    And anyone can invent a theory about anything, but that doesn’t make it true.

    We need to find a balance between the real statistics and women’s wishes for a positive birth experience. Because there is no doubt from the evidence in this area that, as long as mother and baby are well, it is better for all involved for labour to start on its own.

    Because we mustn’t forget that inductions can be very traumatic for women and they can cause fetal distress in babies.

    It’s quite simple, really: let the mothers decide what they want. And for this, they need real facts and numbers, not emotive coercion.

    First, a bit of history

    How did the whole concept of placental failure ever come about?

    In her book “Inducing labour, making informed decisions” , Dr Sara Wickham explains that this theory came about first via the work of Ballantyne who described a wasting condition of the newborn in 1902, followed by Runge in 1958 who coined the term placental insufficiency. This became known as the Ballantyne-Runge syndrome, and led to the assumption of a relationship between the length of pregnancy and placental failure.

    Dr Wickham goes on to explain that this theory has never been proven and that there is no evidence behind it. She explains that, while we know that some women’s placentas do sometimes fail to provide sufficient nutrients for their baby, this doesn’t mean that all women’s placentas routinely fail at a certain point in time.  Further evidence of how much those who are challenging this theory really do care about the wellbeing of babies can be seen where Dr Wickham notes in her talks that the concern is not just about preventing unnecessary inductions for women who do not need them. By trying to make standardised, population-level recommendations (or a ‘one size fits all’ approach), we not only lead many women to have inductions that they do not need, but we may also fail to identify and help the small number of babies who truly do need help but at a point earlier than the current population-level cut-off point for induction.

    Even in the papers claiming that there is a relationship between the length of pregnancy and the state of the placenta, when you dig into them, the conclusion reached is always that there is a “possible link” rather than a proven one.

    And as I explained before, experts in the field do not agree with one another. In her book “Why induction matters“, Dr Rachel Reed quotes a couple of prominent papers, in particular a paper by Maiti et al which claims a direct link between placental aging and stillbirth, and a paper by Mazzurato et al ” Guidelines for the management of postterm pregnancy” which states that:

    Although the fetal, maternal and neonatal risks increase beyond 41 weeks, there is no conclusive evidence that prolongation of pregnancy, per se, is the major risk factor. Other specific risk factors for adverse outcomes have been identified, the most important of which are restricted fetal growth and fetal malformations. In order to prevent PT (Post term) and associated complications routine induction before 42 weeks has been proposed. There is no conclusive evidence that this policy improves fetal, maternal and neonatal outcomes as compared to expectant management.”

    The nitty gritty of the arguments behind the aging placenta theory

    Some of the technical terms I see bandied around a lot, and which bamboozle many of my colleagues because they do not understand their meaning, are morphological changes in the placenta such as apoptosis, autophagy, syncytial knots, reduction in telomere length and so on. In many papers, the authors claim that these are key features of aging, and observed in post-term placentas.

    Yet there is more than one interpretation of these morphological changes so often lauded as proof of a placental ‘sell-by date’. They do not automatically mean that there is a problem. In many ways, our understanding of this area is in its infancy, and we would do better to take a position of scientific humility while we try to determine the meaning of these findings.

    One of the most striking examples of a study which makes suggestions that aging of the placenta at term is a fait accompli is this study, with its sensational title: “Evidence that fetal death is associated with placental aging” by Maiti et al.

    I find one of the statements in this paper extremely concerning:

    ” The known exponential increase in unexplained intrauterine death that occurs >38 weeks of gestation may therefore be a consequence of aging of the placenta and decreasing ability to adequately supply the increasing needs of the growing fetus. This knowledge may impact on obstetric practice to ensure infants are born before the placenta ages to the point of critical failure

    I fear such a statement will be used to pressure yet more women into being induced earlier, without any concerns for their personal decision or well being. And yet, as I will keep saying, this is still an unproven theory and different experts have different opinions about whether it is true or not. The medical profession is based on the tenet of ‘first do no harm’ and my understanding is that this means that we should not intervene unless we have good evidence to support doing so.

    I will go through clarifying the differential interpretation of some of the changes observed in the placenta.

    One of the changes they observe in this paper is decreased autophagy. Autophagy is a kind of cellular recycling system. The authors infer that these changes are a proof of aging. Yes, autophagy decrease has been associated with aging in some studies. Some other authors, however, are suggesting that the reduction in autophagy in the placenta may be part of the process that actually starts labour and so it may be a normal and important part of a physiological process rather than a sign that something is ‘wrong’.

    Another placental change, quoted in the paper by Maiti cited above, is apoptosis (also known as programmed cell death). Apoptosis isn’t just a proof of senescence (aging). Apoptosis also happens during fetal development and during adolescence. It is as much as sign of change as it is a sign of ageing, and of course change and growth are very important at this time; the whole point of pregnancy is that the baby grows and changes

    “The role of apoptosis in normal physiology is as significant as that of its counterpart, mitosis. It demonstrates a complementary but opposite role to mitosis and cell proliferation in the regulation of various cell populations. It is estimated that to maintain homeostasis in the adult human body, around 10 billion cells are made each day just to balance those dying by apoptosis (Renehan et al., 2001). And that number can increase significantly when there is increased apoptosis during normal development and aging or during disease.”

    And during pregnancy

    “Trophoblast apoptosis is a physiologic event in normal pregnancy, increases with advancing gestational age and is higher in post- term pregnancies and therefore is considered as a normal process in the development and ageing of the placenta.”

    Again and again we see that the processes which are claimed by some to be evidence of aging could also be interpreted to be signs of the normal growth and change which are the very function of pregnancy.

    Syncytial knots (SNAs, an accumulation of cell nuclei (the centre of cells) inside placenta cells) are another change quoted as a proof of ageing:

    ” SNAs may form to structurally reinforce the placenta and minimise damage from shear stresses or other mechanical sources, reduce the proportion of nuclei in highly active vasculo-syncytial membranes or result from cell turnover in the placenta without an apoptotic trigger or shedding process. Ultimately, a better understanding of the processes leading to SNA formation will give insight into their significance in pregnancy complications.”

    So again, what we are seeing could just as well be an adaptation rather than a sign of ageing.

    Telomere length :

    “Telomeres, the DNA–protein structures located at the ends of chromosomes, have been proposed to act as a biomarker of aging. In this review, the human evidence that telomere length is a biomarker of aging is evaluated. Although telomere length is implicated in cellular aging, the evidence suggesting telomere length is a biomarker of aging in humans is equivocal. More studies examining the relationships between telomere length and mortality and with measures that decline with “normal” aging in community samples are required. These studies would benefit from longitudinal measures of both telomere length and aging-related parameters.”

    In this paper called “Questioning causal involvement of telomeres in aging” the authors state:

    “Multiple studies have demonstrated that telomere length predicts mortality and that telomeres shorten with age. Although rarely acknowledged these associations do not dictate causality. In addition, the causality hypothesis assumes that there is a critical telomere length at which senescence is induced. This generates the prediction that variance in telomere length decreases with age. In contrast, using meta-analysis of human data, I find no such decline. Inferring the causal involvement of telomeres in aging from current knowledge is therefore speculative and could hinder scientific progress.”

    What I find of particular interest, is that the authors of this paper also speculate that these cellular changes may form part of what starts labour:

    ” Placental senescence raises several important questions that need to be addressed experimentally. While fusion-induced senescence appears to be required for syncytiotrophoblast formation, it is likely that senescence of both fetal tissues and the maternal decidua play at least a part in determining timing of labour onset”

    So what if what is seen in the placenta and interpreted as a sign of aging, are in fact normal, healthy changes, which are a sign of healthy growth and development and which may also play a role in the start of labour?

    Another “older” sign of placental aging is calcifications. I’ve been guilty myself of believing people who told me it was a sign of ageing and it was good that the baby had been born because the placenta was “old”. I recently came across this blog (which has published references to back up all its claims):

    So while calcification of a placenta at term – around 39-42 weeks is part of the normal appearance of a full-term placenta and has no clinical significance in a healthy pregnancy, the appearance of significant calcification earlier in pregnancy is associated with risks to both the mother and baby. Just like we would be concerned about a very young person with wrinkles – it could be a sign of something significant happening (…) So, in essence, when a mother is healthy and full term, calcification and infarcts are normal features of a healthy placenta – just like your healthy mother has some wrinkles and a few grey hairs. 

    Yet another myth blown out of the water.

    In conclusion, whilst there is evidence of cellular changes in the placenta throughout the course of pregnancy, there still isn’t any solid evidence to prove that it is indeed aging rather than an adaptation, or that these changes are truly accountable for the tiny rise in stillbirth when pregnancies continue beyond 42 weeks.

    The concept of the aging placenta is still just that, a theory. Unfortunately the majority of the publications cited in this post fail to acknowledge this, and take this theory as proven.

    What worries me even more, is that no consultation of women’s view on the induction process usually takes place, and these publications will form the basis of the new NICE guidelines, then the local hospital guidelines, and therefore more and more women will be induced needlessly, and have negative or traumatising experiences.

    This is underpinning a current trend towards inducing women even earlier, at 39 weeks instead of the current 41 to 42 weeks.

    Evidence based birth has produced an excellent review of the literature on this topic.

    I hope that reading this blog will help families and their supporters make informed decisions.

    I also would like to encourage scientists and policy makers to stay curious about the wider picture and to engage more with pregnant women and their views on the induction process.

    Update August 2023

    Having reviewed more recent evidence since I published the blog in 2019, I still stand by what I wrote above. I cannot see anything in the more recent literature that has changed. What strikes is that all the research is looking at proving that placentas age, but no one is looking at it from another angle: the fact that it made simply be changes, a process of maturation, necessary as part of the birth process. This is a case of culture leading science. As Dr Sara Wickham says :

    our modern culture is not very tolerant of the concept of aging generally, especially in women, so it is not that surprising that we so easily accept the idea that the aging placenta is unwanted and problematic.”

