I had read about babies doing a ‘breast crawl’ immediately after birth, and wanted to give our baby that opportunity. Our little baby was placed on my chest and she immediately started snuffling round.  I was mesmerised as she started inching her way to my right breast. It was so hard to resist the urge to guide her, but equally fascinating knowing she was capable of finding the nipple herself. In a very short space of time she had expertly found the nipple and started her first feast!

12.02am Baby sucking at breast after latching herself at 49 minutes old.

We were all hungry so the food was brought out and we all tucked into a midnight feast round the coffee table as we chatted about the evening. A perfect, relaxing way to finish off an amazing evening.  As I sat there on the couch in the comfort of my own home, with my baby suckling at my breast I was so content.  Our baby slept on my chest all night and I got very little sleep, gazing at my family all snuggled in our bed together. I awoke before them all and enjoyed some moments of peace, looking at wonder at what we had created and thinking I was the luckiest person in the world.

Once we had got to know her, we named our wee baby Nina Kowhai Hansen.  The kowhai will always be blooming on her birthday.

As soon as we found out that I was pregnant we told our three-year-old son Sol about the pregnancy and he has been involved in the midwife appointments and lots of excited talk about our new baby. He recently accompanied us to the 20-week ultrasound scan.

After the radiographer had done all the important measurements and observations, she got to the least important part – finding the vulva or the penis.  While she was looking for that part of our baby’s body she said to me:
“Ouhhh, you’ll soon know if you’ll have to be buying a pink tutu!”

(I am sure my husband smothered a laugh at this point. I refrained from launching into a tirade about gender stereotyping and the findings of various neurological studies on babies and gender.)

As it turns out, we spotted a vulva. 

And I realised that, at 20 weeks gestation this wee girl had already experienced her first gender stereotyping. 

It isn’t that pink tutus violently offend me, it’s that there was an assumption that if my baby had a vulva, then a pink tutu would be the most important thing on my mind, and that her vulva would automatically predispose her to an uncontrollable urge to wear pink tutus.  

Who knows, she could be an absolute ballet fanatic, in which case I am sure our house will be loaded with tutus of all description. Or she could be a soccer player, a hip-hop dancer, a chess-genius, a swimmer... - in which case we may have no pink tutus at all.  Or maybe she’ll have stages of being all of the above, and our already-cluttered house will have a collection of all sorts of outfits in all sorts of colours.

All I know is that I will do everything in my Mama-Bear power to protect her from the tirade of gender-limiting stereotypes that I know will attempt to surround her from birth (and before!). All of a sudden I am deeply grateful on a personal level for the amazing work done to counter such attitude by individuals and organisations such as Enlighten Education, Pigtail Pals, Pink Stinks and 7Wonderlicious. 

And I will leave you with the wisdom of little Riley, who articulates the craziness of all this stuff just so so well:

We recently had the excitement of having an ultrasound scan. I was twenty weeks pregnant and we had decided to find out the sex of our baby if he/she decided to reveal it to us. 

As we walked into the room, our three-year-old son Sol announced: “I am going to see if there is a vulva or a penis!".

The radiographer seemed rather uncomfortable at his confidence. She giggled, and then said to him: “A Volvo! But a Volvo is a car!”, and it seemed that she was making this joke to cover up her embarrassment at Sol’s knowledge of basic anatomy.

Sol looked at her oddly, and calmly explained to her “No it’s not, it’s what girls have instead of a penis”. 

As I lay there, I did a silent cheer for my boy.

As Sol provided a running commentary on what he believed he could see on the TV-screen of the scan, the radiographer commented to me that he had an impressive knowledge of anatomy.  I thought about her comment, and I really don't think he does. I think she was actually referring to Sol's accurate labelling of sexual body parts, and I got the feeling this made her uncomfortable.

Isn't it odd that so many people are so uncomfortable with the correct labelling of body parts?  For preschoolers, the word vulva has about as much meaning attached to it as nose, mouth and ears. It is just another body part.

