Tag: nurturing

  • January :  a time for rest and reflection

    January : a time for rest and reflection

    I’ve just had a lovely catchup with fellow doula Hazel Acland Tree with whom I have fortnightly accountability calls (I can’t recommend doing this enough by the way).

    During our call I expressed how frustrated I am with my desire to go forward and make plans now that we’re at the beginning of the year, and the energy I’m feeling instead, which is quite inward and not at all forward at the moment.

    Whilst chatting to Hazel I had a realisation that the energies right now, during the winter time, are indeed inwards, and that it doesn’t make sense that we are expected to make our yearly plans in January. We ought to make them in spring or summer, when our energy is high, and outwards looking.

    When I was a biology student, I went to a lecture on chronobiology, the science of “when” rather than “why” and “what”. This made so much sense to me and attracted me so much I ended up specialising in it, and doing my PhD and 2 postdocs on the genes the regulate our seasonal reproductive clock.

    I remember during the introduction lecture, the speaker explained that since we are regulated by daylight, our energy is naturally higher in the summer when days are longer, and that in the past, as most people farmed the land, they worked much harder during spring and summer than during the winter months when nothing grew. When school became obligatory, the farmers agreed to send their kids to school but said they’d need them back for the harvest, which is how the tradition of summer holidays started.

    Yet, even in our modern world, we still experience this annual peak and through of energy.

    Like trees losing their leaves and returning their energies inwards before the new growth can occur, we too, during winter, need this inwards and more restful time.

    As I talked about my plans and my frustration in trying to push through, but also about my knowledge that I want to lay down some feelings for the year ahead, meditate and make a vision board before I start getting down to the nitty gritty of what I’m going to do in 2019, my friend suggested very wisely suggested that rather than looking for the fruit I needed to tend to my roots first.

    I loved this very powerful image, especially as our culture is all focused on results, ie the fruits.

    But you can bear no fruits if you do not tend to, or nourish the roots.

    This also reminded me of another powerful story in the (surprisingly spiritual) book “The 7 habits of highly effective people” by Stephen Covey.

    ” Suppose you were to come upon someone in the woods working feverishly to saw down a tree.

    “What are you doing?” you ask.

    “Can’t you see?” comes the impatient reply. “I’m sawing down this tree.”

    “You look exhausted!” you exclaim. “How long have you been at it?”

    “Over five hours,” he returns, “and I’m beat! This is hard work.”

    “Well, why don’t you take a break for a few minutes and sharpen that saw?” you inquire. “I’m sure it would go a lot faster.”

    “I don’t have time to sharpen the saw,” the man says emphatically. “I’m too busy sawing!”

    Stephen Covey goes further in saying that

    ” Sharpen the Saw means preserving and enhancing the greatest asset you have–you. It means having a balanced program for self-renewal in the four areas of your life: physical, social/emotional, mental, and spiritual.”

    You can read example of such activities here

    There is true magic in stopping, resting and taking stock and seeing the forest for the trees.

    I have written about this topic before, but today I feel that I have embedded this knowledge at a deeper level.

    So I’m going to take my own counsel today and only attend to what really needs to be done, so I can rest and retreat inside myself a little, so I can tend to my roots.

    I know that doing this will allow for more beautiful flowers and fruits in the future.

  • The amazing effects of wild swimming

    The amazing effects of wild swimming

    I’ve been a swimmer for most of my life.

    I’ve always loved water.

    I started regular swimming as a teen as I never really stopped except for the early years when my children were tiny (I’m an early morning person so I like my swimming first thing, something that was kind of difficult with tiny children. During those years I started running instead but it never made me feel awesome the way swimming does).

    On a typical week I swim 40 lanes of front crawl/drills about 3 times a week in an indoor swimming pool.

    This year for some reason I started getting a yearning for wild swimming here in Cambridge, something I normally only do whilst on holidays in the South of France where it’s warm.

    I developed a kind of fascination with the idea and started asking everybody I knew about wild swimming spots around Cambridge.

    In the running up to the summer this year I promised myself that I would do some wild swimming in Cambridge.

    As I made my intention in my mind, friends started sharing local swimming spots.

    Various places got mentioned, including the Milton Country park, and also the Shelford Recreation ground.

    Then several friends started mentioning the swimming club in Newnham.

    So one gorgeous July morning I went there with a friend and it was a revelation.

    It wasn’t just the river swimming, though this was gorgeous too, it was how peaceful the place was.

    I fell in love with the energy of the place.

    As the summer went on, I started going nearly every day, and it started to feel like I was on holidays, even though I was still working.

    We had many weeks of exceptionally warm weather, and immersing myself in the cool water was a welcome relief at the end of a hot day.

    I took my family there, and introduced a few friends to it too.

    I met lots of lovely fellow wild swimmers. This place seemed to attract like minded people and soon felt like I’d not only found a new hobby, I’d found a whole new bunch of friends too.

    I also noticed was the positive effect it had on my mental health.

    Swimming there just made me feel happier, more balanced, and more content, and able to take things in my stride.

    I read an article about a woman who had managed to stop her depression medication, and chatting to fellow swimmers every single one of them reported similar positive mental effects.

    To put it simply, whenever I went for a swim, I felt like I washed all my shit off, like a mental equivalent to a shower after exercise.

    I started researching the subject online, and found stuff on the effect of swimming on the body, the effect on the immune system etc.

    But to me, it felt much deeper than this.

    It felt cleansing on a spiritual level.

    My theory about it goes like this: we live lifestyles which are very removed from nature. One of the side effects of this is, in particular, a lack of direct contact with the earth.

    This means that we often lack grounding.

    There is some cool science behind grounding. It decreases inflammation, pain, and stress, and improves sleep, energy, wound healing, and blood flow in particular (read this paper)

    It has even been shown to increase vagal tone (the activity of the part of the nervous system that keeps us calm).

    You can read a brilliant review paper here.

    The review paper has a statement that particularly tickled me :

    One overlooked element in the human environment— the surface of Planet Earth, including its landmasses and bodies of water—may provide a potent and surprising natural remedy for this challenge and the alarming rise in chronic inflammatory-related diseases.”