    A review paper in 2020 called “A review of the Evidence for Placental Ageing in Prolonged Pregnancy“, whilst it makes a case for the so-called aging, also states this in the discussion:

    Given the close relationship between placental structure, cell processes and placental function these changes would be expected to lead to a reduction in placenta function. However, we have not been able to identify any studies which have examined this link.”

    My review of the latest evidence led me to find a paper called Aging of the Placenta, published in the journal Aging in 2022. The paper contained the following paragraph :

    As gestation progresses, the placenta undergoes senescence. Generally, this process is necessary to detach the placenta from the uterine wall following parturition, eventually allowing blood vessels to close (to prevent haemorrhage) and the uterus to regain pre-pregnancy size and shape”

    I researched this and found publications that show that the very processes that the publications that talk about aging describe: inflammation, apoptosis, may actually be part of the normal process the placentas need to do to detach.

    Therefore my suggestion that what is interpreted as aging may be a normal physiological and maturation process now has some evidence behind it.

    This also made me wonder: If we induce labour, may we be interfering with this maturation process, and would induction results in more difficulties birthing the placenta? Reading around this subject shows that induction of labour is a known risk factor for retained placenta.

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    A Note to Readers

    Thank you for reading my article on The Myth of the Aging Placenta. While I’m passionate about sharing evidence-based information on this topic, please note that I cannot provide personalised support or respond to individual questions in the comments section.

    For those seeking individualised guidance related to pregnancy and birth, whether you are pregnant or a birth professional, I offer individual mentoring sessions, as well as mentoring packages. During these sessions, I can offer more tailored information based on your specific situation.

     

     
  • Push back: challenging the alarming rise of non-medically indicated inductions

    Push back: challenging the alarming rise of non-medically indicated inductions

    A couple of days ago, I got a call from a woman in early labour. Her waters had broken a few hours before, and she was having mild contractions. She wanted to give birth at home, and was reluctant to let her midwife know about her waters breaking, because she knew that after 24h, there would be pressure to go to the hospital to induce labour. I reminded that it was her right to choose to stay at home, even if induction was offered. I also explained that she could either tell the truth (and be prepared to stand her ground), or chose not to, if having to argue during labour felt like too much. 

    She went into established labour shortly after our call. When her midwife arrived, she told her that her waters had broken 3h prior. The midwife said that she needed to transfer her to the hospital immediately for induction because, she said “your waters are GONE and there is a high risk of infection”. 

    This woman was a second time mum, and was having strong contractions every ⅔ minutes at this stage. She refused to transfer, insisting she wanted to give birth at home. The midwife left shortly afterwards, saying that she wasn’t in established labour. Five minutes after the midwife left, the woman started to push. She gave birth at home in the end, and the midwife came back, but what should have been a beautiful and joyful experience left her feeling angry and stressed instead.

    The induction coercion

    Over the last few weeks, I supported several births even though I’m not officially working as a doula anymore. People find me and I just can’t leave them without support in such a damaged system. Everytime I find myself supporting people, it is because they are being coerced by the system. In some cases I do home visits, officially to offer techniques for labour, but in reality I spend most of my time reminding people of their human rights.

    The women I supported recently were either “late” to give birth, having a long prodromal labour, or had their waters break before contractions started.

    What was the answer to all of these situations? You guessed it, induction of labour.

    What prompted me to write this was the extreme unusual circumstance of the birth in the intro paragraph. The midwife who turned up at her homebirth was adamant that she needed to go to hospital to be induced, but there was no clinical rationale to do so, even within the very tight hospital guidelines.

    In my nearly 15 years in birth work, I had never heard something as ludicrous. I suspect the midwife was a delivery unit midwife sent to cover for community midwives, and that she was not feeling safe supporting a homebirth. When this had happened in the past, and I saw spurious reasons used to suggest hospital transfer, at least there was some tiny something that was outside of guidelines, like an increased temperature 0.5 degrees over the upper limit. But here there was none, zero, nada.

    The rise of induction of labour

    When you have been around this field for as long as I have, you can see trends in plain sights.

    Birth centre rates are dropping. In my local hospital, when the birth centre opened in 2012, the goal was that 30 to 40% of all births would take place there. In 2014, the rate of labour started in the birth centre was over 30%, and 25% of births taking place there. Based on the last 3 years of infographics, the current birth centre rate is only 13%.

    Homebirth rates are also at an all time low. Before my local birth centre opened, the local homebirth rate was 6%. It is now below 1%. This is despite plenty of evidence showing that homebirth, for healthy pregnancies, is as safe as hospital birth, and with a much lower rate of intervention than in the hospital (90% chance of vaginal birth at home versus 58% in an obstetric unit, for the same category of low risk women). When the birth place study was published in 2012, I rejoiced thinking that we would see homebirths and birth centre births skyrocket. Instead, the exact opposite has happened.

    This means that 85% of births are taking place inside an obstetric unit, an environment completely ill-suited to supporting the physiology of birth. Bright lights, no curtains, noise, tiny cramped rooms with no ensuite bathrooms, and staffed by people who have become deskilled at supporting physiological birth.

    This also means that the percentage of women going into labour naturally is only 47%, the rate of vaginal birth is only 47%, and the rate of caesarean birth is 41%.

    We are in the midst of an epidemy of unjustified induction of labour. With the recently updated NICE induction of labour guidelines, it is only going to get worse. My local hospital had an induction rate of 38% in their last infographic, and with the new guidelines making induction happen earlier in pregnancy, because induction doubles the change of having a caesarean, it is likely to be over 50% within the next few years.

    Logically, it makes no sense.  It is not biologically possible that less than half of women are able to start labour by themselves or give birth vaginally.

    Scientifically it makes no sense, because the main reason to induce labour is to avoid stillbirth, yet rates have remained the same over the last ten years, despite rates of induction in the UK going up from around 21% to 34% on average (the latest UK maternity statistic available are from 2021, I suspect it’s already higher than this now).

    The trauma induction causes

    Induction of labour is not a benign intervention.

    Recent research shows that induction can cause harm to both women and children

    • “Women with uncomplicated pregnancies who had their labour induced had higher rates of epidural/spinal analgesia, CS (except for multiparous women induced at between 37 and 40 weeks gestation), instrumental birth, episiotomy and PPH than women with a similar risk profile who went into labour spontaneously.
    • “Between birth and 16 years of age, and controlled for year of birth, their children had higher odds of birth asphyxia, birth trauma, respiratory disorders, major resuscitation at birth and hospitalisation for infection.”
    • “IOL for non-medical reasons was associated with higher birth interventions, particularly in primiparous women, and more adverse maternal, neonatal and child outcomes for most variables assessed.”

    Induction of labour can also be long, painful and traumatising. This isn’t explained to family when this option is “offered”. Nobody explains that it might take 5 days and you have about 50% chance to end up with a caesarean at the end. Nobody explains the process in detail, and the fact that the hospital is so busy, that they often stop the process half way through because there is no space in the obstetrics unit, leaving women in the ward, in limbo, sometimes for as long as 3 days. I wrote about this in my article, Induction of labour, do you know what you’re letting yourself in for?

    Families I’ve supported have sometimes gone home for 24h in the middle of an induction, so they could rest, because nothing was happening. They were told off for this, told this was dangerous. Yet they were just being parked there, to quote a local midwife, “little cattle”.

    How to push back

    The system is so unfit for purpose, and the level of coercion is so rife within it (it’s gotten much worse since 2020 and this was one of the reason I stopped working as a birth doula) that whenever families call me for support, I have to tell them how to counter coercion with extremely assertive statements, lies, or legal threats. This is so wrong.

    Educating yourself or people you support about your human rights, and reading or listening to people who look at the research and challenge medical guidelines, especially when they are harmful, can really help you feel stronger in sticking to what’s right for you.

    My blog is full of articles on the subject. I also love both Dr Rachel Reed, her midwife thinking blog, her book about induction, and her podcast the Midwives’ Cauldron (there is an episode where I talk about the postpartum), and also Dr Sara Wickham, her blog, newsletter and many books, including What’s right for me.

    A new model

    Change will not come from within the system. Reading the book Closure really cemented this. I am no longer willing to waste my precious time and energy trying to make change happen from within. I have given 10 years of my life to maternity patient committees. It was an incredibly frustrating experience. I used to feel bad because I mistakenly believed that things didn’t change because I didn’t work hard enough.

    I recently listened to podcasts from Australian midwife Jane Hardwick Collings. What is happening to women during birth, she said, is “institutionalised acts of abuse and violence on women and babies masquerading as safety.”

    This really hit me hard. I had to pause and rewind and re-listen this sentence as I let it land. Because it felt so hard, and yet so true.

    In my work I have heard and seen it so many times. The coercion, the abuse, so many horror birth stories. I hold trauma from witnessing these. It’s so ingrained that people inside the system do not even see it.

