The glimmers of dawn... Day 43

Day 43 (Friday 12th 2018)

43 people witnessed Lee de Forest, an early radio pioneer, as he broadcast phonograph
records for the first-time over radio waves from the Eiffel Tower in Paris on the
12th January 1908. As this was early days for broadcasting, nobody had a receiver
to pick up the signals. Although there are claims that these signals were received over
500 miles away and it is hailed as the first public broadcast. These days wifi uses
radio waves to connect users to the internet, so those of us using wifi to read
this should thank Lee de Forest. The Eiffel Tower was used as a wireless station
for many years. The photograph shows Gustav Eiffel's apartment in the Eiffel Tower
where he entertained Thomas Edison amongst others.

Today I need to encourage my youngest to pack, as he returns to university in the north east of England this weekend. I know he is having a wonderful time when he is there, but it still makes me so sad when he goes away. Part of being a mother...

Tamasin Sutton, the author of today's post, also chose to be based in the north east - leaving London for Newcastle upon Tyne. Some of you may remember her post entitled "Holding On" published as an Advent Blog on New Year's Eve 2016 in which, amongst other things, she talked about the reasons for her move. She works as a freelance HR consultant, with her own business TSHR Limited. Tamasin has over 13 years in various HR management roles across private and public sector organisations. Then in 2014 she decided to establish her own consultancy. She specialises in supporting SMEs and their leaders and has some great feedback from clients. She is qualified in the use of various psychometric tools, as well as being an NVQ assessor with the PTTLS qualification. 

She cares about the HR profession and the people within it - she is a Facilitator with Developing People Globally (DPG) supporting and assessing those studying for the CIPD Level 5 qualifications, as well as having co-established with Melanie Cheung Connecting HR North East - which enables networking and events for HR, L&D and OD professionals in the region. Tamasin is active on social media - you can follow her on Twitter (her handle is @TamasinS). To relax, Tamasin enjoys travelling, but she is happy to unwind with a gin and a chat - although, as her final paragraph shows, she has new, exciting adventures ahead.

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This time last year I was in mourning. Suffering a loss I hadn't expected, I didn't want, and I didn't know how to process. I was conflicted, having made a move to the north east, seeing hope for a brighter year, maybe another defining year? Hopeful of a shift from the darkness to the dawn, but wondering if I could do that. Where would my professional life take me? How could I create something from scratch? Who did I know? Where on earth do I start?  You can read about my feelings from last year here.  

The darkness of the winter months consumed me, overtaking my thoughts, masking the glimmers of light, the dawn of a new era.  Perhaps that's too grand a descriptor, but for me, it feels pivotal. The despair, the longing, the grief for something so precious filled my nights with a darkness far more powerful than any eclipse of the sun. Like a few of the wonderful advent blogs relayed so far this series, people sometimes say insensitive or unhelpful things.  "it was for the best". "it wasn't viable". "it wasn't meant to be". It doesn't help. It doesn't help to dispel the darkness, or let you see the rise of the dawn, a new day, a new sense of hope. And how do you come back from that? How do you move on? Have I worked through this darkness? I don't know.... I was scared to look forward for a long time, to hope of a better outcome. I didn't expect to have these feelings.

Establishing professional connections in my new home town has been a challenge. London was easier, more open to the informal, the collaboration, new people. As I reflect on the last year I think about what I can do differently, more of, less of. I've met some fabulously passionate people in my region, one in particular, and she has become a partner in crime in helping to build a community. She provides glimmers of light when closed doors appear all around me. I am thankful for this partnership and for her unwavering passion for HR. It intrigues me that there is closure in many directions and I play a part in this. I can be easily put off when doors are closed, I wonder why people would be interested in speaking to me when they have so many established relationships already. But I then remember that I have something to give, I just need to channel it better, think about what is most important to me, stop the scatter gun effect.  How I respond to situations will make the difference.

I set out to do significant things this year, to build my business, spend time at home. Some of my plans have changed, they have needed to.  2017 was an opportunity for hope, for challenge, for love. 

