The end of a dream

Coming to Farndale and Botton School was the realisation of a dream for me – a dream I’d cherished for my children since first learning about Steiner education in 2004. It all started so promisingly: a sunny visit to Low Mill where the children played out and mums chatted comfortably, house next door to a girl with whom my daughter had developed an instant bond on a visit to the kindergarten. A community of families all going to the school, sharing lifts – combined with beautiful country living and a dream of a school – perfect.

And yet I find myself nearly 2 years later abandoning this dream, preparing to move once again and place my children in state education…not because of the school, which has lived up to all my expectations and been a source of pure joy and satisfaction…but because of myself, my realisation that I need to accept what is, to determine what is truly essential and recreate my circumstances accordingly.

Of course, the dream wasn’t all perfection. These two years have been in many respects lonely and difficult. Pressures have been focussed on me internally (in the home) and externally (within the small community of Low Mill). There were the expecteded pressures of young children, pregnancy, birth and new baby – and the less expected ones of husband’s ill health and marital strife. I was by agreement a single mother from Sunday to Friday, but weekends brought, instead of relief, increasing pressure. External pressures in the small community in which we live added another layer of pressure. Despite the promising beginning, children’s relationships became somewhat challenged and jealousies spilled over into adult relations and caused enormous sadness and difficulty. I honestly couldn’t and didn’t cope well with this – it brought me to mothering lows I hoped I’d never see.

I experienced many ups and downs, but in February and March of this year, these pressures culminated – externally, in a dramatic and messy end to a childcare arrangment (and friendship) that had given me a small measure of freedom and hope of independence; internally, in an awful Mother’s Day episode that left me numb and distraught for a couple of weeks afterwards.

The low that followed these events, my inability to find any suitable accomodation outside of Low Mill, and a friend’s joking suggestion I come and live near her, led me to take another look at my situation, not as I wished it to be, but as I was living it. I focussed on what I truly want for myself and my children – and, without judgement or expectations – how I could achieve those aims. The conclusion arrived swiftly and smoothly as we easily found a house, are in the process of buying it and plan to move in July when school has finished. A terribly bittersweet ending to my dream – bitter sadness at sacrificing this school where my children are so happy and thriving, the sweetness of the prospect of a more balanced home life and a chance for me to step further into my calling, my doula work. We cherish every moment of these last days and weeks at Botton School. For all the sadness involved, I know the move will substantially improve my life and I hope allow me to mother my children not perfectly but increasingly in line with my values and desires and intentions.

There is bitterness too in the memories of my 3rd pregnancy, alone with my two young children, the grueling work to keep things running – I won’t ever forget hauling load after load of wood when 40+ weeks pregnant! The struggles of this particular childbearing year, for which I had so many hopes and good intentions. The pain, sadness and loneliness of my pregnancy and early months postpartum have given me a heightened sensitivity and awareness of the fears and challenges mothers too often face.

The sweetness lies in lessons learned, jewels hard won. An acknowledgement that I am my own best asset, my children are depending upon me to put myself first enough to be able to care for them lovingly and joyfully. Looking at what IS and responding to it and myself with compassion, practicing non-judgement and taking necessary action. Deeper awareness, a deeper living knowledge of spirit.

And there were some gifts along the way. The gift of knowing more deeply how to support women in these phases of life, from knowing what I needed and didn’t receive, I can give. The gift of Reiki which truly saved me and my children – it started me on a path which is a true blessing for me and a joy to share with others. The gift of an absolutely perfect, undisturbed solo birth at 43 weeks – I thank my lovely Gabriel.

With two plus months to go in Low Mill I’m trying to stay in the now, feeling the pain in my heart as we prepare to leave this precious school and wider community; the pain of living in this small community with its unexpected dramas; the excitement and sheer relief my new life is bringing closer. Trying to stay mindful of the beauty that surrounds me here at every step – and when it hurts too much or doubt encroaches, to practice a non-focussed awareness and acceptance of what is, not looking too far ahead.

I am called to work in the world and this is the choice I have made. The time here was a gift for me and my children, a brilliant jewel in our possession for a short while but which I hope will inspire and illuminate our path.

“Every midwife knows that not until a mother’s womb softens from the pain of labor will a way unfold and the infant find that opening to be born. Oh friend! There is a treasure in your heart, it is heavy with child. Listen. All the awakened ones, like trusted midwives, are saying, ‘Welcome this pain! It opens the dark passage of Grace’.” – Rumi

Birth Plans

I’ve been reading some pieces that are against birth plans lately, and while I do understand their points – that birth cannot be ‘planned’ among others – I must come out in favor of putting together a ‘birth plan’ – though perhaps a better name for this would be ‘care guide’.

Perhaps this is in part because I live in an area where most women have no continuity of care – one set of care providers ante-natally, another for the birth (and if in hospital, all the usual difficulties with shift changes, etc.), and still another set post-natally. Even with the best of intentions, the best experience, how could these care providers know what you personally want for your birth unless you tell them? And in the throes of labour, who wants to be having to repeat their preferences for care? And who won’t be influenced by the ‘suggestions’ of those around them – even if these suggestions are not what they wish for, are not necessary to the health of mother or baby, and are later regretted?

When giving birth, you need to be able to let go of all other concerns – your birth plan, or care guide, is your way of thinking out your preferences ahead of time, sharing these preferences with your support team (partner, friend, doula as well as midwives or doctors). The best birth plans are not cut and pasted from the internet, nor are they filled with pages of detail. As Liliana Lammers the doula says, ‘Ask for what you need (to give birth), not what you want (to have happen in minute detail).’

