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Sophie Messager

Author: Sophie Messager

  • 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 Sámi 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 Sámi 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.

     

  • Unseen Brilliance: ADHD, Witnessing Your Gifts, and Empowering Others to See Theirs

    Unseen Brilliance: ADHD, Witnessing Your Gifts, and Empowering Others to See Theirs

    Last week, I got diagnosed with ADHD (more on that in a future post), and I also taught a webinar about closing the bones, as well as a 2 day face to face closing the bones workshop. 

    It was the first time I taught this course in person for a couple of years. It gave me a lot of space for reflection. I reflected about how much I’ve grown, but mostly, about how much love and effort I put in everything I do, and how I wasn’t able to see this until now, because when things come to me easily, I tend to take them for granted.

    If, like me, you tend to be blind to your gifts, and focus mostly on what you are not doing, I hope this post will be helpful. I’ll also suggest practical ways to change this.

    This is different from impostor syndrome, something I have managed to tame over the years, but something I also know is common, because I saw it in the doulas I mentored over the year, and I see it in my students all the time.

    Listening to an episode of the ADHD for Smart Ass Women, I learnt that people with ADHD tend to have an “angry neighbour” inner critic, as they cannot quite access the “friendly butler” voice of the prefrontal cortex. People with ADHD often also have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which is different from impostor syndrome. I plan to write something to disentangle the two in the future.

    It is an ongoing practice for me, to undo years of pattern in my brain. It’s only since I’ve been consciously focusing on this that I have become aware of how much of a perfectionist I am, and how my inner voice is a harsh critic. 

    From 2016 to 2020, I taught at least a couple of workshops per month, travelling up and down the UK, and sometimes abroad. The pandemic and changing family circumstances led me to start offering my teaching as online courses (5 so far). Whilst I am delighted to have over 600 students from many different countries, and grateful for this as a source of income, there is something about teaching face to face and being in ceremonial space with like minded women that brings me unparalleled joy.

    Because I hadn’t taught this workshop for a while, I finally got a full measure of how much effort I put into this work, and I decided to write about it.

        Here’s the prep I did for the workshop:

    • I rewrote the entire course handouts, to keep it up to date, and because I had recently reshot all of the course tutorial videos with a professional photographer. My handout is designed for students to have something to fall back on: a description, picture, and video tutorial of each of the techniques, as well as a description by an osteopath about what they do on the body.  I have been to many trainings, including with people a lot more famous than me, and I have never come across anyone else who provides such a detailed handout.
    • I printed all the handouts for my students, on premium paper, then placed each of them inside a folder.
    • I rewrote my entire teaching plan (because I’ve learnt new things and I want to share them).
    • I packed all my kit for teaching
    • I’m someone who likes to bring ALL THE THINGS. I have always been. So when I pack for teaching (this was true ten years ago when I taught antenatal classes, or even when I taught free babywearing drop in clinics), it’s BIG. Packing takes the most part of a day before the workshop. It’s harder and more time consuming to do now as my ADHD brain (I didn’t get severe symptoms until I hit the perimenopause), finds it hard to organise things and gets sidetracked and overwhelmed (this video illustrates this issue very well).
    • The teaching kit includes a lot of rebozos (some for practising, some for selling), some blankets a pelvis, altar items, a drum, a bluetooth speaker and essential oil diffuser, smudge and oils, some flowers for the altar, teas, coffee, and biscuits, and this time I also baked a groaning cake and make chia pudding and salad for the shared lunches.
    • All in all, it took over a week of prep. And this isn’t counting the work to advertise and share the workshop., hiring the venue etc.

