Mindfulness for Kids at The Baby Room

In the past, I often found myself telling my children to “calm down” or to “relax” but never showing them what these things actually meant or in fact, how to achieve them.  Through my studies and self-practice of Mindfulness, I began to realise that just as I was learning ways to acknowledge and work through stress and emotions, my children needed the resources to do the same. 

Mindfulness means paying attention, in a particular way, on purpose and in the present moment.  It involves acceptance – paying attention to thoughts and feelings, without judging or reacting to them.  Studies suggest that mindfulness can help develop our children’s concentration and self-awareness, providing tools to help calm down and to make better decisions.  Children who practice mindfulness benefit from improved cognitive outcomes, social-emotional skills, and wellbeing. These benefits may lead to long-term improvements in life, such as improved education, employment, crime, substance abuse and mental health outcomes in adulthood.

There has been an explosion of research into the neuroplasticity of the brain, which seems to conclude that brain training, using mindfulness practices, strengthens the areas of the brain that are responsible for attention, emotional control and problem solving. Specifically, mindfulness can help us to shift our attention and regulate our reactions.  Compassion based mindfulness practices, both towards ourselves and others, also appear to combat the production of negative emotions.

It can be a difficult enough concept for the adult brain, so finding ways to teach practices to my children has been a really creative process.  We started with a nightly body scan, which is one of the fundamental ways of bringing consciousness to different parts of the body and we incorporate a level of gratitude practice into this – thanking our bodies for being strong, and brave and for helping us have fun throughout the day.  The responses of my own children to this and to breathing work, led me to want to develop a programme of work with other children and so our Mindfulness for Kids Programme at The Baby Room was devised.  

Over the course of four weeks, children are introduced to mindfulness in a fun way, fostering the development of those calming and relaxation skills.  We introduce the concept of Breathing Buddies, helping children to connect with their breath.  Bubbles and balloons are other simple ways of tuning in to our breathing. Our Spider Hero Super Senses encourage us to notice what our senses are bringing to us, the noises we hear, the smells we smell, the tastes we taste. Weather Reports and Gratitude Practices help us to identify our feelings in a safe, supported environment. Physical craft activities such as making Worry Trees, Mindful Colouring, blow painting and the making of a Mind Jar give our practice of a sometimes abstract concept, a more concrete basis.  Games, songs and stories that require focused attention are also interspersed through classes.  The children are really embracing the concepts and the class is fast becoming one of my favourites to teach, helping me fine tune my own practice into the mix.

Why I Choose To Birth At Home

My first home birth baby turns five this month.  Here’s our story: 

My knowledge of "home birthing" was confined to tales of how my mother’s aunt helped to deliver her on my Grannies kitchen floor, so, like many mums when I discovered I was pregnant, having a home birth wasn’t something I knew was even an option.  I had a very healthy pregnancy with my first son but an induction and bad reaction to an epidural, as well as not feeling listened to during his birth left me feeling dis-empowered.  I hated being left in hospital - torn, tired, sore and alone with my new baby simply because visiting time was over and my husband had to go home.  I developed an infection and the breastfeeding support was abysmal so when I discovered I was pregnant again, I began to examine my options.

A quick internet search led me to the Home Birth Association of Ireland, where I spent a long time reading about why women chose home birth, the process involved, reading articles and examining facts and figures.  Myself and my husband decided it was something we would like to explore, so we set up a meeting with a Self Employed Community Midwife.  Philomenia Canning, Philo or P, as we affectionately call her, walked into our lives, a tall, strong, confident woman and within minutes of meeting her I could picture her at the birth of my baby, encouraging and supporting me and I knew this was the right decision for me.  She outlined the process to us, explaining the concept of giving ownership of the birthing process back to women, of not viewing healthy pregnancy and birth as something to be managed but rather as a naturally occurring process during which mum and baby learn to know and trust their bodies.  I mention healthy pregnancy, as one of the first things Philo stressed to us was that home birth was only an option in healthy, low-risk pregnancies.  In the event of becoming ill during pregnancy Philomenia's exact words were "I am not what you need", so I knew from the off that if I or my baby were unwell or at risk, then our care would be transferred to hospital where we would receive the necessary treatment, meaning home birth would no longer be an option.

We asked Philomena to be our midwife after this first meeting. It was the right fit for our family.  Also a contributing factor was that we had chosen to see a consultant privately and after paying him €4,000, he was not present at the birth of our son, who was delivered by an extremely competent midwife. Our next step was to inform the HSE of our decision, as they provide some of the funding to pay independent midwives.  They also carry out a risk assessment and have a strict, almost prohibitive, home birth criteria. I also booked into the local hospital, in case of transfer. Family and friends had lots of questions, which was really great as it made me really focus on having the birth of my choosing.  