    This is how I see it myself : when I feel tired or grumpy, walking barefoot on the grass helps me feel instantly better.

    The more I swam in the river, the more I felt like this was like a full body grounding experience.

    I’m an energy worker, I practise Reiki and other healing modalities. This means that I already have tools to improve my well-being and mood. But since doing the wild swimming I’ve noticed that I can boost my well-being within literally seconds of dunking myself in the water, something that takes me a lot longer using self healing.

    So I swam all summer, which was really easy and pleasurable as we had an exceptionally warm summer this year, and the water was a balmy 23 degrees.

    As the summer turned into Autumn I found myself pre-mourning the end of the river days.

    Except I didn’t stop swimming.

    As I chatted to older members of the swimming club I discovered many go all year round, so I started asking them for tips on how to keep going.

    I joined a Facebook group called Outdoor Swimming Society, and asked for more tips there.

    I invested in a wetsuit, neoprene gloves and socks, and a neoprene hat.

    I dug out my old hot water bottle from the cupboard.

    It’s been fairly easy so far as the weather has mostly been mild.

    I had a break in September after getting a tattoo, then another one during a trip to a warm country (Dubai) in November and worried whether I’d be able to get back in afterwards but it was easier than I thought.

    More importantly, I teamed up with a friend and we promised to go together at least once a week. It really helps me feel more motivated and also feels safer.

    At the moment I average a couple of swims a week.

    The wellbeing effect continues despite the cold temperatures.

    Or maybe it is because of it? There are also publications about the positive effects of cold water swimming on the body. It really does boost your immune system and gives you an endorphin high apparently.

    I can relate.

    It’s not just the swim, it’s the whole experience.

    After the swim, as I sit near the river sipping my steaming tea and clutching my hot water bottle, and either chat with my friend or sit in quiet contemplation looking at the peaceful river (often sharing my snack with a robin), I marvel at how wonderful I feel.

    Last week the water temperature dropped to 5 degrees (this officially qualifies as an ice swim), my friend and I only managed a short dip rather than a swim, so when I went on my own a few days later, I used my wetsuit for the first time, as being alone made me a bit more weary.

    I’m proud to say I went swimming today which is my first December swim in my whole life. The water was back to nearly 10 degrees so I had a proper swim (probably about a hundred meters).

    The club has hard going veterans who swim every day all year round.

    I’m hoping to become one of them.

    I’m really looking forward to the new year swim. Last new year apparently there were over 60 swimmers.

    Update January 2020.

    I didn’t stop swimming and made it through the winter, the following summer, and back again. The coldest swim, in January 2019, was minus seven outside, white with frost and glorious sunshine, and with 1.5 degrees water.

    A couple of days ago I attended my second new year swim. I was really looking forward to it and it didn’t disappoint. I went in wearing only a swimsuit and some neoprene booties and gloves.

    I’ve mellowed into it and it no longer feels weird and scary, to swim in cold water. I don’t mind going alone, in fact sometimes I relish the quiet.

    I’ve met a community of like minded people, both in real life and online. It’s a like a weird group of friends who share the same secret, and within witch it’s considered completely normal. I love it.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Postnatal Recovery Massage, a new kind of postnatal massage inspired by closing the bones.

    Postnatal Recovery Massage, a new kind of postnatal massage inspired by closing the bones.

    I’ve been offering and teaching a postnatal massage called closing the bones since 2014.

    I never intended to teach this technique, I just wanted to share it with my community as we had been urged to do.

    But then women started to ask us to show them. So we put together a workshop.

    Since we started we have grown organically and have now trained nearly 400 people in providing this amazing nurturing ritual.

    I hope to use this media to help change the face of the postnatal support in the UK with this, towards a mother centered one.

    Over the last couple of years more and more people who had trained to do the massage started contacting me, asking if it would be possible to provide a version of the massage on a massage table instead of on the floor (we normally practise on yoga mats), because they had bad knees, or bad backs, and found working on the floor difficult.

    I have a bit of a theme in my professional life, that I seem to always end up teaching stuff because people ask me to!

    So I had a chat with my lovely local osteopath friend Teddy (who had already provided all the anatomical and effectiveness knowledge for the workshop handout, and therefore already knew the technique inside out), if he fancied the idea of developing a massage table version of the technique with me.

    He liked the idea a lot so we started working on it. This was about 18 months ago, in summer 2017.

    This was a true work of love, and in the end it took us over a year and many sessions of practise and hours of trial and error to get it working.

    This is how each session would go: I would setup both a massage table and a yoga mat on the floor. Teddy and I would try each technique on the floor then on the table, taking turns giving and receiving each technique.

    I would record the session and make some notes. After each session I’d listen to the recording paying attention to what Teddy said, and write down questions and make more notes for what to practise/change at the next session.

    At the beginning we did get plenty of stuff wrong. I think I was so intent of getting the exact same treatment on the table as on the floor, that this got in the way. Teddy has much deeper knowledge of body function than I do, so he had to explain to me repeatedly why some of the stuff that was done standing up or crouching over a person lying down simply couldn’t be done from the side of a table, due to biomechanics.

    We tried and tried. The most challenging part were the rebozo rocking and the hip squeezing. It was challenging because of the biomechanics (you can’t produce much force when you’re on the side compare to standing above a person), and because I wanted the technique to do the same thing to the body, but also to feel good.

    Teddy wanted to make sure the technique was safe and effective but also easy on the body of the therapist (a basic rule for bodyworkers).

    It proved extremely frustrating at time. Many times we thought we had got it but when we revisited it didn’t feel right and so we were back to square one. Some techniques worked mechanistically but just didn’t feel nice so they were discarded.

    It was also a fun experience and a huge learning curve for me, especially as Teddy educated me on how to position my body for maximum power and effectiveness around the table, something I am still learning to master.

    The real magic happened when I finally let go of it being exactly the same. Teddy had tried to explain to me repeatedly that it wasn’t necessary (that we were aiming for the same effect) but I am a perfectionist and like things to be “just right”

    One day we finally worked out a way to make the rocking work from the side.

    From then on everything seemed to flow magically.

    As we progressed we also ended up modifying and adding several elements to the massage.

