We tried to plan things didn’t we?

We talked about whether we’d have kids before we got married and we agreed we’d at least have two (we’d see about a third when we got there). I made it clear that life with me meant kids and I remember you saying “I know, I know there’ll be babies”. But we didn’t know did we? We didn’t know what it really meant to be parents and we certainly had no idea what it meant for our relationship.

I was surprised when you didn’t bond with Charlotte when she was born. You had been so infinitely patient with me while we’d been dating. I had been all over the place with depression and you went through all the ups, downs, round and rounds with me, loving me all the way. I never dreamed you’d struggle to be patient with someone so precious and tiny. In fact, I thought it would be me that would have little patience for screams and long nights, I amazed myself. Two babies later and you still find this early part so hard. I guess I thought you’d find it easier this time because you knew what to expect but instead I think you found it frustrating that I thought you would have changed “I’ve always found it hard when they are babies” you told me, “why did you expect me to be different?”

And when you joke (with an undertone of being serious) that you hate babies, people stare at you as if to ask “why did you have children?” They don’t see the way you hold your babies and take care of them when they’re calm. You’re really an amazing dad who, like a lot of others, finds it hard when they scream relentlessly at you because they want their mother. When you’re unable to give our baby Maggie what she wants, (me), it can feel like she’s saying “you’re not good enough.” But despite your grumbles you carry on and the other day when I joined you at Playcentre and I saw her in your arms, clutching your jersey with snot patches on the shoulders from her cold, I felt that deep love rise in me that only a woman married 12 years can know.

No one knows what parenthood is like until you’re there and once you’re there, there’s no going back. There’s no “control z” option. I sometimes wonder, if you were given a ‘do over’ option, whether you would have opted out of fatherhood. I’m pretty sure you’ve thought about it when things have been tough, I think a lot of parents do. I’ve been the primary caregiver and you’ve worked long and hard hours to provide for us. When you’re not at work, you’re helping to raise the children and spending time with all of us. Perhaps some people think it’s a raw deal that a husband should work and also help take care of the children when he’s home.  I think this comes from the idea that the partner who is at home is somehow not working. I’ve been a stay at home mum and a full time working mum. The choice is between a chaotic and exhausting existence and soul crushing guilt.

Sometimes you get time to yourself and we get almost no time together, alone. Before children, we had nothing but time to ourselves and for each other. Of course you love your children and yet, they represent a very large change in our lives that meant sacrifices for both of us. We know the children will one day be older and we’ll have more time but that doesn’t give us much solace right now.

It’s been obvious to me that fatherhood has been harder than you thought it would be and the lack of freedom time-wise and financially has taken its toll on you. What’s interesting to me is that I, for some reason, took responsibility for that. I have constantly felt at varying levels of intensity that I need to make it up to you that we had children together. Perhaps it’s because it was me with the burning desire to have children and though you wanted children, you’ve struggled more than me with adjusting to parenthood. I think a lot of mothers feel that way. Our focus shifts, as it has to, to the round the clock care of our baby. And at night when we’re exhausted and finally get a chance to browse online we’re bombarded with messages that it’s up to us to not let the fire go out of our relationship. We need to organise date nights and ensure our partner’s needs are being met because after all, it’s us that changed, it’s our fault.

But I’m tired of taking responsibility for your happiness. I’m tired of living with the anxiety that you might just decide you’ve had enough and walk out the door. Perhaps you’d say I’m being dramatic but when I don’t have enough attention to give you, there’s always the possibility that someone else might. It’s not that I think you’re the sort of person to cheat, it’s that I think you deserve that love and attention, in that way the fear makes sense. I’m so on edge feeling like I ruined your life somehow, every grumble and groan about having to do some sort of family related chore makes me either angry or sad. But we both made these babies, they weren’t unplanned. I had misconceptions about parenthood as much as you, but I just had to get on with it.

There is so much we’re unprepared for as we enter parenthood. New parents are bombarded with information about how to handle the birth, they’re not warned to expect that you might find your relationship becomes one of companionship, support and silent, steady love. Let us ask the parents to be - do you love this person enough to endure a period of time when you’re not the centre of their world and when you’re even not the centre of your own? The fact that I took responsibility for your frustrations and unhappiness is my fault. You never blamed me. It’s just that I want nothing more than for both of us to be happy and how can I be when my husband seems to be so sad in his life, the life we created and built together. We laid the bricks together, so solving this problem feels like a team effort too.

​We can’t go back and I personally wouldn’t want to. Parenthood is hard but I wouldn’t change a thing about the path I’ve walked to this point. I only want to focus on the road ahead and what I can do to help you stay on it with us.  As you drag your feet, I'm worried you’re falling behind and that one day I’ll turn to see you’re not there anymore. I’m looking over my shoulder and I see you, I see your struggle, do you see mine?  

Support networks are hugely important for everyone and especially, in my opinion, for parents raising small children. We are the ones living chaotic lives on broken sleep and chronic sleep deprivation is a major contributor to post-natal depression. There seems to be a collective cry from us parents “It takes a village to raise a child, where is my village?” It’s a good question. Where is it? I have to wonder, did we perhaps forget to build it and are now confused about where it is?

The community support village of the days of old are gone because we no longer spend our whole lives in the same place. We move. We follow jobs, study and opportunities. It really is a great thing to be more mobilised but the downside is that we can find ourselves displaced from our family, school/uni friends and familiar environments. We can’t stop this new way of functioning in the world so we have to adapt to it. I had one friend in Dunedin when I moved here, I had no village, I had to build it and I’m sorry to say that it took time and effort.

But we’re so short on time and energy, we’re parents! I know but seriously, a support network is not only made of people who support you but of people who you also support. That means you need to spend some time getting to know people and genuinely caring about how they’re doing in their lives. Not just so they’ll care about you but because these people are now your village. They’re your safety and you’re theirs.

It seems to me that some people think that if they just pile up a whole lot of money in the bank that they’ll be safe in life but I’ve seen from personal experience that this is not the case. For one, life happens. Jobs get lost, businesses go bankrupt, people get sick, people die. Sorry it’s true. You can line up as many ducks as you like and life can just come along and knock each one down like dominoes. And even if life doesn’t take your money, it still might not keep you safe. Money will not save you from depression, relationship break ups or grief. In my opinion, relationships, and I mean the kind with a deep, authentic connection are what truly keep us safe.

