Sacred Pregnancy Winnipeg
5-113 Marion Winnipeg, MB, Canada

For the first time microplastics were detected by Raman microspectroscopy in human placentas. Microplastics were found in all placental portions: maternal, fetal and amniochorial membranes.... Microplastics carry with them substances which acting as endocrine disruptors could cause long-term effects on human health.

Take the time to get to know your unborn child . . . enter your child’s world and learn what is important to that soul. Listen to the lessons you will be learni...ng together; your child has lessons for you as you will have for him or her. For this is the time when the soul is not yet bound by the body, and it can communicate with you with full consciousness. There will never be a more perfect time for you to know the soul of your child, and the fullness of their being. . - Padma Aon Prakasha . Art by @georgeredreev . . . . . . #pregnancy #consciouspregnancy #spiritualmidwifery #micro #macro #soul #lessons #life #lifeschool #greatmystery #doula #birth #stardust #cosmic #creation See more

They told you about the contractions, but did they tell you about the expansion? Did they tell you how your body would open to make way for the whole universe ...to pass through? Did they tell you how your heart would explode with a love bigger than anything you’ve ever known as you pulled your baby to your chest? They told you about the ring of fire but did they tell you about the crown of stars? Did they mention that there’s a moment when your baby enters the world and you leave your body and touch the heavens and become the light of a million galaxies? Did they tell you how the pain of stretching to receive your child would be more exquisite than any sensation you've felt? They told you would scream but did they tell you about how would you roar? Did they tell you about the power that would rise up from your belly as you called your baby forth with your mighty voice? Did they tell you how you would embody the wild woman within you as breathe fire with your song? They told you would bleed, but did they tell you how that sacred blood wouldn't scare you? How you would feel grateful for that magical liquid of life as it trickled down your leg - how you would honour its flow and how it would help you heal a lifetime of hating your body's bleeding cycle. They told these stories and taught you to fear birth, to fear your power, to fear yourself. But you are stronger and wiser than that mama. You know that birth is your divine dance, your soul's song, your moment with God, and you walk fearlessly into her open arms. Beautiful words and art by: Catie from Spirit Y Sol

Mothers around the world

You carry the other end of this cord and organ around with you as an indent in your abdomen. What a funny reminder of such an important connection. We all comme...nce here. We all begin in the dark waters of our mothers womb. We all feel before we see with our eyes. . It is believed in many cultures around the world that the placenta is the guardian angel, spirit guide, and a map of the soul of the baby. The life sustaining, enigmatic and self-sacrificing placenta grows alongside the baby providing oxygen, nutrients, hormone production, waste removal, and we can only begin to imagine the spiritual significance and role this organ plays. Its job is finished when the baby is delivered, earthside. . If given the opportunity, it will continue to pulse and provide oxygen to the baby while it adjusts to its new environment outside the mothers body. The life force pulse slows and the communication eventually fades, but you wear the mark of this connection forever. You become an independent in one way, and completely dependent in another. . Convalescence after the marathon of physical expansion and contraction, emotional ebbs and flows, and mental clarity and hardships is a necessary part of the birthing experience. . You need time to integrate and process. . Honour yourself by making space to heal and adjust. Allow yourself to be taken care of so you can take care of your baby. Please, find your voice and ask for help. We are not meant to navigate these new waters alone. . @elliana_allon and I are offering unique collaboration packages for the upcoming holiday season which includes premium holistic postpartum doula care, and her award winning photography. More details coming soon! . Photo by @elliana_allon . . . . . . . . #doula #birthdoula #placenta #postpartum #postpartumdoula #photography #holisticcare #fourthtrimester #grandvoyageherbals #birth #birthmatters #spiritguide #lifeforce #herbs #herbalmedicine #spiritualmidwifery #sacredwindow #holidayseason #bestgiftever #expectingmother #motherhood

S O B R I E T Y My relationship to alcohol started at a very young age, which is a story all in itself - one I will save for another day.... I went through my entire adolescence, teenage years + early twenties in a tremendous amount of pain + inner turmoil, and one of the ways that I disconnected myself from all of the hurt was through drinking. Not only did it create new problems for me (which served to *verify* the story that I carried - which was that I lacked worth), but it further disconnected me from myself + the healing that I so deserved. Fast-forward to becoming a Mother - which I had always longed for - my relationship to alcohol ultimately changed. But not only was it still stemming from its roots in trauma, it was still not healthy. Society now gave me a pass to move from party girl to mommy wine culture, which impeded my embodiment of the sacred + vast transition from Maiden to Mother. What they don’t talk about at baby showers + mommy groups is just how effectively Motherhood kicks up the dust that lurks in the corners of our soul; how effectively the process of Mothering mirrors our shadows back at us. I was considerably good at self caring my way through - yoga, prayer, hot baths + meditation - I loved therapy, too. But there was a barrier that I kept crashing into, and it was held in place by that glass of organic red. Being in a perpetual state of pregnant + nursing, my body was depleted. Jan 1, 2020, I decided that the NYE drinks I had the night prior would be my last for a bit + I declared the month dry. I had done this before, it wasn’t a big deal. But as it turns out, it would be different. 258 days later I’m still sober. I haven’t really struggled with wanting a drink, and as the distance between my last drop + today grows, so does my clarity. Sobriety has activated a channel within me that links me directly to God; a channel which through it runs the codes to Divine Truth. Happy National Sober Day, world. Hop into the comments, tag a friend who will appreciate this, + let’s amplify the gift of sobriety