    Some were based on discussion about the effectiveness of a technique and how to make it work more easily.

    Some were based on the changes in the pregnant body that weren’t treated as part of the original massage, namely treating the ribs (which flare during pregnancy), and the shoulders (which hunch during pregnancy and often during breastfeeding as well).

    Some just happened because it felt logical to add them to the flow of the movements we had created.

    In the end we ended up with a massage which is inspired from the original technique but is really quite different. I did it for the first time on a doula friend and she loved it. We added a few more movements after that. I also practised on my massage therapists friend Emma Kenny, a massage therapist, who loved it too.

    We named it the Postnatal Recovery Massage (PRM).

    We finished our individual practise work at the beginning of October, and we then went on teaching it to a small group of guinea pigs, composed of 2 doulas and 2 massage therapists.

    We all had a very fun morning of practise teaching this new techniques, and all our guinea pigs loved it.

    This is what they said:

    “Knowing Sophie and Teddy as I do, I knew they would design something that is both relaxing and effective. I was not prepared for how beautifully the movements flow into each other, and how true to the spirit of Closing the Bones they have stayed. For people who find floor work tiring or painful, I highly recommend learning these new techniques” Maddie, Doula.

    ” This new version of the postnatal ceremony blends effective rebozo (shawl) massage techniques and lymphatic drainage massage to support post natal mamas. Rather fabulous it is too!” Emma Kenny, Massage therapist.

    “I think one if the reasons I like the massage that you have developed for the table as it feels like a modern way of adapting the traditional massage. It feels like a new technique, a therapists technique. I also like being able to connect to the anatomical benefits. I want to practise giving the massage and feel newly inspired.” Katie, Doula

    We are now putting the final touches to the handout for this new technique, complete with my signature set of description, pictures, videos, and an explanation of the effect of each movement on the body by Teddy.

    This should be ready by sometimes in December and we are looking forward to teaching this workshop together in the new year.

    The first workshop will take place in Cambridge on Saturday the 5th of January.

    I can’t wait to introduce more people to this amazing technique!

    Update January 2019.

    Teddy and I taught our first course last Saturday. The course was extremely well received by our trainees. Here is some of the feedback they gave us

    “What a wonderful, professional, well constructed and instructive course with plenty of time for step by step practical, complemented by Teddy’s expertise and Sophie’s organic shamanism and such a wonderful community of like minded body workers. Thank you. Thoroughly recommended” Jenni Tribe, Therapist

    “Thank you so much for an informative and inspiring day. I can’t wait to use the techniques on my clients and support women more effectively. You are doing an amazing work and I’m so grateful ad excited to be part of it!” Grace Lillywhite, Pilates teacher.

    “I loved this course. It is just as nurturing as the closing the bones massage but much easier to do. Sophie and Teddy worked amazingly well together” Michelle Parkin, doula.

    “The course was well organised, very informative and easy to follow. The level of practical support was fantastic and I feel confident to take what I  have learnt and help local women postnatally. Thank you!” Becki Scott, doula and massage therapist.

    “Amazing workshop! Loved being in a small group to work through techniques in enough details. As an osteopath this experience has been invaluable in improving my practise if postnatal patient , in fact all of my patients!” Rob Ballard, osteopath

    “Amazing. Thank you both so much. More than the sum of the parts. Just lovely” Charlotte Filcek, doula.

    “The tutoring, the technique, the group, just exceptional!” Alison Duff, therapist and therapy centre owner.

     

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

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

    RebozosI was introduced to the art of using a traditional Mexican shawl called a rebozo to comfort birthing women at my doula course by Maddie McMahon in 2008.

    Whilst I developed my antenatal and doula career, in my usual, knowledge junkie style, whislst I learn to use the tool for myself, I decided to learn as much as I could about this magic tool by attending training.

    Over the my first few years as a doula, I pursued my knowledge further by learning from several doula colleagues (I am especially grateful to doula Bridget Baker who showed me how to properly wrap a rebozo around a pregnant woman’s belly during a doula UK AGM).

    I attended my first formal workshop with Stacia Smales Hill on rebozo use for labour and birth in 2013. In the same year I also attended a workshop by Rocio Alarcon called closing the bones, a postnatal massage technique  which included rocking and binding with a rebozo.

    Frustration over long and difficult labours, and especially malpositioned babies led me to seek more specialist training,  such as the rebozo for labour progress and malposition with Selina Wallis, micromovements with Francoise Freedman, and 2 iterations of different levels of spinning babies with Jennifer Walker and Gail Tully.

    As my experienced developed I also brought more focus towards postpartum support, and recently attended a workshop on healing diastasis recti with Birthlight which included many rebozo techniques.

    I am also a babywearing instructor and tutor, and as such use rebozos and wraps to carry babies too.

    I started facilitating workshops around this topic because people asked me to. Repeatedly.  At first, I refused, as I didn’t feel qualified or experienced enough. But after a few years of constantly using this amazing tool in my birth work and my antenatal and babywearing classes, and seeing how the incredibly versatile such a simple piece cloth could be, and the miraculous experiences that ensued, I finally felt ready to start teaching workshops around this topic, because I had so many positive experiences I felt I needed to share this skill with others.

    As I met people through teaching, I constantly questioned people I met about their culture’s practises, I started to build a picture in my mind of something much more universal than the rebozo.

    It seems that every culture has (or had) a piece of cloth of some kind, call it a shawl, a sarong, a scarf, or a wrap.

    Cold countries have thick, woollen fabrics (think Welsh Shawl or Scottish plaid), and warmer countries, cooler, thin, cotton fabric (think African Kanga or Indonesian Sarong).

    There are almost too many fabrics to count, but one thing is for sure, women have used all sorts of cloths in incredibly versatile ways, and what I’m going to say below about the rebozo is true for many other cultures too. It’s a truly universal practise.

    I spent a few years believing that the rebozo use for labour was uniquely South American but I have since met a Somalian midwife who told me how they use their traditional shawl, called a Garbasar, in a similar way during labour.