I always say that relationships are the true currency of life. It’s the vehicle through which we make meaningful exchanges such as warm hugs, uplifting words and acts of kindness. I’ve had friends crying on my shoulder telling me about their financial hardship and their fears of being homeless. I’ve been able to cup their face in my hands and say deeply into their eyes “you will never be homeless” and in that moment they understand. Not just because they know I would never see them on the streets but also because I’m not the only one. Sometimes we forget our friends in those dark moments. We can fall into a place thinking that we have to deal everything by ourselves and everything is on our shoulders, we forget about our village. Most of us have some sort of friend network and we tell ourselves that we don’t want to burden them. But for me, when a friend has opened up, I feel safe because this person is trusting me with their most painful wounds. Trust is the foundation of a relationship and I find it more stable than a flimsy pile of money.

It can be hard to take the time to build deep friendships because we’re all so damn busy. We’re often up in the night, on school runs, kindy runs, cooking, cleaning, working, studying, then it’s pickups, baths, dinners and bed, phew! Who has time for friends? I’m so sorry to burden you with this but we have to make time and I encourage you to not waste your time dancing around on the surface with people. Move on from the small talk quick smart and get to finding out how your friend is doing, I mean really doing. Not so you can get a turn to vomit your life dramas to them but because you really care and you want them to feel supported. If they’re a good friend (and no doubt you’ve got great taste in friends) they will ask you in return and that’ll be your chance to share. If they never do then carry on in your search for a deep connection with another friend because you’re busy here, you’ve got a little bit of time during a chaotic playdate to make a deep connection. This is you taking off your damsel in distress hat pining for your village and putting on your construction hat. A village is not going to fall into your lap, you need to build it. And build it even when things are going great, actually, especially when things are going great. This is when you’ll have the most energy to connect with others because you won’t be so focused on your own problems.

Some people think mums are just sitting around drinking coffee and to be fair we are often sitting and drinking coffee but we’re also doing important, invisible work. We’re building a village. It means when hubby’s car won’t start and he can’t drop off the kids to school, your friend down the road offers to carpool and your husband says “phew” and walks out the door never realising the time, love and energy it took to build that kind of community-based relationship. Because when she was losing it with the kids you offered to take them to the park and she was so grateful she could have kissed you. And you didn’t do it because you wanted to bank a favour for the future, you care about her and the kids. And you know that when you were in the same spot and didn’t have a friend to call you ended up screaming at your kids in a way that scared both you and them and you promptly cried in the bathroom while they whimpered on the other side of the door.

I encourage you to make more playdates and turn down playdate offers less. Read between the lines of your friend’s online posts. Maybe that funny post about how sick everyone in their house is a chance for you to send a quick message to see if she needs anything or better yet, just turn up with soup or leave it on the step. Invite people round, answer honestly when you’re asked how you’re doing. We’re in a loneliness epidemic people, the time of pretending has got to stop. Put the kettle on and open a bag of truth. Because despite being sometimes intensely uncomfortable, vulnerability is the fast track to building deep and meaningful relationships.

Just one word of caution before I leave you. Pace your vulnerability with new friends, test the waters. Go one layer at a time because the last thing I want anyone to do is open their heart to someone who doesn’t treat the experience of hearing your pain as the true honour it is. In turn, remember hearing someone else’s heart is an honour and sometimes just listening and responding with “I don’t know what to say, thank you for telling me” is all you need to say.

The more I observe, listen and open my heart to mothers in my community, the more I’ve come to realise that we seem to be walking on a tightrope called ‘coping’. It’s gotten to the point where if we’ve made it through a day without yelling, threatening or feeling like we're going to explode, then we’ve had a great day. Forget that it’s possible to have days filled with laughter, joy and love (seems like too much of a stretch doesn’t it?). At the end of the day, if we’re coping then we're kicking ass.

How did keeping our shit together become our gold standard for living?

I think it’s because we don’t see that everyday pressures, rising emotions and exhaustion build up in us. We just adjust and keep walking along our rope. We don’t realise we’re on a serious lean. It doesn’t matter if we’re inches from falling into an abyss because after all, we’re still upright, we’re still putting one foot in front of the other and we can still say “I’m fine” when asked how we are.  We’re doing just fine until suddenly, we’re not. It can take just one little remark, incident or unexpected outcome to give us the tiniest nudge and down we go. Like a feather landing on one end of our lop-sided balancing stick, it becomes too much and we go into free-fall.  

I’ve managed to break the cycle of coping in my life, most of the time. There are still times that I fall into old patterns. I don’t often realise it until it’s too late and a trigger has sent me reeling into the depths of depression. That’s when the tears flow, the rage spews and the self-damaging thoughts flood in to the point where my husband finds me curled up in the bathtub, the water long since drained away, unable to motivate myself to move.

It happens to so many of us. We blow up at customer service clerks who look at us like we’ve lost our minds (we have). We yell at our partners who didn’t do what we asked and they yell back at us in defense confirming the horrible thoughts we have in our heads about ourselves. We slump against closed doors while little hands beat on the other side. But life moves on. We pull things together and get back on the tightrope. Sometimes we even convince ourselves that we’re better now and won’t ever go through that again.

I’ve done years of personal development work, at least 10. I used delude myself into thinking that there would come a day when I would never be triggered again. I’ve come to accept that life just doesn’t work that way. It’s not that those 10 years of inner work count for nothing. I let go of a lot of pain, embraced forgiveness, changed beliefs and found passion in my life. I just don’t think it’s my destiny to sit on a mountain top in constant serenity. I have a desire to be a part of a human collective that works together to build a more compassionate and connected world. That means staying on the ground, among people and their pain. If I’m going to continue to interact with people, it’s a given that I’m going to experience triggers. My focus is on finding a way to guide myself through those moments of trigger without hardening my heart against others.

So how are you doing mamas? Are you in the ‘coping camp’ or the ‘not coping camp’? Anyone wanna try my new camping spot? I have to warn you though, we’ll have to trek a bit to get there and we’ll have build the site from scratch. Bummer. I know, we’re already worn out, tired and got enough on our plates. Seriously Bron, you want mums to do even more? I know, it sucks to take full responsibility for your well-being. Now and then I still have tantrums about it. I just want to be appreciated, supported, acknowledged and loved. I just want someone to take care of me for once, is that so much to ask? Well that depends, who are you asking?

