The Importance of Undisturbed Birth

*trigger warning* birth trauma

I’m sure, by now, you have heard me use the term “undisturbed birth.” It has been scientifically proven time and time again that when women are left alone to birth their babies, there are less negative outcomes. In most cases, the very scary and traumatic events that happen during birth (the ones you see in movies, and the ones you’ve heard from your mom and sister) are actually caused by some other outside force, energy, or intervention. Most times, those scary births are simply caused because they took place in a hospital.. the very place that is supposed to make you feel safe and cared for.

Before you jump up and down yelling at me about how birth is inherently dangerous and women have been dying in childbirth left and right before modern medicine, understand that these are myths that have been disproven. Scare tactics have to be swept away now that we know better. When you know better, you DO better. Another disclaimer: I am not demonizing medical professionals or hospitals! Western medicine is a miracle for when things go WRONG. When there is trauma, disease, or you see red flags, hospitals are there for you. My husband, mother, close friends and myself are medical professionals. These workers want nothing but the best for you, but are constrained by a broken system. It is a system designed to minimize liability, produce “good patients,” make $$$$ and crank people in and out at a rapid pace.

OK, now that we’re on the same page (or in the same book)…

Imagine how every single mammal on this planet gives birth. Cats, dogs, giraffes, pigs, and horses all birth their babies without doubting their ability to do so. They don’t choose the sunny bay window, the open plain, or the middle of the crowded sidewalk to birth their young. Across the board, you will see mammals escape to dim, cavelike, cozy, warm, solitary places to labor and deliver their little ones. Why? The promise of safety. All of the hormones required to birth safely, bearably and efficiently are flowing when mother feels safe. She is not being watched, timed, pressured, confronted, pinched, penetrated, or tethered. When these stifling things happen, the hormones HALT. Hormones are birth. As a matter of fact, birth can not happen without them. Humans are the only species that routinely and willingly birth in captivity. We are the ONLY ones who feel outside validation and assistance are required to do this “terrifying” thing. Our ability to birth effectively relies on our ability to come into our own power and demand to be undisturbed unless a true emergency arrises.

The “cascade of interventions” has been studied extensively. It is not my opinion, it is fact. The cascade looks something like this:

Mom has been laboring at home, pacing the floor, packing last minute items, and is nervous, but so excited to be in labor. Her partner is running around the house, also packing, calling family, and calling the doctor to let him know that “we’re in labor.” Although the contractions are manageable at home, they decide to get to the hospital, because they don’t know what they are doing, and should be surrounded by people who can deliver this baby. So they drive to the hospital, with mom getting increasingly nervous because her pain worsens with every passing minute and, damn, we still have 20 minutes to go, and if I have my baby in the car it will die. Thanking God above, they reach the hospital and check in with a cold clerk who offers no comfort or empathy for laboring mom. Mom is told to sit in a wheelchair, because she is a patient now and shouldn’t be walking (despite the extreme discomfort of pressure on her rectum, and squishing the baby in her birth canal.) They reach the labor space, and the lights are bright, the nurses are understaffed and hustling ass all over the place, the beeps are loud and concerning, and the smells are sterile and rancid at the same time. Mom has an IV placed, and a continuous fetal monitor strapped to her swollen abdomen. She can’t eat to fuel the marathon she is currently running, or drink to hydrate without swelling up. Mom can’t move around freely anymore, and she is told to stay in the bed so they can keep an eye on the baby’s heart rate. This is all getting a bit scary and stressful, but it must be for a good reason. Ah, THIS, is safety.

“False.” -Dwight Schrute

This is not safety. The second mom was sentenced to her wheelchair, and treated as a sick and helpless patient, her hormones halted. Something in her primitive brain said, I don’t feel right, and this isn’t safe. The bright lights told her brain that “predators can see you, and you can not birth here right now. Find a dark corner, and find it fast.” As a society we have forgotten these biological laws.

Laboring mom gets a cervical exam to determine how far along she is. Yikes, only 4 cm. “Thats ok, we’ll check back in an hour or 2, and we’ll see how you’re doing!” After an hour of laboring in this bright, noisy environment, with multiple interruptions from staff for questioning and chatting, mom is checked again. “You’re still at 4 cm, and you’re just not progressing. We can give you a little Pit (pitocin is synthetic oxytocin) to get things moving along. Everyone agrees, and now her contractions are HARD. They are abruptly longer, stronger, sharper and more intense than before, and the pain becomes too much to bear. She needs an epidural. She feels defeated, and weak, but is looking forward to relief. With the pain meds, she feels relief and can rest. Now her blood pressure starts to drop because of the epidural, and oxygenation of the baby is now compromised. Baby shows decelerations on the monitor and is in distress. Its time for an emergency C-section. Mom and Dad are thanking their lucky stars that they were in the hospital for this birth. The doctor saved their baby’s life.