    I trained a Moroccan birth worker in doing closing the bones, and she was surprised when she started offering the massage that women came forward and told her they’d had a similar treatment in the local hammam after birth (using the traditional Moroccan cloth called a Mendil).  Tunisia offers a similar practise called a fouta massage (the fouta is a hammam towel, which is very similar in nature to the Turkish towel).

    I am lucky to be part of a multicultural family, being French and married to a man from Hong Kong. In Hong Kong I’ve been told they use a long piece of muslin cloth to bind the woman’s hips and abdomen after birth, and my mother in law also showed me how she was taught how to use a towel to bind her hips and abdomen after birth.

    It’s also quite fascinating to see how contact with foreign cultures can influence each other. For example I recently acquired a Dutch postpartum girdle called a Sluitlaken. I couldn’t help but notice how similar to Indonesian postpartum binding it looks, then a friend pointed out than Holland used to have Indonesian colonies!

    So, what can you do with a rebozo, shawl or scarf of shawl?

    Pretty much all cultures on the planet, some kind of cloth is used to cradle and carry a baby. In some cultures is used to rock and soothe the baby too. Rocking is such a primal rhythm we all experienced it in our mother’s womb, that we find it soothing all through our lives.  Even in Europe there are pictures of women wearing their babies in Welsh shawls which date from the 1940s.

    Later, when the baby grew into a toddler and child, she would use the cloth to dress up, pretend play (including carrying toys and/or animals, pretending to carry a baby), make a den etc.

    As the child grew into a young woman she would use the cloth as a shawl to keep warm, as a clothing accessory, a blanket, to carry siblings ( in traditional cultures women learn baby care from a very young age as they tend to live with extended families), and to carry loads on her back or head.

    Later still when she became a woman, she might have been given her own shawl as part of a menarche ceremony. She might have worn a special cloth on her wedding day.

    When she became pregnant, she would have used the shawl to support her belly, and her midwives would have used it to alleviate the aches and pains of pregnancy, and maybe to help the baby move into the best position for birth.

    During labour she would have used the shawl to hang from, to pull on, and her birth attendants would have used it to provide comfort measures, such as sifting, rocking, shaking, and wrapping.

    After the birth she would have had a “baby moon”. Again this is something pretty much universal in the world-women the world around have been alleviated from household tasks and cared for by family members for the first 30 to 40 days postpartum. During this time they would rest so they could recover from growing and birthing their baby and get to know their baby and learn to care for them. Her birth attendants and the community of women would have come to feed her nourishing food, and close her bones and help her body heal from the pregnancy and birth by using  a combination of their hands, massage techniques and using the cloth to help move and bind her hips and abdomen to help them back into place. In the UK we used to have this practise called “churching” you can read about it here 

    She then would have started to use the cloth to carry her baby and start the cycle all over again.

    Later as she grew old, her family members would have used the cloth to rock and soothe aches and pain.

    Women would have been buried with their shawl using it as a shroud.

    So you see, a traditional cloth, rebozo, shawl or cloth can be used to support a woman throughout her whole life. It is a universal phenomenon on our planet.

    As the shawl came out of fashion and modern practises like using pushchairs became seen as more fashionable and desirable, this skill was soon lost, and because like most traditional women-only practises, it was just passed on orally rather than written about, the knowledge was lost very quickly, in one or two generations. We also tend to embrace “modern” practises mindlessly, seeing traditional ones as backwards and old fashioned.

    Mexican and Chinese friends tell me that nobody wants to use the traditional shawl or carrier these days as only remote farmers or beggars still use them. And certainly my recent trip to Hong Kong showed me that it took less than 15 years for the traditional baby carriers to have been almost forgotten and  superseded by more modern, yet less ergonomical, models.

    This is  something that we need to reclaim and teach all women, as it is part of the essence of women circles and supporting women through life transitions.

    This is why I am so passionate about passing this skill to both expectant and new mothers, and to anybody who works with expectant and new mothers. It is our birthright!

    How fitting is it that my friend Awen Clement just wrote this poem, for me it sums up everything the use of the rebozo is about.

    We are all weavers

    Life is a cloth
    our stories the threads
    carried across the warp by breath 
    and memory
    Every soul
    unique in its tapestry
    with tangles unpicked 
    and rewoven anew
    A rainbow of colour
    where our threads meet others
    and when we take our last breath
    love will weave the ends”

    (C) Awen Clement 2018

    You can learn more about rebozo and its many wonderful uses in my online course

  • On being an independent doula and a proud member of Doula UK

    On being an independent doula and a proud member of Doula UK

    I wrote a blog about what it means to me to be a member of Doula UK

    https://doula.org.uk/on-being-an-independent-doula-and-a-proud-member-of-doula-uk/

  • The miracles that happen when you have no expectations

    The miracles that happen when you have no expectations

    As I write this, I just came back from the annual doula retreat.

    This year was my 6th year there.

    I’ve written about the retreat before here.

    Organised by doula Selina Wallis, the retreat is a unique space for doulas and birthworkers to gather and recharge. It’s held in the most magical place. Cae Mabon is an eco retreat located near Llanberis, in Snowdonia. It’s a ten min walk down from a car park located at the end of a dirt road.

    Located on the side of a mountain, with a stream running on its side, and a lake at the bottom, the eco village is composed of dwellings that look like they belong in a Tolkien novel. One of them, in fact, is called the hobbit hut. Low ceilinged, and with grass growing on their roofs, the dwellings are dotted around a clearing in the forest.

    The dwellings are basic, containing about 4 beds each, and there is no running water or electricity in most of them (there is a shared washroom and a gas powered shower, and compost toilets). This maybe off putting for some but for me it’s part of the charm of the place, because it encourages us to spend much time outside.

    The place it’s in is just beautiful, with wild, ancient forests, and nature untouched by humans.

    There is a deep feeling of reconnection with nature, and the place is not only beautiful and peaceful, but it has a lovely, benevolent and calming energy too.

    As well as the huts we sleep in, there is a Viking style roundhouse with fire pit in the middle where we gather to sing songs, drum or listen to stories, from our resident storyteller, Rachel O Leary.

    There is a barn/kitchen with electricity and we take our meals and workshops there too. Someone is cooking for us whilst we’re there, which is bliss in itself for a mother like me.