In the past it was my partner that I wanted these things from. However, I learned that if my strength and ability to face the world is dependent on a specific person (or people) behaving a certain way, then my happiness remains in their hands. I’d remain stuck in misery until people did what I wanted them to do (good luck!). Also, I thought about how I would feel if my husband was to say to me that it was my responsibility to make him happy. I don’t see myself being willing to take that burden on. Of course, I want to play a part in his happiness but I’d never be able to fulfill his very need, I’d almost always fall short. We can’t be everything to everybody. So, after a bit of stamping around, I resigned myself to the fact that my emotional, spiritual, and mental well-being were my responsibility (damn it).

That’s when I started getting curious about me and about ways to look after myself. I don’t mean in a ‘go to the gym’ or ‘eat healthy’ sort of way. I'm talking about my personal path to healing my relationship with myself. I found my way through exploring spirituality. I’d always had a fascination with spiritual concepts. I visited various healers, read scores of books, did workshops and researched the realm of quantum physics. I’m still learning and growing to this day. The camp I’m building is based on self-compassion, self-acceptance and eventually I’ll construct some steady self-worth. Note to reader – this takes time. There is no silver bullet or 10 easy steps to a better you. I found it best to treat it as a life-long journey of discovery and adventure.

You don’t have to spend a lot of time and money on silent meditation retreats, guru books or life coaches. I’ve been able learn loads from getting books at the library, watching YouTube videos and finding local interest groups that meet up and explore concepts that excite me. If you have the means, sure, book some sessions with practitioners who use techniques you’re interested in. Whatever you decide to do, I implore you to do it now and not wait for the people around you to stop being assholes (hell might freeze over).

Walking down your path of personal growth is a great thing to do if you’re in the ‘not coping’ camp but strangely, I think it’s even better to do it if you’re in the ‘coping camp’. You might be thinking like I used to, that doing work on yourself when you’re in a good space is a waste of time and it’s better to wait until things are falling apart. But how good is that space you’re in really? Wouldn’t you rather be doing better than just okay? Just surviving? Just coping? Trust me, you’re going to be in a better place to receive the information and healing benefits of that self-investment if you’re not simultaneously locked in a period of intense self-loathing.

I’m so sorry to all the tired, overburdened, at their wits end mothers. I’ve been you in the past and I have no doubt I’ll be back where you are in due course (especially once my third baby arrives – any day now). It doesn’t feel fair to suggest that you do anything more when things are already so tough. Like me, you probably don’t see your saviour in the mirror (mostly I see wrinkles and a few grey hairs). The thing is, the alternative seems to be continuing to walk that tightrope called ‘coping’ and I believe there’s much more to life than that. We have every right to pursue joy and passion for ourselves. We don’t have to just survive, we could thrive. The more we build ourselves up, the more likely it is that we’re going meet challenges or triggers with courage, compassion and love. So forget the tightrope and go camping, there is so much more to life than coping.

Bronwyn Bay
Retired tightrope walker

Please take a second read of the title of this blog.

Please note that it says ‘Why I love the Dunedin Steiner School and Kindy’.

Please note that it does NOT say ‘Why the Dunedin Steiner School and Kindy is better than any other school or education option’.

It also doesn’t say ‘Mainstream schools are the devil’.

If you’re wondering about the motive of this blog, it’s to address a common question I get asked – ‘why did you choose a Steiner school and kindy for your children?’ So, if you’ve asked me in the past, you’ve been wondering, or you didn’t know that my girls go to a Steiner school and Kindy and you’d like to know what it’s like, read away. I harbour no judgement against mainstream schools. I believe education choices are very personal and that all parents should feel free to choose whatever option they feel is best for their child.
​
Reason 1:
Community is everything to me

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m passionate about doing my part to foster a connected community that supports its inhabitants. It’s one of the reasons I’m president of the Mornington Playcentre, why I run a meet-up for mums in business and why I’m developing a shared working space for parents. A caring and connected community, in my opinion, is not just something that’s ‘nice to have’, it’s essential for us to thrive. The Dunedin Steiner school community is incredibly passionate. Parents pitch in on working bees and fundraising. The school and kindy hold regular meetings and discussions where parents, teachers and administrators come together to share their concerns, brainstorm ideas and be involved in important decisions about the school’s direction. I can see that the fostering of this community is not only in alignment with the Steiner philosophy, it’s also crucial to its survival. Steiner is a state integrated school. It is partially funded by the government with parent fee donations and fundraising making up the shortfall. Inviting parents in, involving them in discussions and giving them a platform to speak from their hearts is hugely valuable. To feel heard and valued, these are core human needs. The Dunedin Steiner school and Kindy have a clear and strong awareness of that, it shows both in how they relate to the children and their parents.


Reason 2:
Let the children play

Sometimes I feel so concerned about the way we seemed to get pushed through life. It seems to be ingrained in us from an early age to always be reaching for what’s next. Childhood doesn’t seem to be exempt from this tendency. There certainly seems to be an addiction to "busyness" in the world. For me, just going to the Dunedin Steiner school and being in its peaceful location on the hillside overlooking the water brings my heart rate down. I love hearing about my girl’s day on the ride home. About the time they spent digging in the garden, building a fort, listening to fables, painting or creating. I find myself wishing that my day had been just like that. A day woven together with threads of excitement, exhilaration and also calm and peace. It personally doesn’t worry me that academic learning such as maths, reading and writing wont be covered in depth until my girls are older. I love that they will have this extended time immersed in creativity and nature. The time to be children is over too soon and I’m content to let them play.