      On the day of the workshop itself:

    • I drove there really early (45 min before people were due to start arriving) because I like to set the room up and be ready before people arrive. (ADHDers can be time blind, and often late, but in my case, it’s the opposite: I’m always early as being late causes me anxiety).
    • I set up the chairs, the mats, the altar, the rebozos. I made it all very pretty. I was grateful to have the help of a student who is also a friend to do this.
    • I also set up the space energetically, both clearing and setting it up for being the right space to hold the teaching.
    • I prepared the drinks and cakes etc in the kitchen (this type my friend Malwina did this and I was very grateful)
    • This is what it looked like:

    The teaching:

    • Teaching closing the bones requires a lot of work, both in terms of time keeping (letting important discussion happen and encouraging sharing, whilst also keeping to the teaching plan). It also requires a lot of space holding as people often have big emotional releases during this work.
    • I have over 10 years of experience teaching this, and I always refine it. I am very good at holding space safely whilst I do this. I also have training in teaching, and I know how to make sure my students leave the workshop feeling confident, and I make myself available to support them and answer questions etc. (Again this is something that is less common than you think-with a lot of people I have trained with, I have found it impossible to get support after the training had ended.). I even support students I trained years ago, including giving them free copies of my updated handout.
    • I love it, it makes my soul sing and nourishes me to spend time sharing this and in ceremony with a group of women, but at the end of each day I crash, and then it takes me a couple of days of rest to recover.

    Packing up

    • When the workshop is finished, I need to pack up. Fold all the mats and rebozos, put them back into bags, put back the chairs, wash and tidy up the kitchen, put everything back in the car. Here, even with the help of 3 students who stayed behind, it took about 45min to complete.
    • Then I get home and near to wash all the rebozos and blankets (here I used about 30 of them!), and pack up my kit back where it belongs.
    • Here is a picture of my packed kit after the workshop was finished, and also the boot of my car filled with kit (there was as much stuff on the back seats too-it barely fits in my car).

       

    Working with business mentor George Kao I’ve learnt to write manuals that includes all the step when I create and do something, and my the manual for this workshop is very long and has hundreds of steps.

    The feedback I get speaks for itself, as time and time again, I get people who are delighted about the training.

    • “I loved the balance of information, the explanations with your pelvis model, hearing your real life experience and stories, all the thoughtful extras: the tea, cake, the drums, your care, the love you oooze is incredible”
    • “The teaching was excellent: thorough, well organised, I felt safe, heard, understood. As a facilitator, Sophie is very professional, embodied and kind. I appreciated Sophie’s intuitive nature, and her combination of cognitive and intuitive approach”
    • “Everything was amazing. A great balance of hands on and explanation”

    But when you see me teach, the preparation work is invisible. And in some ways it is invisible to me too. Writing this blog has been quite enlightening in this regard.

    So if you are, like me, blind to your gifts, here are some suggestions that might help.

    • Write a Ta-Da list at the end of each week. Set a timer for 5 min and quickly write all the big tasks you’ve done that week. I write my wellbeing tasks, then family tasks, then work tasks. Every single time my mind is blown by the fact that I’ve forgotten most of what I’ve done, and have a feeling that I’ve not achieved much.
    • Write a Hat Manual (something I learnt from George Kao) for each of your big work processes. If you wear many hats in your business, writing a manual for each “hat” (I have one for big things like creating webinars, or for creating and teaching courses) means that the next time you do it, you’ll have a recipe to follow and you won’t need to reinvent the wheel. You can then review and improve the process. It also let you look at all the steps you took to do something, which helps make you more aware of how much work you do.
    • Keep a brag file. I use a word document, and I copy and paste into it every time someone gives me positive feedback. Read it from time to time.
    • Find a way to look at what’s in your head. Journal, draw, reflect, talk to a kind friend or two. I took the Doodle your Emotions course last year and it works for me better than journaling. It allows me to become my own therapist.
    • Ask for kind friends to witness what you do. It’s been transformative for me to become part of a community who loves me for who I am and reminds me that I am welcome to turn up at a gathering just by myself (and without a cake!). I also worked with a coach who showed me that being witness is a vital for me, otherwise I cannot see my gifts. Other people see strengths and gifts in you that you can often not see. I talk about this in my post The Kindness Boomerang.

    I hope this helps, and if you resonate, please comment below. I’d love to hear about your experience.

     

  • The “untried penis”

    The “untried penis”

    Women sometimes get told that they cannot give birth at home with their first baby because they have an “untried pelvis”.

    What if we told men they couldn’t have sex at home the first time because they have an “untried penis”

    Just imagine a young couple going to see a health professional, to discuss their plan to have sex for the first time.

    Doctor: Hello please  come in, what can I help you with?