    And the cherry on the cake is the fire heated cedar hot tub on the side of the stream, in which we hang out at night with a glass of white and put the birth world to rights.

    All of this would be blissful enough by itself, but we also have workshops there.

    I can trace almost every single aspect of the work I do today back to the retreat.

    The first year, in 2013 I attended the Closing the Bones workshop with Rocio Alarcon there. If I had been told back then 6 years later, I would have, together with Maddie Mc Mahon, trained nearly 350 people in offering this beautiful ritual, I would have laughed.

    But back to this year’s retreat and the title of this blog.

    This year I wasn’t as excited as I’d been in years past about the workshops planned at the retreat. We had a singing workshop and a Henna workshop booked. Singing is always lovely but I’ve been singing in a choir for over 16 years so it’s not something that’s new to me. Same with the Henna as we had done this already at the retreat in 2014.

    I was still looking forward to hanging out with like minded spirits in Cae Mabon this year, but I was also a bit disappointed about not learning amazing new skills.

    As with many other occasions in my life, when my expectations are low, it’s usually when I end up having a complete life changing experience.

    It wasn’t part of the official plan but when we got there, Alexandra Wilson, a celebrant, doula and end of life doula, offered to do a talking about the end of life doulaing training that she does, followed by a grief ceremony the next day.

    As with many topics and experiences I know little about, I was curious but not overtly excited.

    I went with my usual curiosity though.

    The talk about death doulaing blew my mind, because Alexandra talked about her experience moving from being a death doula to a birth one and talked about the similarities about the grief in birth and in death, and about the joy too. I didn’t get it so I asked a lot of questions and also for examples. I had never seen it through that angle, and by the end I got the concept of the grief in birth (namely the huge changes for both baby and parents), and for the joy in death too. She presented death in a completely different way to my own mindset. She explained that the more she worked with death the more she saw death as a welcoming big mama rather than the grim reaper most of us have in mind.  It made sense to me, after all, if you believe, like I do, that we are all spirits having a human experience, then all we are doing when we die is returning to the lovely place we came from.

    The grief ceremony blew even more of my mind away. After taking us through a guided meditation through the different doorways of death, Alexandra placed 4 objects representing tears, fear, numbness and anger on the floor and invited those of us who felt drawn to come forward to hold the objects and express their feelings. Something very interesting happened as we all shared loud, messy powerful emotions and tears, without the need to speak, each one of us sending and receiving what we needed. I was reminded of Brene Brown’s book, “Braving the wilderness” when she says that we need to share collective joy and collective pain

    ” Funerals, in fact, are one of the most powerful examples of collective pain. They feature in a surprising finding from my research on trust. When I asked participants to identify three to five specific behaviors that their friends, family, and colleagues do that raise their level of trust with them, funerals always emerged in the top three responses. Funerals matter. Showing up to them matters. And funerals matter not just to the people grieving, but to everyone who is there. The collective pain (and sometimes joy) we experience when gathering in any way to celebrate the end of a life is perhaps one of the most powerful experiences of inextricable connection. Death, loss, and grief are the great equalizers.”

    Alexandra then held the object herself and expressed her emotions loudly and powerfully. I had the realisation that it didn’t matter that I hadn’t gone to hold the objects myself (I had been drawn to so but had hesitated : something had held me back and I had come to understand that others needed it more that day), because when she cried, she cried for all of us, when she screamed in anger, she screamed for all of us.

    I’m 48 years old. I’ve never seen a dead person, because as a child when people died my family sheltered me from it, believing it was the best.

    The grief ceremony felt like it was the most powerful experience of shared grief I had ever had in my life.

    The following day still we had yet another unplanned workshop. A woman called Samina who works at Cae Mabon did a movement/dance workshop for us. Again I didn’t expect much but it was another incredibly powerful experience as we moved silently and in an undirected manner as a group. I shed a deep layer of lack of self love during that experience. We all have deep rooted fears of not belonging and not being loved, so when during the danced we had to pair, fears around lack of self love I have been working on for well over 2 years (since I took my Reiki Master training) resurfaced, and once again I was the little girl who was worried about not being picked and not having a partner. Only this time it didn’t happen and I had a deep realisation that a layer had been peeled away. Just like that. Difficult to put into simple words, but it was instant and deep, yet the culmination of many months of work.

    I came away from this retreat a different person, feeling I’d healed deep wounds and peeled away layers of myself I no longer needed.

    Once again I was shown the magic that can happen when you have no expectations

     

     

     

  • Why a rebozo, shawl or scarf might be the most powerful tool in your toolbox

    Why a rebozo, shawl or scarf might be the most powerful tool in your toolbox

    Why a shawl or scarf might be the most powerful tool in your tool box

    Over the last 8 years, since I started my reconversion in the world of science to that of a birthworker, the one tool that has amazed me the most is the humble shawl or scarf.

    You might know it foremost as a rebozo, which is a Mexican shawl, traditionally used by Mexican midwives to provide comfort and support to pregnant and birthing mothers.

    But to me, it’s much more universal than that.

    All through history, women have traditionally used shawls and scarves for all sort of purposes, from clothing to carrying and indeed providing comfort, but not just for the childbearing year.

    Lately I have felt a drive, actually a real sense of duty, to pass on this skill.

    This is because I have been having one amazing experience after the other using shawls of scarves.

    “Recently, I supported an amazing woman through a very long birth at home, which also happened to be a VBAC. She laboured for 4 whole days. Through the early parts of her labour, I used my trusted rebozo scarf to relax her belly and help engage her baby. On the last day, when she got the dreaded “stuck at 6cm” situation (her cervix seemed to remain dilated at 6cm for several hours, with no further progress), a simple inversion with sifting on the buttocks through a few contractions, completely changed the pattern of her contractions for the better. In fact, when she got back her from her inversion, she said “My back doesn’t hurt anymore”, the midwife confirmed shortly afterwards that her baby had turned in a more optimal position, and she roared her baby out in the pool a few hours later. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when that baby was born. I have no doubt that the rebozo technique made a big difference to her labour progress.”

    I had heard of amazing stories like this one at the various rebozo and Spinning Babies trainings I had attended, but this was the first time  I had my own experience of a miraculous difference like this, and it really drove the message home.

