With Moon Menstrual Doula + Postpartum Doula

With Moon Menstrual Doula + Postpartum Doula Helping you to find calm and vitality in
all your cycles and phases

Herbs for the Menstrual Phase 🌿🌕A live workshop held in rhythm with inner & outer summer.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This season we’re s...
03/07/2025

Herbs for the Menstrual Phase 🌿🌕
A live workshop held in rhythm with inner & outer summer.
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This season we’re sitting with raspberry leaf, yarrow, and hibiscus—plants that soothe cramps, nourish blood, support release, and hold us in the intensity of the descent.
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This workshop is part of our Menstrual Medicine course, unfolding over the four seasons. Whether you’re bleeding now, preparing to, or guiding others through these rites—this class is for you.
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📅 Monday 7th July
📍 Online
🌀 3 hours of cyclical, embodied learning
🎟 £55
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You’ll leave with practical herbal knowledge, seasonal ritual, and a deeper intimacy with your wombspace.
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🌿 DM me or email redtentrosie@gmail.com if you’d like to join
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🌞 solstice from the inside out⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This solstice didn’t look like dance circles or flower crowns.It looked like c...
21/06/2025

🌞 solstice from the inside out
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This solstice didn’t look like dance circles or flower crowns.
It looked like candlelight and aching limbs.
Like my baby on my chest and petals in my hands.
Roses and elderflowers from the cemetery I’ve come to love—
the first green place I knew when I landed here
alone, full-bellied, with a toddler at my side.
The veil between worlds felt thin then—it still does.
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I stayed up late one evening, light still bright, against the hum of exhaustion, to make a remedy from what I foraged:
wild roses, elderflowers, young nettles, strawberries, honey, vinegar.
An oxymel of the turning season.
Medicine from a liminal space.
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This solstice has been about tending my own threshold. The tendency is to overextend now —the light is long, the days full, the harvests plentiful, and the children… never quite asleep.
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But I’ve been practicing retreat.
Saying no to the outward pull and instead choosing tea from my little garden planted so late in the season, moxa on my belly, cupping on my back, and deep care of this body—
postpartum, mothering alone, doing it all.
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So I can keep giving. Without burning out.
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This season points outward, yes.
But for me, this year, it also points inward.
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If your solstice pointed inward too, I’d love to hear what came through 🌻

The other day I lifted my 3-year-old across the monkey barswhile nursing my 8-week-old in a sling.It was drizzling. My h...
08/06/2025

The other day I lifted my 3-year-old across the monkey bars
while nursing my 8-week-old in a sling.
It was drizzling. My hair was wild with wind.
And I knew it then —
that I’d be okay.
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Not because it’s easy.
Because it’s not.
But because I’ve learned to hold all of it:
the chaos, the ache, the ordinary magic of this season.
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This photo captures something of that —
the softness and the strength, the mess and the miracle,
the way we’re all floating together.
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I’m still deep in it. Still bleeding, still nursing, still finding my feet.
But I feel something stirring.
A rising.
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Soon, I’ll be offering nourishment from this place —
for mothers, for bleeders, for children.
From my kitchen, from my grief, from the plants that have carried me through.
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It’s not quite time.
But it’s coming.
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Today would have been our 11th wedding anniversary.But we are no longer.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This week, I was held in a Closing o...
31/05/2025

Today would have been our 11th wedding anniversary.
But we are no longer.
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This week, I was held in a Closing of the Bones ceremony.
Held on the very ground, in the very spot, where I birthed our child.
My body swaddled in shawls, my story pulsing through the drum—
the very drum I made in the cycle I conceived him.
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It was a ceremony for all the endings:
– The pregnancy that carried me through a storm
– The sacred 40 days of tending and tethering
– And the end of my husband’s presence in my body, forever
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As the rhythm of the drum moved through me, I felt him leave.
And I felt myself return.
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So much has unraveled since December.
A continent crossed.
A rupture faced.
A new home created, alone and pregnant.
A fire walked through.
A birth.
A burial.
A becoming.
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This is not a happy anniversary.
But it is a holy one.
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There is grief.
And there is grace.
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For anyone navigating their own season of endings:
You are not alone.
There is beauty in the burial.
There is alchemy in the closing.
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🌑 Photo and ceremony by the wonderful

✨ Golden Cake for the Mother’s Table ✨with spelt, saffron, yogurt, pomegranate & ghee⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀In the quiet hours betw...
25/05/2025

