The boy who wouldn’t

There is nothing more humbling than becoming a parent for the second time. You might, quite reasonably, assume that you know something about this parenting gig. Perhaps you have, in a confident tone, given new mothers and fathers in your circle some sage advice. Best way to change a nappy without collateral damage? How to handle a fever? Breastfeeding troubleshooting? You more than likely have a few words to say on the topic to anyone who will listen.

And then the second little bundle of joy arrives. And you are silenced.

My little guy turned 5 on New Year’s Day and so I’ve been reflecting on his rather eventful life so far. He was and is the boy who wouldn’t. His first year was spent not sleeping. I don’t mean that he woke up quite often; I mean that he actually seemed unable to sleep in any kind of meaningful way and woke up every twenty minutes day and night for 12 months. “Oh dear!” said the doctors and paeds and homeopaths and chiros, “you have one of those.” Yes I did. I also had a boy who defied all the rules of breastfeeding and never fed less than twice an hour for his first 6 months. Refused to take a bottle – ever. Started crawling and climbing at 5 months old.

Five years on, I can laugh about this time, but it wasn’t so funny back then. We had to relearn everything we thought we knew about babies. We had to accept there were things we battled with that we couldn’t change. We had to learn how to parent two children side by side in completely different styles.

Your second (or third) might not be such a game changer as ours was, but they will almost certainly challenge your thinking on everything you think you know about parenting. Relax. Accept the challenge to grow and learn. Have fun. Our first year with our boy wasn’t easy but I wouldn’t change it for the world. He will always be a rule breaker and a convention defier and that will be his greatest strength. We love you, beautiful boy!


Things I’d Sacrifice For

I don’t consider myself particularly materialistic. Fancy cars, big houses and flashy brands are not my thing. But the truth is, there are some things that money can buy, that are incredibly important to me as a mother with small children. Here’s my list of things I would sacrifice a great deal for in order to provide them for my family:

  • Working from home – leaving behind a well-paid job has come with financial sacrifice, but the rewards it has brought to our family have been priceless. As my children get older, I am convinced that they need me more and not less. I don’t have the luxury of not working at all, but my work mostly fits around my kids, and I have the time and emotional capacity now to put them first, in a way that just wasn’t possible when I was working full-time.
  • A holistic education – the state of the education system in the Western world worries me – a lot. The hyper-focus on achievement and performance to the detriment of our children’s emotional and spiritual development is ludicrous. That’s why I am willing to pay a rather a lot for a school that sees my children as individuals, that doesn’t put pressure on them, try to drug them or send them home with piles of meaningless homework.
  • Access to nature – my kids are happiest when they are outside, it’s as simple as that. We are lucky to have a big garden, with a climbing tree, and lots of rocks and sticks to do things with. Our family holidays are generally simple and local, but they always involve a river or a dam (kids + water = happiness) and a good dose of nature.
  • Organic meat – to eat completely organic in Durban, South Africa, is almost completely impossible, unless you are a millionaire, own your own farm, or are prepared to eat an incredibly narrow range of fruit and veggies. That being said, we don’t use chemicals in our home, or on our bodies, and we eat organic whenever we can. I will not compromise on the meat we eat, however. The thought of hormone and antibiotic-laden meat from an animal who has had a horrible life distresses me, and I would rather eat less, good quality meat and more veggies.
  • A holistic family doctor – our lovely family homeopath has been such an amazing resource for our family; I don’t know how we would cope without him. Homeopathic medicine is more expensive than antibiotics; good natural supplements when needed are pricier than cheap synthetic vitamins crammed with fillers. But I consider holistic health an investment in my kids’ futures, and worth paying for.
  • A cleaner – this last one on my list is last because it would be first to go if finances were tight…but I consider our housekeeper an absolute boon to my sanity and the calm in my household. Having a messy house freaks me out, it makes me mad, and it doesn’t help me to be a very good mother.

I’m aware that we live a very privileged life and that for many people, none of the things on my list would be at all possible. Nevertheless, I believe that all mothers make sacrifices for their children so that they can have a good life. What would be on your list?

Maiden, Mother, Crone

As I approach that big 4-0 milestone, I find myself more and more drawn to older women as mentors and role models. Over the past few years, I’ve been spending time with women in their 60’s and 70’s and have loved learning at their feet as it were. Our culture glorifies youth and beauty but working in the world of birth, it has become clear to me that there is so much to learn from those who are older and wiser. It might take just four or five years to scale the corporate ladder and become a “manager”, but a good midwife or doula is literally in training her entire life as she learns from colleagues, clients and the babies in her care.