    Since I starting showing families how to use a shawl or scarf for their own comfort, I have received many more testimonials of the same nature.

    Jess used a shawl to great use to comfort herself during labour

    ” I was in labour recently, homebirth, my husband squeezing my hips was helping so much to keep me grounded. At one point our younger son woke up, this was late at night, and my husband had to go to him to settle him. Right at the same time I had a massive contraction while I was bouncing away on the ball and desperately thought, “OMG, I need pressure on my hips now!” I also happened to be sitting next to a box of wraps, so I grabbed one out and did the hip squeeze on myself. It was super helpful and really empowering at that point to remember I had so many tools in my tool kit to draw on and I totally could rock this birth”

    Recently, after sending a rebozo to a mum who suffered from PGP, I got the following message the next day ” It’s the second time I’ve had pgp. I was induced early because it was so bad and this time is even worse! Your videos were the first time I had ever heard of rebozo or using the shawls to wrap your hips and thought that anything was worth a try as I am in such horrendous pain. Since using the wrap I have been able to do shopping and walk around without crying in pain, it makes a huge difference, so easy to use, looks pretty and I love that I can use it during labour and after the birth as a sling!” Hannah

    I also offer and teach a postnatal ritual called closing the bones, which involves some hip rocking with a rebozo shawl (or a manta as it is called in Ecuador, which is where this particular massage comes from) a massage of the abdomen and wrapping.  The experiences women have with this ritual can be life changing.

     

     

    Here are some examples of what women have said after receiving it:

    “The massage felt incredibly calming and nurturing and I felt very relaxed (almost went to sleep!) I felt a lot of tension which I was holding from the birth just disappear. “

    “Amazing, emotional and cleansing. I feel very supported as a new mum and feel hugged by the love this ceremony brings.”

     The massage and rebozo wraps not only felt absolutely amazing, they also helped remind me of the importance of caring for myself. During the ceremony, I felt so safe and comfortable and at peace, and I was aware of how strong, resilient and loved I am. “

    You can read more here 

    In terms of using it to carry and calm babies, I have also lost count of how many times I’ve seen parents with this wonderful look on their face when they realise they can meet their baby’s needs for closeness AND get their hands back. And, as a doula myself, I recently supported a mum of twins,and I found it pretty elating to be able to carry both twins together in a stretchy wrap!

    So you see I have accumulated many more stories like these, more than I can share here.

    I have a innate desire to share knowledge (funnily, it’s even in my name, Messager means Messenger in French) so others can benefits from it too.

    I started teaching live rebozo workshops a couple of years ago but there is only one of me and whilst I travel up and down the UK to offer it, I wanted it to be available to a wider audience.

    Today I am proud to announce that my rebozo, shawls and scarves course is now available as an online course-which you can find here.

    This means that I am now offering 3 different levels of training, an ebook,  the online course, and a live course (link coming up at 9pm tonight!). (and of course, I also have a my online rebozo shop too)

    If you’d like a short taster of what’s available in my training, just sign up to receive a free guide with 3 different rebozos techniques on my website here

     

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

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

     

    I was introduced to the art of using the traditional Mexican shawl called the rebozo back in 2013 when I attended a workshop by doula Stacia Smales Hill on rebozo use for labour and birth. During the same year I also attended a workshop by Dr Rocio Alarcon, who taught us a postnatal massage technique called closing the bones, some elements of which included rocking and binding with a rebozo.

    Over the course of the following years I pursued my knowledge further by doing several more workshops with Rocio, and several other rebozo workshops with different focuses, such as the rebozo for labour progress and malposition with Selina Wallis, micromovements with Francoise Freedman, and 2 iterations of spinning babies with Jennifer Walker and Gail Tully, and a workshop on healing diastasis recti  with Birthlight which included many rebozo techniques, and training with Mexican midwife Naoli Vinaver.

    I am also a babywwearing instructor and tutor, and as such use rebozos and wraps to carry babies too.

    When I started teaching workshops around closing the bones and rebozo work as well as babywearing, the incredible versatility of the cloth really blew my mind.

    As I met people through teaching, I constantly ask questions to people I met about their culture’s practises, I started to build a picture in my mind of something much more universal than the rebozo.

    It seems that every culture had a piece of cloth of some kind, call it a shawl, a sarong, a scarf, or a wrap.

    Cold countries have thick, woollen fabrics (think Welsh Shawl or Scottish plaid), and warmer countries, cooler, thin, cotton fabric (think African Kanga or Indonesian Sarong).

    There are almost too many fabrics to count, but one thing is for sure, women have used all sorts of cloths in incredibly versatile ways, and what I’m going to say below about the rebozo is true for many other cultures too. It’s a truly universal practise.

    I spent a few years believing that the rebozo use for labour was uniquely South American but I have met a Somalian midwife who told me how they use their traditional shawl, called a garbasar, in a similar way during labour. I also had a birth client from Somalia who confirmed this, and her mother showed me how to wrap her belly with the garbasar after birth.

    I trained a Moroccan birth worker in doing closing the bones, and when she started offering the massage, women came forward and told her they’d had a similar treatment in the local hammam  (using a Moroccan cloth called a mendil).  Tunisia offers a similar practise called a fouta massage (the fouta is a hammam towel, which is very similar in nature to the Turkish towel).

    I am lucky to be part of a multicultural family, being French and married to a man from Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, they use a long piece of muslin cloth to bind the woman’s hips and abdomen after birth, and my mother in law also showed me how to do it with a towel.

    It’s also quite fascinating to see how contact with foreign cultures can influence each other. For example I acquired a Dutch postpartum girdle called a sluitlaken. I couldn’t help but notice how similar to Indonesian postpartum binding it looks, then a friend pointed out than Holland used to have Indonesian colonies.

    Hip carry with a rebozo

    What can you do with a rebozo (or a scarf of shawl)?

    Pretty much all cultures on the planet, some kind of cloth is used to cradle and carry a baby. In some cultures is used to rock and soothe the baby too. Rocking is such a primal rhythm we all experienced it in our mother’s womb, that we find it soothing all through our lives.  Even in Europe there are pictures of women wearing their babies in Welsh shawls which date from the 1940s.