    Over ten years ago, traumatised by the second birth I supported as a doula, I read Marsden Wagner’s paper, Fish can’t see water: The need to humanize birth in Australia. The paper was published in 2000, and yet everything he wrote is still true:

     “Humanizing birth means understanding that the woman giving birth is a human being, not a machine and not just a container for making babies. Showing women – half of all people – that they are inferior and inadequate by taking away their power to give birth is a tragedy for all society. On the other hand, respecting the woman as an important and valuable human being and making certain that the woman’s experience while giving birth is fulfilling and empowering is not just a nice extra, it is absolutely essential as it makes the woman strong and therefore makes society strong”

    Tricia Anderson wrote her article, Out of the Laboratory: Back to the Darkened Room

     in 2002, and her conclusion is also more apt than ever:

    “Sadly most midwives and doctors working today have trained and worked for most of their lives in that laboratory: and in that laboratory – which is of course, a modern consultant maternity unit – childbirth is a mess. In this day and age of evidence-based practice, we talk so much of the importance of evaluating every intervention. Yet, no one is saying that we desperately need to evaluate the biggest intervention of them all – asking women in labour to get into their cars and drive to a large hospital where a stranger takes care of them.”

    I used to try and make change happen from the inside, now my perspective has changed, I want to use my precious time and energy to facilitate change from outside the system. To help people stand up to institutionalised abuse. This is why I still support families, this is why I share rebozo techniques.

    When I receive quotes like these, I know I am making a difference:

    “My daughter is a week old and my wife’s labour went like this: contractions started at 6am one morning and at 9pm our midwife came to see us and my wife was only 1cm dilated. She said baby wasn’t in a great position and that we would wait until morning to see how things were going. Before she left she mentioned about ‘rebozo’ which we had both never heard of.

    This led to us searching for the technique where we stumbled upon your website. A quick look at one video and a bit of information I attempted this on my wife. The next contraction she had we heard an audible clunk and her water broke. Contractions instantly got longer and stronger. This was about 10pm and 2 hours later we were holding our baby girl. Dan

    This is why I write articles like this one, or like The Myth of the aging placenta. This is why I am currently teaching about using shamanic drumming to support pregnancy and birth. Because once a woman has, through the change of consciousness that drumming helps facilitate, communicated with her baby repeatedly, she has access to her intuitive knowledge and power. She knows she doesn’t need a machine to connect with her baby, and is therefore not likely to let an “expert” stranger dictate what she should do.

    There is change brewing, and people are starting to take matters into their own hands. As my Chinese husband says, when you push the pendulum too far one way, it always swings back the other way.

    I invite you to look at things from a bird’s eye perspective, and ask yourself: what can I do to facilitate a shift. I would love to hear your ideas.

  • The Sound of Life: Making a Drum with Amniotic Membranes

    The Sound of Life: Making a Drum with Amniotic Membranes

    I’ve felt drawn to craft a unique instrument from the most primal source, the womb, for years now. It feels like a mystical calling – taking the amniotic caul that cushions a baby’s and giving it new sound and purpose. I’ve longed to feel the energy and listen to the drum beats rhythms these tissues might produce. To honour the mysteries of birth through percussion and song. Now, finally, I’m able to share the wonder of this dream realised. Of a drum birthed from the womb. The experience has resonated within me in ways deeper than expected. Let me tell you how it came to be.

    Last week, I was honoured to be invited into the sacred space of a friend after birth, just hours after she brought her baby into the world. As I held this tender space for the new family, listening to their birth story and first moments together, my heart swelled with the beauty of it all. I remembered at that moment how much I missed this aspect of supporting women through the birth journey.

    The exciting reason for my visit that day was to collect the placenta. For years I had dreamed of crafting a drum made from amniotic membranes, and my friend was generously letting me use her membranes for this magical purpose. I left eager to begin a powerful ritual, transforming this tissue that had nurtured new life into an instrument that would continue honouring the rhythm of life.

    The idea of crafting a drum from amniotic membranes had occurred to me 5 years ago. After reaching out to a few people whom I thought could help, I realised I had ventured into unchartered territory, as no one I asked seemed to know how what to do. The one doula I found who had made such a drum said that they broke after a few days. 

    So I assumed it wasn’t possible and parked the idea for now. However, I set an intention to find a way, and gathered materials in the hope that this would become possible. I attended the birth of a friend in 2020 and we dried her membranes together in the hope of making a drum with it someday. I also saved another set of membranes in 2022, keeping it in my freezer until the time would be right.

      Fate put Melonie Syrett, aka The Drum Woman, in my path. I met Melonie a few years ago, and started attending her drum circles. I also did her sacred women drum circle facilitator training this year. In November 2022, Melonie shared the following on Facebook:

    “So, I’d like to share something hugely magical that happened recently. A friend of mine had a baby ‘en caul’ – born in the amniotic sac! What an auspicious occasion indeed.

    I arrived the next day and took the caul that had been stored in water in the fridge. Late that night, three of us sat together as I connected to this caul, like I would with a hide for a drum. I hadn’t ever felt anything like it. The energy in the bowl was fizzy, alive for sure, sparky.

    I tentatively held the sac. It was the hugest of honours. I opened it up and gently laid it over a small drum frame. I thought it would be slimy but it felt different… Wet, strong but super thin, barely there under my fingertips.I softly rolled the caul over the edges, trying to tighten and tension it over the frame, all the while quite fearful of it breaking.

    Once over as much as I could bear to pull it, I used some hide lacing to tie the caul in place and gently propped it up to begin its drying process.

    It was a huge honour to be asked to work with such precious materials. I’ve worked with nothing like it before and am so grateful I was asked to do so. And if you tap it, it has the best sound. It’s deep, like a heartbeat.”

    I spoke with both Melonie and Jessica (who gave birth to baby Evelyn, whose caul membrane was used to make the drum), and started working out how I could make a drum with the extra knowledge. Jessica shared that the membrane had been floating around in her birth pool, only noticed and picked up when they had emptied the pool. From this I concluded that rinsing the membranes may play a role in the lasting power of the drum.

    I also found the work of Colombian medicine woman Laura Torres in the French book “Accoucher dans un Temazacal” (Giving birth in a sweat lodge). I saw on social media that she’d made such a drum. This gave me the idea to look for the Spanish version. Where the English or French searches had returned nothing beyond Melonie’s post,  searching for Tambor de membrana amniotica returned several South American doulas, midwifes and medicine women who had made such a drum, usually using a coconut shell or a small hollowed gourd. Here are examples of such drums

    I even found an Instagram account called Tamborcito.de.placenta that seems to specialise in making such drums. I reached out to a few of these women, and one replied, explaining that she uses saline to rinse the membranes. 

    After I collected my friend’s placenta, I set to work the very same day. It felt important not to set it aside, to work with it as soon as possible, still in the space of the magic I felt after visiting my friend.

    1. I laid the placenta out on a tray, and gently cut out the membranes (both amnion and chorion) with scissors. I immediately noticed how thin and smooth the amnion was, compared to the chorion which was more rough and “meaty”. 
    2. I then placed both membranes in a bowl of water. I had to change the water several times to remove all the blood, and despite this there were still little pockets of blood which I could not remove for fear of tearing the membranes. I suspect baby Evelyn’s drum is so clear and perfect because of the pool en caul birth, and the fact that her membranes never sat in coagulated blood like the ones I used.
    3. Whilst I rinsed the membranes, I held them, expressed my reverence, and asked them if they needed anything further to be honoured. They told me that the drum making was honouring enough.
    4. Whilst the membranes were soaking, I spent some time preparing small hoops (6 and 8 inches diameter). The membranes are too small for standard drum hoops which are both too wide and too deep, so on the suggestion of Melonie, I ordered a couple of cheap toy drums online and removed the plastic head from them. This was a job as they were stappled onto the frame and I had to remove each staple with a staple remover. Thand spent some time sanding them down to make sure no splinters would catch and rip the membranes.
    5. Finally I gently laid the membranes over the hoops, gingerly pulling on them gently to tension them over the hoops. I found it a challenging thing to do, as I wanted enough tension so the finished drum would resonate, and yet I also feared ripping the membranes if I pulled too much. The amnion was so thin and smooth, it did not need much to keep it in place, so I just used a piece of string, whereas the chorion, being heavier, needed something stronger to give it taught, so I used a leftover piece of horse hide lacing from my drum.
    6. I then propped them up on a tray and left them to dry for a few days. I was pleasantly surprised by how deep their sound was when I tapped them with my fingers (see videos below).

    In this video, you can see the different steps I used to make the drums and also hear what the drums sound like.

    After a few days of drying, I tentatively and very gently tapped the drums with my fingers. I was amazed by how strong and deep the sound was, despite the small size of the drum. I own many drums, and the diameter of the hoop is usually indicative of the depth of the sound (the bigger the hoop the deeper the sound), and none of my drums of similar diameter sound near as deep as these drums. Both drums have a different sound and resonance. Here is the Amnion drum, and here is the Chorion drum.

    It has now been a week since I made the drums. The Amnion drum membrane cracked because I did not manipulate it carefully enough (it is VERY delicate, and I made the mistake to turn it face down on an outdoor wooden table to take a picture of the underside of it, and it cracked). My chorion drum is still intact and playable. Time will tell if it stands the trials of time. I know that Jessica’s drum is still intact, 8 months after her birth. She has shared with me that she keeps it wrapped in tissue a tin and manipulates it extremely gently when she wants to look at it. 

    It has felt like a powerful , magical and huge honour to be trusted to craft such a drum with such a special membrane.

    Do you feel the call to craft such drums or offer them to mothers? How would you use such a special drum, and what would this drummaking process mean for you symbolically?

  • How to ease back into work gently after a holiday

    How to ease back into work gently after a holiday

    I’ve just taken a much needed break, as I do every summer, visiting my family in France. I did a lot of catching up with my family, a lot of swimming (including in the sea-bliss!) a lot of reading, and mostly a lot of just being and relaxing.