Reason 3:
The importance relationships

At my most recent parent teacher interview for my eldest girl, Charlotte (who’s nearly 7), we spent nearly the entire time talking about how she relates to others. There was no need really, to go into her learning development. I’d read her report, she was assessing at the standard level or above in all areas. With that out the way, her teacher and I could talk about what was most important to both of us, who Charlotte was becoming as a person. We have a shared passion for helping her to develop her self-awareness, her access to empathy and her conflict resolution skills.  There was almost a mutual feeling of relief. Relief from Charlotte’s teacher that I wanted to know where Charlotte needed more guidance and relief from me that Charlotte’s teacher wanted to work with me on helping her to develop these life skills. As parents, we hold a significant position of influence over our children which can help teachers tremendously when it comes to resolving behavioural issues. And yet, we are also very aware that our children spend a large amount of their time at school under the guidance of their teacher, making it hard for us to be aware of issues or be able to address them as they arise. I feel blessed that Charlotte has a teacher who recognises, as do I, the importance of the partnership between us as mentors and guides for her. That we can speak honestly and openly about concerns and work together on a game plan to help guide her along her path. The same is true of my youngest in the Steiner Kindy. Michaela’s teachers remain open, approachable and willing to discuss concerns. I guess it all grows out the of original point I made about community. With us all being invested in the well-being of the school and seeing ourselves as a collective of equally important parts, it creates a strong foundation on which to have vulnerable discussions that move us towards compassionate solutions.

Reason 4:
Our crazy carpool

Since starting at Steiner, I’ve worked together with other local parents to find the best and most efficient way of getting our children to and from school. It’s involved a few sit-down chats as we tried to table up who can do what days. In the end, we pieced together some sort of cohesive timetable that we all struggle to remember. And even though I check it all the time, I often worry that I’ve picked up the wrong child on the wrong day or left someone behind. The kids like to add to my angst by trying to tell me that it’s not my day or that they are supposed to be dropped somewhere they’re not. But at the end of the day, I think our carpool is a wonderful thing. The carpooling in itself doesn’t create a lot of opportunity for parent to parent bonding as we rush to pick up and drop off each other’s children. But that feeling of being able to rely on others creates a mutual feeling of support. We’re modelling to our children what it looks like to work together, help others, look after the environment and show a duty of care for the people within our community.

In Summary:
I still consider myself reasonably new to the Steiner philosophy. A lot of it I understand and other stuff I’m learning as I go. I’ve been told by those who have been a Steiner parent for longer that I will probably get asked some “doozy” questions. Like, for example, I may get asked if it’s a cult, if the kids just make daisy chains all day, if it’s just a bunch of hippies or if I had to throw my TV away in order to be accepted. Truth be told, I didn’t need to do anything to be accepted into the community. I wasn’t worried about joining some sort of hippy club, actually I consider myself to be a bit of a hippy so that works for me. In fact, I was a bit worried that I wouldn’t be hippy enough. I don’t wear organic cotton, make kombucha or activate nuts but really, that’s all just stereotypical bull crap. More than adhering to any sort of dogma, the Dunedin Steiner school invites us to align on our values, passions and the philosophy of the school.

The idea that some people think the school is a cult actually made laugh out loud, I’d never heard that before. Perhaps it comes from that hippy stereotype where people have assumed it’s like some sort of weird commune where we’ve shunned the mainstream world. But when I think of cults, I think of people who blindly follow some sort of guru leader. The Steiner philosophy celebrates the individual nature of children and the parents, in my opinion, have far too much gumption, passion and spirit to ever be considered cult followers. Well, that’s how I see it anyway.

I guess I’ll just have to wait for my turn to receive the funny assumptions people make about the Steiner philosophy. Already I’ve heard rumblings from people I know about the disadvantage my girls might experience from going to a school that doesn’t have screens or technology in the classroom. I’m not sure what people are worried about. Technology and screens are everywhere in the world. It’s not like we’ve become Amish. We haven’t made technology the devil, we just limit it and I have every confidence my girls will be very tech savvy in due course. I don’t have a judgement or opinion against schools that do provide technology in the classroom, it’s just not what they do at Steiner. It’s not a problem, it’s just different and different is okay.

I think my greatest worry is how to navigate the conversation around Michaela starting school. Already I get people telling me about how she’ll be starting school soon because she’s 4.5 years old. I’m really not sure how to tell people that actually, Michaela won’t be starting school till she’s 7. To be honest, even I struggled a little bit when I found out. I had thought she’d be 6 but no, that’s not the way it’s worked out at Steiner. I had to take another hard look at the philosophy, have another discussion with my husband and lots of chats with the teachers and administration at the Steiner Kindy and school so that I could feel confident about the perceived delay. It’s not a decision we made lightly. At the end of the day, I’m confident that in whatever ways Michaela might come across as “behind” in the beginning of her Steiner journey, she’ll be more than caught up by the time she leaves. This has been the case for countless Steiner kids that have gone before her. I guess it comes back to me reminding myself of what I said at the beginning of this blog. The educational choices we make for our children are personal to us. We decide what’s important and we go with that. Even my own parents decided to send my brother, sister and I to private schools over public schools. That came down to them deciding what was important to them and perhaps they encountered people who judged their decision or people who worried that my parents judged them on theirs.

There’s never going to be, in my opinion, one school system that works for everyone and that’s why I’m grateful for the choice. If you’re in the process of deciding about the educational path for your children, I hope that you feel empowered in your choice and that all of our children thrive in their school environments.

With love

Bron (cult joiner apparently)

It wasn’t long after I started holding ‘Share Your Gold’ meet ups that one of the mums said, “hey, have you guys heard about this new shared working space in Dunedin? It’s called Petridish”.  I was so excited to hear about this. I’d heard of shared working spaces before and had always thought they were a brilliant idea, especially for people who work from home.

I quickly got in touch and arranged to meet with Jason and Kate Lindsey, the husband and wife team who run Petridish. I was keen to let them know about the work I was doing with local mums in business and in turn, hear more about how Petridish worked.

As I sat down on the couch in their office, I couldn’t help feeling that there was "something" about these two. They were completely down to earth and yet, they had a sort of savviness about them. I could tell they knew a thing or two about building a business. As I spent more time coming and going from Petridish, watching their renovations expand and their community grow, I wanted to know more about their path to creating Petridish. I invited Kate to talk to me about her journey.

I love going to visit Petridish. Every time I go there I find there’s something new happening. From interesting workshops or new plans for their ongoing refurbishment, Petridish is constantly changing and growing. As I nestled in on a sofa with Kate, a cuppa and a biscuit, I couldn’t wait to understand how one gets to a point in their life where they decide to buy a heritage building and create a shared working space.

