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Meadow’s Blossoming Bellies, Arvada, CO (2026)

01/04/2026

Did you know your body is preparing for labor weeks before you ever notice anything?

People imagine labor starting with a dramatic water break or a sudden wave of contractions, but the truth is… your body has already been quietly doing the work long before that moment.

There’s this whole unseen phase where things begin shifting:

Your hormones start talking to your baby.
Your baby sends signals back.
Your cervix slowly softens.
Your uterus practices with those little warm-up tightenings.
Your ligaments adjust.
Your whole nervous system starts to settle into “birth mode.”

All of this is happening under the surface while you’re going to appointments, making dinner, trying to get comfortable at night, wondering when things will finally “start.”

But your body has already begun.

I tell my clients this because so many people feel like they’re waiting on a deadline—like nothing is happening until a contraction shows up. And that’s just not true. You aren’t stagnant. You aren’t behind. You aren’t failing to “go into labor.”

Your body is unfolding the process slowly, quietly, and completely on its own timeline.

Labor doesn’t start in one moment.
It builds.
It whispers before it roars.

And when you understand that, the waiting feels a little less frustrating and a lot more like part of the journey.

If you’re in that season of “any day now,” trust this: the work has already begun inside you. Your body and your baby are in conversation—long before you ever feel the first wave.

01/03/2026

Pregnancy sleep positions come up a lot—and they’re often talked about in ways that create more anxiety than support.

Here’s what actually matters.

As pregnancy progresses, especially in the third trimester, side-lying becomes the most supportive position for circulation. Lying flat on your back for long periods can compress major blood vessels and may reduce blood flow to the uterus, which is why providers often encourage side sleeping—particularly left side when possible.

But bodies move. Sleep is not a controlled activity. Rolling onto your back briefly, or waking up there, does not mean you’ve done something wrong or caused harm. Your body is very good at signaling when a position isn’t working. Discomfort, shortness of breath, dizziness, or waking up is your body adjusting—not failing.

What matters more than strict rules is support.

Using pillows between your knees, behind your back, under your belly, or hugging one to your chest can reduce strain and help your body settle. Comfort supports circulation, breathing, and rest—which are far more protective than forcing yourself into a rigid position all night.

Quality sleep matters. Fragmented, anxious sleep helps no one.

Pregnancy already asks your body to adapt constantly. Sleep should be a place where you feel supported, not monitored.

If you’re resting, listening to your body, and making small adjustments when needed, you’re doing enough.

Your body knows how to protect itself.
Your job is to help it feel safe enough to rest.

01/03/2026

People love to act like birth starts with one big moment—your water breaking in a dramatic movie scene—or someone telling you, “Just do this and labor will start.” But the truth is so much more layered, and honestly… more magical.

What actually starts labor?
Your body and your baby decide together when it’s time.

It isn’t spicy food.
It isn’t bumpy car rides.
It isn’t castor oil.
It isn’t “relaxing enough.”
It isn’t walking miles around your neighborhood hoping something will happen.

Labor begins when your baby’s lungs and brain send a signal saying, I’m ready.
Your hormones shift.
Your uterus responds.
Your body begins the work when both of you are aligned.

Your baby is not passive in this process—they participate. That blows my mind every time.

And then there’s the question I hear constantly:

What does it mean to have a spontaneous birth?

A spontaneous birth is simply labor that begins on its own—your body and baby choosing the timing without medical induction. It doesn’t mean fast. It doesn’t mean easy. It doesn’t mean perfect. It just means your labor wasn’t artificially started.

You might have spontaneous labor that’s long.
You might have spontaneous labor that’s slow and gentle.
You might have spontaneous labor that leads to more support later on.
You might have spontaneous labor that ends in a caesarean birth.
It’s all still spontaneous.

Spontaneous birth honors the body’s rhythm—not a schedule, not a deadline, not pressure.
It’s your physiology doing exactly what it was designed to do, in its own time.

And here’s the quiet truth I always share with my clients:

You don’t have to “make” labor happen.
Your worth isn’t measured by how or when labor starts.
You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re not doing it wrong.
Your body is working long before the contractions ever show up.

Birth unfolds.
Labor begins from the inside out.
And when it’s time, your body knows—and your baby knows, too.

If you ever need someone to walk through that waiting season with you, I’m here.

01/03/2026

Stress is a part of life—but during pregnancy, it can land differently in the body.

Pregnancy already asks so much of the nervous system. Hormones are shifting, the body is changing rapidly, and there’s often a constant undercurrent of anticipation, responsibility, and uncertainty. When stress is layered on top of that, the body can move into a more protective, alert state more often than it was meant to.