This scenario is so common that its scary. One intervention causes the next, which causes the next complication, and at the end of it all, the medical team gets the credit for a job well done. Epidurals make it much more probable that there will be a prolonged 3rd stage of labor (pushing stage), instrumental delivery (vacuum or forceps) and C-section. Mom is more likely to have perineal tearing, or an episiotomy, low blood pressure, nausea and dizziness. The pitocin has interrupted mom’s natural release of oxytocin (the love hormone) that bonds the pair and acts as instant pain relief and euphoria immediately post partum. Again, don’t get offended here. I was born via C-section and my mom loves me. This isn’t a judgement, or an opinion, it is science. In a routine hospital birth today, babies are immediately taken away from their mothers to be assessed, weighed, stripped of their hormone saturated amniotic fluid and blood, hatted so parents can not breathe in the sweet scent of their newborns, and have goop dropped into their eyes so they can no longer see and imprint with mom or dad. Guess what gets really hard when post partum hormones are interrupted. You guessed it. Breastfeeding.

Do you see how many topics have to be covered to fully explain uninterrupted birth? We’ll go deeper into all of these topics, but for now I just want you to know that you have CHOICES! The decision is always yours! You can choose birth in a hospital and have a beautiful birth, as long as you feel safe, respected and in control. You can choose a provider who will respect your wishes to remain undisturbed. You can choose a birth center that is connected to a hospital with midwives. You can choose to birth at home with a midwife who is trained to spot red flags from a mile away. You can choose to birth freely, surrounded by loved ones and the moon. Whatever you choose, know that no provider can tell you what you MUST do, or that they will or will not LET you do certain things.

We are meant to surrender to the process of bringing our babies into our arms, to believe in our innate power to do so, to not fear “pain.” We have been conditioned to believe that we, as women, are frail and delicate creatures to be protected and cared for. There is a more powerful truth that lies within us all. We just have to collectively recognize it, and have no fear. YOU’VE GOT THIS.

Evidence Based Birth


The Midwifery Model of Care


Birth is not a medical event. Pregnancy is not a disaster waiting to happen. You are not a walking pathology. Once I came to understand that many of the difficulties I faced during my first labor and delivery were caused by the very environment I was in, I knew something had to change with my second baby. I discovered midwifery (*angels singing, rays of sunshine, chimes*). It is a more holistic model of care that includes addressing your mental state, fears, and hopes. You have more time during each appointment to address any concerns, and (in the practice I attended) you are respected when you question natural birthing rituals. Their rates of successful VBAC are higher and their C-sections are low.

Today I will share Xannon’s birth with you. I will share moments of disempowerment, but far more moments of control and calm.

The Pregnancy and Birth of Xannon Gene

When Zephyr was just a year old, I became pregnant with my second boy. We were excited, and slightly nervous at the thought of having TWO babies. How do people even do that. We felt slightly crazy.

Our prenatal appointments went well. I always felt good after and I felt respected and taken seriously by *most* of the midwives. There was one that I wasn’t crazy about, but it was just one. What are the odds of getting her during my birthing time?

I started using more positive language to talk about my upcoming experience. Contractions are surges, or waves. Labor is my birthing time. Pain is intensity. I wanted to shift my consciousness to reflect what was actually happening inside of my body. Sure, my uterus will be contracting or tightening to push my baby down, but on the contrary, my cervix will be softening, and expanding, allowing my baby to pass the veil. I wanted to focus on the softening, ripening, and opening of my body and mind.

At 40+1 weeks, my waves started at 2PM, right before a scheduled appointment. At the office, I was asked if it would be ok if a student midwife checked my cervix so she could feel dilation. I felt weird saying no. After all, students need to start somewhere. I am a medical professional, and I know what being a student feels like. I said “sure.” So she fished around in there for a few minutes, apparently having difficulty finding whatever she needed to find. It was a bit painful, and when I flinched, my midwife told her to stop and she would take over. “I’m sorry if that was uncomfortable.” It was all very innocent, so I wasn’t really upset about it. On the car ride home, Tom asked if I wanted to go out to lunch, but I was feeling very crampy, especially after my rough cervical exam, so we decided to go to Tom’s parents house to pick up Zephyr.

