Category Archives: motherhood


{mothering sunday} march 18th, 2012

today ‘mums’ celebrate mother’s day in ireland.
claire and i woke early.. the sky was a gift of blue, with white fluffy clouds. the sun lovely and warm..
we turned on music and danced together
got dressed and went for a walk, listening to the birds, smelling the flowers
i set up a tripod to take some pictures of the two of us together.. my first time doing that, it felt a bit silly with people passing by watching and commenting every now and then. ah well

we were entertained with a chat from an odd, quirky gentleman
before making our way home, sharing a lunch.. the wee girl off for a nap.
and later, all three of us went for a walk in the evening sun (and chilly wind) for a paddy’s special green and white ice cream cone. claire’s first ice cream.

it was a beautiful, simple, sweet day.. one that’s filed away in the memory.. walking down the empty sidewalks, stealing kisses from my man..

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words of the wise and wild womyn *moon time* shameless sister promotion

moons ago, i reached out to this woman that lives just a few hours south of me… in search of women’s circles in ireland- almost impossible to find. knowing that, like birth communities- they are rooted and tangled and hidden underneath.. but once found-a whole new world is discovered and opened up. spoken in hushed voices from woman to woman- cherishing and keeping our worlds sacred and hidden – invited in, initiation, trust, truths.

so, in a moment of desperation- i wrote to lucy… introducing myself, my wishes of finding like minded women here in ireland.. of finding other mamas to connect with. after years of living here- finally finding my voice, and the push to really find my tribe in the flesh. she received my e-mail while she was heavily gestating her first book, Moon Time- which came out in perfect harmony for my first blood spilling after birth.

i wrote about that blood… how sacred it felt. how mysterious and familiar.. how i wanted to play in it, discover and honour it fully.. how whole i felt in my body.

this month, this little blue book slipped through the blue door…

and i devoured it completely. i opened it during the day and let my fingers dance across the words typed. i read some while rocking claire to nap.. and later, i climbed into bed and nursed claire to sleep reading.. the moon peeking in my window the entire time- making the entire night sky glow white.

i couldn’t help but smile.. like it all came together so perfectly. i felt, while reading- that i was surrounded by sisters all over the world. connected by our innate truths, by our bodies, by our blood, by the stories and emotions we travel through our cycles that are all so similar, yet uniquely different.

what i loved about lucy’s book- is that it puts a name to these epiphanies during your cycle. reconnecting you again with nature, with the women before us, with the women around us.. calling out to women to be more gentle with themselves, encouraging them to look deeper into what their body is telling them. a way to honour these gifts that women are blessed with- that we live with for all the days of our lives. our innate wisdom and creativity, our wildness and our nurturing.  a book that gives permission to fully feel alive and honour what makes us a woman.

it’d be a beautiful guide to give to all girls and women- an initiation into the red tent. taking away the shame of our blood and reinstating the wisdom and trust of our bodies.

i am blessed to be connected with so many inspiring, beautiful, talented women in my life.
thank you, lucy – for gifting our sisters and daughters with your wisdom and wild way

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{mama}

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{eighteen} march 1st, 2012

eight.teen.months.
eighteen!
how is it even possible. a year and a half. and yet… how has it not been forever?

my days, my heart, and my arms are full.
each day is a new discovery of the world. watching this little person unfold from infancy into toddlerhood…

she is fiery and wild.. cheeky and hilarious
the most gentle, nurturing…and the sweetest of kisses
she is my world…

By edarcy | Also posted in claire, {365} | Comments (15)

babywearing library – finding the right size

i’m sure people are rolling their eyes by now. i’m addicted to babywearing. i’m absolutely in love with my Ergobaby and would recommend it to anyone- in fact.. if someone were to ask what they need for their baby, i’d say just your boobs- and a GOOD carrier (like.. not a babybjorn. heh)..

anyway, claire is incredibly big for her age. she’s way above the scale for weight, and above average for height.. the ergo was increasingly growing smaller and smaller and getting more uncomfortable on me. i thought that maybe it was just the end of our babywearing days, that she’s too big to be worn without expecting some amount of discomfort. my hips were killing me after wearing her out and about- but i rely so heavily on the carrier, especially when we’re at home.. it helps for when she’s feeling clingy and i need to get something done.. if she’s upset, it ‘resets’ her mood and calms her down- and most of the time lulls her off to sleep. besides my breasts, it’s a major parenting tool- and has more than paid for itself with the amount that i use it. priceless really.