    Couple: Hello, we have been together for a while now, and we feel ready to start having sex.

    Doctor: That sounds about right, I will arrange for you to go to your local hospital.

    Couple: Actually we were hoping to have sex at home

    Doctor: At home!! For your first time?? This isn’t safe.

    Couple : Why? It’s quite a natural thing isn’t it?

    Doctor: Yes it’s a natural thing, but lots of things can go wrong, because you have an untried penis. When you’ve had sex at least once in hospital, and we know you can do it effectively and safely then we’re happy for you to have sex at home. But for your first time, it’s much safer to do it in the hospital

    Couple: What can go wrong?

    Doctor: Well we don’t know how long it will last, whether you’ll be able to get a strong enough erection, maintain it for long enough, that’s one thing. It can also be very strenuous for the two of you, so we will need to monitor your heart rate, temperature and blood pressure. People have heart attacks whilst having sex you know? And you are both nearly 25, the risk of heart attack doubles after 25. At least if you’re in the hospital there are doctors available to intervene quickly should anything bad happen.

    Couple: This sounds very worrying, but we really don’t like hospitals, the environment is cold and clinical, it smells of disinfectant, whereas at home we have the right atmosphere, smells, and all the comfort that we need.

    Doctor: Well you won’t need be there the whole time, you’ll get started at home anyway, we don’t really want you to come in until you’re past the established arousal stage. Plus it can be quite a messy affair, you don’t want to ruin your furniture, do you?

    Couple: So we will have to travel to the hospital, like, in the middle of it? Won’t this disrupt things?

    Doctor: A bit, especially if you come to the hospital too soon, before you have reached the established arousal stage. When you come in, an intimacy midwife will assess your arousal and the strength of your erection. If your erection isn’t big enough and you aren’t yet in the established arousal stage, we will send you home and tell you to come back later. But once you’re settled in the hospital, you should be able back into the swing of things quite quickly, especially as our staff is highly trained to support the intimacy process, and help you if you struggle. Also you need to know that nearly half of first time couples who are planning for home sex end up transferring to the Intimacy Unit anyway.

    Couple: We’ve had a tour of the hospital and we really don’t like the Intimacy Unit. The rooms are tiny, the beds are high and narrow, there are only bright lights and thin paper curtains, and no en-suite bathrooms.

    Doctor: well yes for your safety is paramount that we can see what you are doing, and access the bed quickly and easily, in case something goes wrong, you see. It’s also safer for you to be in the missionary position for that reason.

    Couple: This really puts us off,  and we’re worried we won’t be able to do it in there.

    Doctor : Don’t worry if you fail to progress, we have a lot of technology at hand to help complete the process, like Viagra and penis substitutes.

    I tell you what, since you’re both still kind of low risk, as long as you’re still under 25 by the time you have sex, we could let you go to our Natural Climax Centre, instead of the Intimacy Unit. It’s a home from home centre, with large rooms, double beds and mood lighting, and even one hot tub per room so you can get in the mood and relax. It looks more like a fancy B&B than a hospital! It’s staffed by experienced intimacy midwives, who are skilled in supporting physiological sex. So it will be just yourselves, a midwife, and a couple of reproductive students. They only use intermittent monitoring every 5 min during the established arousal phase. Of course if anything goes outside of the guidelines, we would suggest you transfer to the Intimacy Unit where we can monitor your heart rate continuously, as well as intervene with a penis substitute if you cannot finish by yourself. As I said before, as you have an untried penis, we don’t know which way it will go.

    Couple: Regardless of the hospital location, we feel that having lots of people we don’t know watching us will be inhibiting. And we don’t want students!

    Doctor: Oh don’t worry about that, all the staff are trained and completed used to it! They see it all the time, and you once you get back into the swing of things, you won’t be paying attention to what’s going on around you. Plus we are a teaching hospital, so we need to train our students.

    Couple: We were also hoping to do it at a spontaneous time…

    Doctor: Well yes, for low risk couples it’s ok to wait for sex to start spontaneously, but since you’re both nearly 25 your risk of heart attack is higher, so if we haven’t had sex by the time you are 25, we think it’s safer for you to come in at an agreed time so we can monitor your heart rate from the beginning, and intervene if needed. We start the process in the pre-intimacy ward, by giving you some Viagra orally, and if that doesn’t work we can give it to you via a drip which is more effective.