Chronic stress doesn’t mean someone is doing pregnancy “wrong.” It often reflects real circumstances—work pressure, financial strain, past trauma, medical anxiety, lack of support. The body responds to stress by releasing hormones designed to keep us safe, but when those hormones stay elevated for long periods, they can impact sleep, digestion, immune function, and emotional regulation.

Many pregnant people notice stress showing up physically: tension, headaches, nausea, tightness in the chest or jaw, difficulty resting, or feeling emotionally raw. Stress can also influence how connected someone feels to their body or their pregnancy, making it harder to feel grounded or present.

What matters most isn’t eliminating stress—that’s rarely possible. What matters is support and regulation. Feeling heard. Feeling safe. Having moments where the body can soften, even briefly. Gentle care, rest, reassurance, and steady support can help buffer the effects of stress and remind the nervous system that it’s not alone.

Pregnancy doesn’t require constant calm. It requires compassion.

If stress has been part of your pregnancy, you haven’t failed your body or your baby. You’re responding to your environment the best way you can. Support, understanding, and care—especially postpartum—can make a meaningful difference.

Your body is doing important work.
It deserves gentleness while it does.

01/02/2026

Birth art has become one of my favorite parts of this work—not because it’s “pretty,” but because it captures something that the medical record never will. Hospitals document centimeters and times. Machines record heart rates. Providers chart procedures.

But none of that tells your story.

Birth art holds the things that don’t fit into a chart:
the quiet moments, the intensity, the emotion, the ancestors you felt in the room, the way your body opened, the way your heart shifted, the way you became someone new.

When we sit down to create together—whether it’s watercolor, ink, clay, a belly cast, or something made from moss, glass, or bone—there’s space for truth to come out. Art lets you name what your mouth didn’t have words for at the time. It lets you honor what was hard. Celebrate what was powerful. Grieve what was lost. Remember what was beautiful.

I’ve watched parents soften as they paint the moment they felt supported.
I’ve watched tears fall as someone shapes the memory of a caesarean birth they never felt seen in.
I’ve watched art become the bridge between “what happened to me” and “what I survived.”

Birth art matters because your story deserves more than clinical language.
It deserves color, movement, texture, emotion.
It deserves a place to live outside your body.

And when postpartum feels heavy, having something you created with intention can bring you back to yourself. A reminder: This was my journey. This was my power. This was the moment everything changed.

If birth art ever calls to you—whether messy, raw, or beautifully imperfect—I’m always honored to create that space with you.

01/01/2026

New Year’s Day arrives quietly, even though we pretend it doesn’t.

After all the noise, reflection posts, and promises to “do better,” this day is often soft, slow, and a little tender. The calendar changes, but our bodies don’t magically reset. We wake up still carrying what we carried yesterday.

And that matters.

New Year’s isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about continuing. Continuing to recover. Continuing to learn your body. Continuing to make sense of what the last year held. Continuing to show up, even when clarity hasn’t arrived yet.

If you’re in postpartum, it can feel especially disconnected. You might still be bleeding. Still waking at night. Still navigating feeding, hormones, and identity shifts. The idea of “starting fresh” can feel unrealistic—or even cruel.

You are not behind. You are in process.

The body doesn’t move in calendar years. Healing doesn’t respond to resolutions. Trust and steadiness are built slowly—through repetition, care, and presence—not declarations.

Ask yourself:

What needs more gentleness this year?

What deserves protection?

What am I still carrying that needs space instead of judgment?

Some experiences just need time. New Year’s can be a placeholder. A pause. A deep breath before anything else is asked of you.

You don’t have to know what this year will bring. You don’t have to claim motivation or optimism. You don’t have to leave anything behind before you’re ready.

If you choose anything today, let it be honesty. Let it be rest. Let it be care that isn’t performative.

The year will unfold whether you rush it or not.
New Year’s Day doesn’t ask for a new version of you. It asks you to arrive as you are—and that is already enough.

01/01/2026

People always ask what my favorite comfort tools are for labor, and it’s never about having a perfect bag full of gadgets. It’s about the things that help your body settle, your breath deepen, and your nervous system feel held. Comfort in labor is about connection—your body, your team, your space.

Here are a few tools I reach for again and again, and why they matter:

Warmth.
A warm compress on the lower back or belly can change everything. Warmth relaxes tight muscles, softens the edges, and tells your body it’s safe to open.

A rebozo
Not for theatrics—just grounding. The gentle rocking, belly sifting, or hip support helps release tension you didn’t even realize you were holding. It creates rhythm when things feel intense.

Counterpressure.
Hands on hips, steady and strong. It gives your body something to push against when waves get big. I’ve watched parents melt into relief within seconds.

