The Soulful Midwife

16/07/2025

Evening Folks!!

I've made a decision to give The Soulful Midwife a bit of time off as I’ve been quietly working on another project.

Something that means a lot to me.

It’s called 💚 🤎 Matralia 🤎 💚

A women’s space for truth, rest, learning, and connection.

No pressure, no performance… just a place for biological women to be real, be held, and remember we’re not alone.

If that speaks to you, or if you know a woman who’s carrying too much and needs somewhere safe to land, I’d love for you to join us!!! 😀

You can follow the page here:

🔗 Matralia

And please feel free to invite your sisters, friends, aunties, mums... anyone who needs this kind of space.

I’m so excited to grow this community and I’d be honoured to share it with you 💛

20/04/2025

🫶

👁️ Did you ever wonder why the baby’s taken across the room? Why the cord is clamped fast, the mother left shaking, the lights so bright it feels like judgment?

Did you ever feel the stillness—the eerie quiet when the father’s hands are empty, the grandmother’s not in the room, and the newborn is nowhere near a breast?

It’s not just medicine.
It’s not just policy.
It’s a ritual.
And it’s not ours.

🧬 They inject pig-derived Pitocin to mimic the hormone God designed to flood a woman’s brain in labor. But it doesn’t reach the brain. It only contracts the body.
The love doesn’t flow.
The imprint doesn’t land.
The bonding doesn’t seal.
Just pressure. Just force.

💉 Synthetic love.
⚡ Counterfeit release.
🧠 Neurological silence.

And while the woman is watched but not touched, while the baby is wiped but not suckled, while the father is praised for being “supportive” but not leading—
they cut the thread.

👶 The mother-baby dyad was made to reflect divine intimacy. To pass down trust, peace, protection.
But when it’s broken—
the body remembers.
The child stores the grief.
The mother learns disconnection.
The father fades from view.

That’s how it starts. But it doesn’t end there.

Then come the bottles.
The cribs.
The high chairs.
The eight-hour separations called school.
The praise of independence that is really just early detachment.
The lie that the nuclear family is enough. That Mom runs the home. That Dad is just for weekends. That children are safest raised by strangers in buildings funded by gods they do not know.

🕳️ We are not looking at broken systems.
We are looking at precision-engineered fragmentation.

And you feel it. You’ve felt it all along.
That something was taken before you could name it.
That someone was missing even while you were being told you had “everything you need.”

But listen: the lie only wins if we let it.
And we won’t.
We are pulling the babies back to the breast.
We are restoring the mother's voice in the birth room.
We are putting grandmothers back at the table.
We are praying over the placenta.
We are keeping them close at night.
We are burning the counterfeit and walking in the design.
This is not soft work.
It is a holy war