''All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four month old fetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as an egg... begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother's womb, and she in turn formed in the womb of her grandmother. We vibrate to the rhythm of our mother's blood before she herself is born, and this pulse is the thread of blood that runs all the way back through the grandmothers to the first mother.'' ~ Layne Redmond, When The Drummers Were Women Mara Berendt Friedman New Moon Visions Sacred Art

IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT, IN LAUREL, MONTANA I hesitate to write about some of the more mysterious aspects of birth. I cringe when other midwives publicly speak ...of birth as sacred. I hate it when well-meaning friends introduce me as the magical midwife. I prefer a more professional reputation. You see, for centuries, midwives have been judged and jailed and even burned at the stake, for their involvement in things that could not be explained (mostly childbirth), and even today, the medical mainstream accuses midwives of practicing less-than-scientific methods of care. Because of this, we midwives have perhaps over-compensated in defending our truly professional and educated selves, relying on evidence-based research to support every move we make. But if a midwife does this work for very long, she will indeed see things happen that surpass all science and statistics, things that reach far beyond her wildest imagination. And if she witnesses these things with openness and a humble heart, she will eventually come to understand that she really DOESN’T understand birth at all. Nobody does. Still, she must be careful describing these experiences, lest she be labeled a quack or accused of telling tales. We don’t get burned at the stake anymore, but we get burned in other ways. So, with a half dozen credentials in my pocket and 36 years of midwifery practice under my belt, I’m stepping out on a limb here, to tell you one of those amazing birth tales. It happened last night, in Laurel, Montana. Having attended several previous births for these folks, I’m practically one of the family by now. I’m comfortable in their home, and their kids know me well. Yesterday evening, I arrived to find the mother soaking in her bathtub, with contractions coming on strong. (She loves water birth). Her dilation was seven centimeters, and fetal heart tones were good. I set up for a delivery, and left her and her husband alone, because this is how they like to have their babies. I was right outside the door, listening and charting and waiting for them to say my name. That moment came, and I stepped into their space and knelt at the side of the tub, ready to catch. Baby’s head immerged. The cord was around the neck, and I slipped it off quickly and asked the mother to push again. A beautiful black-haired boy came out into the water, and I lifted him into his mother’s arms. There was no cry, but his movements were lively and his color was good. He kept his eyes shut. With my stethoscope, I listened to his breath sounds and his heart beat. Everything checked out fine. As his little knees moved outward, we saw that this was a boy. The other children were waiting in the next room, and when the dad announced the gender, a giant whoop and holler filled their whole house with joy. I was observing the baby closely then. He didn’t respond to all the hullabaloo. Still in his mother’s arms, with his mother still in the tub, his little feet made ripples in the water as we waited for the cord to stop pulsating. It had been a beautiful birth. I stood back, watching the parents adore their child, teary-eyed and tired. We would cut the cord soon and help the mom get into bed. I kept my eye on the baby too. Although all things measurable were totally perfect, he seemed to still be in another world. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but there must be some other realm where babies live before they live here. Perhaps it is just the womb. Or perhaps it is some other un-mapped reality. But when people move from that reality into our own world, it’s a conscious move, and they each do it at their own pace. Now, I’m not talking about APGAR scoring or length of second stage. No. Those things are measurable, and this kid was doing fine in those categories. But he wasn’t quite here yet. Other midwives have seen this, I’m sure, but we don’t talk about it very much. Last night’s baby was hanging out in the other world. There was a blue-ish distance behind the tiny slits that were his eyes. His little lips were pressed shut and he was silent. He appeared closed off, somehow. It was like he was way inside of himself or maybe somewhere way out in the Cosmos. Yet everything I could assess was totally functional. He was here. But he was somewhere else. I’ve only said this a few times before, but last night I heard myself saying, Come be with us, little one. It’s a good place here. Technically, he was several minutes old by then, so it seemed an odd thing for a midwife to say. That’s when two of his sisters, ages five and six, quietly slipped into the room. I think they knew. They stood near the tub and one of them reached forward to hold the newborn’s tiny hand. She said softly, I love you, baby. The other one leaned over and kissed the infant and told him We waited so long for you. IMMEDIATELY, there was a spark! The baby began to wiggle like most babies do. His eyes opened wide and focused, absolutely beaming at those two little girls. Then he moved his head to look around the room and he let out a cry. It was a powerful cry, as if to say, OK! I’m here now. I’m home. Hello everybody! It’s me! We already knew he was healthy and whole. I’d officially assessed everything about him, and even written it down in the chart. Obviously, we all loved this baby boy. But it took those two little girls to convince him to actually come into our world, to join us here, and to become one of us. So what was their magic? Love. Spoken without fear. Spoken outloud. Pure, innocent, unscientific Love. That’s what lit the spark. OK. Try analyzing THAT. Try identifying the evidence. Try even talking about it without losing some credibility as a professional. You won’t find this stuff in the text books or on Youtube. But it’s all true. Sometimes Love is what brings babies around. Sometimes Love is what brings all of us around. Love is mysterious and sacred and effective. Now, I need to say that this doesn’t happen at every birth. In fact, I’ve only seen it a few times. But it does happen. I’ve never been bold enough - or silly enough - to write about it before. But today, it seems like a worthy birth tale to tell, because it all happened last night, before my very own eyes. Go ahead. Burn me at the stake. ~ by Pat Schwaiger, RN, CPM, Mountain Midwives, Billings, MT (artwork by Catie Atkinson)

That first touch says it all. Home birth deeply impacts fathers as well as mothers!