Textures from home.
A favorite blanket, a soft shirt, something familiar. Our bodies respond to comfort cues, and familiar textures can anchor you when everything else feels huge.

Movement tools.
Birth balls, peanut balls, leaning on a chair or the bed—anything that helps you find a position where your body says, “yes, this feels better.” Movement isn’t about speed; it’s about listening.

Your senses.
Music that brings your breath down. Low lighting. A scent that reminds you of safety. These tiny sensory shifts can completely shift the energy of the room.

My hands.
Sometimes the most powerful comfort tool is simply human touch—steady, grounded, present. A hand on the back. A palm to hold. Someone breathing with you. That connection can carry you through some of the hardest moments.

Comfort tools matter because they support more than the physical work of labor.
They nurture the emotional work, the mental work, the spiritual work.
They create safety. They create rhythm. They help you stay connected to yourself.

And at the end of the day, the most important tool in the room is you—your instincts, your strength, your ability to move through each wave in your own time.

I’m just there to help you find what makes you feel held.

01/01/2026

Delayed cord clamping isn’t a trend. It’s an evidence-based practice that supports babies in quiet but powerful ways.

Waiting 30–60 seconds—or longer when possible—before clamping the umbilical cord allows more blood from the placenta to transfer to the baby. That extra blood matters. It increases iron stores, supports healthy brain development, and lowers the risk of iron-deficiency anemia later in infancy.

Research consistently shows that babies who experience delayed cord clamping have higher hemoglobin and ferritin levels months after birth. For preterm babies, the benefits are even more significant: better circulation, fewer transfusions, and a lower risk of serious complications.

One concern that comes up often is jaundice. Studies show a slightly higher chance of needing phototherapy, but for most babies, this risk is manageable and does not outweigh the long-term benefits. Delayed clamping does not increase maternal bleeding and can be done safely in both vaginal and caesarean births when conditions allow.

Major organizations like ACOG and the WHO recommend delayed cord clamping for most term and preterm babies because the evidence is clear: this simple pause supports newborn health in meaningful ways.

Sometimes the most impactful care doesn’t look dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like waiting.

12/31/2025

Caesarean birth lives at the crossroads of safety, trauma, and survival.

For some families, it is the choice—or the moment—that saves a life. It can be planned and grounding, or urgent and overwhelming. It is a real birth, and a major abdominal surgery, and those truths matter together.

Caesarean birth exists because it works. When vaginal birth would put a parent or baby at risk, surgery can be the safest path forward. That does not make it a failure or a shortcut. It makes it care.

At the same time, safety does not erase emotional impact. Many people leave caesarean birth carrying grief, shock, or a sense of loss—even when everyone is physically okay. Trauma often comes not from the surgery itself, but from feeling rushed, unheard, uninformed, or powerless. It comes from decisions made about someone instead of with them.

Caesarean birth can be lifesaving and traumatic at the same time.

Healing often needs to happen on more than one level. The body requires real time to recover—far longer than six weeks—and gentle, respectful care. Emotional healing may mean revisiting the birth story, asking questions, grieving what didn’t happen, or being witnessed without needing to “stay positive.”

Some people feel gratitude and grief side by side. Both belong.

Healing can also look like reclaiming autonomy: learning what happened, caring for scars with intention, rebuilding trust in the body, or receiving postpartum support that centers the birthing person, not just the baby.

Caesarean birth does not erase strength.
It does not disqualify someone from feeling powerful.

Birth isn’t defined by how a baby arrives.
It’s defined by how the birthing person is treated—and how they are held afterward.

12/31/2025

This year taught me more than I could have planned for—both as a mom and as a doula.

Motherhood reminded me that love isn’t about getting it right. It’s about repair. About staying present when things are messy. About listening to my body, my child, and myself without rushing to fix or explain. I’ve learned that softness and strength can exist at the same time, and that slowing down is often the most responsible choice.

As a doula, this year deepened my belief that support isn’t about doing more—it’s about attunement. Witnessing instead of fixing. Trusting parents instead of directing them. Holding space for experiences that are complex, layered, and unresolved. Healing doesn’t need a silver lining. It needs safety, time, and permission to be honest.

What both roles continue to teach me is this: people don’t need to be pushed through transformation. They need to be held while it happens.

I’m ending this year more grounded than certain. More committed to slow, human-centered care. More willing to stay with the hard parts instead of rushing past them.

Still learning. Still becoming.
And that feels like enough.

Meadow’s Blossoming Bellies

01/04/2026

01/03/2026

01/03/2026

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Monday	9am - 8pm
Tuesday	9am - 8pm
Wednesday	9am - 8pm
Thursday	9am - 8pm
Friday	9am - 8pm
Saturday	10am - 3pm
Sunday	10am - 3pm