I was thinking about the transition from maiden to mother to crone/wise woman and I realised that all of the older women that I admire, while very different, have some interesting things in common:

They are all physically active and present in their bodies

My yoga teacher is almost 80, and has such an incredible body. Some of my mentors swim, some hike, some dance, but all of them honour their bodies with movement.

They laugh – often

Let’s face it, getting older can bring with it a fair share of aches and pains, and other less physical issues such as loneliness, but these wonderful women never harp on and on about their blood pressure or medication. They joke and moan, and move on.

They have suffered

Once, I went to see a perky counselor, fresh out of university. I took one look at her perfect skin and bouncing ponytail and knew that we were done. It is very difficult to have much empathy and wisdom to share when you yourself have no life experience. Life scars us all, and when I hear the stories that older women tell, I value the knowledge that it is possible to suffer, and to survive; to weep, and then one day, to laugh again.

They help others 

Each of my role models is, in their own way, a healer and a helper. I know for sure that this is where I want to be at their age. Helping others, touching lives, being kind.

They enjoy life

Passion is so beautiful in someone of any age, but especially in older people. There is nothing sadder than a retiree whose whole life was dedicated to their company, to the exclusion of any other hobbies or interests. My mentors are all passionate about something – their gardens, their horses, their art. Oh, and all of them enjoy their food. They eat beautifully but certainly enjoy their red wine, chocolate and coffee from time to time.

I am still finding my way (aren’t we all) but I so value my circle of wise women who have shown me that life can still be full and rich, beyond this busy season of intense motherhood.

If you’re interested in the archetypes I’ve mentioned, there is a lot more information on the internet. There is a third female archetype – wild woman/enchantress – which is also fascinating to read about.


Kids and Family 3 _ The Photo Forest

Do you feel it? The mother feels it, for sure, her gaze on mine holds a wisdom beyond her years. The baby senses it too – they always do. Caught between two worlds, cradled in the capable hands of the doctor, he is silent. Not yet crying, but alert, eyes open in wonder. The father – he’s busy fiddling with his phone, something’s wrong with the camera; I don’t think he felt it. The theatre staff are chatting amongst themselves. They’re oblivious. But I feel it in every muscle and in every pore; this time, this place, right here; it’s sacred. Just for a second, god is near, and the veil between the seen and the unseen is very thin.

As a childbirth educator, I sometimes feel that everything we teach, and nothing we teach, matters. The rational, degreed, researcher in me loves facts and evidence and science. And the facts are clear – natural, vaginal birth at full term, without interventions, is best in almost every case for mother and baby. Delayed cord clamping, skin to skin contact, and full term breastfeeding results in the best outcomes for the baby. And the effects are not short-term, they last for life.

But that, that is the physical world. There is something else, something that seems to transcend the type or place of birth, that is even more important. Birth is a spiritual and emotional event; it carries cosmic energy that is hard to explain unless you’ve felt it yourself. And so it saddens me when mothers and birthkeepers treat birth as a list to be ticked: unmedicated, tick; waterbirth, tick; no forced pushing, tick; optimal cord clamping, tick! And yet, that mother, the one who ticked all the boxes, comes to me with feelings of loss and grief over her birth. Because the physical is just the tip of the iceberg.

I’m still learning from birthworkers much more experienced and wise than myself, observing, and refining my own birth values and philosophies but it is becoming clearer and clearer to me that those who do not see the sacredness of birth, see nothing at all.

Photo Credit: The Photo Forest

The things we say


The word is the most powerful tool you have as a human; it is the tool of magic. But like a sword with two edges, your word can create the most beautiful dream, or your word can destroy everything around you. One edge is the misuse of the word, which creates a living hell…Your word is pure magic, and misuse of your word is black magic.

The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz

– Gosh, you’re huge, are you carrying triplets??

– All the girls in our family have difficult labours, I honestly don’t know why you’re even going for a natural birth.

– Hmm, you’re only 2cm, you’ve got a very long way to go, Mommy!

– There’s no need to be a hero you know, why don’t I call the anesthetist and get you set up with an epidural?

– I don’t like my moms to be in labour for more than 12 hours I’m afraid, so I’m calling a c-section.

– Look at this hungry baby, it’s a pity but some moms just don’t have enough milk. 

– All MY babies slept through the night from six weeks old; it’s all about being relaxed, they pick up on your tension you see.