✨ Golden Cake for the Mother’s Table ✨
with spelt, saffron, yogurt, pomegranate & ghee
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In the quiet hours between breastfeeding and basketfuls of laundry, I return to the kitchen—my altar, my hearth. I stirred saffron threads into warm milk with a sleepy babe in my sling and a toddler mirroring my moves, folded ghee into ancient spelt, and drizzled a little orange into the mix—not zest, but juice, so it wouldn’t speak too loud.
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This cake rose slow and golden, studded with the ruby seeds of pomegranate brought to me by a friend, gently tangy with yogurt, and fragrant with cardamom and longing. It’s not fancy. It’s not fussy. But it’s sacred.
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This is kitchen herbalism:
✨ making nourishment from what’s on hand
✨ honoring the herbs we cook with, not just brew
✨ trusting that beauty heals—even the crumbs
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I drizzled it with a quick glaze: yogurt, honey, rose, a few saffron threads softened in the glow of the morning sun. A slice for me and my boy. A slice for the ancestors. A slice for the ones to come.
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🌾 Spelt grounds.
🧈 Ghee to rebuild.
🌝 Saffron uplifts.
💧 Yogurt soothes.
🍊 A splash of orange to brighten.
🌹 Rose to soften the heart.
♥️ And pomegranate, to feed the blood.
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🌿🌿 Swipe for the recipe
Or would you rather come by and break bread with me?

Spending more time in the kitchen + under the trees lately. Still learning to pace myself and honor what my postpartum b...
18/05/2025

Spending more time in the kitchen + under the trees lately. Still learning to pace myself and honor what my postpartum body needs. Life continues to bring its share of pain, but the sunshine has been good medicine… as is nourishment and cuddles from my boys. A few recent moments from this tender season 🌞 (the non-baby photo dump ones are tulsi + orange peel granola 🤌, my tinctured placenta, and my current matcha blend with tremella, fennel, rose and vanilla)

Not everything that’s ‘high vibe’ is healing. Not everything that sparkles is light. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ve seen it in the wel...
11/05/2025

Not everything that’s ‘high vibe’ is healing.
Not everything that sparkles is light.
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I’ve seen it in the wellness community—people getting gaslit for speaking truthfully about their pain. For naming the darkness they carry. For refusing to bypass their grief, rage, fear, shame.
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And I’ve been one of them.
Told to ‘raise my vibration.’
Told to ‘wake up and smile.’
Told to ‘be positive.’
Told that my wounds or blood made others uncomfortable.
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And while a smile certainly does help, it doesn’t erase the pain.
This is what I’ve learned:
The shadow is not your enemy. It’s your invitation.
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Transcendence is about inhabiting your humanity.
All of it.
The sacred rage.
The quiet sorrow.
The pain.
The deep grief.
The darkness that gestates rebirth.
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I’ve walked through the dark more times than I can count—not just in these past 6 months of heartbreak, but across a lifetime of silent battles with illness, pain and the depression that comes with what the world doesn’t see or acknowledge.
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But the darkness has been my greatest teacher, and I don’t shy away from this space. And neither should you. Anyone that asks you to dim your truth for their comfort is projecting their own unhealed shadow.
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This is what I teach. This is how I guide.
Not pretending to be healed, but toward becoming whole 🌌
Toward learning how to mother yourself.
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What’s been helping me to explore my shadow side lately:
🖤 ‘s Microdosing & Motherhood course
🖤 .the.spiritual.scientist ‘s Dark Signs
🖤 Existential Kink by Dr. Carolyn Elliott
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If your shadow has ever been shamed, you’re not alone. There’s gold in what you carry. There’s medicine in who you are becoming.

For 6 weeks I’ve been in my new home—3 weeks before giving birth, and 3 weeks since.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This time I’m doing my 4...
02/05/2025

For 6 weeks I’ve been in my new home—3 weeks before giving birth, and 3 weeks since.
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This time I’m doing my 40 days the way I want to. No pressure for going out for walks before I’m ready. No unnecessary appointments. No guilt. I haven’t left my home yet and that’s okay.
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It’s not the exact scenario I was hoping for—when I do finally emerge, I’ll have one extra child but no partner; very different than what my life looked like before this pregnancy, and I’m replenishing for what’s awaiting me on the other side.
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And so I’m leaning hard into the birthright that we all should be allowed to claim: resting up as much as I need to, allowing my organs to settle and my tear to heal. Making up the sleep lost at night and mending my heart and nervous system from what I’ve endured during this pregnancy: moving house twice (once during the pukey days of the first trimester, once at the very end), being dumped and having my heart broken by my love, travelling to America and back with my toddler without the fit-to-fly form that I was meant to carry, flat hunting and manifesting this new home, getting my life in order, and freebirthing my baby.
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But you shouldn’t have to endure anything other than the beautiful, transformative tapestry of pregnancy and birth to relish in the cozy days/daze of postpartum. This is essential for preserving our health and vitality; to be able to keep on giving to our families and communities from a full cup. Doing so is linked with an easeful menopause, the next rite of passage. And also, you just deserve the healing and rest, from the inside out.
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So this is where I am. Not frolicking around for Beltane but instead honouring the union of the divine feminine and masculine within. Cuddling with my little ones. Writing and dreaming and eating and reading witchy fiction.
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And when I do emerge from my cocoon, I can’t wait to serve some of the same to Glasgow’s postpartum folk 💗

