birthday flowers + what's inspiring me
low cortisol songs, patriarchal motherhood + cyclical seasons
I came home to beautiful, slightly imperfect flowers on my birthday afternoon. My daughter has a “helper-stand” which she is essentially glued to at all times as the kitchen is her favourite place to be. As soon as I walked in the door she was standing on it proudly while pointing at the flowers in front of her with excitement. I acknowledged how beautiful they were and said thank you with some kisses. My husband looked over at me with a smirk on his face. He explained how she picked out the flowers in the store somewhat passionately, leading to some squished petals which made him feel like he had to buy that specific bouquet. She then insisted on holding them (and dropping them) multiple times on the way home, explaining some of the flopped over stems. “It took us much longer than usual to get back home.” he said.
Although a little flawed, her choosing them and her determination to bring them home, made me love them so much more. For some reason the words “much longer than usual to come back home” sunk inside me, that’s how I felt this entire year, like it was taking me much longer than usual to come back home, back to myself.
My life has been like this bouquet the past year. Messy, on a journey home, but in bloom. My year leading up-to this birthday felt like a movie I had been watching of someone else’s life. Constantly trying to soak up the moment and be present, while the unknown future loomed over me each day. It started off full, with a clear path ahead. It then fell apart a bit, I fell apart a bit. It was though I’d been dragged in the dirt, picked up and planted back into a new space. Re-rooted, grounded, given some water, sun and whole lot of love to bloom again.
When I look back at a photo of me on my last birthday, I was not yet 4 months postpartum. I recall the feeling of spring amongst me. The light was finally shining through and I was feeling the haze of the first months of postpartum beginning to clear. I had tried to feel human by brushing my hair and putting on a chic matching linen set. I felt like I was slowly getting it together, finding my footing again. I have a glass of bubbles in my hand and my daughter in the other. This is what instagram moms do right?
My birthday felt like a marker, and I was desperate to begin to figure myself out again. Who was I as a mother, friend, wife and who I was for me? I was in this new role where I can’t measure my worth based on my career, couldn’t take breaks when I was burnt out, was breastfeeding, contacting sleeping, utterly exhausted, deeply in love and felt like no one could understand me.
If you’ve been on a retreat, or deep spiritual hiatus before - this season felt something like that. As if you’d emerged from an intense retreat x 1000 and you feel like no one can understand the depths you just went through. At the same time you are deeply astonished that you’ve been around women, who’ve also been through this your entire life and didn’t know this part of them. There was no clear way way to integrate back into the world, it just had to happen one baby step at a time and I felt like Bambi learning to walk. I couldn’t have surface conversations. I was hyper aware of what humans were going to be sticking around for this journey and which one’s I would be loosing along the way. I had shed so many layers that I felt completely raw as the spring light began to touch my skin again after my winter postpartum bubble.
When my birthday afternoon came, I remember leaving my daughter for a few hours to have lunch with a friend. I was constantly checking the monitor, counting down the minutes before she had to be breastfed again and was unable to get present without her near. I remember a few moments throughout the day, but mostly the somatic experience that was taking over. I remember a bubble bath, and making lasagna with my husband and mom while drinking a glass of Veuve (while also feeling guilty about it). I remember feeling like I had to prove to myself that I could get back to “normal” by doing something without her but mostly wanted to silence all my friends and family that kept telling me I needed to take some alone time. I wish I had the knowingness I do now to tell them that separation wasn’t what I needed, it was not a marker for progress, there was many things before that.
As I look at that birthday photo now, I feel like all I see is someone who’s lost, trying to prove herself to her past self. Who’s not sure how to heal, who’s not sure how she’s going to do it all and who desperately wants to feel human again. She’s hurt by the friendships lost, but she has no energy to fight - nor does she think she should anymore. She feels pressure from the world to do more than she’s ready to and to have more space from her baby than she wants too. She was doing good, and the world was feeling lighter, but there was a cloud of pressure looming over her that she didn’t need. I wish I could hug her.
This year is different. The girl in the photo feels like she’s miles away, in the most healing way possible. There is peace, there is a calm nervous system. There was family snuggles in bed, a yummy breakfast sent by my beautiful best friend
from afar. There was feet in the grass, hands in the dirt, planting herbs with my baby girl. There was a solo coffee and lots of baby snuggles. There was face-times, calls and beautiful birthday messages with the humans who stood by me during the toughest, most heartfelt year of my life. There was no folding into pressures of what others think I “should” be doing. There was takeout at home. There was no bubbles or booze just smoothies and tea. I said no to everything that I didn’t want to do and said yes to myself.There was perfectly, imperfect flowers in a mason jar vase from the girl who changed my world for the better and her Dad who’s been my rock.
3 things from my world lately:
This cover has been added to my morning playlist and is a fav when making pancakes with my girl. Low cortisol and makes me feel like I can carry a tune.
This thread by Dr.Sophie Brock really landed with me. I often think about what I share online and how at times speaking to the frustrations or difficult moments as a mother, can be perceived as complaining about my child - which it is absolutely not. I love her work as a Motherhood Studies Sociologist and highly recommend her website, or social if this is a topic you are intrigued by. I recently completed a lesson of hers around the 'patriarchal construct of motherhood’ and I can’t wait to weave this work into my offerings.
I am a podcast girl now more than ever as reading is not at the pace it used to be with a toddler on my hip. I love me some Ally Maz. You can find her here -
. I admire and respect the work she is doing on a deep level. I have witnessed her evolving over the past 7-8 years and she is an expander, teacher and human who I am grateful to know. She recently hosted this beautiful little workshop style episode on her pod around ‘The Seasons of Cycles’ speaking to the relationship of our cycles and nature. This is a a passion of mine as I have shifted my relationship with my cycle postpartum. Highly recommend.