Philomena came to our home each month, until the last month when she came weekly. Our toddler son was very involved, measuring my tummy, checking my blood pressure and listening to baby’s heartbeat.  He talked about “his” baby constantly. 

On the day of my daughter's birth, we were up early to cheer on Ireland in the Rugby World Cup. I was uncomfortable but not alarmingly so. We were due to attend a family wedding and my stilettos were at the ready but at the last minute I decided to stay home, so the boys went. I started becoming more aware of mild contractions but predominantly back pain and by late afternoon decided I better pay attention to them. At 7pm I rang both Philomena and my husband to tell them things were starting.  I didn't feel any sense of urgency and told them both there was no rush. My sister came to keep me company and we started to fill the birth pool. The fire was lighting, candles were burning, Andrea Bocelli was playing and the atmosphere was lovely and calm. My waters released just after 9 O’clock, minutes after my husband arrived home. I remember him removing the cuff links of his pristine white shirt and thinking he looked like he meant business!

Philo, who was bombing it down the motorway suggested we call an ambulance. I didn’t want to as I knew the baby was coming and I wasn’t prepared to leave home, but we did call. I climbed into my lovely warm peaceful birth pool and felt instant relief wash over me. I was submerged about a minute when Philomena advised I get out, as it was apparent that I was looking at an unassisted birth. 

I moved to the couch, on hands and knees and began to naturally sway my hips back and forth.  I knew Philo wouldn’t make it and I quelled a sense of panic with some deep breathing and told myself “you’ve got this”. Calm came over me and I instinctively knew my baby and my body knew what to do. 

The paramedic was on loud speaker with my husband who was preparing to catch his baby.  My sister was fantastic, wiping my face and encouraging me. After one big push I was able to reach down and feel the silky head of my baby.  It was incredible and almost immediately my daughter was born into her Daddy's arms at 9.27. She was tiny and so calm and absolutely perfect.

I sat on the couch with my little Evie, named after my Grandmother Genevieve, on my chest. The paramedics arrived and peered at baby but did not touch her.  They asked would I like to cut the cord and I said no.  Philomena arrived a minute later. She was immediately in control, helping with the placenta and then showered and dressed me.

All new born checks were done and P tucked us into bed. Alan and Evie slept right through, cuddled together and I just watched them, amazed by it all and in the morning big brother Calum climbed into our bed and a fantastic love affair with his little sister began. It was just so perfect.

The follow up care, support and advice were unbelievable.  Philomena could not have done more for us during her daily visits in the week after birth. She became a much loved, trusted friend, who changed my life and started me on the path I am on now, supporting other families in pregnancy and birth.

And She's Off ...

My little girl is starting school and I’m going to miss her tremendously.  She’s been my side kick pretty much 24/7 for the last five years.  Of course when I told her this, it was received with a raised eyebrow and a “eh, we will still live together ya know”! And yes, I do know. I know that things are going to change and I know I’m not so good with change.  While on one hand I know that she will absolutely thrive in school, reunited with some of her Montessori friends, I also know that she will find the days long. She’ll miss being able to kiss and cuddle me whenever she wants.  She’ll wish her brothers were with her to see her art work or swap Lego with.  And when I pick her up at the gates, I know this uniform clad girl will regale me with stories of her day and I know I’ll smile and say “wow, I wish I’d seen that”. 

Starting school means she’s not my baby girl anymore. I can no longer spend a large portion of the day protecting her, explaining things, kissing away tears, laughing at her jokes and making up songs with her.  Yes of course we’ll still do all of these things, but they’ll be shorter, squeezed in between homework and what-ever after school activity happens to be on.  When I think of how fast these school years are going to go by, I can’t help but feel really lucky to have had so much time at home with the children.  It’s been very hard at times, sometimes lonely and overwhelming but mainly it has been an honour.  It’s good for me that opening The Baby Room has coincided with her starting school.  In a way I can’t imagine spending my days at home without her there, chatting and looking for food incessantly!  So, it’s a new beginning for all of us. 

I know that holding her hand walking through the school gates, I’ll be reminded of reaching for my mother’s hand, when I walked through the same gates for the first time, so many years ago.  I have such happy memories of my time in Ballon National School and I know my daughter will too. She’ll make new friends and learn so much more about the world.  I’m excited for her and I take great comfort in knowing that the staff are really lovely and that she will not be short of people keeping an eye on her. 

Her big brother is excited to have her with him.  He’ll do a great job of keeping an eye out for her in the playground and making sure she knows the ropes.  If there’s one thing he does very well, leading the way is it!  I know it’s bordering on the ridiculous to be so emotional about her starting but she’s my best little buddy and I am going to miss her terribly.  I am however, going to try embrace the words of her favourite Disney movie and let it go!