Kate is originally from Christchurch and her first job was working as a receptionist at a building firm where she trained to become a building consultant. Straight away the gaps are filling in. After all, surely you’d have to have some experience or knowledge in the building industry to confidently renovate a heritage building and do it so well. It turns out that Jason’s family also has a history of building management so when you put two and two together, the answer is Petridish.

Eventually she did the traditional kiwi O.E. and bumped into a lad from Nebraska in Italy. Enter Jason. Truth be told, the young couple only spent a brief amount of time together during their overseas adventure but remained in touch. Later Kate travelled to America to take part in Camp America when she was 25. It was a chance for the pair to reunite after years of phone calls, messages and instant messaging. Destiny took its course and the result was a Vegas wedding and the beginning of a life together in Venice Beach, California. Jason was working in the field of film production and Kate worked for a party planning company that organised high end celebrity events.

Soon the next chapter of life unfolded with the arrival of their eldest daughter Sam. Kate switched jobs and began working in the film industry like Jason. Before long she had worked her way up from receptionist to associate producer, working on music videos and commercials. At this point in their story I was already star struck by what Jason and Kate had achieved together in the states. When you’re sitting on a sofa in a city at the bottom of the world, the glitz and glamour of California seems so far away, it was hard to imagine. And while yes, they were rubbing shoulders with all sorts of famous people, the truth is, Kate and Jason were building a home life just like anyone else. When Kate got pregnant with their second child, she decided to leave the high-pressure work and long hours behind and enjoyed mum life. The neighbourhood they lived in was filled with families and they enjoyed the community there. I could tell this was important to Kate, that where she lived had that sense of connection and togetherness.

With a school start looming for Sam, New Zealand called Kate and Jason home. I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like to uproot your small family and take the plunge of resettling on the other side of the world, effectively rebuilding your life. Thankfully, for Kate at least, Christchurch was home and familiar. The discomfort of change holds many people back. Not for Jason and Kate though, from what I can tell, they are the sort of people who decide what they want to do and then do it.

At first Jason travelled back and forth to the states for work but eventually they decided together that Jason would be at home and it was time for Kate to sink her teeth into a new challenge. She sat down at the computer, brought up the TradeMe website and started looking at jobs in order from A-Z. She didn’t get far. Under A there was a position advertised - ‘Air Traffic Controller’.

“That’s what I do now, it’s my main job” she told me.
I had to blink a few times.
“Wait”, I told her trying to be sure I understood,
“You’re an air traffic controller?” I asked slowly.
Kate smiled.
So many questions entered my mind but the first and most burning one was;
“What was it about being an air traffic controller that drew you in?”
Her answer couldn’t have been more perfect
“Well” she said, “it was something I knew absolutely nothing about”.

I mean, wow. Personally, I was blown away. In my opinion, it takes a huge amount of courage to jump into an industry and job field you know absolutely nothing about, powered only by the strength of your curiosity. So many people would write off a job opportunity like that due to a lack of confidence that they could ever master it. And it is, indeed, a job that requires mastery. The training is intensive and at the end of the day the job requires a person who has very specific capabilities regarding their ability to keep track of simultaneous information. So, to summarise, Kate has a kick ass brain and a kiss ass attitude all while being one of the loveliest people I’ve met.

We can all thank Kate’s decision to train as an air traffic controller as the reason she and Jason now live in our amazing city of Dunedin. Despite being from Christchurch, Kate had only visited Dunedin once before when she was 19. She remembered the city as dark, wet, cold and grey. But, on arriving here to begin her career in air traffic control, she was captivated by the city's charm. She was soon on the phone to Jason to tell him, “I think you would love it here”.

And they do. Both Jason and Kate talk about Dunedin and its potential with passion and fire. As a ‘go get em’ kind of couple, it’s no surprise really, that when a heritage building came up for sale in Dunedin three years ago, they took the leap to buy it. Looking back, Kate could see that she had almost always lived in locations with a strong sense of community. That’s what they wanted to bring to Dunedin with Petridish and it shows. They’re always talking to people, bouncing ideas and collaborating. It’s refreshing to see them, as business owners, working so freely and openly with other businesses. They are approachable people, open and caring. I guess they’re a living example of how when you are confident about what you’re doing, there’s no need to fear competition or be guarded. It gives them and their space a real magnetic quality.

Thanks Kate for taking the time to talk to me. Hearing about your journey and all the plunges both you and Jason took together really left me feeling inspired. I love that I’ve been able to come and talk to you about my own ideas for building community and the support you’ve shown me. We had a great chat about balancing motherhood, our passions and our work. I guess that’s another blog, but I will finish with the quote you gave me in regards to mothers or perhaps anyone wondering if they should go after their dreams;
“Go for it. Back yourself. If you don’t, you’ll never know”.
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Awesome Kate, bring it.


Hey, think Kate sounds like a cool chick? Wanna meet her and other Dunedin women in business? Check out this new group she's co-founded called 'Women in Business - Dunedin' for all the details.

I've seen a few post birth pictures and I've been totally blown away by how radiant and glowing some of the women look. That's not my reality. This is me after the birth of my second. I strained a smile as I came to grips with my new reality and tried to recover from the shock of an incredibly fast birth.  I really did try to muster a smile for the camera but like Michaela, I was having some real feelings that couldn't have been masked. We both just needed a moment to be in our feelings and there are a lot of feelings to be had when you've just had a baby.

Okay so this blog may hit a nerve, or two, or a whole bucket load; but I’m passionate about the topic so here I am going out on a limb. Perhaps there are people out there who are a bit sick of hearing mothers whinge about the hardships of motherhood. Personally, I’m a bit sick of the over romanticised nature of motherhood. 

It’s true that nothing prepares you for motherhood. I remember people desperately trying to warn me when I first got pregnant. Later on, I also tried my best to explain the unimaginable life change to mothers to be. For many of us, it’s what we imagine being hit by a truck might be like and we want to soften that, somehow. Even though we know the inevitability of the impact, we still try to give some warning to new mothers.