    Couple: OK, doctor, we want to do what’s safest and not put ourselves in danger, so we will go for what you suggest.

     

    Why did I write this?

    Comparing childbirth to sex isn’t new.

    The hormone that drives labour, Oxytocin, the hormone of love, is the same hormone that floods our system when we have fall in love or have sex, and because this hormone flows best in dark, private, unobserved conditions (think romantic diner atmosphere), it is generally understood that one needs a similar atmosphere to birth a baby that they needed to make the baby.

    Sadly modern obstetric units rarely provide the environment for birth to unfold easily. This has been explained extremely well both in Tricia Anderson’s Out of the laboratory: back to the darkened room and in Marsden Wagner’s Fish can’t see water articles

    In the book “the function of the orgasms” Michel Odent wrote a “Dear John” wedding night preparation letter from a woman to her fiancé, where she talks about the wedding night educator she has been working with and the wedding night plan she has been writing.

    There is a particularly clever satire video which depicts an Italian couple trying to conceive in an hospital, it’s called “The performance“. There is another one in English called “Push”.

    I have this wonderful role play that was written by Jill Alderton & Jill Oliver, for a home Birth Conference. It depicts a couple going to see their GP because wanting to have sex at home. I have adapted and rewritten it with the untried penis scenario.

    Reading an article in the press today triggered me to write this new analogy.

    There was the following quote

    ” Why could Meghan not have a home birth?

    Meghan’s reported decision to abandon her home birth could have been down to an number of factors, an expert claimed.

    Consultant obstetrician and gynaecologist Peter Bowen-Simpkins, told the Mail: “When you have your first baby you essentially have an ‘untried pelvis’.

    “You don’t know what’s going to happen when the body prepares for labour and birth.

    “If a woman is on her second or subsequent baby and has had a normal delivery before then it’s likely there wouldn’t be any problem at all.

    “But you don’t know that’s going to be the case until you have your first baby.”

    I got very annoyed reading this, for several reasons.

    First, because it’s yet another example of what is wrong with the current maternity care culture in this country. It’s a fear based culture, one that treats birth like an accident waiting to happen.

    Second, because it’s a symbol of the patriarchal culture within the maternity system. Birth is a natural physiological function for women. For a male doctor to state “she has an untried pelvis” is implying that women cannot give birth well by default.

    It’s a bit like saying to a man who is getting ready for his wedding night “Here’s a dildo, just in case you can’t get it up-no pressure”

    Reading about the untried pelvis made me wonder what would happen if we told men who hadn’t yet had sex that they have an “untried penis”.

    So I decided to write about this, just to illustrate how supportive it would feel for men if they were told this.

    Now I need to give a disclaimer. I know birth and sex are different processes. I know that bad sex doesn’t have the same possible consequences as a birth that goes wrong.

    I’ve also been a doula and birth educator for long enough (I started working in this field over 10 years ago) and seen enough births to know that nothing is ever black and white, and that things can go wrong. I’m not naive. And I’m not suggesting everybody should birth at home.

    I am also a paid up member of the informed choices society so I am NEVER going to push homebirth on anybody,  and I’m as likely to fiercely help a woman to have an elective cesarean if it is what’s right for her that I am to support a woman to birth at home despite “high risk” factors.

    Also, language is important. The words we use can either inspire confidence (your labour is progressing really well) or cause anxiety and distress (you’re ONLY 3cm dilated).

    This is why I dislike the expression “untried pelvis” so much. Because it implies that it won’t work. That we will let you “TRY”. It’s not very encouraging is it?

    That’s why I wanted to make the analogy with the untried penis.

     

  • Sophie’s guide to choosing a rebozo

    Sophie’s guide to choosing a rebozo

    I often get asked how to choose a rebozo, so here is a guide based on my experience of using a wide range of rebozos lengths and styles. When I started using rebozos, I only had a standard sized open weave one. It worked well for me, and I used it to support many families through pregnancy and birth. Over the last 15 years I have developed my knowledge of rebozo use and worked with many different type of rebozos and fabrics.