– Ah you’re just glowing. How are you doing?

– You’re strong and determined, and I can’t see any reason why you can’t have the birth you want.

– Wow, you are doing so well! I’ll leave you in peace to relax and enjoy your labour.

– I know you’re tired, but you have made such progress. You’ll have your baby in your arms soon enough.

– You are giving your baby the best possible nourishment, well done! Can I suggest some things that may help you to produce even more milk?

– I’m so sorry that you’ve been up all night – you must be so tired. What can I do to help?

Words have more power than we can imagine. Surround yourself with people who will encourage you and lift you up in your days, weeks and years of motherhood, and be that person for others.

(Photo credit: The Photo Forest)

New Beginnings


2016 started out for us with a horrible diagnosis for one of our children – not, thank God, a terminal one, but one that would require a lifetime of medication and careful monitoring. I always think that every other possible problem pales into absolute insignificance when a loved one is ill, and we found this to be so true. Things that we had worried about the previous week – finances, the house, our work – just all fell away in light of this greater fear. Luckily, this story has a happy ending. Without going into details, we researched and we sought second and third and fourth opinions, and it turned out that a parasite and a dairy sensitivity were at the heart of our little person’s symptoms; and not the condition that the doctors had initially diagnosed at all. One year on, and I am happy to report that all is well.

But really those few months put everything else that I went through this year into perspective. As for so many others, it was a year of mixed reviews. We had some really tough times (did I mention that I am now offically unemployed?) but we had so many adventures and lots of fun as well. Life with a three and seven year old is always, always eventful and there is never a day without love, laughs and lots of cuddles.

The highlight of our year was our trip to Europe to visit Oma and Opa, who live in the Netherlands. We were blessed with the most glorious weather and had a wonderful time riding our bicycles like real Dutchmen and eating lots of delicious food. We still talk about our time there, and I think we will for many years to come.

As always, Gentle Welcome has been my church, and my therapy. When I am teaching a class, or supporting a birth – just for those few hours, I am so incredibly involved and present in what I am doing, that really, it’s a form of meditation. A good birth can put me on a high for days (hello oxytocin!). This work I do is not quite a hobby, but not quite a job, and I intend to keep it this way in 2017. I want to keep my classes small and intimate, and plan to do just a few births this year, for people I really resonate with.

Yesterday, we celebrated the fourth birthday of our little boy with family and friends and now it’s time to dive into this new year. It’s the first year for a long time that is full of mystery. I really have absolutely no idea how it’s all going to turn out, and what I’ll be doing come year end. Exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. I’ve been contemplating my word of the year for a while now, and I think I’ve settled on “Joy”. As a Type A perfectionist, I’m very, very good at getting things done and ticking things off my to-do list, but sometimes (often) I forget to have fun while I’m doing it. I have not a single New Year’s resolution for 2017, but I am aiming to filter as many tasks, requests and jobs through the question of “Will this bring me joy?”. I suspect I’ll be saying “no”a lot more often than I usually do, and that’s ok! Happy New Year to you and yours, may it be a good one.

The leaky canoe


Motherhood – she’s a real b*tch. Just when you think you have everything “under control”, she’ll throw you the curveball you never expected. It’s been a brutal couple of weeks over here. Amidst all the usual end of year madness,  I’ve had very sick children, work stress, endless house dramas (really dishwasher, really? not you too!) and a chronic condition that is begging me to get some sleep. I’m SO GRATEFUL and #blessed that I actually have a house, a husband, children, a job but you know, sometimes you just get tired. So tired.

I visited my homeopath last week; squeezed him in between meetings and school events and repairmen, and asked him “when?”. When will the stress stop so that I can feel calm and relaxed and in control again? Wise man that he is, he peered at me over his glasses, and said this: “You are paddling a leaky canoe. You are patching it as you go but you have to keep paddling. There are rapids and waterfalls ahead, you have no choice.”

A paradigm shift. All this time I’ve been waiting to reach The Land of No Stress. And sometimes we’ll have a couple of peaceful days, or weeks, or months, and I’ll think, this is it, we’re here! But at our life-stage, with multiple children, jobs, friends and family members, there will always be upheavals. There will always be broken appliances, and sick children, and bills to pay. There will be bodies that complain and nights of no sleep and nothing in the fridge. And so I press on, paddling my leaky canoe, using every tool I have but especially mindfulness. One thing at a time. The most urgent first. And then the next and the next. Breathe.

(Photo credit: The Photo Forest)