    In the past, I found returning to work after a break stressful, because of the accumulation of messages and tasks whilst I was away. Every year the weight of the many tasks, combined with the change of pace, and the struggle to return to a “normal” working rhythms meant that I used to feel a lot of pressure. Now I do things differently. I want to share some simple things I do to make returning to work less stressful :

    Before the break

    Put your holidays in your diary a long time in advance. This way you can plan your work around the breaks. There are 2 main reasons for this: 1) to know your capacity around that time and not over plan a number of unachievable tasks 2) to make sure that you can truly relax (and avoid feeling guilty about not doing work) whilst on holiday. In a previous blog I explained the importance of truly switching off as a solopreneur. This goes a long way in building confidence, being realistic about what you can achieve, and avoid guilt.

    Planning ahead means that I sometimes do more work in advance, to make sure that there aren’t major tasks needing to be done during my break, and to plain my income around the break. When you work for yourself, you don’t earn money whilst on holiday and this can be difficult if income is tight. I often launch new courses ahead of breaks, in order to feel content and secure during the break. It also gives me a much needed deadline to complete the course by, which really helps me produce the course content on time. This year I started  teaching a course before my holiday and I factored in the break within the course, which gave my students times to practise. It also gives me something driving me forward when I return.

    During the break

    Make a conscious decision not to do to anything work wise unless it 1) cannot wait 2) It gives you joy and you don’t resent it. This is especially important as, since 2020 there has been numerous occasions where many of us could not be away from home during breaks. I made the mistake to carry on working several times, albeit at a lower pace, and didn’t feel refreshed by the end of the break. I’ve learnt over and over that stepping out of work completely and adopting a different, more relaxed pace of life, is a great source of renewed creativity for everyone.

    After the break

    Be gentle with yourself. After a change of rhythm it can take a few days before you feel like you are back into the swing of things. The change of pace combined with accumulated tasks can feel stressful and overwhelming. 

    Allow extra time for planning. It is easy to try and get back into ‘doing’ and losing sight of what is really important. Tune in how you want your month, week or day to feel rather than getting bogged down into lots of tiny little tasks. I find the 3 things model very helpful. When feeling overwhelmed, ask yourself, if I could only do 3 things, what would these things be? Apply the same model for longer term planning as well as shorter term  (I do a 3 months, then a monthly, then weekly and daily plan).

    Give yourself 2 or 3 days of gently easing back into work. Doing some planning and dealing with the stuff that accumulated whilst you were away. I try to ease gently into my normal work rhythm, at a slower pace than normal. I like to think about it the same way I look at physical fitness: if you had taken a break from running for a couple of weeks, you would restart your training gradually again, and not expect to be able to run a marathon on the first day!

    I hope this helps you be kind to yourself, and ease your back from holiday overwhelm. I would love to hear if you have any other tips or suggestions.

     

  • How to choose and buy a shamanic drum

    How to choose and buy a shamanic drum

    In this article I want to share the options available if you’d like to get your own frame/shamanic drum. There are many options to choose from and I hope I’ll make nagivating that decision easier for you!

    As I created the content for my Drumming for Birth course, I had one of those beautiful “aha” moments while explaining how to choose a drum. You know those times when you suddenly realise just how much expertise you’ve accumulated, but you did not know until you stopped to reflect on it ? As someone with ADHD, one of my superpowers is the ability to hyperfocus on subjects that fascinate me – and drums have certainly been one of those subjects! 

    At the time of writing this, I own over 30 drums. I’m going to tell you about the categories, the pros and cons of each, and how much a drum cost to buy, including some real unexpected bargains. I’m also going to tell you about what to avoid.

    The type of drums I use are frame drums. One of the oldest known musical instruments, frame drums are found in various forms across many cultures worldwide and play significant roles in spiritual or ceremonial contexts. They are sometimes referred to as shamanic drums. A frame drum is a simple percussion instrument, typically circular in shape, consisting of a round wooden frame 2-4 inches deep, with a single drumhead stretched over one side. They can be played with the hand, or with a beater. The drumhead is traditionally made from animal skin, but synthetic materials are also used. The skin is usually secured to the frame with lacing. Frame drums produce a warm, resonant tone and are capable of a wide range of sounds, from deep booms to crisp, high-pitched tones.

    In my work I use frame drums with a handle, the kind that is played by hitting it with a soft beater.

    Frame drum categories:

    Frame drums come into 2 main categories: the ones that are made of animal skin (known as hide), and ones that are made of synthetic skin (plastic material, or sometimes canvas type fabric). 

    Size matters: the bigger the drum, the deeper the sound. As a rule of thumb, I would suggest you start with something no smaller than 14 or 16 inches for a good sound. Tiny drums do not usually sound great. Really big drums  (20 inches and above) have a beautiful deep sound by they can be unwieldy to carry and hold.

    Synthetic drums

    I have 2 main synthetic drums: A 16 inches Remo Buffalo drum (A misnomer as the drum is made of a synthetic skin) and a 16 inches Remo Bahia Bass Buffalo drum (it has a deeper sound than the normal Remo Buffalo). I also have a couple of synthetic Kanjiras (a small Indian drum with a jingle), and a small 8 inches hand held synthetic Remo which I mostly use for travel.

    Synthetic drum Advantages

    • Good, reliable sound (this applies only to reputable brands, see below on what to avoid)
    • Sounds remains the same regardless of weather/water/temperature
    • If you play outdoors like I do, and live in a cold and wet country, you’ll be grateful to have a synthetic drum. You can play it in all weathers, even in the pouring rain, without the sound being affected. I’ve even taken mine inside sweat lodges and saunas.
    • These drums are typically cheaper than a skin drum, a Remo Buffalo Drum costs about ÂŁ115 for a 16 inches drum

    Synthetic drum disadvantages

    German company Thomann has sound samples of Remo drums (and many other drums) on their website. 

    Drums made from animal hide

    I own 24 different skin drums, 7 of which I made myself in drum birthing workshops or on my own, and the others I bought or received as gifts.

    Skin drums advantages

    • Unique, beautiful, individual drums
    • Handmade by cottage industry businesses or with your own hands
    • Unique spirit and energy (and different hides from different animals, each with their own unique energy)
    • You can buy them ready made, have them custom made, or make them yourself to your own preference and style (including adding symbols, crystals, painting them etc)

    Skin drums disadvantages

    • The quality can vary a lot & there are fakes (more on that below)
    • They are sensitive to weather, moisture & temperature. In winter you need a fire to warm them up if outdoors or in cold weather
    • They can get damaged by heat or moisture (you cannot play them in the rain and you have to the careful not to leave them somewhere hot, for example in the car)
    • Because they are handmade, they tend to be pricey (from ÂŁ150 to ÂŁ300 or more)

     

    I have skin drums from the following makers, and I trust and recommend their work:

    There are many other makers of drums both in the UK and around the world. Ask for recommendations and see whose work you resonate with.

     

     

    One affordable skin drum option I often recommend is the Irish Bodhran. Whilst it is not officially designed as a shamanic drum it works perfectly for that purpose (read my article where I share how I overcame the misguided idea that there was only one right way to play this drum). A bodhran usually comes with a wooden stick called a tipper, and you’ll need a soft beater instead but these are very easy to make (a foraged stick and a stuffed sock or piece of felt attached to the stick with a string or elastic, or watch this video). Or you could buy a beater to go with your drum. Drum beaters come in factory or handmade versions. There are plenty of handmade ones on Etsy.

    My first drum was a Bodhran, bought by my parents in Ireland from the oldest bodhran maker in Ireland, Malachy Kearns, and gifted to me. Malachy Kearns bodhrans start at 130 euros, however I have found such bodhrans available second hand on Ebay or Facebook marketplace for as little as ÂŁ30 to 40. Another well known bodhran brand is Waltons. Just make sure to buy one that is a decent size, at least 12 to 14 inches.

    When it comes to acquiring a skin drum, you can either buy one ready made, have something make a custom drum for you, or (the ultimate experience in my opinion), attend a workshop with a skilled drum making teacher, and make your own. When someone makes a drum for you, or you make your own drum, this drum carries the medicine that you need.

    Size matters

    With any drum, the bigger the drum, the deeper the sounds ( though I have sometimes seen smallish drums with surprisingly deep sound). For a starter drum I recommend something between 12 and 16 inches diameter. Really big drums (20 to 22 inches diameter) have beautiful, deep, resonant sound, but they can be tricky to hold and carry.

    A few other people I have either seen drums made by (some run drum birthing workshops and also sell kits to make your own drum)

    General instruments shops that sell drums and other musical instruments in the UK:

    A list of makers recommended by knowledgeable friends (but I haven’t seen these drums myself)

    What to avoid when buying a drum

    Quality matters. If at all possible try to listen to the sound of the drum before you buy. There are many cheap drums on Amazon for example, which are poor quality. They would be ok for a small child to play with. I was surprised when visiting Djoliba, a big percussion shop in Toulouse, France, to see a tiny drum cost more than some much bigger ones. The shop keeper explained that the tiny one I was looking at was handmade by a very well known drum company called Cooperman in the US, whereas the shelf of bigger drums I was looking at where factory made in India.

    Sadly there are also fake drums. A lot of what’s sold on Facebook ads, Ebay or Amazon are often fakes/copies of real drum, made in China. People simply copy the artist’s pictures, and print and glue them on a plastic drum the size of my hand. Because they use the real artist pictures in the listing, what you think you’re getting and the reality are completely different, The drums made by Velenslav Voron for example, are so distinctive in style that I  instantly recognised one of his designs on a Facebook ad for ÂŁ30 on Facebook. I knew something wasn’t right, so I contacted him and he told me about the stealing of pictures, and the cheap copies, and about not being able to do anything about it because if he reports a shop, another shop pops up the next day. A friend bought such a drum and she sent me pictures of a crappy plastic drum not even good  enough for a child, with the picture and surrounding tape peeling off. Currently you can buy drums that look like the Shaman Drums from Ukraine for under ÂŁ10 on Aliexpress.  Remember: if it’s too good to be true, it probably is.  Get recommendations, and if possible, get to see and try before you buy.