    Later, when the baby grew into a toddler and child, she would use the cloth to dress up, pretend play (including carrying toys and/or animals, pretending to carry a baby), make a den etc.

    As the child grew into a young woman she would use the cloth as a shawl to keep warm, as a clothing accessory, a blanket, to carry siblings ( in traditional cultures women learn baby care from a very young age as they tend to live with extended families), and to carry loads on her back or head.

    Later still when she became a woman, she might have been given her own shawl as part of a menarche ceremony. She might have worn a special cloth on her wedding day.

    When she became pregnant, she would have used the shawl to support her belly, and her midwives would have used it to alleviate the aches and pains of pregnancy, and maybe to help the baby move into the best position for birth.

    During labour she would have used the shawl to hang from, to pull on, and her birth attendants would have used it to provide comfort measures, such as sifting, rocking, shaking, and wrapping.

    After the birth she would have had a “baby moon”. Again this is something pretty much universal in the world-women the world around have been alleviated from household tasks and cared for by family members for the first 30 to 40 days postpartum. During this time they would rest so they could recover from growing and birthing their baby and get to know their baby and learn to care for them. Her birth attendants and the community of women would have come to feed her nourishing food, and close her bones and help her body heal from the pregnancy and birth by using  a combination of their hands, massage techniques and using the cloth to help move and bind her hips and abdomen to help them back into place. In the West we used to have this practise called “churching” you can read about it here.

    She then would have start to use the cloth to carry her baby and start the cycle all over again.

    Later as she grew old, her family members would have used the cloth to rock and soothe aches and pain.

    Women would have been buried with their shawl using it as a shroud.

    So you see, a traditional cloth, rebozo, shawl or cloth can be used to support a woman throughout her whole life. It is a universal phenomenon on our planet.

     As the shawl came out of fashion and modern practises like using pushchairs became seen as more fashionable and desirable, this skill was soon lost, and because like most traditional women-only practises, it was just passed on orally rather than written about, the knowledge was lost very quickly, in one or two generations. We also tend to embrace “modern” practises mindlessly, seeing traditional ones as backwards and old fashioned.

    Mexican and Chinese friends tell me that nobody wants to use the traditional shawl or carrier these days as only remote farmers or beggars still use them.

    This is  something that we need to reclaim and teach all women, as it is part of the essence of women circles and supporting women through life transitions.

    This is why I am so passionate about passing this skills to both expectant and new mothers, and to anybody who works with expectant and new mothers. It is our birthright!

    You can learn more about Rebozo and its many wonderful uses in my online courses: Rebozo for an Easier Birth and Postnatal Rebozo Massage and Closing Ritual.

     

  • Today I give myself permission to do nothing

    Today I give myself permission to do nothing

    Today is the first day of my cycle.

    Since attending a menstrual cycle workshop with Alexandra Pope of Red School a couple of years ago, I have come to understand that that the first couple of days of my cycle are days when I need to retreat into myself and do very little.

    Last month I started writing a blog like this and didn’t finish it. Then I wasted my day not getting much done all but not really giving myself when I had promised myself not to, and not feeling great of it.

    So today I am giving myself permission to do nothing.

    In a world that glorifies busy, it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

    I have a to do list as long as my arm and frankly tons of shit to do (who doesn’t?), but I know that by giving myself time to retreat inwards, look after myself in nurturing ways and ignoring most of what doesn’t absolutely needs to be done today, will help me recharge and actually be more productive in the next few days.

    Just like I’m usually full of ideas after a holiday (only whilst on holiday I don’t actually realise how much good the relaxation is doing me until I return to work and all these new ideas come flowing).

    Today, I need to shut myself from the world and go inside my cave.

    I’m going to do stuff that makes me feel good, like sit and meditate and self treat with Reiki, have a long bath with a special blend of essential oils that I like to use during my cycle (I also massage my tummy with it every day whilst I’m bleeding- my favourite blend is the sacral chakra blend from Katseye blends), I might wrap my hips and abdomen with a rebozo, and pack a heated wheat bag in it too. I’ll make myself some comforting and nourishing foods and probably watch a feel good movie.

    I’m not technically really going to do nothing, but I’ll only do what absolutely needs to be done today and ignore the rest, just for today.

    In the menstrual cycle workshop, Alexandra compared the menstrual cycle to the 4 seasons of the year, and the bleeding time is very much like winter: the trees are bare, the soil is bare, so it looks like everything is dead and nothing good is happening. But this all needs to happen, and whilst it looks barren, potent stuff is happening underneath, to prepare for new growth.

    That time, going inwards whilst it looks like nothing is happening on the outside, is a very powerful time.

    Our culture doesn’t want to see the winter woman, it only wants to see the sunny spring and summer woman.

    And yet so much power lies in the dark, retreating times.

    You can choose to see this time as a pile of poo, or you can choose to see it as manure.

     

     

  • The value of a doula

    The value of a doula

    3 years ago I wrote my first blog post, in response to an article in the independent, accusing doulas of being money grabbing opportunists.

    Today I feel compelled to write another blog post, as this time a medical professional is saying that we charge “extortionate prices”.

    Dr Ahmed Rashid, an NHS doctor, wrote this piece in the British Journal of General Practise

    ” I first came across a doula as a junior doctor working in obstetrics and the idea has fascinated me since. In case you haven’t heard of them, they are trained or experienced lay women who provide social, emotional, and practical support during pregnancy and birth, but do not provide any clinical care. Although the practice has ancient origins, the modern doula movement began in the US in the 1970s and private doulas, hired by mothers (often for extortionate prices), have been popular in certain parts of the UK for some time. A recent Oxford study focused instead on volunteer doulas, trained by third-sector organisations. After interviewing 19 doulas and 16 mothers who had received their support, the authors concluded that they can play an important role in improving women’s birth experiences by offering continuous, empowering, female-focused support that complements the role of midwives, particularly where the mothers are disadvantaged. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all.”

    The part of this piece that triggered me, was the ” often for extortionate prices” comment.

    Nothing could be further from the truth.