so, i was sad to think that that was it. until i found out that there are toddler and pre-school sized carriers. laaaaa!

i borrowed the kinderpack from a mama in dublin

and now i have the chance to check out a few carriers from the babywearing ireland sling library. this week, i got two, the huckepack toddler, and the kimimela wrap carrier

first up, the huckepack. i’m in love with it from the very start.. it feels just like an ergo, only bigger- coming up over claire’s shoulders (as it should) and allowing her to feel cocooned and cuddled in. immediately the weight is well distributed across my body and i feel like i can carry her forever comfortably. (it was getting to the point, in the ergo- that five minutes was killing my shoulders)
there’s more bits to adjust on this carrier- which seems like it would grow well for a child growing taller, or for the wearer- to allow mama or papa to use it easily.
the first time i put her in this carrier, she cuddled right in, got her ‘ma’ out- and nursed to sleep. magic..
now i just need to save up some money to get one!

next, the kimimela carrier

so, i’m in love with this carrier too.. i just wish that i would have had it when claire was lighter (this girl weighs 47 pounds)
i fits so comfortably, and is made so beautifully- i love the style, i love how it ties.. it feels secure and allows you to adjust the tie to hide any muffin top that other carriers seem to enhance.
i definitely want one of these for my next babe. and again, when i put claire in it- she cuddled up, nursed- and went right to sleep..
tying it on, for me- was almost instinctual.. i didn’t look  up any guides- since i was well used to tying a woven wrap from when claire was a newborn.

what is your favourite carrier? have you ever thought to check out some slings from a babywearing library? it’s kind of brilliant.. all i paid for was shipping, and i get to test them out for a few weeks before sending them back on for another mama to try out. i love that..

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blood mysteries

the sharp contrast of red, so sudden and stark
blood and all it’s meanings..

there was the blood lettings and innocence. the naivety. inconvenience and embarrassing
womanhood staining my underthings. tricks of the trade and secrets passed from woman to woman.
the silent knowing between mother and daughter, as she takes away the clothes with ease, to go soak and wash. unashamed, folding a towel that night to slip between body and mattress. just one of those things. unspoken and understood.
once a month, a sink full of soaking cotton. rust waters. gentle care.

then there was the blood lettings and tears. the proof that life had yet to nestle itself in my womb, another month barren.
curled on the bed, clutching an aching stomach- and an even bigger ache, my heart
the blood of life met with disgust and salty tears.
impossible to find ways around honouring that delicate dance- when it flows from between  your thighs with a force to remind you, often. there is no baby this month.

there are the dreams. a sacred text scrawled in the very fibre of each woman… dreams of rivers of blood, the impending arrival of a moon, the beginnings of an end. the life force with a kiss of death. powerful medicine, that…

then, there was the gush of blood, the impending arrival. the whoosh of salty womb waters down which your babe arrives- veiled, crowned, and blessed in the blood. christened in deep crimson rivers. the final offerings of life within, through a cord tethered to mama.. released.

rest.
as soothing milky white nourishment flows from the breast. thoughts so far from rich blood and aching womb. cradled, in our arms instead- life.

it quakes.. after a certain time. the rumblings of earth, the fire in the belly. the offerings. silent wombs like winter, dormant- waiting the arrival of spring.

sanguine.

the moon hung just right in the sky, a first quarter moon- in perfect harmony to complete the last quarter moon my babe was born… ripened and waiting..
this time, completely new… hormones swirling so heavy, fiery female energy of two coursing through my body- needed different ways. hers, and mine..
the build up intense
sepia melting on the tongue
the offering of spring in a single daffodil sprouted
the offering of a fertile womb in a single drop of blood
a vessel of possibility

this blood was so powerful, and i wanted to honour it without knowing how.. or exactly why.
meditating, with my feet solid on the earth, my knees the same height as my shoulders.. feeling the ache of my back melt between my thighs
admiring the beauty in this that is often looked over. this wonder and amazement.. this creation within a woman..
washing my knickers with intention and care, as if receiving a gift.. and taking my time to fully appreciate every aspect of it.

awakening
to the mystery that unfolds within
shared with sisters before us.. in red tents and feet stained with the clay of the red earth.
honoured and cared for
as the vessel of life.