For some miraculous reason, Zephyr fell asleep by 6:30PM when my waves started to really pick up. I had to go to the bathroom, because when your birthing time starts, your amazing body knows to empty itself out. Amazing.

When I came out of the bathroom, Thomas had moved the coffee table to the side of the room, dimmed the lights, lit incense, set up my favorite meditation on YouTube (Zephyr calls it Chakra Man). He set up my birth altar on the living room floor, consisting of my crystals, our Buddha, LED candles, and my birth affirmation drawing that read, “OPEN.” Beside it sat my birth ball and a cozy blanket laid out on the floor. It was heaven. A safe space. Serene. Just perfection. By this time, my surges were 6-7 minutes apart. I tried floating through the waves kneeling, rocking on the birth ball, laying on the couch, and the only comfortable position I could tolerate was standing, which I hated because I was already feeling exhausted from the whole day. I decided to take a bath. *Ohhhh the water was everything.* I have a nice deep tub, and the warm water just made everything so much more comfortable. I was able to rest my upper body over the side of the tub, and breathe through each wave with Thomas holding me. I was handling each one so well. At this time our moms both showed up so we could get ready to head to the hospital. I called my midwife and she said to come in, since we have an hour drive.

Begrudgingly I got out of the tub, and the second I stood up, I had a huge pressure wave. 3 minutes later, I had another one. 2 minutes later I had another one. I think everyone but me started to panic a little bit. Our moms definitely did, and Tom was just packing up the truck at lightening speed. At one point I think he asked if we were still going to our hospital, and not the one only 15 minutes away. I wanted my hospital with my midwife, so we headed out at 10:30PM.

We played the Hypno Birthing track in the car, which saved me. I was so uncomfortable laying on my back during that whole ride that I had to close my eyes and go deep within to get through it. The woman’s voice (which made me giggle when I listened to it while pregnant) was so soothing and instructive, which was exactly what I needed. My waves were about 3-4 minutes apart the whole ride.

Check in was terrible. Again. I had to answer more questions to a nurse who was having side conversations, joking about her tooth or something while I coped with intense surges at her desk. She wouldn’t let my mom into triage with us.

In triage, I was met by THAT midwife. The one I didn’t love. Oh well. My cervix was checked and I was 8cm. This was such a relief, because I knew it was nearing the end. I went to the bathroom, attended by Thomas. While I was washing my hands I, of course, had to lean on the sink to have another surge when some RANDOM aid or nurse or whoever the hell she was, poked her head in to tell me that I should pull my pants up higher so they weren’t dragging on the floor. I told her to shut the f*** up and get out of my bathroom. I think Tom said something a little more polite and ensured her that he would keep me safe.

I was hooked up to an IV of antibiotics (because I tested GBS positive, which is a whole other blog post) and my water broke. My surges felt never ending. There was no clear beginning and end anymore, and they were very intense. My midwife said, looking at the monitor, “you aren’t having a contraction right now.” Though, it definitely felt like I was having a long, drawn out one. The intensity wouldn’t let up. They said we could move to the delivery room, and I started walking down the hallway, and someone told me I should put my shoes on. I ignored this, at the time, absurd suggestion and walked barefoot down the gross hospital hallway. In “Laborland,” nothing matters.

About 30 seconds later I stopped in the hall, leaning on the wall and Thomas, and started to push. I should say MY BODY started to push. I wasn’t doing anything, and there was certainly nothing I could do to stop it. It was just my husband and I in the hallway, as my midwife and nurse were already ahead of us in the delivery room. My midwife poked her head out and said, “come on now, we don’t want to have this baby in the hallway!” Yes, you’re right. I don’t want to have my baby in the hallway. Perhaps it would be helpful for you to come assess the situation and assist us.

When that surge was over, I crawled onto the bed, on hands and knees with my arms and head draped over the headboard. She checked me and said, “get everything ready, we’re crowning! You can go ahead and push!” I waited for the familiar sensation of my body pushing. I wasn’t feeling moved to push on my own without that reflexive feeling like I had in the hallway. So I was breathing, moaning, and resting. I allowed my body to stretch when it needed to, forcing nothing. She said, “I can’t do it for you, come on, you’re going to have to push.” I ignored her again, and then it came… the pushy feeling I couldn’t deny. I slowly pushed him out, and he was born in 1-2 pushes, 45 minutes after check in at 1:15AM. (I think a fun post would be Thomas’ account of these births, because I know he has his own commentary and details that I am unaware of.)