This is an extraordinarily powerful poetry performance by Katie Makkai defining the word "pretty", and the pressures faced by girls and women to define themselves by a narrow definition of "pretty".

I love that it is calling for change and that it is raising awareness of the messages that mothers (and women in general) are passing on to their daughters. And the call to action at the end, a vow to her own 'someday- daughter' gave me goosebumps and tears.

I invite you to watch the video below.

Everyone's lives seem to be so busy. I sometimes fall in to bed at night wondering what even happened that morning - the days are so full of lovely friends, inspiring work, and of course the mundane stuff such as washing the clothes, the dishes...

Today I realised the ability that children have to help one forget about all the concerns and deadlines in the world and focus on the 'real stuff'.  This morning my son and I danced in the beautiful autumn leaves for the first time together.  It was such bliss to run through a carpet of crunchy orange leaves and throw them up in the air and feel them falling on our heads.  Moments like that I will treasure for ever. Although it did make me realise: that was the first time I had done that since I was a child.

This morning my friend Alice shared a true story with me and it made me stop and think about how busy and rushed so many of us are, and how in the busy-ness of  everything we can so easily forget about beauty and 'life'. I wanted to share it with more people. (Thanks Alice!)

In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

• After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
• After about 4 minutes: The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
• At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
  
• At 10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
  
• At 45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
  
• After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
  

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:

• In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
  
• If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
  
• Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
  

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made... How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

(The full story, with video clips, can be viewed here.)

The part of this that really touched me was the image of the mother hurrying her child along.  I have been that mother! I am going to try and remember this story whenever I have the urge to hurry my child along. I need to appreciate and love that children don't follow deadlines, and this is the beauty of childhood.

“What do you do?”

I lose track of how many times I am asked this in a week.  Maybe it has always been so, but I think previously my answer to this has been somewhat simpler, so I hadn’t noticed the regularity to which I was asked this.  At various times I have answered with: I am studying. I am a management consultant. I am a recruitment consultant. I am a children’s party fairy.  I am a surf lifeguard. I am a traveller. I am a counsellor. I am a teacher.I am trying to decide what I am going to be when I grow up.

But now, “what I do” is so much harder to define. A man asked me this question on Sunday. I mentioned a couple of things that I “do”, at which point he interrupted and said he didn’t need my CV.  I was a little taken aback – I had only just started! : )  I think that for this man, the question was a superficial nicety, he didn’t really want to know. Particularly once I had uttered the word ‘sexuality’...  

But it got me thinking – can I sum up “what I do” in a short, concise socially acceptable sentence?   I thought long and hard, and decided “no”.  But I did think that it was a good topic for a blog post.  I am just getting started in the blogosphere and I thought it would be apt to define “what I do” at this early stage.

First and foremost, I am a mother.  This is my most important role and the one that will always take priority – for the rest of my life.  This is my grounding principal and I will never apologise to anyone if this role interrupts other things I am ‘supposed’ to be doing. Being a mother is a huge privilege and my child only has one of me. (NB. The value our society places on this role is a whole post in itself, coming soon!)

I provide education around sexuality - I teach in schools, I run workshops for parents and youth.  I want every person to love, value, respect and understand their whole body.

I write. I am currently writing for Birthright NZ, redeveloping their website and increasing their profile.   I love it that my work will help and raise awareness of the fantastic job that so many one-parent families are doing around the country.

I educate and empower local business women with their online presence and run workshops on social media.  This was something that evolved, rather than a conscious decision to get involved in this area. It is so rewarding to see women who had shied away from such things become confident and innovative online networkers.  

I mentor young women.  This is a huge privilege and one of the most inspiring parts of any week.

I read. Current topics of interest are body image and the media... advertising to youth... the sexualisation of children... alcohol and pregnancy... how social media can help not-for-profits and small businesses... worm farming... sustainable living.

And now... I blog.  Increasingly so. My goal is three posts a week.  Help keep me honest ; )