People tried to tell me about all the getting up in the night etc and I listened, I’d close my eyes and imagine. Yes, yes, I can see it. I’ll hear the baby’s soft and adorable cries. I’ll stretch and yawn a bit but being filled with love for my bundle, I’ll happily slip on my bathrobe and float gently down the hallway towards the cot. A soft night light fills the room with a loving glow. Baby’s cries are soothed as soon as they know I’m there and we snuggle down peacefully into my plush rocking chair as I nourish my bubba and she gently drifts off back to sleep. With a little burp and a quick wrap in her blanket, she’s back sound asleep and I saunter back to bed and drift off to sleep easily myself, feeling content that I have once again met my baby’s needs with ease and grace. Opening my eyes I’d look into their worried faces and say “oh yes, of course I’ll be getting up. I’ll manage”.

I had no idea that I would have to be induced 3 weeks early because Charlotte was worryingly small inside my womb. I think the delightful term they used was “failure to thrive”. I wasn’t a mother yet and already the word failure had entered my life. I didn’t realise that having a small/prem size baby meant she would be lethargic and unable to latch. I didn’t know this meant my colostrum would need to be extracted by hand. I didn’t know that I would have no friggin idea how to squeeze that stuff out of there. No matter how I squeezed and pinched my nipples, it just wasn’t coming out. A string of nurses came in day and after day to grab my tits and painstakingly extract the clear goop into a syringe that was treated like unicorn tears. I didn’t know that having a prem size baby meant she would have to be woken up every 3 hours to feed and that she would be impossible to keep awake. Even though she was too tired to latch I was compelled to try and then we’d move to syringe feeding her colostrum before putting her back to bed. By then I only had another 1-2 hours for more boob squeezing and a bit of rest before both her and I would need waking again. I was too tired to sleep. I was a shell of a woman and what was worse, I was not feeling love for my baby. I was too much in a fog, daze and trying to work out what the hell was going on to even comprehend how I felt about this bundle of pink.

Days went by in the hospital and I still felt nothing for my baby. I listened to the woman in the bed next to mine tell her birth story over and over again. She professed her love for her boy constantly. She apologised profusely every time he cried. I was still too lost in working out what the hell had happened to me to respond to her much. Finally my midwife noticed I was in bad shape and arranged for me to have my own room. In the solitude I found quiet but was left alone with my thoughts. Horrible thoughts about how I’d ruined my life and the life of this small baby. As if things weren’t bad enough, out came the double pump as it was decided that while Charlotte was still learning to latch, I needed to pump my milk so we could syringe feed it to her. As soon as I connected myself to this god awful machine and the milk started flowing I entered a new hell. Deep feelings of shame, horror and sadness filled my body. Tears and milk flowed. I was told to pump for 20mins and I watched the clock tick waiting for salvation. It wasn’t until Charlotte was a toddler and I was preparing for my next baby that I learned that what I had experienced was Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex. I had just assumed until that point that I was just a horrible human being.

Eventually, after some rest, I was able to share a snuggly moment with Charlotte when she was having a brief wakeful moment in my bed with me. We looked into each other’s eyes and I felt it. Finally. The rush of love through my body and I even remember saying out loud to her little face “oh! I do love you”. I’d heard of the ‘baby blues’ before and it’s likely I was experiencing that but nobody ever told me that I might not bond with my baby immediately and I think a lot of new mums are in the dark about this. So let me put this out there – if you were a new mum who thought you had screwed up, made a mistake or that you’d have to give your baby away within the first few weeks of birth, you’re not alone. This is much more common than people realise.

Once life settles down and you get home and begin your journey as a mother at home, there can be new grief that surfaces. Women who were connected to a lot of friends might find themselves feeling quite isolated, especially if those friends do not have children. Going out can be a bit of a nightmare so many stay at home and stare at the four walls of their home all day. Women who had busy jobs, careers, skills and passions find themselves feeling unmotivated and undervalued in their new role.  Grief is a response to change. It’s the recognition of loss and it is a time when sadness is felt before accepting situations and moving on. People experience grief differently and I think it’s important that mothers be allowed to grieve openly. There can be a lot to grieve in such a momentous life change. The loss of friends, loss of career, loss of a birth going to plan, loss of a social life, loss of freedoms, loss of confidence, loss of identity. Many mothers find themselves unrecognisable even to themselves. 

There is also the loss of the dream of motherhood when it isn’t what you expected. Even though I had imagined negotiating and sailing through getting up in the night to my baby, I didn’t know that when I got home after 10 unexpected days in the hospital, I’d actually need to keep waking her every 3 hours. She didn’t cry to wake me up like I had expected, I had to set an alarm. A dreaded alarm. I wouldn’t stretch and yawn, I’d groan and rue the day. Then I’d stumble down the hall putting my bathrobe on inside out. Struggling to find the light switch I’d then spend a good 20mins trying to gently wake my tiny baby up from a deep slumber. I’d spend a good hour trying to get a bottle into her while tugging at her arms and tickling her feet to keep her awake. I’d burp her, unsure if she’d finished because she fell asleep so deeply. I’d put her down and stumbled back to bed to hear her piercing screams once tucked snuggly under my blankets. She hadn’t got all the burps out. Back down the hall I go, staggering now and forgetting the bathrobe all together. Then when she was finally properly burped and back to sleep my stomach would drop as I’d remember that I needed to pump my milk now to keep up my supply. I’d look at that double pump torture device with a sense of fear and loathing. Then I’d sit down and cry for 20mins while the milk was extracted, almost crawling back to bed knowing that the alarm was going to go off again in another 1-2 hours. Now – there’s something they didn’t put in ‘What to Expect When Expecting’.

I can only imagine how hard it must be for the women who have endured miscarriages or IVF before being blessed with their babies. They are the hardest of all on themselves for not being eternally grateful for every sleep deprived, poop and puke filled moment. All they ever wanted was this baby and some find themselves living in a nightmare. To these mothers, and all mothers, let me say from the bottom of my heart that despite being told to love every minute because they grow fast I don’t love every moment. In fact, I have downright hated being a mother at times and I’m not ashamed to say it because it’s been bloody hard and I do my best.