    I have practised rebozo techniques and facilitated rebozo workshops with several hundred women (and a few men) of all shapes and sizes. As I started selling rebozos, I acquired a large number of different rebozos and other shawls/scarves from many different suppliers and countries. Whilst you can use any rebozo for pretty much anything, I have found that different rebozos have different qualities, and lend themselves to different techniques.

    Rebozos can be a bit like choosing a pair of shoes. You would choose different pairs of shoes to go hiking or to attend a wedding. Similarly, certain lengths or types of fabric lend themselves better to certain techniques.

    If you’re on the shorter side like me (I’m 5ft3, 1.60m), and want to be able to wear the rebozo like a scarf or shawl, then a standard length (2 m plus fringe) may work better than a 2.5m length (thought you can still wrap it several times around your neck).

    Despite being fairly short, I sometimes support taller or larger people. After finding my standard rebozo length slightly too short for a particular technique during a birth, I started taking both a long and a short rebozo with me at births (sometimes they get covered in bodily fluids so it’s also good to be able to replace it if needed).

    When I worked as a doula, I used to gift a rebozo to my clients as part of my doula package, this way I knew they were more likely to become familiar with it and use it, plus it would make a lovely thing to keep afterwards. I would teach the partner a bunch of support and relaxation techniques, as well as show the mother how to wrap her belly and hips. A standard length (2m) works well for most people. I once supported a petite pregnant woman to wrap her hips, and I brought an long 2.5m instead of a 2 m one by mistake, and there was so  much fabric around her hips when we practiced wrapping, making it feel cumbersome, so I brought her a shorter one at the next visit. However if the woman or her partner is tall then a longer rebozo might be more comfortable to use.

    If you are taller (over 5ft6, 1.67m) and you want to use your rebozo to do floor techniques (for example, to rock someone’s hips whilst they lie on the floor), then with a 2 m length you  will need to bend forward as you work, which can be uncomfortable.  A longer length (2.5m) might work better for you. Similarly, if the person you are supporting is very curvy, a short rebozo might not be long enough to cup the hips comfortably. Much of this is also down to personal preference and experience.

    As well as length, rebozos also come in different widths. I have seen some which vary from 50cm to 80cm in width.

    A width of 50 cm for example, might be a little too narrow to cup the average person’s hips if you are doing wrapping work such as closing the bones. A 60 to 70 cm width works better in my experience. Very wide rebozos can still be used comfortably, but they might be slightly more difficult to adjust if you want to focus on rocking a very specific part of the body, or if you are working with a very petite person. They also make great cosy shawls/blankets.

    As well as length, there are lots of different types of material, weaves and thickness etc. Having tried both cotton and acrylic rebozos, I personally prefer cotton, so I only stock cotton rebozos (apart from the rainbow rebozo from Guatemala which is a mix of cotton and synthetic fabric, but I love the look of this one). I personally don’t like the feel of 100% synthetic rebozos. I recently trained with Mexican midwife Naoli Vinaver and she advises against synthetic ones as they can produce static electricity.

    Open weave rebozos lend themselves very well to wrapping. The open weave means that they cup the body really closely, which is great for rocking and massage. When I trained with Mexican midwife Naoli Vinaver, she favoured these as well. They are also very grippy which means they stay tucked when wrapped around the body. They are my favourite rebozo for closing the bones. They are also thinner and pack smaller. The open weave can make them prone to pulls, so they are more fragile than closed weave rebozos, but thread pulls are easily pulled back into the weave by tugging on the fabric. For closing the bones I use 2m ones for the head, ribs, legs and feet, and 2.5 m ones for the shoulders and hips as they are the widest part of the body.

     

     

     

    Closed weave rebozos are both beautiful, grippy and sturdy. Most of them are soft straight away (though depending on the weaver some may need more than a wash and some use to soften the fabric, a bit like with a brand new babywearing woven wrap), and the closed weave makes them less prone to pulls and broken threads. They are slightly thicker than open weave rebozos. They are an all round versatile sturdy rebozo, and they make a good baby carrier too (here is a bunch of wrapping tutorials that shows you carries you can do with a 2.5m wrap). They are the kind of rebozo I like to take to a birth because of their sturdiness (this means that I do not worry about them getting damaged). I have one which has supported many births, and it still looks like new. I have these in both the standard and longer length (longer length is useful if supporting a larger or taller woman).

