My motherhood story

My daughter, Sienna, was born on her due date at home in our living room — the happiest moment of my life and the beginning of the most life-changing role I could ever imagine. But nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of the fourth trimester.

I had always dreamed of being a mother. Since I was a little girl, I imagined it would come naturally — that I’d be calm, connected, and confident. But our early weeks were anything but easy. Sienna had tongue tie. Breastfeeding was painful and chaotic. I was overwhelmed with anxiety, and completely alone in it. To make it even harder, three weeks before she was born, my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her treatment started shortly after Sienna arrived, and I lost the one person I thought I could lean on.

I felt the ache of missing motherly energy so deeply. I craved someone to wrap me in a warm hug and tell me I was doing okay. But instead, I found myself in a blur of lonely days and sleepless nights, Googling things at 3am that I hoped I was supposed to just know. Everyone talked about the “village” — but no one seemed to know where it actually was.

Like so many other mums, I was thrown into a system that didn’t truly see or support me. Rob went back to work after two weeks, and I was left holding it all — physically, emotionally, mentally. I didn’t need a course or another checklist. I needed someone to hold me.

I now know what I was experiencing was the beginning of maternal burnout. But no one said those words. No one talked about what happens when you give everything to your baby and nothing to yourself. I was told to consider medication, but I knew deep down this wasn’t just anxiety — it was the collapse of everything I had been holding.

When Sienna was six months old, I trained as a postnatal doula. I knew I didn’t want other mothers to reach the point I did — frayed, shut down, barely functioning. I wanted to be the presence I had longed for: someone to listen without judgement, to gently guide, to remind women of their strength when they can’t see it themselves.

Later, after experiencing the heartbreak of a miscarriage when Sienna was two, I saw again just how little support exists for mothers in the rawest, most tender moments. These pivotal transitions — birth, loss, matrescence — shape us, and we need to be held through them.

This work is about more than just support. It’s about protecting mothers from burnout by meeting their needs early — physically, emotionally, spiritually. It’s about giving them the space to process, rest, and reconnect. Because when we tend to the mother, the whole family thrives.

In 2020, I trained in Kinesiology — a powerful modality that became the heart of my practice. It helps women uncover what their symptoms are really saying, and gently release the emotional patterns keeping them stuck in survival mode. It’s not just “stress.” It’s the stories your body’s been holding since childhood — and they’re ready to shift.

Now, I blend kinesiology, somatic support, and life coaching in a 1:1 programme called The Rooted Mama Method — designed for mothers on the edge of burnout. I also continue to offer exclusive postnatal doula support to ensure more mothers feel held before they reach that point of depletion.

I live in a little white cottage in Thames Ditton with my husband Rob and daughter Sienna. I believe deeply in the power of warm meals, long baths, musicals, mothers gathering together, and all things natural health.

If you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and holding far too much — I’m here.

To listen. To witness. To walk beside you back to yourself.