Mother Craft Management & Eurobodoula Services

14/11/2025

14/11/2025

09/11/2025

09/11/2025

30/10/2025

Shark nets are killers

14/10/2025

🚩 5 Provider Red Flags if You’re Planning a VBAC 🚩

Finding a provider who truly supports your VBAC journey is so important. Here are 5 warning signs that it might be time to look for someone new:

1️⃣ They dismiss your VBAC goals
If your provider constantly talks about repeat cesareans as the only “safe” option, or minimizes your desire for a vaginal birth, it’s a sign they may not honor your choices. Your birth goals deserve respect.

2️⃣ They use fear instead of facts
Comments like “your uterus will rupture” or “something terrible will happen” without context aren’t helpful. Evidence-based counseling is about sharing real risks and options, not scaring you into a decision.

3️⃣ They don’t offer informed consent and informed refusal
Supportive providers walk you through all your options and let you make the decision that’s right for you. Informed refusal is just as important — you should never feel pressured into interventions you don’t want.

4️⃣ They tell you to schedule a C-section “just in case”
Being told to plan a cesarean without discussing your actual VBAC potential may mean your provider doesn’t believe in or encourage vaginal birth after cesarean. That’s a red flag.

5️⃣ Your gut says something’s off
Intuition matters. If you feel dismissed, rushed, or unsafe in appointments, trust yourself. Feeling comfortable and respected by your provider is critical for a positive birth experience.

You deserve a provider who listens, informs, and partners with you — not one who raises red flags. And it's not too late to switch providers to someone more supportive!

If you’re looking for a provider who supports VBAC, check out our Supportive Provider List! You can find it at thevbaclink.com/supportive-provider-list

14/10/2025

14/10/2025

07/10/2025

In 1874, outside Abilene, Kansas, a young woman named Sarah Whitlock was forced into marriage with a wealthy rancher twice her age. His fortune came with cattle and land, but his heart was nothing but iron. He treated her less like a wife and more like property, his temper quick to rise, his fists quicker still. On a storm-dark night, Sarah slipped out of the ranch house with nothing but a canteen, a hunting knife, and the clothes on her back. By dawn, she was riding into the wide, merciless Kansas plains, praying freedom lay beyond the horizon.

The rancher wasted no time. He sent his hired guns after her, men who knew the land and carried rifles at their saddles. For days, Sarah survived on grit alone—drinking from muddy creeks, sleeping under mesquite, and learning to stay two steps ahead of the hunters who closed in. But desperation sharpened her spirit. She began turning their own tricks against them, scattering horses, stealing ammunition, and leading them into dead canyons where their pursuit turned into panic. The runaway bride was no longer prey—she was learning to hunt.

By the end of summer, whispers spread through Abilene’s saloons about the rancher’s men found dead on the trail, their rifles missing, their pride shattered. Sarah never returned to her husband’s house, nor did she wear his name again. Instead, she carved her legend across the prairie, the girl who had run from cruelty and taught her hunters to fear her shadow. In 1874, the runaway bride proved that freedom in the West wasn’t given—it was taken, with wit, grit, and the will to never bow again.