12/17/2025
For the moms š
After my recent music releases, a few friends said to me, āWow⦠you must have been so busy recording new music with a newborn.ā I laughed. All of the music Iām releasing now was recorded before I gave birth. The image of me carrying on in full creative flow with two young children, one only seven months old, felt so far from my reality that something in me needed to liberate myself from that pressure and expectation of that picture.
I am running on very little sleep. When I manage to brush my hair or have a bath, I feel genuinely pleased with myself. With two children, I am deeply in the service of mothering. It is all-consuming.
With my first child, there were more moments to sing, to write, to sit and listen. With my second, I havenāt touched my guitar in seven months. My songs come as small fragments while I walk my baby to sleep, and then they disappear again. My altar is dusty and rarely tended.
My living altar is here ā in the milk, the nappies, the dishes, the Lego cars.
When people ask me how I am, I sometimes donāt know how to answer. I feel as though Iāve left myself somewhere in the woods, trusting I will come back for myself soon.
Floating, content, tender, grateful, sleep-deprived.
I am not a āsuperwomanā right now, and naming this feels like a relief.
It can be so easy, as mothers, to believe that everyone else is so gracefully managing, creating, working, caring for themselves, doing it all ā and that somehow I am the only one who is overwhelmed.
Right now, I canāt be the medicine of ālook at me doing it all.ā But I can be the medicine of honesty. Of naming what this season truly is. Of recognising and honouring mothers / ourselves for the immensity of what we are holding.
Mothering is a vast act of creation in itself, and yet it is so often unseen, undervalued, and taken for granted.
I fully trust that I will return to my music, no doubt at all in this⦠and when I do, I will return changed, widened, and deepened by this time.
For now, this is the song I am singing: the prayer of tending my children.
The quiet song and the fierce, sacred work of mothering.
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