So what do you need in your birth plan / care guide?

Keep it short, clear and to the point. Ask for the things you need – quiet, dim lights, freedom of movement and expression, no unnecessary observers, not offering drugs for pain relief (saying you will ask for them if and when you want them), passing baby directly to mother, delayed cutting of the cord until after the placenta has been birthed – these are all helpful to facilitating birth and can empower your support team to protect your space if necessary. While many care providers may work to promote an optimal birthing environment, I do not think it is a given in any environment (and realistically how can it be unless you’ve chosen your care provider and have complete continuity of care)  – at least not in my experience – and I do see that a strong care guide, worded positively and kept simple, encourages medical care providers to support labouring mothers and their partners choices to the best of their abilities and as circumstances allow.

There are no guarantees in birth – and there are times when interventions are necessary and life-saving. Providing a care guide, discussing this in advance with your care providers and support team and at the same time remaining open and present to what your birth brings are not contradictory, but to me essential prepartions for birth.

Mothering solo

Lately I’ve been hearing from a number of friends who are feeling the burdens of motherhood. Some are pregnant with second or subsequent children, some have given birth in the past year. All are enduring the interrupted sleep, constant demands and seemingly endless hours of motherhood.

I’m a mother of three children aged 6 and under – most of the time, we live on our own, along with our two cats and rather excitable dog. I’ve been more or less on my own with this mix of dependents for over a year now, in a house with no proper central heating (it’s wood logs or coal and a manual firelighting each day) and a significant amount of damp. This year and a bit has taken me through a 43 week pregnancy and solo birth, a tumultuous series of family upheavals, and a renewed dedication to practicing as a doula. 

So when a friend tells me how tired she is, how difficult it is, I can say with all sincerity that I have been there too (and likely will be there again).  How can we cope when there is no partner or grandma or best friend next door to help?  When we don’t have the possibility of hiring a nanny or a housekeeper? (oh I wish, I wish sometimes!) And when that luxury of time to ourselves (even five minutes) is lost in the misty past of pre-motherhood? When our ideals seem to have run away from the actuality of the chaos, dirt and mayhem?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, very likely because I’m on an upswing at the moment. I’ve not got many answers (I lost those two children ago)…but can share some of the strategies I’ve used when things have gotten bad…when I’ve remembered to use them rather than bursting into tears or shouting at the top of my lungs!

Talk to friends and keep your sense of humour.  For me, these two are really intertwined because it’s not always easy to see the humour for yourself…the other week, the dog, who was supposed to be fasting after 24 hours + of diarrhea (and you can imagine how many times of cleaning the kitchen floor for me), had come back from the garden with a pheasant wing in his mouth just as we were belatedly rushing off to school. Not being at all good with the dead creatures that seem to be so abundant in Farndale, I’d had to send my daughter out with a piece of toast to entice him into dropping it. When sharing this with a friend later in the day, her laughter set me off and suddenly it didn’t seem quite so awful. This is also really useful when your child has done something so hideous you can’t imagine that it’s normal…calling a friend and finding that yes, her kids have done it too, feels so good.

Use rhythms and rituals to your advantage. Kids thrive on repetition. While I’m not at all an advocate of rigid scheduling, there is something satisfying about having a gentle rhythm in your day and week. It really helps time to flow (‘tea is followed by bath is followed by bed’), helps you to squeeze in things that are important to you (knowing that Wednesday say is ‘baking day’ or ‘walk day’) and can re-establish household harmony. A great resource is Shea Darien’s Seven Times The Sun.

Cold water therapy – seriously!  Are you brave enough to jump into a cold shower? Okay, the nicest way I’ve found is to first warm up the bathroom, then massage all over with almond oil, then jump in – step in and out three times ’til the water doesn’t feel cold anymore. It will knock the breath out of you, and you won’t believe the surge in energy you will feel. Don’t do this when pregnant or in the first three months after giving birth. An easier version is to just put your feet and hands under the cold tap, and splash cold water on your face. Go on, give it a try! You’ll be amazed at the results.

Take it easy, sleep when you can, everything else will wait (unfortunately). The fatigue of pregnancy and early motherhood can be like no other. I can remember falling asleep at 6.30pm when pregnant and feeling so completely exhausted that I couldn’t move. Children often wake in the night (even ‘good’ sleepers do this when ill) and mothers must be available 24/7. So sleep when you can, when you need to, even if it means cleaning up from tea the next morning before breakfast, and just remember it is only temporary (though I know even 9 months can seem like an eternity). Also, if you are feeling really exhausted, consider taking a supplement like Floradix as your iron levels may be low and contributing to your fatigue.

Nurture yourself. Remember, ‘If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy’.  If you are lucky, you might get some time away, but even if not, you can squeeze in some self-nurturing….sit down with a cup of tea or hot chocolate…meditate on your breath while you are nursing or putting your children to bed…listen to music you love (and dance along)…have a bath or shower…find time to eat, drink, and socialize…do something creative…go out for a walk in nature… all of these can be done with your children if need be.

Focus on your love for your children and remember the work you are doing is important. This can be a difficult one as you listen to your four-year old say ‘poopy poopy’ over and over again to your baby, or watch your six-year-old hit her little brother over the head for no reason whatsoever or how the entire house has been turned upside down in the space of 3 minutes flat! 

But take a breath, really look at your beautiful child and try to see that baby you longed for again, or imagine how your child will grow and what his/her memories will be looking back. I do this sometimes when my kids are sleeping when times are really rough and the it’s too hard to do when they are awake!  Let this love for your children guide you and your choices, and you can’t go wrong.