And really, that’s just the early motherhood stuff. Later on there are more grieving moments, like the absolute torture of having to go back to work when Charlotte was just 10months. I wasn’t ready but we weren’t ready to be homeless and I was heartbroken. Then there was the grief of having my second child who was a completely different baby and shattered my illusion that I knew what I was doing. There was even less support for me as a mum to a second baby, even though it was my first-time breastfeeding. I was consumed by guilt and grief as my Charlotte struggled to find her feet in the new family dynamic and with Michaela refusing to sleep for more than 2 hours at night and only 20mins at a time during the day, I slipped into post-natal depression.

And even though we struggle, strive and sometimes curse motherhood, we feel the grief of our growing babies. Shedding a tear as we pack away baby clothes now too small to wear, wave our babies off to school or find that they no longer creep into our beds at night. We are proud and joyful to see them grow and also feel the heart wrenching tear as they move into new phases of their lives.
​
I’m sorry to the mothers who haven’t been able to have children. I suppose these sorts of blogs make you want to scream at our lack of gratitude for the gift of our children. It’s not that I don’t adore my children and I enjoy being a mother MOST of the time. It’s just that for many of us the road has been hard and in today’s world where we live isolated from each other, support can be lacking. I think being able to openly grieve for the change in our lives on entering motherhood and all the grief laden experiences that come with it could well help mothers to feel less alone in their circumstances. I don’t want to normalise motherhood as hell on wheels, in fact, I’d like to see the romantic and joyful experience of motherhood become the norm. In the meantime, though, while we learn to reach out and support each other – allowing mothers their feelings, vulnerabilities and safe places to share their darkest thoughts and emotions is very much needed. I encourage every coffee group out there to see if you can put the nappy brand chat aside and create an agreement to share deeply with each other. Allow tears, anger and frustration to pour out and hold each other in grace.

If you’re a mum who isolated and needs support, please reach out to me:
bronbay@gmail.com

Bronwyn Bay (motherhood griever)

As a mother, I’m very aware that I'm teaching my girls every day via my role modelling. Despite all the things I TRY to teach my girls, who I am in front of them is, in my opinion, the most powerful teaching tool of all.  More than anything I want my girls to feel at home in their bodies. To be in tune with it, listening to what it says, how it feels, its wisdom and knowing. It’s a connection that was lost to me for a while but I was able to rekindle that connection when I began belly dancing.

I’m very mindful of wanting to be respectful towards other cultures.  I can only hope that my love and deep respect of the sacredness of belly dancing would allow me the permission to enjoy its beauty. I truly adore everything about belly dancing. The enchanting music, the flowing movements and the harmonious connection it creates between the women I dance with. It truly is a gift to the world, I am grateful to experience it.

My girls always knew when I was heading off to my belly dancing class. They could see a sort of excitement in my preparation to leave which peaked their curiosity. Of course this would lead into full blown tantrums that I either not go or take them with me. Whatever it was that I was doing, they wanted in on it. I appeased them by coming home and sharing with them what I’d learned in the lesson. They’d follow me around the room trying their best to copy my attempt at the Egyptian walk, giggling and laughing all the way. It’s true, the movements of belly dancing invoke a sense of joy.

I used to think to myself in those classes how powerful it would be for my girls to watch and join the women in the room. To be led by us. To be shown what it looked like to be a woman who felt empowered by the magic in her hips, at peace with the flow in the sweeping of her arms, joyous about the company she kept.  That’s why I was overjoyed when I heard Lisa Ambrose was holding belly dancing classes for kids at Studio Tula.  Finally, I had the chance to introduce my girls to a love of mine, a passion that I knew instinctively that they would love too.

Studio Tula is not a cold or clinical classroom. The energy of that space has a beautiful serene and nurturing feeling. You feel at ease and at home as soon as you arrive. The girls were immediately excited by the space and the exotic music playing that had them dancing even before they knew how.

Lisa is a natural teacher of children. Her ability to both teach the techniques while also relaxing and letting the children find their way, makes for an enjoyable class. The girls watched her move with a sort of awe in their expression. They tried their hardest to do it “right” but what mattered most was that the girls were having fun in their bodies. They were trying new ways of moving, they were exploring, they were being the free spirits they are while in the company of strong feminine leadership.

I spoke to Lisa after the class about what she loved about teaching the children.

“I love their joy” she told me “and I’m excited by the idea that I could journey with them if a passion for the art was to unfold. The class introduces them to their body’s natural way of moving. It encourages fluidity and natural expression. The sway is very natural for females and this kind of dance enhances an awareness of that”.

When I mentioned that my girls weren’t quite getting some of the moves she added “I’d rather that they enjoy the class and not get it quite right. They’ll pick it up over time from my demonstration. Each week they’ll get it a little bit more. I love that they’re smiling and not being too serious in themselves”.

That’s the reason I love Lisa and her gentle, loving and encouraging belly dancing classes for children. My girls ask me each day if it’s Tuesday yet so that they can return and once again move their bodies with a sense of joy and fun.

Maybe I’ll see you there?
http://studiotula.nz/

Bronwyn Bay (belly dancer)

This is my eldest daughter Charlotte (on the left), who wants to be Rainbow Rosalind when she grows up (on the right). What I love most about my daughter’s ambition to be a singing, dancing, guitar playing, rainbow making fairy is that Rainbow Rosalind is a tangible hero. She’s not some presenter jumping up and down on a TV show based in America or worse, a cartoon in an imaginary place. Rainbow Rosalind is real, I should know, she’s a friend and what she offers to my girl and others on the ground here in Dunedin is a real life demonstration of what it looks like to follow your dreams and stay young at heart.

This is no silly fairy, she’s got her head and wings on straight. She’s won the APRA award for the best 'Children’s Music Video' for her song ‘Aotearoa, Home of our Hearts’ in 2016 and recently launched her first CD. We listened to her songs on repeat during our camping trip to the Catlins and I loved hearing my girls singing the words and laughing along. The girls enjoyed singing “let’s go on a bush walk” as we explored the local bush walks of the south eastern coast of New Zealand. I even got corrected on some of the lyrics when I tried to sing along.

The true mark of the CD's success, however, was measured by the screams and cries that erupted when their grandfather asked if we could please turn off the music in the car. To be fair, Pap pap is not the target market for the songs and so, of course, his taste in music is different from my girls. However, with the protest in full force he was quick to ask the music be turned back on and allow peace to reign again.