    I hope this is helpful, and if you end up buying a drum with the help of this post I’d love it if you posted a picture of your drum in the comments

    Happy drumming!

    If this speaks to you and you’d like to find out more about the work I offer with the drum, from one to one work, to healing, drum circles, workshops, and courses, you can find out more on this page.

    Or you find out more about how drumming supports your wellbeing in my new book, The Beat of Your Own Drum (the link includes a free sample chapter).

    drum book
  • Drumming for Birth: Reclaiming Our Ancestral Wisdom

    Drumming for Birth: Reclaiming Our Ancestral Wisdom

    I have been deeply immersed in research on the history of drumming, and how it was used for the pregnancy, birth and postpartum journey. I’ve not been able to find much, apart from Layne Redmond’s book, When The Women Were Drummers, and a couple of blog posts and scholarly articles. So little has been written on the topic that the blog post I wrote two weeks ago about the science of drumming and how it helps support the birth process, is now coming up first when I search for the topic online!

    We have no recollection of our shamanic and wise women roots, because Western women’s wisdom and authority have been systematically suppressed, devalued and marginalised AND shamanism has also been actively destroyed.

    I’m going to cover the 2 separate topics: the erasure of women’s wisdom, and the erasure of shamanism, then finish by joining them.

    The erasure of women’s wisdom

    This happened in 3 separate waves.

    First, around 5000 years BC, the beginning of the patriarchy saw the removal of the spiritual roles and power of women. Layne Redmond in her book, When the Women Were Drummers, explains that:

    “The rituals of the earliest known religions evolved around the beat of frame drums. These regions were founded on the worship of female deities
Women became the first technicians of the sacred, performing religious functions we would today associate with the clergy
.Sacred drumming was one of their primary skills.”

    “Priestesses of the Goddess were skilled technicians in its (the frame drum) uses. They knew which rhythms quickened the life in freshly planted seeds; which facilitated childbirth; and which induced the ecstatic trance of spiritual transcendence. Guided by drumbeats, these sacred drummers could alter their consciousness at will, travelling through the three worlds of the Goddess: the heavens, the earth and the underworld”

    With the transition from nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyles to settled farming communities, property ownership and inheritance became important, leading to the consolidation of power within male lineages, instead of the previous matrilineal system. This shift marked a turning point in societal organisation, as men gained control over land, resources, and social structures, while women’s roles were increasingly confined to domestic and reproductive spheres.

    Secondly, during the witch hunts that took place in Europe (and America) from around 1400 to 1800, countless women were accused of practicing witchcraft and subsequently persecuted, leading to their torture and execution. Many of these women were healers, midwives, or possessed knowledge about herbal remedies and folk medicine. I assume that they may have been drummers amongst them too. The persecution of witches was, in part, an attempt to undermine women’s traditional roles as spiritual leaders, as well as to exert control over their bodies and reproductive capacities. The witch hunts resulted in the murder of between tens of thousands and hundreds of thousand women in Europe alone, creating a void in that knowledge.

    Thirdly, from around the 18th and 19th century, the rise of the scientific and medical fields further contributed to the side-lining of women’s wisdom. As these disciplines became professionalised, women were excluded from formal education and professional opportunities. This exclusion limited their ability to participate in scientific and medical advancements and denied society the benefit of their unique perspectives and expertise.

    The systematic exclusion of women from the medical field and science, and in particular childbirth, was done deliberately, with the portraying of wise women such as midwives and healers as unsafe, and dirty, and ignorant (so that male doctors could keep the lucrative business of birth for themselves alone-see the books Birth, A History By Tina Cassidy, and The Birth house by Ami MacKay).

    The erasure of shamanism in Europe

    The history of shamanic drumming in Europe is rich and varied, spanning back thousands of years. Various European cultures, such as the Celtic, Viking, Germanic, and SĂĄmi people, practised shamanism, which involved connecting with the spiritual realms through drumming, chanting, and other rituals. Shamans, known by different names in different cultures (e.g., druids, seidhr practitioners), used drums as a tool for trance induction and journeying to commune with spirits, seek guidance, and perform healing ceremonies to accompany life and death.

    With the spread of Christianity across Europe, shamanic traditions and practices were suppressed and demonised as pagan or heretical. Shamanic drumming, along with other shamanic rituals, faced persecution and was actively discouraged by religious authorities. Many indigenous cultures had their spiritual practices suppressed, and knowledge of shamanic drumming was lost or went underground.

    In her book, Les Esprits de la Steppe, Shaman and researcher Corinne Sombrun (the founder of the Trance Science Research institute), explains that Russia made practising shamanism illegal in Mongolia as little back in time as the late 1960s. Shaman’s drums were destroyed and the shamans sent to prison. Some, however, carried on practising in secret.

    In Europe too, remnants of shamanic traditions persisted in some regions, particularly in remote areas. In the northern parts of Europe, such as Lapland and Siberia, the SĂĄmi people continued their shamanic practices, including drumming..

    In the late 20th century, there was a resurgence of interest in shamanic practices and spirituality in Europe. Influenced by a growing recognition of the value of indigenous knowledge, shamanic drumming began to experience a revival. Today, shamanic drumming circles and workshops can be found in various European countries, providing individuals with a means to explore altered states of consciousness, connect with their inner selves, and tap into spiritual dimensions. This revival often draws inspiration from both indigenous European traditions and broader shamanic practices worldwide.

    “Women often feel that, along with a portion of their history, they’re missing a part of their psyche. They have lost access to important regions of their minds. Until they can reclaim those parts of themselves, they are not whole” Layne Redmond

    Joining back the two threads

    There is a part of these two threads that is still going on today in the Western world, in the attempt at destroying anything seen as “not scientific” or “not evidence based”. For instance, when something hasn’t been published about, it is assumed not to be effective (which is ridiculous because lack of evidence is not the same as proof of a lack of effectiveness). Our culture reveres science like a religion, and in some aspects our scientific or medical world behaves like a mediaeval church. Rupert Sheldrake explains this in his banned TED talk.

    If this seems far-fetched to you, did you know that today in the UK, there are charitable organisations (which I won’t name because I don’t want to give them traffic), whose sole purpose is to destroy all forms of healing and traditional medicine that they consider to be pseudoscience. They target osteopathy, homeopathy, aromatherapy, reiki, the list goes on and on. Such an organisation successfully prevented osteopaths from saying that they can treat any condition for which the published evidence isn’t solid enough (for example, they are no longer allowed to say that they can treat colic). One such organisation managed to get a job offer post for a Reiki healer inside an NHS clinic removed.

    Similarly, modern maternity care behaves in accordance with patriarchy, where the “experts” hold the power, and the pregnant woman is seen as ignorant (and potentially dangerous), and where when a conflict arises between rigid maternity guidelines (not themselves based on any solid evidence ironically) and women’s wishes, this usually results in coercive behaviour on the part of health professionals. As a doula I have witnessed this often, in particular with the rise of induction of labour, and women being coerced to consent to induction (without being counselled on any of the risks of the intervention) by using the threat of their baby dying. 

    As Dr Rachel Reed explains in her book, Reclaiming Childbirth As A Rite of Passage,  where ancestral knowledge aimed at protecting pregnant women against the environment, the current system aims to protect the baby against its mother. 

    The reason I feel so strongly that drumming needs to be re-introduced to women and birth is because it can help us tune back into our intuitive wisdom. Bringing back drumming as a support tool during pregnancy and birth is not only an important part of bringing back our lost knowledge, but a powerful way for women to be able to be able reclaim their power and stand up to the “experts”.

    “So often women feel disconnected from their babies and their own bodies and this process helps work toward healing or dealing with whatever it is that blocks that connection.  Shamanic journeying during pregnancy offers great preparation for labour and birth as both are best approached from a similar altered state of consciousness.” Jane Hardwicke Collings

                                                                                                                                                     

     

  • Drumming for Birth: The Wisdom and Science of How Drum Beats Support the Brain and Body to Empower the Birth Journey

    Drumming for Birth: The Wisdom and Science of How Drum Beats Support the Brain and Body to Empower the Birth Journey

    Pregnancy, birth and the postpartum constitute a profound rite of passage. Expectant families are often guided to seek holistic approaches to enhance their birth experience. One such approach, which is gaining recognition, is the ancient practice of drumming. Rhythm is innate, and every culture around the world has (or has had) drumming traditions. 

    Beyond its musical and cultural significance, drumming offers a unique potential to support and empower and heal during pregnancy, birth, and the postpartum period. In this post, I explain some of the ways in which drumming can positively influence the birth process.

    Creating Sacred Space

    Drumming can be part of bringing more sacredness to the pregnancy and birth journey. Pregnancy and birth are sacred processes which deserve reverence and a sense of ritual. In today’s modern healthcare system, where many births take place in hospital settings, it is essential to find ways to re-infuse the birthing process with a sense of sacredness. Drumming is a powerful way to create a sacred atmosphere, adding a ritualistic element that can positively impact the birth experience.

    “At home I felt in my own space, but in the hospital I felt at the mercy of the system, with a lot of vulnerability. The drumming stirred up my sense of empowerment and of standing up for myself” Leigh

    Tuning in

    Drumming taps into the innate rhythms within us, synchronising the body, mind, and spirit. When expectant parents listen or engage in drumming, it helps them connect with their own internal rhythm and intuitive knowledge, promoting a sense of calm, focus, and empowerment. By embracing these qualities, individuals can navigate the various stages of the pregnancy and birth journey with greater ease and confidence. During labour, drumming can also support the mother into entering an altered state of consciousness that facilitates the birth process.