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birth markings

the very last mama made the most powerful example of why her ‘nest’ is so important exactly how it is..

i bare stretch marks with no shame..

i’ve talked about them through different points of my womanhood, i’ve shown the world my post partum pooch- no bravery necessary- there’s nothing brave about celebrating our beautiful bodies.
stretch marks.. my body, the world- stretching. becoming. from girl to woman, and woman to mother.. my body stretched and gave way, and i have the map to tell my journey on earth- etched into my very flesh.

my stretch marks, my sacred ode to womanhood. the memories of life changing and life growing, the original nest, ever expanding..

whether your body stretched to carry a life, or your fertile lands were scarred on battlefields of fertility medicines, never to carry life within- you were birth marked. your swollen belly, or belly so taught- your heart carrying your baby in another woman’s womb- stretched and birth marked.. becoming.. all the same. your story etched into your very being, etched into your flesh. your body cradling your baby- from whatever walk of life they came.

mamas, and sisters, and daughters- it’s time.
your birth markings are uniquely yours, and tell the beautiful story of your time here upon this earth. from your wombside waters you rushed down on, to the becoming of moontides. from maiden to matron to crone.

goodness me, honour that beautiful self. it’s time.

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spiralling

i suddenly found myself in this downward spiral funk..
hormones shifting as my baby grows into a more independent soul
my breasts emptier, less full.. signs and symptoms of the return of a moon, only to be let down- no blood yet.
signs and symptoms of fertility returning, but met with the confirmation of a negative ovulation test
signs and symptoms, possibly pregnant? two negative pregnancy tests.
a baby clawing at my sad breasts, going back and forth trying to get the milk she desperately wants
all the while, becoming a puddle of tears- wondering what is going on in my body, and upset to think of her weaning because of whatever my body is doing..

all a tangle and twist of ‘why am i feeling this way?’
aching for signs of being ‘cured’ of PCOS, and emotional, knowing that my baby is quickly growing from her babyhood and well into a toddler.
the sudden dawning thought ‘what if i have to go through (in)fertility like before?’ i can’t bring myself back to that place.. it seems impossible to be there again when i have claire, when i don’t want to focus any energy and be in such a negative place hormonally and emotionally.

but of course, i wouldn’t be going back to ‘that place’. there is only the journey ahead, whatever that might bring. i’m not in the space to even think about that.. still.. the what if’s are calling..

the past few weeks have been so odd.. up and down, split. my stomach turning with the sky. rain and drizzle and the promise of the sun coming through.

tears spilled and breathing in the scent of my baby, as deeply as i can. holding her tighter, longer.. studying her face as she sleeps. all part of it.. this mothering thing. of letting go and making room, of letting babies grow up and explore further away. it’s bittersweet- i love watching her interact with people, so bold and brave and unquestionably loving everyone… and at the same time.. my baby. my baby. my baby.   my baby, stay my baby forever..

–

all this funk and hormonal shift. this moon and her intense pull..
trying to remember to nourish myself in ways that is good for my soul.
sepia melting on my tongue
hips swivel in circles in the hoop
bring myself back to my art..
nourish myself, lovingly.
a reminder to feel, whatever i feel.. without judging it. (sometimes that’s the hardest thing.. right? simply be.ing. without judgement)

how are you nourishing yourself these days?

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january 23rd, 2012

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for the love of milk

i can remember it so clearly, my babe so tiny and new- her hair jet black, little bird mouth rooting around for the breast
it was sunny that september, our windows wide open letting the breeze in
i sat on the couch, my breasts engorged with milk- so much so, that if i removed the breast pad it’d pour right out of me, as if you turned a faucet on.
it was incredible, really- the fountain of life i became
the first two months i was fumbly and learning, discovering how my body worked- discovering how perfectly in tune it was with my baby..


and these three little cups.. i hand expressed into to find relief from the fullness, to settle the milk down so i could learn to latch my babe on.
these little cups of liquid gold, that i put into the freezer and saved so lovingly- because my body made that for my baby… and oh, what a miracle that is, and yet so perfectly normal and everyday, nothing extraordinary at all- but these days- when people forget how their beautiful bodies work, the medicine that we make so effortlessly (albeit some women take a bit of effort)
how our bodies just make food…the most perfect food, ordered up at a moments notice. that evolves and changes as the babe needs…

a comparison of a year of breastfeeding exclusively

my body did that! all on it’s own…
mama’s, do you realise how completely amazing you are?!

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