They didn’t get my mom from the waiting room in time.

My beautiful boy latched on right away, and nursed for 45 minutes in the delivery room. I delivered my placenta, (which I kept and encapsulated), and had my uterus vigorously massaged to seize it back to original size. I was told it was “boggy.” I needed to empty my full bladder, and when I did, my uterus was perfect. Despite this, I was put on a Pitocin drip to contract my uterus. I didn’t know this was happening, and I did not want it. I also didn’t NEED it.

After my unmedicated birth, my recovery was 100% better than my epidural birth. I was able to move freely, had minimal soreness on my perineum, and mildly sore abs. It was night and day, and exactly what I wanted.

Our postpartum stay was a typical hospital postpartum stay. We had people in and out checking on us, testing my baby for this and that, taking him from the room for hearing screenings, poking him for routine tests, and a pediatric check up that brought fury like the gusts of 1000 winds (think Dennis from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia status). I was watching the check up from my bed, with the bassinet right next to me. We made the decision to keep our perfect boy whole and intact, the way he was born. He was peeing regularly, so everything was great and in working order. In a split second, the “doctor” went from checking his hip joints to forcibly retracting his foreskin (even a little bit, is a forced retraction that causes great pain and trauma to the area.) I heard the high pitched scream from my new baby, and immediately, knew I should have been standing right next to him. How dare I rest, and trust that this medical professional would have common sense and training on the intact human anatomy of boys. I was so stupid. We made the conscious decision to keep him from any pain and harm and I failed again.

We insisted on an early check out, and they did not give us much of a fight because I mentioned that I would be reporting the pediatrician who forcibly retracted my son against my wishes. I was so furious. Can’t birth just be drama/trauma free?

Yes, it can.

I have learned so much from these two experiences. Since then, I have become a birth and postpartum doula to educate and inspire families to take charge of their own births. I have learned what could have been different at both of my births. A doula could have retrieved my mom from the waiting room when we were preoccupied. I know now that there were more questions that should have been asked.

Overall, we were almost there. Midwifery met us halfway to blissful birth. I still had the hospital protocol to contend with. I know that my birthing time at home was pure magic, and that my husband and I could have birthed at home in peace. Never stop asking questions, watch videos, read books, and follow your intuition. The provider that is right for me may not be right for you. However, if you find yourself signing over all of your agency to someone in perceived “authority” to take care of everything, then think twice. It is so important to take back birth, and be in control. The doctor doesn’t deliver your baby. No one delivers your baby but YOU. Your doctor, surgeon or midwife may attend your birth, but you are delivering your child into this world if you are the one who made all of the decisions in good conscience for birth day.

This was just another small part of my journey. I think I know what my next step is, should my future include a third baby. I am forever growing and evolving. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story! Your support has been overwhelming!

Peace and Love,


Choosing Your Care Provider


One of the most important decisions you have to make when you get that positive pregnancy test is choosing your care provider. The relationship you build with your provider can shape your pregnancy and drastically alter your birth. An issue many parents have, is that they aren’t necessarily thinking about BIRTH when they go to their first appointment. They are in pregnancy mode: excited, nervous, anxious, perhaps in shock. Then, halfway through the pregnancy, they start having thoughts of doubt, but feel afraid to make a change in their care plan. I feel like it will be helpful to share my personal birth stories with you, so you can see how different care providers alter the outcome of birth. This can help you decide which providers will be right for you, and will encourage you to be the one who is in control during your journey to the ultimate transformation that is parenthood…

Here is our journey with my first son, Zephyr. In italics, you will experience the moments during my pregnancy and birth that I was stripped of my power and confidence. The moments, no matter how small, that chisled away at my ability to stand on my own two feet and believe in my own power. I hope this helps in some way!

The Pregnancy and Birth of Zephyr

As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I knew I was going to have a natural birth. I hardly use medicine for anything, I consider myself a strong person with “high pain tolerance” (whatever that means), and I have the most supportive partner anyone could ask for. I could do this. People have been birthing babies since the beginning of time, and there is no reason I should need pain management at all. I was so excited, and so ready.