    In the book “When the drummers were women” Layne Redmond explains:

    “Priestesses of the Goddess were skilled technicians in its (the frame drum) uses. They knew which rhythms quickened the life in freshly planted seeds; which facilitated childbirth; and which induced the ecstatic trance of spiritual transcendence. Guided by drumbeats, these sacred drummers could alter their consciousness at will, travelling through the three worlds of the Goddess: the heavens, the earth and the underworld”

    “I had some gentle drumming at beginning of pregnancy. I found it very calming and healing. The effect lasted a couple of weeks.” Leigh

    “The main thing I remember was my consciousness ascending with the drumbeat and connecting with my baby’s consciousness and bringing him into this reality before I did it physically.” Ailsa

    Relaxation and Alleviating Anxiety

    The repetitive beats of a drum have a soothing effect on the nervous system, inducing a trance-like state of deep relaxation. Drumming can help reduce stress, and ease the anxiety commonly experienced during pregnancy and birth. This relaxation response not only promotes a more peaceful birth environment but also allows the mother to surrender to the flow of the process. Heartbeat-like drumming reminds us of our time in the womb, and promotes a sense of safety.

    “I wanted a doula who could drum to help me remain calm (I had massive anxiety going into my second birth, for lots of reasons). “ Ailsa

    Increasing Endorphin Release

    Drumming stimulates the release of endorphins, which are natural pain-relieving and mood-enhancing hormones. During labour, the intensity of contractions can be accompanied by discomfort and pain. Drumming can help activate the body’s own pain management system, creating a more positive birth experience.

    “During my birth, the drumming felt a bit like when you are jogging and you have power music on, it gave me a power boost. It felt like it was saying “open up, relax, trust your body, have faith in the journey”. It made me feel more confident in my abilities.”  Leigh

    Facilitating a Sense of Community and Support

    Drumming can be a communal activity, bringing together partners, doulas, midwives, and other birth supporters. Creating a drumming circle during pregnancy or birth fosters a sense of community and support, allowing individuals to feel held and encouraged throughout the birthing journey. 

    I came to the drum circle on my due date, to ground myself, to feel the vibrations from the drums, and because I felt that it would call my baby into going into our world, to feel welcomed. Kamila

    Connecting with Spirituality

    Throughout history, drumming has been used as a spiritual practice, connecting individuals to their ancestral roots and the wisdom of past generations. By incorporating drumming into the birth process, expectant parents can tap into this ancient wisdom, accessing a deep sense of spirituality and connection. Drumming can serve as a bridge between the physical and the spiritual realms and can also help parents connect more easily with their unborn baby. Drumming helps create a sense of sacredness and people help turn inwards. 

    “I wanted a doula who could drum for me during birth for many reasons, to mark a huge initiation, welcome my baby into the world to the sound of the universe’s heartbeat, to have something of me present in a medical situation, a reminder of the vast context of the process I was going through” Ailsa

    Nurturing the postpartum transition:

    Drumming continues to be a valuable practice beyond the birth itself, offering support and nurturing during the postpartum period. The beats of the drum can provide a soothing and grounding presence, helping new parents navigate the emotional and physical changes that accompany the postpartum transition. Drumming can serve as a form of self-care, allowing individuals to release tension, process emotions, and find inner peace during this transformative phase.

    “A week after giving birth, during the closing the bones ceremony, the drumming helped me release something and really opened up the gates to my connection as a mother. The realisation that I’d arrived as a mother really landed. It was beautiful, I cried tears of joy.” Leigh

    Conclusion

    Drumming offers a unique and multifaceted approach to supporting the birthing process. By listening or practising drumming, expectant parents can tap into their inner strength, find deep relaxation, alleviate anxiety, enhance endorphin release, foster a sense of community, and connect with their baby and spiritual dimensions. 

    Incorporating drumming into the birth journey holds potential for supporting transformative and empowering experiences. 

    If you have drummed during the pregnancy, birth or postpartum journey, or have had drumming during these times, please comment below, I’d love to hear your stories.

    Note:

    I am in the process of collating a lot of drumming research, experience and stories related to the birthing process and women life transitions. If you have stories to share, I’d love to hear them, as I am writing a book about women and drumming.

    Read more: I have published an article about drumming for pregnancy and birth for the International Journal of Birth and Parent Education, which you can download for free here. I wrote another article about it in the Green Parent Magazine, which can be downloaded for free here. I offer an online course called drumming for birth. I gave a talk about the science of shamanic drumming at the convention of women’s drummers in Colchester in November 2023 and will do the same again in 2024. I run monthly drum circles near Cambridge which everyone is welcome to attend. No experience necessary.

  • Drum healing, bullshit?

    Drum healing, bullshit?

    I have been on a journey from dismissal to powerful experience, and I want to tell my story with the hope that it may encourage others to explore this modality too. The first time I heard about drum healing from a friend my reaction was: drum healing? bullshit! It didn’t occur to me to be curious and ask my friend questions about what he did. All I felt was judgement and dismissal. It’s a funny thing isn’t it? We all accept that sounds can do medical stuff (how does a doppler work?), but because shamanic drumming has been mostly erased from our culture, we dismiss it as hippy, non evidence based woo.

    My journey into drumming as a practise came from first hand experience. In 2013 when I attended a doula retreat, and there was a drum workshop called Shamanic Work for Doulas. Amongst other things that day, the teacher led a drum journey. I was very sceptical, thinking “this isn’t going to work”. And yet, as I relaxed into the journey, I had the most vivid visions of what felt like past lives to me. The experience blew my mind and unlocked a part of me that I didn’t know about. It left me yearning for more, and I left the retreat with a desire to own a drum. I told my mother, about it, and she gifted me a Bodhran she has bought on a trip to Ireland.

    I brought the Bodhran back home, but I felt out of my comfort zone playing it. because I didn’t know how. My brother,  a professional musician, showed me how to play it with the traditional stick. I I couldn’t play it well with the stick and felt disheartened. When I returned to Cambridge with my drum, I visited my friend Peter, a scientist, shaman and drum maker. I explained my quandary to him. Peter asked me what I wanted to do with this drum. “Do you want to play in an Irish band?” he asked. I said “no, I want to do some shamanic drumming”. Then he explained I didn’t need to use the stick and showed me how to make a felt beater, and how to use it. This was a very empowering moment, because Peter gave me the confidence to experiment and start drumming. It also helped shape who I am, and how to help others learn and explore in non prescriptive ways. I like to encourage people to develop skills in a way that works for them.

    I started playing my Bodhran and experimenting with it. I did this by myself and with no guidance, a way of exploring things which I now realise is quite natural for me, as a kinaesthetic learner. I have found that, whilst getting tuition from more experienced people is valuable, there is also value in exploring what a new modality feels like for you, without another person’s views affecting your experience.

    The following year, at the doula retreat there was a drumming workshop with Carolyn Hillyer, where we all drummed as a group. I absolutely loved it and wowed to make drumming a regular practise.

    That year I also ended up giving someone a closing the bones massage at the retreat. My friend Rebecca drummed in the background whilst we rocked and massaged and held the women receiving the ceremony. This felt very powerful and I asked questions to Rebecca about it and she suggested I buy a particular drum a maker on Etsy. I bought this drum shortly afterwards.

    Drumming soon became something I added to the ceremony at the end of my closing the bones workshops. I also started offering it to clients who received the ritual and who liked the idea. I loved introducing women to the powerful mind altering state that drumming provides. I had a bit of a drumming hiatus after that. Growth paths aren’t linear. I struggled with some lack of belief in my abilities to drum for a while

    In 2016 I attended another doula retreat, there was more drumming involved with a workshop that included a journey to meet our power animal. It rekindled my love of drumming big time and I felt drawn to birth my own drum. A few weeks later in July 2016, I attend a drumming making workshop with Jo Gray in Essex,  It was a wonderful day. I made a drum, and the most gorgeous drum beater, complete with wood burning decorations and crystals embedded in the beater’s handle. Slowly, drumming became more of a normal practise for me, thought I still had a small element of impostor syndrome about it.

    I birthed another drum at the 2017 doula retreat, where we spent 2 days making a drum with Carolyn Hillyer.  13 of us doulas made this drum together. The following year we brought back our drums and drummed together which was magical. This drum became my favourite and I have used it for healing ever since. In 2017 I also felt drawn to get more learning behind my drum healing practise. I attended the Reiki Drum technique training with Sarah Gregg , during which I experienced some deep healing. The Reiki Drum techniques uses the drum to channel Reiki healing onto the person receiving the treatment.

    Joining the Reiki Drum family meant that I also got to attend Sarah’s Spring Equinox Gathering the following year. Drumming together with 60 other reiki drum practitioners was a powerful experience I will never forget. Sarah made a video of the day and if you watch carefully you can spot me in it.

    After that, drumming became something I do, and no longer felt weird. I started offering it as standard as part of my closing the bone treatments and rituals. I also used it as part of women circles, and mother blessings and group closing the bone ceremonies. I love drumming alone, but but group drumming is even more special.

    In 2019 I was lucky to become the owner of a handcarved wolf drum (my spirit animal) from the incredible talented finish drum maker Juha Jarvinen.

    In 2019 I also ticked one of my bucket list wishes:  to drum at a birth. I actually got to drum during a two births that year. The first one was a home birth, which felt quite natural to do. The second time, I was specifically hired by a woman who wanted me to drum at her birth. I got to drum in the hospital for the first time. There were two of us drumming during this birth. It was in the birth centre, which is staffed by midwifes who are generally more on board with natural birth than in the obstetric unit.  I was still aware that it could raise some eyebrows, in a “what’s that weird hippy shit they are doing over there?”. It felt very helpful for the mothers to have drumming whilst they laboured, and I was delighted with the experience.