Personally, I like the music. I sing and dance along with my girls because I know that by buying a Rainbow Rosalind CD, I'm supporting local talent, a local mum, a community member and in the eyes of my girls, a superstar hero.  Thanks Rainbow Rosalind, we’re lucky to have you. 

You can buy Rainbow Rosalind's CD here:
https://rainbow-rosalind-store.fwscheckout.com/

Or download it online here:
https://itunes.apple.com/nz/album/kia-ora/id1197075366


Is this a sponsored blog post?
In a word - no. My blog space is not for sale. When I meet someone doing something awesome I sometimes offer to write a blog about their business because it makes my heart sing to do so.  I truly 100% believe in who they are and what they're doing.

Sometimes I have days when I fantasise about packing my family’s things and going away to live in the secluded wilderness, escaping from modern life.  It’s a terrible idea in reality because I struggle with camping at an overpriced and over equipped camping ground but I like the idea of it. I can imagine myself as some sort of earth mother - sitting peacefully among trees, living off the bounty of the land and bathing by wading gracefully in rivers. The reality of eating bugs, falling into muddy creeks and sleeping in wild rain and wind keeps this fantasy as a fantasy and that’s okay with me.  It's enough for me to sigh deeply at the dream and then focus back on living in the here and now.

Ultimately, this fantasy is an escape and it doesn’t serve me.  I feel this way now and then because sometimes it feels like humaning is too hard. In particular I’m referring to human relationships and how they can sometimes feel like a minefield to navigate. I’m the sort of person who values deeply relationships that are built on trust, open communication and honesty delivered with compassion. I know I’m not getting it right all the time. I know that I’ve probably done things and said things to people that have perhaps caused a fantasy of living in the wilderness to play in their minds.

I guess it’s a matter of reminding myself that sometimes people do sucky things but they don’t necessarily suck.  For example, one day a long time ago I was running late for work (a common occurrence for me) and trying to get my daughters to day care. As I drove along I saw in the distance a car sitting idle in the middle of the road. As I got closer to the car, I couldn’t understand why they were stopped. Their hazard lights weren’t on, no one was crossing the street, I was worried they were going to cause an accident least someone who wasn’t paying attention drove into them. I really didn’t have time to sit behind a stopped car so I went around them. It wasn’t until I drove past and they honked their horn angrily at me that I realised why they were stopped. A mother duck and ducklings were slowly making their way across the road. That’s when I noticed the duck crossing sign. It turned out that I was that person, the person who didn’t pay attention and almost caused an accident. I’m very glad to say that I didn’t run over mother duck and her ducklings (see the wilderness and I just don’t mix!) but it was a moment that carried significance for me even to this day.

I did a sucky thing but I don’t suck (not all the time). I was just caught up in my own agenda under modern life pressures. So if I can give myself some slack for my lack of awareness, my lack of thought and my lack of consideration in that moment, I really ought to be able to extend it others. Because even though there are moments when I wonder why I bother, there’s almost always a moment later when I’m reminded why I do. Because yes, human relationships can be complicated, but I still believe with all my heart that doing what I can to help foster community and heart based connections is how I can make the world a better place for my girls. And I do that by reaching out to others and asking them to take my hand again, and again and again because the desire to deepen my connection with the humans around me makes the sometimes difficult task of humaning worth it.
 
With love
Bronwyn Bay (human)

​I’m Bronwyn Bay and I cry randomly.  So? You might think. Lots of women are emotional, sensitive and hormonal at times, we all cry now and then. Yeah…..that’s not what I’m talking about.

One day when I was working as an admin, a couple of the office ladies began chatting with me about the fruit shop down the street.  We all shared excitedly how much we loved that fruit shop.  It always has the ripest and most delicious fruit at a great price and then….then….I started crying.  Okay, when I say crying I mean noticeable tears began welling up in my eyes and running down my cheeks (I didn’t begin sobbing or anything).  I wasn’t sad of course, but something about the conversation caused feelings in me that caused me to cry.  To say I got a few strange looks would be an understatement.

Now I can understand maybe getting a bit tearful now and then if the topic is emotive, but this was fruit. That’s not exactly a heart wrenching topic.  This has always happened to me for as long as I can remember but after that incident, I became more self-conscious of these random attacks of tears.  Sometime during meetings with staff or worse, clients, I would feel my eyes welling up.  I’d do all sorts to try and stem the flow.  Looking away, pretending to sneeze, blinking rapidly and sometimes just telling myself it wasn’t happening.  I met with my boss to explain my problem to her.  She told me, bless her heart, that I really ought to go and see “someone” about that because it’s not normal and unprofessional.  Of all the people I’ve worked for, she’s not someone I have fond memories of.

I did go and see someone though, a coach who I desperately wanted to fix me.  I wanted him to help me stop this random crying business so I could have normal conversations with people.  He invited me to observe the moments the tears came to visit.  What was I feeling when it happened? It took a while but I eventually worked it out.  Every time it happened I felt deeply heard, received and connected to the person or people I was talking to.  The subject matter made no difference.  It happened only when I felt that way but not every time, making me feel so out of control. I never knew if the tears would come or I would hold my composure.

At the end of the day, the coach did not help me get rid of the random tears.  Instead, he helped me come to terms with them, to accept them as part of who I am.  I felt a bit tricked by him at first, he helped me find a solution but it wasn’t the one I was expecting.  Lately I’ve forgotten this and I’ve been trying to hide my tears again so I decided instead to write this post. To remind myself and let others know that if they’ve ever seen me getting tearful randomly when we’ve been discussing mundane stuff like, oh I don’t know, the perils of living on hill or where the best place to park in town is – it’s because I’m feeling connected and heard.

Please don’t go the other way on me and start getting offended if I’m not tearful while talking with you.  As I said before, it happens when I’m feeling connected and heard but not every time. There are plenty of times that I’m enjoying a conversation and not crying – thank god. Otherwise I’d have to buy stock in tissue companies.

Some of you may well be reading this and thinking…..okay, I’ve never noticed this about Bron.  That’s cool. Often the things we think are a bit embarrassing about ourselves are things people actually take no notice of. In any case, you’ll now know what’s going on if you ever do notice me wiping the tears away while we talk. Just pass me the tissues and say “I love you too Bron”.
​
With tears of joy
Bron