    Most rebozos come in standard length which is around between 1.8 and 2 (plus fringe). I think anything between 2 and 2.5 m/ up to 3m  will work for most people. The longer length can give more versatility.

    An alternative is to use babywearing wraps (shorter ones, 2.5 to 3.5 m, as the standard 4.6m length would be quite cumbersome to use).

    I have stopped selling rebozos online, and only sell them in person during workshops. If you would like to buy some online, especially in the UK, I recommend Japjeet’s shop, as she uses the same ethical suppliers I do. 

  • From Tradition to Modernity: Rebozo Techniques and how they support an easier Birth

    From Tradition to Modernity: Rebozo Techniques and how they support an easier Birth

    When I started working as a doula, the majority of births I attended (those of first time mothers in particular) were long and protracted, and often ended in obstetric interventions such as forceps or caesareans. I grew frustrated because the interventions proposed compounded the problem (how exactly was lying on your back with an epidural going to help a malpositioned baby rotate?). This is what led me to learn about rebozo techniques. I attended my first workshop 10 years ago and, being the knowledge junkie that I am, I’ve trained with over 10 different professionals since, most recently with Mexican midwife Naoli Vinaver.

    Rebozo techniques were developed at a time where obstetric interventions didn’t exist, to support change when labour took too long, or when a baby was in a less than optimal position. 

    Rebozo techniques are used to jiggle and rock the body of the mother during pregnancy or labour. They work on a physical, emotional and spiritual level. Physically they soften muscles, ligaments and fascia. This helps the mother manage labour sensations more comfortably, helps the body to be more balanced and open, as well as support the baby and the mother navigate the birth better together.  Emotionally the rebozo techniques provide a much needed sensation of holding and support, as well as helping the mother release stuck energy/emotions that may impact labour progress. Naoli Vinaver talks about “ turning cold stagnant energy into hot flowing energy”.

    As soon as I started incorporating a combination of rebozo and position techniques during pregnancy and  births, I saw miracles happen. Babies rotated in a more optimal position during pregnancy, often within just one session. Before I saw labours happen slowly, babies turn OP and maternity professionals being adamant that an epidural was needed to prevent the early urge to push Now, a short jiggle of the rebozo on the buttocks, combined with an inversion or open knee chest position, would often change the nature of the contractions so fast that babies were born before any obstetric intervention could be used. I saw women go from a 6cm stall in labour, to birthing their babies within an hour or two. 

    The most beautiful aspect of using the rebozo is that it was easy, that it helped labour feel more comfortable and helped partners feel more confident and supportive too. I saw so many fathers going from being anxious to becoming confident, relaxed and present once they got busy gently rocking a labouring woman’s hips. On several occasions, using a rebozo has prevented a hospital transfer from home or the birth centre, and led to a beautiful empowering birth.

    I soon felt compelled to pass on these skills, because what I kept witnessing was just too amazing to keep to myself, and also because people kept asking me to teach it. I started teaching workshops in 2016 and an online course in 2018. I have trained several hundred professionals and parents since.

    The one thing that was missing for me was being able to understand why these rebozo techniques helped so much. None of that information was provided by the people I trained with. I have an insatiable need to know. 

    Luckily I met Cambridge osteopath Teddy Brookes, and did all the techniques on him many times as I was gathering material for teaching, so that I could provide my students with an anatomical explanation of what each technique did to the various joints and organs, and I provide this information to my students.

    My thirst for knowledge is insatiable and I’m always keen to learn more. When I attended Naoli Vinaver’s training, I met Shellie Poulter, who is both a doula and trained osteopath. Shellie runs trainings on birth biomechanics. I am deeply grateful to have met her, because I get to enrich my own knowledge, and also share this with you. Shellie and I teamed up to pool our knowledge in a webinar called Biomechanics of rebozo techniques for birth, where Shellie explain how each rebozo technique helps the baby navigate the pelvis more easily.

     

     

  • Do you feel overwhelmed on Monday mornings?

    Do you feel overwhelmed on Monday mornings?