    When I left a prestigious career in science to become a doula (you can read why I did that here), I also left behind a salary over 40K, regular and predictable working hours, and job security.

    I did this to follow a calling, something that pulled at my heart, the deep need to support women through birth and make a difference to their experience.

    I sure didn’t do it for the money!

    I started as a new mentored doula (Doula UK, the association of doulas in  the UK, has a strict mentoring process  in place, which means that new doulas called themselves mentored doulas, and usually charge lower fees to reflect this, until their mentor feels that they have acquired enough experience and  can become recognised doulas), charging £250 for a birth.

    When I wrote my first blog post, after 2 years as a doula, I was still not earning enough to pay tax.

    Now, 5 years down the line, I only just paid my first tax bill. And this wasn’t because of my doula work, this was because of my other  hats, in particular the fact that I teach workshops. Most of us have “side jobs” to complement our income, because it is very difficult to make a decent living at a doula.

    5 years down the line, I am still quite far from earning what I earned as a scientist.

    Doulas charge as little as £300 to as much as £3000 for a birth. On average, most of the recognised doulas I know charge between £600 and £1000 for a birth.

    My birth fee now starts at £950.

    What does this include?

    This includes several antenatal meetings (those tend to be at least a couple of hours each), and unlimited support on the phone/email, accompanying clients to medical appointments etc. Whilst I offer a system with a set number of appointments, I find that I cannot restrict my support when a woman needs it. For example, I have been supporting a woman pregnant with twins , there have been many complications to her pregnancy, and I have attended well over 10 appointments with her. I am also in contact with her several times a week. It takes a lot of headspace, and I am more than happy to do it, but, with this in mind, it is easy to understand why I feel so rattled by the accusation of money grabbing.

    At 38 weeks, I go “on-call” until the baby is born. This can be a week, 2 weeks, or up to a month or more. The majority of my clients are first time mothers, and on average they tend to birth beyond 40 weeks (last year, one of my clients birthed at 43 weeks so I was on call for 5 weeks).

    During this time, I need to be able to leave everything and go to my client at very short notice when she goes into labour, at any hour of the day or night. I (like most of the doulas I know) have young children so this means complex, multilayered backup childcare arrangements, sometimes including at night (which cost money).

    Whilst on call, my phone is always with me (I even bring my phone to the side of the pool whilst going for a morning swim so I can check half ways through that she hasn’t called). I cannot go anywhere more than an hour away from home. I do not drink alcohol, and I always tell everybody I have made plans with that I’ll come “unless I’m at a birth”.

    This also means that there is a lot of pressure on my family and social life, as births have to take precedent over almost everything. This means always knowing that I may not make important family events, like birthdays or other celebrations (yes even your kids). My husband and I rarely go out and I have had to cancel a rare evening out more than once as I was called to a birth. Being on call makes us lose “brownie points” with our friends and family – who as much as they try and understand it, still find it stressful. I remember once during a difficult on call period (my client was a repeat client and her first birth had been very traumatic, and I was very invested emotionally in making sure this didn’t happen again), my parents were visiting and my mum said “you’re not there”-meaning I was physically present, but mentally, I was with my client.

    The on call period, up to 30 days, 24h a day. This can mean a total of 720h or more.

    When on call we also tell all our other clients, including the ones who have hired us for postnatal support, that we may need to cancel at short notice. Of course, when we get called to a birth, it also means that we lose out on the money we would have earned for supporting other people that day.

    Then there is the birth. Many of my clients are first time mothers, and it’s quite normal for a first birth to take anything between 24h and 48h. One year, all the births I attended were between 30 and 40h long (that’s the length of time I was with my client). The shortest birth I have ever attended was about 3h long, but I was there for 6h because I always want to make sure the mother is settled and her baby feeding well etc before I leave. The longest was 4 days (a long induction).

    Then after the birth I make a postnatal visit (again at least a couple of hours), and I am available for 6 weeks for unlimited email and phone support. New mothers contact me for support, for example when feeding isn’t going well, and I do everything I can to help them. I put no limits on the hours I spent doing this. This means many unseen hours talking to them, sending them links, and signposting them to other professionals. For example, last year when my nephew’s daughter was born, and they had problem with breastfeeding, I couldn’t support them myself because they lived too far, I spent a couple of hours late at night, when I should have been in bed. contacting my network of doulas, until I found a breastfeeding counsellor who was able to visit them the next day. We doulas constantly pull incredible feats like this because we’re all very passionate in supporting women.

    Many of us have discussed this in the past, and found that when we break down the hours spent on average with our clients, it usually works out at less than the minimum wage per hour.

    To top this, up, I personally only take 6 to 7 birth clients a year. This is because being on call in an intense, emotionally demanding time, and I have suffered burn out in the past and learnt that I need to keep the Christmas, Easter half Term and the last 2 weeks of August free for relaxing time with my family in an absolute requirement.

    Because I make a strong commitment to my client to be available for her, I also almost never take clients with overlapping on call times. This means turning clients down, or working as a shared-care team with another doula, splitting the fee in half. Most of the doulas I know do the same. So if you imagine taking on a maximum of 12 clients a year, even at my fee of £950, this only makes an annual income of £11400 before tax (and doesn’t take account of all the other expenses associated with this job, like travel, hospital parking fees, etc).

    Even the rare, top of the range doulas, who charge £2 to £3K, assuming they took on a birth client every month, would be looking at earning between 24 and 36 000 a year. Hardly a six figure salary.

    And let’s not forget that Doula UK has an access fund, which allows women in personal or financial hardship to access the services of a doula for free. The doula, in this situation, only gets paid expenses. I have done this myself, and so have most of my colleagues.

    I love my job, I love supporting women, I love making a difference, seeing the transformation that true, unconditional support does, especially when women have had a traumatic first birth, and end up with a positive, empowering one with doula support.

    I wouldn’t go back to my previous job for anything in the world.

    The value of a doula, how transformative and life changing it can be for many women, goes well beyond how much we charge, and most of our clients, after they’ve been doulaed, feel that our support was worth a lot more than what they paid for.  You can read some of the testimonials my clients have written about I supported them at the bottom of this page.

    But please, do not ever imply that this is an easy, money grabbing job.