From misfit, to midwife to mumma: My journey to birth

In 2009, I spent 3 months in Ghana with Platform2, a trip that would unknowingly set me on the path to midwifery, motherhood and the work I do today.  I went there, running away from my life back home, whilst there I split my time between a building site, a school and a private maternity clinic run by the absolute legend, the formidable Madame Elizabeth Dankwa. She was 67 at the time I was there, a force of nature and had once facilitated the birth of 71 babies and assisted in four c-sections in a single night in Accra - utter madness🥴

The women I had the honour of meeting there worked all day on farms, walking miles while in early labour, only to turn up at the clinic in the middle of night to give birth. They were powerful beyond words, yet their strength was more often than not unrecognised. That experience shifted something in me, I saw what women were capable of and what they deserved in their care💞

That trip changed everything. It led me back to night school to get my A-levels, onto a long assed journey to qualify as a midwife and into over a decade of working alongside families✨

The road to Mumma hood

Working through the blip was brutal. I was burnt out, exhausted and faced an absolute mare when declining the vaccine and risk of losing my job because I believed in bodily autonomy. On top of it all, I consciously delayed trying for a baby, because I couldn’t put myself through it, what was happening to families🔥

Then, when the time came, it wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped⌛

Months of trying, testing, weight shaming from the GP, fighting for referrals, quoting NICE guidance to justify additional input because of my age. When the IVF referral finally came through, something in me shifted. It felt like a sign that this wasn’t our path ⭕

We got a puppy instead, I say we, I got a puppy, my husband just shook his head 😏

Four months later; pregnant, ta dah...🎉

Pregnancy & birth: Owning my experience

I knew from the moment I saw those two lines that I wasn’t outsourcing this experience. Even as a midwife, the idea of handing over my care to someone else felt foreign. I wanted to own my pregnancy, to nourish my body, to lean into the community I had built around me💞

I questioned everything. Had I been compassionate enough to those I cared for? Had I really understood just how debilitating pregnancy symptoms could be?

I surrounded myself with care. Self care treatments. A mother blessing. A village of support. Then, when my waters went on a Thursday, I walked on the Friday, met with our doula Gail, cuddled my pups and went to bed early✨

I laboured through the night, leaning into my instincts. Bath. Binaural beats. Shania Twain & Ann-Marie on repeat. TENS. Rebozo. Puking into a bin while Gail held my hair. In and out of the birth pool. The relief when I finally got in, feeling the shift🔥

The rest of the birth story is mine. It’s hers. It’s ours. I’m still processing it, even now🌪

What I will say is this:

This birth was everything. It was powerful, humbling, wild. It shaped me, as a mumma, as a woman, as a maiden, as a midwife

It changed me

It changed the way I work 🌀

So when you ask me:

"Can I do this when they’ve told me I’m too fat? Too old?" "Can I give birth at home?” “Because I’m a first-timer?” “Because I had a c-section?"

I say, Yes, you fucking can

Come work with me

Let’s write your story 💫