I scheduled my first appointment with my OB/GYN, excitedly telling the secretary I was pregnant with my first baby. Her first words were “how far along are you?” I said “5 weeks” (I peed on a stick 2 days ago.) “Oh, well she won’t even see you until 8 weeks, then we’ll confirm if you really are pregnant.” That stung a little. Surely, my missed period, my exhaustion, my 3 positive pregnancy tests, and my intuition were confirmation enough that my son was with me.

My appointments lasted roughly 1 hr in the waiting room and 5 minutes with the OB each visit. My blood pressure and weight were recorded, and my urine was tested. Looks good! It didn’t really matter how I was feeling because all of the numbers were good. I felt great though, so I didn’t think anything of this lack of actual personal care.

Around 30 weeks or so, I expressed during minute 4 of my 5 minute appointment that my desire was to birth as naturally as possible. I didn’t want an epidural. She rolled her eyes, shifted her expression to one of disbelief, and said, “WHY? Thats like having surgery without anesthesia.” I was shocked by her response, and shut down. I said, I want to see if I can do it, because I was made to do it. She said I could do whatever I wanted, but not to start crying when you get the epidural. 

I cried in the car.

At 40 weeks ~2 days, she insisted we schedule our induction. I said I didn’t want to be induced, I would rather wait. She said she wouldn’t let me go past 41 weeks, and hopefully I would go into labor before then. I cried after that appointment, too. My induction was set for 41 weeks. I knew Pitocin induced contractions were far more intense and unmanageable than natural contractions, and my dream of my unmedicated birth was dwindling. I was afraid. I then felt immense pressure to get things started on my own.

Exactly 41 weeks, a day before my induction date, my contractions began! YES! We did it! We got this! I was up all night with steady contractions, which were not too intense yet, so I let Tom sleep. At 10AM when he woke up (we used to sleep until 10 AM!! HA!!) he was helping me get comfortable, and we decided to call the office. Come in at 2, and we’ll check you then. By this time, my contractions were very intense, and about 5-6 minutes apart. The car ride to the office was rough. She checked me, and told me I was 3 cm dilated. What? That is it? I said, “They’re really intense though..” She said, “I know you want to do this without an epidural, so you should go home, and go to the hospital when the contractions are 5 minutes apart.” (At this point in the visit, after the cervical check, my contractions spaced out to 10 minutes, AKA stalled). She said, “you’ve only had one contraction since you’ve been sitting here.” 

We decided to go home, and the second we got in the car, my labor resumed, and I was back to the intense contractions I experienced at home. We decided to go to the hospital. This was it!!!

Check in was terrible. Answering questions about my social security number while in labor was just ridiculous, but we managed. I was admitted, and checked again. 4 cm. Progress. Then our whole family came to see us. At the time, I didn’t see this as a bad thing. I love my family. They are supportive and strong, and love me, and I thought that when you have a baby, everyone comes. Everyone was chatting amongst themselves, looking at me, talking to Tom, looking at my monitor, and watching each contraction as I laid motionless in bed, afraid to move. My mom asked if I wanted to get up, but I had all the contraptions strapped to me, IVs placed, and I just didn’t feel like I could.

I told the nurse my contractions were super intense, and asked if there was anything I could do. She said, “Oh honey, this is your first baby, you’re not even close to having this baby. It probably won’t even be before midnight.” It was 3PM. I knew it right then and there that I couldn’t do it. I could not last another 12 hours of this excruciating pain without help. I’m not as strong as I thought. Every half hour my nurse returned, asking me if I wanted the meds yet. I asked for an epidural at 5:30PM. They finally dimmed the lights, drew the shades, and told Tom and I to get some sleep. An hour later, I called the nurse telling her I felt intense pressure, and I thought there was something wrong with my catheter. I asked if she could please check me. “I’ll check you soon, its probably nothing.” 30 minutes later I called again, and insisted she check me. She did, and exclaimed, “Wow! You’re complete, its the baby’s head you’re feeling!” Gee, thanks for the confirmation. I had transitioned from 4cm to 10cm in FOUR hours. It turns out I have very effective contractions from the start.