    Every Monday morning, I sit at my desk and feel a sense of overwhelm. It’s odd because I have a job I really enjoy. What happens is that I see the entire week ahead as an enormous task, everything that needs to be done, and I get overwhelmed by it. I see the week’s tasks in my mind as a huge mountain, an Everest sized one. And I have no idea how to get there. It feels so massive and so difficult to do, that I don’t want to start.

    Does this sound familiar?

    Last year I realised that I have ADHD. I have most likely had it all my life, however in my case the symptoms didn’t become severe until I hit perimenopause. The change in hormones is known to make ADHD symptoms worse. I had a aha moment when I listened to this podcast episode about ADHD and perimenopause, because I recognised myself. This leaflet explains the issue too. One of the symptoms of ADHD is executive dysfunction. It can be explained like this: in neurotypical people, the frontal cortex acts like a friendly butler, reminding you of the tasks you have to do. For example: remember to buy some milk, remember you put your keys there etc.

    In neurodivergent people, the frontal cortex is not running the tasks. Instead, our reptilian brain is controlling things, and acting like an angry neighbour, telling us off for nor remembering things. Another aspect of executive dysfunction is that we have impaired non verbal working memory. This an inability to visualise the future. When a neurotypical person plans to do something, they see the image of what “done” looks like, and work backwards from there. People with ADHD struggle to do this. 

    In the case of mountain climbing, a neurotypical person would imagine themselves at the top of the mountain, then work backwards towards a lot of small steps of organisation and training. They would start implementing steps etc. In my case, all I can see is the top, and not the steps. I cannot break it down. It applies in many areas of my life. For example I’ve been meaning to declutter my house for years. It’s another typical ADHD thing to dislike clutter whilst also not being able to do the decluttering tasks. I dream of someone doing this for me. I have a huge stock of things I no longer need which I need to move out of my house (for example an 80 plus stock of baby carriers from my babywearing consultant days, my NCT teaching equipment, my doula equipment and large collection of books, and overflowing wardrobe, it goes on and on).

    When I imagine doing the decluttering, I do not know how to start, because it feels overwhelming. It’s a low dopamine task and I don’t know how to get started. I also feel that I either need to do it all, or not do it at all. Oddly, if someone does it with me, then I find it easy. And if I do it for someone else, I find it very easy too. This is why I used to love doing housework tasks I normally dread at home, when I was caring for a new mother as a postnatal doula. I’ve long learnt that internal motivation is not something I can muster for tasks that don’t excite me. And why all the “just do this” coming from people who have internal motivation only served to make me feel inadequate. Now I accept and embrace it as much as I can.

    This is why co-working with the app Focusmate has been a life changer for my business. You meet on video with other people around the world, during 25 or 50 min sessions, spend a couple of minutes telling the other person what you’re going to do, then work quietly alongside each other. At the end of the session, you spend another couple of minute telling each other how it went.  Some people I’ve co-worked with even use Focusmate to do their morning or evening routine, or to tidy up (it’s perhaps not surprising that many neurodivergent people use Focusmate, and this is how I discovered the ADHD for smart ass women group).

    The paradox with us ADHD people is that when we are excited by something (high dopamine tasks) then we can plough through work effortlessly at a speed not achievable by many people. It’s called hyperfocusing. I know this is certainly true for me. This is how I wrote my book in less than 6 months. This is how I create online courses, write blog posts, etc.

    So if you struggle to initiate tasks or get overwhelmed by them, what can you do?

    • Try to pre-plan the following week’s important tasks at the end of the week before, so that you don’t have to start with not knowing what to do.
    • Start the day with a little ritual: light a candle, burn some incense or diffuse some essential oils, and set an intention for the week
    • When feeling overwhelmed, rather than trying to push through (in my case this results in more overwhelm and procrastination) address the emotions first: set a timer for 5 minutes (or more, but I find that the short timing is less likely to be met with resistance), and journal, do a short meditation, or movement practise to help move the stuck energy.
    • Try writing : if I could only do 3 things today, and write these things
    • Break down each big tasks in lot of tiny little steps

    If you read this and recognise yourself, I hope it helps. I’d love to hear about your experience.