Dear Diary

We recently visited Dingle while in Kerry on holidays.  I hadn’t been since a family trip with my parents when I was a teenager. As we walked through the brightly coloured streets, I was assailed by memories of that holiday, a time I hadn’t thought about for years.  I remember we travelled with my uncle, packing fun in, not knowing then that the following summer he would die, leaving us to say goodbye forever.  I remember being curled up in the back of a campervan documenting the trip in my diary.  And as the memories came, so did the regret because a few years ago in a moment of sheer and utter madness I threw all of my diaries into the fire.  They were so personal and contained so much of me – so many ramblings, hopes, dreams, desires, love, loss, sadness, poetry, secrets so tightly guarded that their existence made me feel too exposed.  Too vulnerable.

I first started keeping a diary when I was 9 years old, and although we tormented my oldest sister by reading hers, I think my own managed to stay in the most part, private.  My secret special friend. I wrote in it daily, a bright blue A4 hardback that I covered in stickers and mindless doodles.  Photographs were arranged haphazardly, love hearts drawn, boy’s names scribbled out.

I remember writing about buying my first pair of jeans from the Jeans Den, with money I had earned strawberry picking.  Followed a week later by Metallica’s “Black Album”, the first tape I bought for my inherited Walkman.  That blue book was replaced by many more as the years went on, capturing the highs and lows of my teenage years, leaving home for college, the years I spent living in London and Australia and my world travels with friends.  The unrequited loves and the ones that didn’t last but left lasting lessons.  Today as I write this, the adult me aches to read the childhood scrawl of that small girl, with such big dreams and the strengthening of my character and confidence as I grew in life.

After I had my own children I started to think about what I’d like them to know about their mother.  I don’t for one minute expect them to think I’m perfect or flawless.  In-fact, I know that even my very best efforts couldn’t hide my flaws from them, but I also didn’t want them to know the darkest corners of my mind either.  I’ll regret that decision for a long time to come.  As we passed Paudie’s Bar, I longed to take out my diary and read the words I wrote the night I visited there with my parents, remembering my Dad singing along to the trad band that played to the packed pub. As I grow older, increasingly I think that rather than being shocked or embarrassed by reading my most private thoughts and experiences, that my children would be proud of the mother I grew to be.

The Jigsaw Puzzle of Life

I’m writing this with half an eye on the kids as they play in the garden.  My littlest is following his big sisters every move, idolising her, her shadow.  She has replaced me as the object of his affection and anything she can do, he must follow suit.  ‘Mawn Evay’ is uttered countless times during the day, as he reaches for her hand and they set off on some mischievous adventure or another. I love seeing the dynamic between the kids. Each of their three personalities similar in ways and yet very different. Strengths shining through even at such young ages.  My oldest son’s innate confidence, my daughter’s fierce determination and my littlest boys absolute need for independence. I love watching them grow, seeing their bonds deepening as they explore together, learning from each other. Making memories that they’ll carry through life.  

They are close, my three babies.  Friends at this age, although I do have to referee more frequently as they grow.  I can hear the shutter of the camera as my husband watches them too, through his lens.  Seeing something different than I do. Adding to the thousands of photographs already waiting to be printed.

Sometimes as I watch them growing and changing before my eyes, I try to imagine what the future will hold for them.  I wonder what career paths they might follow or where their travels will take them, or what kind of partners they might choose to share their lives with.  I hope they will remain close and that even if they are separated by land and sea, the bond that they share now will remain strong, as they count on each other, friends as well as family.  I hope they will always hold a soft space for each other – the people that know them best in life and that loved them first.  It’s hard to picture them grown, and gone from me, even though that separation is a natural one and happens a little bit more each day.  I hope that I’m preparing them well for the future.  I hope that I’m giving them the coping skills they will need for the very many challenges that life, no doubt has in store for them. 

Sometimes I have to remind myself to stop more often. To watch them a little more closely. To listen a little bit more attentively and to play with a little more abandon, to drink it all in, knowing that I will never have this time with them again.  Someday they will climb out of my bed for the last time or not need the reassurance of my hand in theirs crossing the road. They will need me in different ways, rather than the all-consuming survival needs of these formative years. 

   

My babies are like jigsaw pieces that combine to make up the whole puzzle of me.  I hope that throughout the years, even as pieces are misplaced and get tattered around the edges, they will always be easily reassembled.  