In came a doctor I had never met before, probably the Hospitalist on staff, but I didn’t care. I pushed violently, and forcefully, with 10 second coaching on my back with my feet in stirrups. The nurse told me I wasn’t pushing right and I needed to hold my breath, despite the fact that the doctor said my pushes were very effective for a “primer” (first time mom.) I looked at Thomas and asked him if the baby was coming, and he assured me that he could see him, and that I was doing amazing, and he believed in me. With that strength, in 20 minutes, my sweet son was born at 8PM. They placed him on my chest for 10 seconds (enough time for me to express how cute he was) before prematurely taking him across the room because he wasn’t crying yet. Thomas followed them. I wondered what was happening and if he was ok. I heard his first cry from afar, and they brought him back to me. I was able to breastfeed in the delivery room when I asked the nurse if she could help me, because I didn’t know what I was doing. He latched beautifully and he nursed for a while. I was so happy. Then our family flooded the room again, and I was brought to tears. Now I know it was because my raging love hormones should have been pouring into my baby, bonding us. Instead, my baby was being passed around the room, to everyone but me. 

The next day was circumcision time, and I cried and cried, and didn’t want to go through with the procedure. My intuition was telling me, NO. I hadn’t done research on this. I didn’t know enough. Everyone in the room felt they had an opinion to share, and they were all the same. You have to do it. Its better. Tom didn’t research it either, its just the thing to do. I didn’t want to. I cried more. They took him away, and brought him back over an hour later with a pacifier in his mouth, in shock. After he came back, he wasn’t breastfeeding efficiently anymore and was sleeping a lot. The pediatrician said he better start eating, or he’ll have low blood sugar and will sleep all day.

My OB/GYN never made an appearance during my entire hospital stay.

The days that followed at home were hard. Breastfeeding was off to a rocky start, because he just couldn’t settle down, and his circumcision bandages were stuck to his raw, wounded penis. Of course he couldn’t settle or get comfortable. I ripped his genitals apart. Of course. I think I cried for a week.

To most people, this experience left me with a “healthy baby.” It left me with a wounded, suffering, albeit live baby who couldn’t eat, with a mom who was stripped of her dignity, power, and confidence. I loved my son. I loved him more than I could ever explain in words, and the experience of his birth will forever be a tarnished one. Birth matters. It changes you, and the course of your life. I encourage you to, PLEASE, take your power back. If you feel like you aren’t being heard, or respected, or you experience any of the red flags I gave you today, then CHANGE YOUR PROVIDER. You have no loyalty to them, their feelings will not be hurt, and ultimately they won’t be missing you. It is their job to care for you, but they do not care about you. YOU have to care about YOU. Make your choices a top priority and start with self care, education and empowerment.

In the coming weeks, I will dive deeper into individual topics I touched on but I needed to tell the story that set me on my path to self work, awakening, and birth work.

Thank you for listening to my story,

Peace and Love,



I would love to introduce myself and thank you for joining me! My name is Malarie, and I will be using this space to talk about some of my favorite topics, including: physiological birth, undisturbed birth, breastfeeding, natural baby care, baby wearing, cloth diapering, postpartum, bodily autonomy, intactivism, conscious conception and natural living. I hope to start conversations, build community, and provide resources for an EMPOWERED generation of new parents. I urge parents to start their journey of awakening, tuning in to their own selves, and practicing mindfulness in every aspect of their lives.

A little about me…

I am a pediatric Occupational Therapist, working with children with various special needs and developmental differences. I love this work, and it has taught me so much about what we are capable of as human beings.

I am a certified doula with DTI. I work with families who desire freedom in their birthing choices, value informed consent, and seek education for bringing their child Earthside in peace. See CONTACT page for more details.

I am a wife to my amazing husband, Thomas, and together we created two incredible boys, Zephyr and Xannon. They are pillars of strength for me, and the reason for my own journey of self discovery. No one could have prepared me for the changes that would come after giving birth to my first son. The changes I would go through. I knew about physical changes… gain some weight, get new breasts, lose some weight, exhaustion, etc.. I knew about love… “a love like you’ve never known.” I didn’t know about the emotional turmoil having a newborn could bring. How I would feel like crying myself every time he cried. How I would literally be a “milk machine” and do nothing but breastfeed every hour. How I would miss my husband like never before when he returned to work and I was left with this little human alone. How guilt would encompass my entire being after ignorantly subjecting my infant son to genital mutilation without anesthesia, and the long recovery he endured. These are things people don’t talk about, because if they did, they might seem weak, or unfit, or emotionally disturbed, and surely alone. I want to bridge some gaps in how we approach parenthood. Let us lean on each other for support, learn from our mistakes, and mindfully raise our babies to thrive in acceptance, health, respect and love. I am SO glad you are here, taking this journey with me.

Love and Peace,