37 weeks 🌀 I’m sinking into the last days of this pregnancy and into the new home I’m building for myself and my kids. I...
23/03/2025

37 weeks 🌀 I’m sinking into the last days of this pregnancy and into the new home I’m building for myself and my kids. It’s so good to be back in Glasgow, in a new ‘hood surrounded by amazing folk. It’s strange, in a way, being back in the city, having seemingly moved onto a new era only to land back so soon after.
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These last few months have been a lot. Too much. Right now I’m working hard on trying to soften the grief, anger and victim mindset just a bit so that they don’t get in my way during the birth. Hard but important work.
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I keep glancing back at these beautiful photos taken by . I feel such power reverberating from them, and they remind me of the strength that has been carrying me through this time. Feeling beautiful in this pregnancy has often been the best of evasive; I know my body wasn’t the reason things fell apart in my marriage, but it’s challenging to separate the layers of rejection from the massive changes taking place in a body that someone suddenly doesn’t want to look at, love or touch. It’s interesting how fast and deep this change can impact your psyche, heart and soul. Marieke and .yoniverse.tantra have been so incredible in helping me in this particular part of my healing journey.
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There are so many parts of the self that need tending to to heal trauma held in the womb-space, and sensuality is a big piece of it. I’m looking on at my shadowy side and embracing it for what it is, and getting ready for the ultimate release. I am arriving naked and humbled and diving in unafraid. I am fully inhabiting my inherent wholeness instead of relegating the dark parts to the unconscious. No sabotage here, thank you very much. Only compassion, balance, mystery and radiance.

My grandmother used to say: You plan, and God laughs. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀My plans are usually pretty loose—I tend to overanalys...
03/03/2025

My grandmother used to say: You plan, and God laughs.
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My plans are usually pretty loose—I tend to overanalyse, but also like to leave room for intuitive wiggles and stretches.
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My plan for the end of my pregnancy was wiped up with a rag and, along with my heart, stomped on til it shattered into pearlescent dust. I was meant to quietly begin my descent around now, having had put a few new creations into place that would have fed you all while I submerged myself in this new phase of life.
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Instead, I was forced to free-fall downwards a couple of months early and listen to the loud lessons of surrender. My offerings have taken a turn towards the vulnerably personal, and I’m faced with challenges that go beyond my work, like finding a new place to live before the birth so I can be close to community and feel held and situated with my two little ones.

What I envisioned for the birth has been totally transformed too, and I’ve been working hard to visualise something different, better—images of me finding my power within myself instead of the ones that had mirrored my IG feed of happily bewildered couples welcoming their new babe.
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I’m trying not to think about the difficulties that await me as a single mama of a newborn and 3-year old. I’m trying to make peace with all this horrible heartbreak. And I’m trying to stay soft and strong simultaneously.
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I’m trying to find the balance between planning and surrendering; to listen, to receive, but to still feel a sense of control.
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I can’t seem to offer much more right now. The space for consultations and shop upkeep is narrowing. But do know that there is much alchemy happening as this baby continues to ripen, and I can’t wait to unearth these new offerings for you when I’m ready.

Trust can be difficult — trusting yourself, another, the process, the universe.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pregnancy is a whirlwind at t...
18/02/2025

Trust can be difficult — trusting yourself, another, the process, the universe.
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Pregnancy is a whirlwind at the best of the times. Creation happening on the daily and the nightly, hormones blowing through your system at a rate so high (estrogen and progesterone levels are equal to something like taking 100 birth control pills per day 🤯), your body changing rapidly in front of your eyes.
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Trusting the process is part of the process.
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My body has generally been feeling great with the care I’ve been taking of it. I’m using intuition for some of it and also outsourcing. My current situation has found me asking for more and more help than I ever have in my life, and that feels good.
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My mind, my heart, my soul are having a very hard time though. The best thing I’ve found is to allow myself to spiral when I need to. I’ve cried everyday for the last 2 months, but that’s okay. It’s what I need. Some moments I feel strong, at others I fly off the handle. The calm times are grounding, and although they don’t last long I’m ever-appreciative of them.
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Judgement has no place here. Only trust. Only faith. I’m walking some kind of path that doesn’t fully make sense right now. Actually, it makes no f* cking sense at all. But it’s leading me somewhere, guided by intuition, tears, my babies and my community.
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To my community – thank you from the bottom of my heart.
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“Replenish your path with ample time to spiral out into the unknown. Whenever you doubt your way, remember this: the path is made by walking; the map is folded in your heart.”

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