Listening to Reason

We have two children. Life is generally a massive whirlwind of singalong nursery rhymes, building forts, cleaning yogurt/snot/paint/sand from bizarre places, remaining in character as some fictional cartoon person for much of the day, having up-times and having downers.

That’s everyone, not just me.

I have been so lucky to have been finding connection with fluid body work and fluid body listening with my children and my little one to come. It has helped me connect with all of my babies in deeper ways that seems to cut through a lot of the unnecessary rubbish and get to the core of them, and me, and our family circle within and around all of that.

It is beautiful to connect with that and sit within it, when I can.

The day-to-day stuff still happens and I am residing in this juiciness more now. But recently I had such a profound experience of living on the edge of that. I feel it is important to share this. I am driven to share it. Because it brings such simple clarity.

I was stuck to my bed one morning. Too early. I was dreading the wake-up call from the smallest. She is such a gem sweet lady during the day – but when she wants mamma and what mamma has to offer in the morning, she turns in to a raving banshee, who’s cry cuts through my eyelashes to drag me into stumble-dom,  retrieve her from her cot, and envelop her in the snuggle zone with her brother and I.

This happens a lot by the way, and mostly I manage OK, never awake enough to be too rude or annoyed. But on this night/morning, I didn’t have enough sleep. The older dude had me in a headlock for most of the night and for the rest of it had a toe or other limb in my face/neck/ear.

Well, really in writing this there is no excuse. I lost it. I screamed at them both, needing space, needing rest, needing quiet (ironically). It’s hard to write that…’I lost it’…. it really is. I became the banshee that annoys me so much. My son told me to calm down and my daughter put her hand on my cheek to console me.

And then, in the dark with my two beautiful babies I wept and wept. I wept at their little bodies lying in the dark with this witch woman. I wept at the resentment I felt at having to be awake at that ungodly hour. I wept in the resentment of that resentment. And how I felt in my body, how all of that made me feel in my body. And then, the kicker… I felt so unworthy.  I felt the self-blame for my miscarriages engulf me.

Why would my baby want to come into this body and be mothered by this mother. Was I to blame for the loss, holding anger in my biochemistry, my make-up? Did my adrenaline overload my system and harm my baby? Does my baby know that I can ‘lose it’ and choose another road? Did I do something else wrong?

All sorts of irrational thoughts raced through my head in the dark. The questioning of what it is to be a mother and to stand into those shoes fully and the physical womb-space, the mother-space that comes with that… on and on, cycling in questions.

And then, just as the questions came, so too did the answers. Clearly, like there was an answer to each one, through my children and my bodily awareness of my little one to-come. ‘Its alright Mam’ – a touch, a rub, a kind word, a sense of strength and relief. Them all caring for me in the midst of my outbreak. My guilt-tears, and snot-laden kisses on their foreheads in sorrow.

And my awareness of these gorgeous souls all telling at me that I did nothing wrong…that in fact THIS is why you are chosen by me/us.

Because there is love.

You are worthy because there is love, infinite love.

Then… a felt-sense of reiteration of all I know. ‘Receive me.

Receive my love.

Its right here’.



© 2016

In my love

Recently as a family we have been consciously and unconsciously honouring the constellation that has been emerging for us / around us, and ‘welcoming’ the next little one into our family in so many ways….

My little girl has been regularly holding, kissing and touching my belly saying ‘baby’ and laughing.  I asked my son again if he thought there was a baby coming to our family. He seems unfaltering in his knowing of this. We got to chatting about it and he seemed to have an assuredness in every answer and comment. I asked him where he thought the little one is now.

He said “He is in my love”


I was blown away. He verbalised what we had been doing as a family, holding the awareness and hope for the little one in our hearts. What a beautiful place to be, to be held, to exist. In his love. In our love.

It can be easy for me to sink back into the physicality of it all.  It can be easy to revert to the familiar of coming from a place of lack. The waiting, the impatience and the longing to be pregnant and hold the embodied little one inside of me – feeling the growth and the presence. And then the longing to hold the baby in my arms – seeing the growth, smelling and nuzzling into the gorgeousness. It can be easy to revert to despair when months come and go without either the joy of holding the positive test stick in your hand, or the excitement of a closer meeting in your heart.

But, within this movement of time between hope and despair there seems a greater preparation. Within this growing awareness of our little one coming – and the beauty that lies within that – there seems to have been some kind of ethereal conception, an energetic implantation to the family body and very obviously, the pregnant holding of the vibration of / the idea of / the essence of our little soul ‘in our love’.

How vast that sense of ‘holding’ is and how beautiful it is to have an umbilical exchange of giving and receiving from this place.


I feel the gifts coming from the little one,  the gift of this time to perceive things differently, the gift of developing perceptions in my body and in our family body. The gift of listening to this little one and how this compels me to listen more deeply to my children here and within my work. The gift of connection within this family, the greater family and throughout community.

There is receiving of him/her by us and the greater global body. There is receiving of ourselves in the remembrance of what our potential was and continues to be. There is receiving the awe and the unknown and the love.

How juicy it is to listen to the wisdom of the little ones who remind us what is held in our love. What a privilege.

Simple and profound.