    In November 2019 I felt a pull to take my drum work further and I decided to train to become a Reiki Drum teacher. I did 24 reiki drum sessions in the space of a couple of months as part of my case studies. Some of my case studies had mind blowing healing experiences through it, way beyond my expectations. It only strengthened my desire to carry on. I attended the training in February 2020 and loved it. I haven’t had the opportunity to teach this modality yet due to the lockdowns, but I have found that it has had tremendous effects on my personal growth.

    Early in 2020 I also started attending a gong bath in Cambridge, which has 12 enormous gongs and some giant chimes. I had amazing experiences of relaxation from it, including feeling the ground move under my body, and I could still feel the benefits the next day. If you have never had a drum journey or healing session, I truly recommend it. It is incredibly relaxing, I liken it to having a massage in your brain. It frees your way of thinking and allows you to look at problems and issues sideways and find your own creative solutions.

    In 2020 I also started running monthly drum circles in Cambridge. It went better than I could have imagined. 14 people turned up to the first 2 live sessions, many of which had never done any drumming before. It worked extremely well and all where delighted by the experience. During the first lockdown I ran it on zoom, and then outdoors in the woods over the summer. I am still running these circles 3 years on, and this has included running them online (during lockdowns) as well as in person.

    In May 2020 I turned 50. I started the day drumming in the woods with two other women, and we have been drumming twice a week together ever since. It has been utterly supportive and transformative. It ticks all three boxes of wellbeing for me : me connection to myself, to nature, and to people I love. I link a lot of my personal growth and development to this practise. I’ve also reached the point where drumming feels like a completely normal activity for me.

    If after reading this you still think that drum healing is bullshit, it might help you to know that there is some cool published research on the effect of drumming on the brain, completed with EEG measurement showing an altered state of consciousness. You can find a review of some of these papers here .

    French shaman and researcher Corinne Sombrun has co-created an institute of research called the Science Trance research institute , and works with neurobiologists to understand the effect of drumming sound on trance like states. One of their published papers states that:

    We present the first neurophysiological study of a normal subject and our co-author, who had received extensive training in the Mongolian shamanic tradition and is capable of inducing a shamanic trance state at will. We integrate original research with literature review and suggest a unified psychobiological model for ‘altered’ modes of consciousness. This model incorporates objective, subjective and intersubjective science within a broad evolutionary framework to provide a non-reductionist account of psychological, biological and social determinants of self experience that helps to bridge Western and traditional healing techniques.”

     

  • Closure book review: How the ending of the Albany Midwifery Practice was about control, not safety

    Closure book review: How the ending of the Albany Midwifery Practice was about control, not safety

    I just finished the book “Closure: How the flagship Albany Midwifery Practice, at the heart of its South London community, was demonised and dismantled” by Becky Reed and Nadine Edwards.

    I found Closure a gripping and soul-stirring book. It peels back the layers surrounding the downfall of the Albany Midwifery Practice, a ground-breaking continuity of care model, which ran from 1997 to 2009 in Peckham, South London. 

    Defying the official narrative that safety concerns were the reasons for closing the practice, Closure exposes and challenges motives rooted in control and suppression. Meticulous research, first-hand accounts, and interviews with key figures paint a vivid picture, demonstrating that the model provided safe and effective care with positive outcomes well above those achieved by local hospitals. They also leave little doubt that the closure was not a mere unfortunate occurrence but a deliberate ploy orchestrated by influential forces.

    Using powerful storytelling, Closure unveils the profound connections and trust that existed between the Albany midwives and the community they served. It portrays the impact of the practice’s nurturing approach on expectant mothers, birth and postpartum experiences, families, and the wider community. The Albany Practice did not just provide exemplary maternity care, it provided a space to build and nurture communities that lasted beyond the childbearing years.

    Closure delves into themes of community, power dynamics, and the complex web of interests that shapes the fate of medical services. It empowers readers to question the narratives imposed by those in authority and to champion the preservation of institutions that nurture the health and well-being of communities. Closure is a catalyst for change, inspiring us to fight for the rights of families to birth where and with whom they choose, and for a maternity care system where connection and compassion prevails.

    Closure stands as a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Albany Midwifery Practice. The time and effort the midwives and their supporters spent trying to prevent the closure of the practise and to raise awareness about the amazing results the practice achieved, is truly inspiring. Sadly their efforts were not successful in preventing the practice’s closure. I couldn’t help but wonder, if the situation had happened ten years later, whether the impact of a powerful social media campaign might have led to a different outcome.

    Reading Closure left me reeling with a mix of intense emotions. I felt a deep sense of outrage as the book exposed the web of deception and incompetence surrounding the closure of the practice. My blood boiled at the realisation that the supposed safety concerns were nothing more than a smokescreen masking a hidden agenda. I also felt familiar rage towards the belittling attitude of medical management professionals towards the midwives and the families who tried to challenge the closure. 

    I kept asking myself: how did a medical institution lose sight of its fundamental purpose—to serve patients and the community? Sadly, this scenario has become all too familiar. For let’s be clear: it wasn’t safety concerns that caused the demise of the Albany, but the fact that it challenged the status quo so deeply. Whenever a ground-breaking and successful model emerges, challenging the very foundation of an existing institution, the response is often one of silencing and destroying the individual or practice behind it, rather than engaging in introspection and self-improvement.

    I also felt a deep sense of empathy and sadness as I read the poignant stories of mothers, families, the dedicated Albany midwives, and the witch hunt against midwife Becky Reed. The testimonies laid bare the devastating impact of losing this wonderful midwifery practice—a sanctuary of care, support and empowerment. My heart ached for the mothers robbed of a trusted support system during their pregnancy journey, and for the midwives whose passion and expertise were trampled and discarded. 

    The rollercoaster of emotions continued, weaving indignation and compassion. Alongside the anger, I felt deep admiration for the unwavering resilience displayed by those affected. They highlighted the strength that can arise when a community unites to fight against injustice.

    Reading Closure made me revisit and confront the realities of power imbalances within maternity care and the impact they can have on individuals and communities, echoing my own experience supporting families as a doula. It stirred a renewed commitment to raising my voice to advocate for change in support of models of care that prioritise connection, informed decision making and evidence based transparency. The book also highlighted how deeply embedded the belief that birth is inherently dangerous is within our culture, and how most of the professionals within healthcare have no understanding of the concept of informed choice.

    Upon finishing the book, it became clearer than ever to me that the current maternity care system is beyond redemption, incapable of self-transformation from its dehumanising model of care. 

    But I also felt hope, as if a turning point had been reached. I have been seeing the signs of transformation everywhere, especially since the pandemic has led to soaring rates of medical interventions such as induction of labour, that simply cannot be justified by logic or evidence. Families and birth professionals are reclaiming their rights to birth as they wish, stepping outside of a system that inflicts harm.  Change is brewing, fuelled by a collective refusal to accept the disempowering and controlling attitude of the current maternity system, and to reclaim the autonomy and sacred nature of the birthing experience.

    The pendulum, when pushed too far in one direction, inevitably swings back the other way. 

    PS:  Closure has also inspired me to write a future blog called The Myth of Birth Safety in Hospital.

  • Riding the phoenix: Navigating Perimenopause, ADHD, and Emotional Rollercoasters.

    Riding the phoenix: Navigating Perimenopause, ADHD, and Emotional Rollercoasters.

    If you follow me you’ll know that I’ve navigated more than my fair share of challenges over the last couple of years.

    I’ve supported one of my children through severe mental health issues, I’ve navigated the ups and downs of perimenopause, and I discovered that I have ADHD (I got formally diagnosed a couple of weeks ago and I plan to write another post about this). It’s not been an easy time to say the least. When I look back I can see that I’ve experienced chronic stress for 2 years.

    And yet, I also want to know that these challenges are somewhat linked and have all the hallmarks of a rite of passage. And that, despite the challenges, I already know that when I fully come out the other side, I will be happier than I was before. In my case, the growth has been commensurate with the level of pain.

    A couple of weeks ago I attended a talk about ADHD and women. One graph in particular drew my attention. It showed the peaks and troughs of hormones during perimenopause. It looked  like this:

    The messy ups and downs of hormones in the middle made me think: no wonder my world is in chaos. The chaos isn’t just outside of me, it’s inside as well! It reminded me of my experience of puberty, and also of the first few weeks of postpartum (where I also had big emotional ups and downs, and terrible night sweats).  The messy hormone curve has all the hallmarks of a rite of passage,  where there is no solid ground beneath your feet, where you no longer know who you are, where you have to face the scariest monsters, and where who you were, literally, has to die, to give birth to the new you. 

    Added to that, over the last year, my ADHD symptoms increased to a level that has made daily life very difficult. I felt constantly overwhelmed, because within 5 min of getting up I would see ALL THE THINGS that needed doing, and be unable to prioritise them. For example I’d start making coffee, then see that the dishwasher needed emptying, and on the way to that, that the dog’s water bowl needed refilling, that the recycling bin needs emptying, and I would start each task without finishing it, moving to the next and so on. This video illustrates the issue so well! I was aware that I was doing this, but unable to stop myself. I also got woken up several times a night, with night sweats and a racing heart. This would trigger anxiety, as I worried about all the things I wasn’t doing, this would often keep me awake for an hour or more.  I would then wake at 5am with the anxiety mindset, and would not be able to go back to sleep So on top of the low mood, anxiety and overwhelm, I also felt exhausted. How I’ve managed to keep the wheels on my small one woman self-employed business is unbelievable.

