Mother, Hold My Hand

I had the strangest feeling when my first pregnancy was confirmed: I felt more alone that I had ever felt before. Even more alone than after the death of my beautiful Mum, 4 years earlier. Alooooooone.

I recall lying in bed, preparing to sleep next to my gorgeous man, knowing he was with me through whatever was to come. And at the same time, I knew in my bones that I would need to travel alone, with my one little body and the brand new little body of my baby, into this Rite of Passage.

I was already an experienced women’s health physiotherapist and worked at the time on birth and maternity wards, teaching pregnancy and postnatal pilates, and providing care to women in a physio clinic. I had a great support network of friends and family, including my wonderful big sister who had 3 of her own and always shared openly about her experiences. But I felt the truth of my life in that moment: It’s just for me. I’m the only one living it. Whatever happens. And yet…

Becoming a Mother has shown me just how connected we are. Not just with other women, mothers and humans living at the same time as us - but through the red ancestral thread that links us, body to body, the ova carried in my mother’s womb as she was carried in her mothers’ and so on back through the story of my ancestry… It has shown me how vulnerable I am, and how strong. 

We are at our strongest when we hold hands with others who are able to celebrate us, our growth and our journey, while still being fully present in their own path, their own evolutions. It’s revolutionary, inside an individualistic culture such as ours, to know and honour our inter-dependency.

Yes, in all honesty - you alone are doing the thing: growing a baby, birthing a baby, mothering your child. But you don’t have to be disconnected. You can reconnect with the power of your ancestry. You can align with good people who will stand on their own feet, and hold your hand. Like the Rose, women, we are stronger than we know.