The Baby Room Is Open For Business

The idea of opening my own premises, especially dedicated to the health and well-being of Mum’s and babies has been developing for a number of years.  I think mothers are hugely undervalued by society.  We are expected to be all things to all people, often putting ourselves last.  Having three of my own children, I’m acutely aware of how much I rely on family and friends for help and support. I’m incredibly lucky in that I get it in spades. I am also aware that lots of mums aren’t so lucky.  I had my first son in Dublin and felt incredibly isolated.  I wasn’t prepared for the loneliness being at home with a new baby brings.  I wasn’t prepared for the utter exhaustion, the tears, the dependency on my husband for news of the outside world. I didn’t enjoy mothering until I found my village. I joined a breastfeeding group and went to sensory play classes. We did baby swimming and movie dates and found like-minded mamas to share our journey with. I became someone more than “Calum’s mum”.   I became a new version of me.

Look out for our signs leaving Fairgreen, towards Barrack Street 

My goal in establishing The Baby Room is to bring together my background in Social Care and my training in GentleBirth, Pilates, Baby Massage, Toddler Yoga and Mindfulness, to offer a multitude of classes designed to meet the needs of mums and their families at various different stages of the parenting journey.  Located in the heart of Carlow town, at the Fairgreen Shopping Centre, The Baby Room will open its doors, next Monday, August 8^th.  It’s been a rollercoaster, but I can’t thank John Brophy and his team at the centre enough, for all of the help and encouragement.  I’m really excited to join the fold and bring an extra dimension to all of the great businesses already operating at the Fairgreen.

I’ve been working hard on developing my classes and creating a really lovely, welcoming space.  On Monday’s our Mommy & Me Pilates classes allow you to exercise while children play close by in our dedicated play area. Monday’s are also about Mindfulness at The Baby Room. We’ve got our Mindfulness for Kids classes in the afternoon and our Mindfulness for Pregnancy and Mums classes in the evening.  Tuesdays we have Toddler Yoga and two Pregnancy Pilates Classes, tailored to your stage of pregnancy.  Wednesday’s we’ve got a general early morning Pilates class and an up tempo Fusion class at lunch, while the evening is for Beginner’s. Thursdays are Baby Massage and Kids Pilates and on Friday mornings we’ll have our Drop & Shop, where you can leave kids to take part in a play workshop while you take advantage of the great shopping at the Fairgreen or just grab a well-earned cuppa. 

A sneak peek :)

Each Saturday we’ll have Toddler Yoga, followed by a different workshop each week, from Elf & Fairy house building, to Sensory Play to Master Builders and one weekend per month will be dedicated to the incredible GentleBirth programme, which encourages parents to prepare for a calm and confident birth experience.  And loads, loads more, including space for a cuppa and chat and our brand new treatment room.  All course information and booking is through our website www.thebabyroom.ie or calling 086 0569137.  Drop in and say hello!

My Children Are Driving Me Crazy

I met a friend for coffee the other morning and greeted her “How are you?” with an exasperated “My children are driving me crazy!”. It had been a busy morning, as usual and locating lost shoes, emptying unemptied lunch boxes, cleaning up cat poo and wrestling tangled hair meant I was frazzled. (Actually frazzled has become kind of a thing).

 Her response was “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. You’re supposed to be all Earth mother”. Am I, I thought? Because I write about my experiences of parenting? Because I teach classes? Because I’ve had home births and breastfed children past 2 years of age? Does that make me a particular type of mother? Does that mean I can’t have days where everything goes to pot and I make a complete mess out of parenting? Or that I can’t be stressed and completely lose my cool when I’m washing my teeth and turn around to see make up smeared all over the walls or the dog covered in Sudocreme (true story).

She didn’t mean anything by it. And I wasn’t offended but it got me thinking about perceptions and labels. I parent the way I parent because it works for me and my family. I teach the classes I teach because I have studied the psychology and philosophies behind them and they resonate with me. I am passionate about gentle parenting. I understand it works best for my kids. Do I get it right all the time? Unequivocally, no! Sometimes little arms are wrapped around me and I am told “You are the best Mom EVER”, other times doors are slammed in my face and “I hate you” is shouted at me (I’m not going to lie, that one hurts like hell.)

It’s really hard trying to find the balance between knowing the mother I want to be and being her. Every day brings challenges, sometimes I rise to them in a gracious way. Other days I am overwhelmed by responsibility and the kids bear the brunt. Sometimes I try my very best. Some days I am very far from my best and trying just seems like a step to far, so I do what I can. Every day is a new day and when I’m being crap and I’ve treated the kids badly by shouting or being unfair, then I own it, I apologise for it and we move on. I’m far from perfect. I make mistakes. And I’m certainly not trying to hold myself up as any kind of an example, other than within my own home. But I do hope that in being honest I let the Momma’s I work with know that we are in this together.

Earth mother, working mother, hippie momma, stay at home mother, crunchy mom. Routines, relaxed. Breastfeeding, bottle feeding, co sleeping, spoon feeding, baby led weaning, home birth, C-section, natural conception, IV.F., adoption, single, married, gay, straight. The only label that’s important in any of it is, simply, Mother.