    I truly believe that everything is linked. There is evidence that the hormonal changes of perimenopause exacerbates the symptoms of ADHD. It certainly was the case for me, as my symptoms didn’t become unmanageable until last year. However, since I started reading about neurodivergence and discovered I have ADHD,  when I look back, these symptoms had been rising steadily since I started my perimenopause journey in 2012.

    Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but I feel that one of the big issues is that we no longer have rites of passages accompanying huge life changes. Just like puberty or becoming a mother, perimenopause is completely unsupported from a community and spiritual point of view, and seen only through a pathological lens.

    Over the last year, on many occasions, I have felt such empathy for what I describe happens to new mothers, in my book, Why Postnatal Recovery Matters. The need for community support, for rest, for good food (provided by others), and for nourishing bodywork have felt so relevant. I have felt such longing for this myself, and often fantasised about what my life would be if I lived in a close knit community of women. I believe the same needs apply during the perimenopause, as well as during any other big life transition times. We simply cannot do it alone.

    When we no longer have the support of our community to help us navigate big life transitions, we suffer. When our culture is blind to the need for support during these times, unable to see it for the transformation that it is AND when our culture also depicts the transition in negative terms only, then we are completely lost at sea.

    To ride those big transitions, we need to be supported by groups of people who have experienced them, and who can support us through it from a place of gentle understanding and holding. Sadly, the generations before us have also lost this knowledge too, and there is therefore very little holding available. Nobody even remembers that it is a thing!

    Even deep into the depth of the challenges, I felt that the discomfort, the stripping, were all clearing me for something new.  times for the last year or so, as I’ve had to undergo more growth, at a faster rate than I’ve ever had in my life. I already feel how much spaciousness, openness and tolerance this growth has given me. It’s made me aware of unhelpful patterns in my brain, and as I am aware of them, I am no longer run by them. Starting microdosing was instrumental in this, and so did working with a neurodivergent coach.

    This doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been deep pain and a desire to escape it all. As I write this I am aware that a lot of the pain, as it was in those first few weeks of motherhood, stems from wanting my life to be like it was before. The pain is caused by resistance, and by a desire to run away from the pain. When I sink into it, when I stop fighting it, it’s never as bad as I feared.

    But, similarly to the fact that I, and many of the new mothers I have supported as a doula, struggle to adjust to the slower pace of new motherhood and often run themselves ragged by trying to do all the things they did before had a baby (I’ve heard some many new mothers say “I’m not doing anything”), so too does my pain stems from refusing my body’s demand for slowness and rest (which I know is easier said than done as a busy mother of special needs children, but still: the deepest pressure was the one I created myself)

    In the book Second Spring, Kate Codrington talks about the possibility of a menopause gap year. Since the beginning of my perimenopause 10 years ago, I have longed on many occasions to run away from the demands of family life, and entertained dreams of living in a commune of midlife women, tending the land and doing simple crafts. I have longed for peace, and for a slower pace of life, connected to the land and to a community of like minded people.

    I think that’s where the lack of support from society has been the hardest. How on earth are we supposed to pause, to find space for peace and rest, in the midst of the demands of family life in the Western world? I also cannot help but wonder if motherhood later in life (my children were born when I was 35 and 39 and I’m 53 as I write this), means that I have teenagers, when ideally by now they would have already flown the nest and I wouldn’t need to provide so much care?

    If we lived in tribal society, or at least in medium sized communities of people who knew each other, then I imagine that 1) there would be elders who would understand, help understand, and support the process 2) the chores and demands of family life would be shared, this would lighten the load AND meet the needs for human connection, making this time feel easier on so many levels.

    Instead of the support, not only have I had to undergo the transition with neither map nor support, but the added mental health challenges of my child have made an already difficult time unbearable. It’s perhaps no wonder that, now that I am finally out of a deep crisis and survival, my body has collapsed.

    The thing is, you cannot “cure” the rite of passage. You just have to go through it, whether you like it or not. My tunnel has been long and dark and every time I thought I was finally due a break, something worse happened instead. 

    In March we got the news that the funding for my youngest child to attend the small nurturing specialist school I spent 2 years fighting for, was successful. Instead of feeling better, my system crashed. I spent a night in A&E in the worst pain I had ever experienced, and a CT scan showed a kidney stone. I then concussed myself because I fainted due to the pain and hit my head,  and had to spend a week in bed instead of going on the beautiful, much overdue holiday I had booked for my family to celebrate. Then for most of April, I felt the worst mood swings, tearfulness and exhaustion I had ever felt. I would go to bed at 8h30 and still waking up tired. I felt joyless. I became so tired and fed up with feeling like this. I desperately needed space to breathe, and feel like my normal self again. I longed for peace and calm.

    I recently got diagnosed with ADHD, but even with the right to choose route, I am now on a 6 month waiting list before I can start titration (and I’m not sure ADHD drugs are something I want to take for the rest of my life either, having tried some already, read about this here). My GP ordered a bunch of blood tests, and suggested I try HRT. My first response to this was a complete no, because I feel that using drugs that put a lid on symptoms doesn’t resolve the underlying issue. My instinct also told me that they may prevent the spiritual development that goes with the drop in hormones.

    However, over the last 10 years I’ve tried many different holistic approaches (and one less holistic): I’ve worked with 2 herbalists, I’ve tried CDB oil and many other supplements, meditation, acupuncture, homeopathy, family constellations, counselling, coaching, EFT, MAP, microdosing, antidepressants, emotion doodling, and more forms of bodywork and healing that I care to count (somatic massage, thai massage, reflexology, osteopathy, lomi-lomi, bowen, Rolfing, TRE, sound healing, Reiki, and more). They all provided some healing and some respite, but I was now in a place where none of these holistic approaches seemed to be enough anymore.

    I also developed regular weekly nurturing practices (all of which I can now see are dopamine raising activities), such as wild swimming, drumming in nature, and 5thythms dancing. When I started doing these, and a for a few years, they had a deep transformative effect on my wellbeing, and brought me calm and joy. Today, they still sustain me, and are an important part of my wellbeing, but somehow aren’t enough to keep me in a place of trust and peace.

    I had a chat with my neurodivergent coach, and she said that I wasn’t just coping with the menopause but with a lot of other challenges at the same time. She said that I could try HRT and see if it worked for me, and this was useful as I think I felt that it was all or nothing. In 2022 I tried antidepressants and hated it, and I thought this might be worth a try, at least to know if it helped or not.

    In my typical fashion (thank you ADHD hyperfocus!) I researched HRT deeply prior to the appointment with my GP to discuss it. I joined groups, I read books and articles, I spoke to a lot of people. One of my fears was that it would stop me from undergoing the spiritual development that comes with the menopause. I reached out to menopause mentor Kate Codgrinton, as I’m reading her book, Second Spring. When I mentioned my concerns, she said that some women found that the HRT sometimes helped their spiritual growth, giving them more time and space to put helpful practices in place in their lives. In Second Spring there is a section about HRT, and it fits with what I believe. Menopause, Kate says, is a caterpillar to butterfly process. The hormones support can help you stay a strong caterpillar but not support you to become a butterfly. Reading this, I realised that I needed to be a strong caterpillar for my family at the moment.

    My fears alleviated, I decided to give HRT a try.  I started taking it last week after researching the different forms (I choose to have the estrogen gel and micronised progesterone. I particularly like Dr Newson’s prescription guide to HRT). I could feel a difference within 3 days of starting the estrogen gel, with improved mood, sleep, and energy.

    Just as I’d hoped, a week on, not only do I feel calmer and happier and have more energy, I also have enough spaciousness inside of me to start looking at my life and putting things into place to feel better. I spoke to my coach about things I could do to improve my mental health and she suggested I make a jar with activities I can do when I feel low. She said when you feel stressed you cannot think. I made the jar there and then (when before the idea of having another task filled me with dread), and I was surprised by the list of ideas I wrote (once I got going I realised that I had a lot more ideas than I thought. You can find my list below.

    The re-regulating / grounding jar list

    • Go for a walk (with the dog)
    • Cuddle/play with the dog
    • 5 min dancing (Use Tankwa Town track which is like a a short 5rhythms wave Daniel’s joik track, or the Double Touch track  depending on mood and need)
    • Craft something (even if only for 5 min)
    • Doodle how I’m feeling (draw a person with thought bubbles)
    • Go to the river (swim or just contemplate)
    • Sensate break (10 min)
    • Self Reiki (10 min)
    • Drum (10 min)
    • Rebozo self massage (5 min)
    • Meditate (5 min)
    • Breathe slowly (5 min)
    • Smudge myself and/or my space
    • Sway hips (5 min)
    • Breathe against a wrapped rebozo
    • Notice things I can see, smell, hear
    • 5 min gratitude (think, write, or speak)
    • Take some rescue remedy sweets (easier to consume mindfully)
    • Diffuse or sniff uplifting or calming essential oil blend
    • Walk bare feet on the earth
    • Touch trees/plants

    If you want to create one for yourself, feel free to be inspired by my ideas, but make sure you add stuff that works for your unique self too. And remember that, if you pick a paper in the jar and you don’t like it, you can put it back and choose something else!

    Time will tell if it works, but writing the list uplifted me, as I realised I have more options/knowledge than I thought, and I also noticed that these activities are more likely to work for me than a list written by a stranger.  You’ll notice that a lot of the activities are short. This is because when I feel low, I have resistance to doing anything, and I’m more likely to want to do something that takes 5 min than 20. Incorporating micro habits like this in my life feels do-able. And more importantly, it also feels like something that can bring restoration to my life in real ways, rather than waiting for something that takes a couple of hours like a massage. 

    I hope you find this useful and helpful if you are experiencing similar challenges. I would love to hear about your experience.