And it delivered. As I lay on my bed with my precious baby girl on my chest (a whopping 9lb 11oz of her!) I am overwhelmed with love.  This is the dawn of a new stage in life. She is inquisitive, adorable and I am fascinated by every single thing that she does. She gives me something that I didn't even know I missed, or wanted. She is dependent on me, every day she discovers something new, and every day I see the dawn, and not just in the sense of early morning feeds!  Her smile is infectious, even at 13 days old. Her journey into the world was a stark contrast to the pregnancy, it was arduous, complex and unexpected.  Nothing prepares you for what is to come, or what can go wrong. But nothing else matters other than for that precious little person to be safe and healthy, even if you're left battered and bruised. Priorities shift and whilst the darkness still comes, especially at this time of great adjustment, the glimmers of dawn sparkle brightly, in glorious vivid colour, and I am truly thankful.

Renée

The darkest hour is just before the dawn… Day 4

Day 4 (Monday 4th December 2017)

Four toes on each turkey's foot - three in front with a shorter rear-facing one 

at the back. Prior to the turkey traditional Christmas fare included roast swan, 

pheasants and peacocks. An old favourite was a roast boar's head decorated with holly 

and fruit. Henry VIII was the first English king to enjoy turkey. 

It was Edward VII made eating turkey fashionable at Christmas.

Welcome to a new working week (or at least the earlier part of it, if you work in the Middle East and certain other parts of the world). I am constantly amazed at the global reach of the Advent Blog series. 

Today's post is a very personal piece by a becoming much-loved regular contributor, Gary Cookson. Gary is a respected HR professional with a flair for development. His first post for this series was on Boxing Day in 2015 and expressed his experiences of job interviews, Turn Down the Light. Last year's was also candid, shining a light into his family life in (Your love keeps lifting me) Higher and Higher  and which explained the transformation in his life after finding true love. This year's takes us on a further step along his journey of work and his wider life.

Gary is a natural networker and a popular contributor to many social media groups, he is also an accomplished speaker (as demonstrated at the CIPD's conference in November). His Twitter handle is @Gary_Cookson. He is crams a lot into life, he is a triathlete and also a prolific blogger - yso perhaps the title of his personal blog should not surprise you, HR Triathlete.

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I’m really pleased to be able to contribute again to this Advent series and grateful to Kate for giving me the opportunity. This year’s theme is Darkness and Dawn, and if ever a theme has immediately encapsulated my entire year, it’s that. 

Let me explain. 

I once saw an article that said that 42 is the peak age in men for depression, as it tends to be the age when all the responsibilities of family, work/career, financial commitments and other things all combine to reach a potentially terrifying peak. 

I turned 42 this year. 

And although I’ve not been depressed, I can see the point the article is trying to make. It’s been a tough year for me, both personally and professionally, and one I’m in no hurry to repeat. 

There’s been darkness. 

Darkness by Mikko Lagerstedt 

From a professional perspective I’ve had two main jobs this year. For the first six months of the year I was professionally very very frustrated, doing a job where I wasn’t challenged and I wasn’t doing anything I particularly got satisfaction from. I didn’t feel I was respected as a professional, or used to my full capacity. However, my work life balance was absolutely superb and I was able to manage this well. 

But overall, the first half of the year was difficult from a professional perspective. 

Dull job, by Duke, 1979

And then I moved jobs. 

All of a sudden I had a job where I was challenged professionally, where I was used to my full capacity, and was respected as a professional. However, my work life balance became awful because of the commute and amount of in job travel, and I became unable to manage this at all. 

So the second half of the year became difficult from a personal perspective. 

And this in turn made me start to wonder what I wanted from both, and how I could get balance. 

To add to my darkness, a number of factors combined. We fell out with my parents around this time too, and whilst that’s no doubt a temporary situation it still isn’t pleasant as they were a good source of support and advice. 

Falling out with parents
a temporary situation

Then my mum became very ill and was diagnosed with cancer. My son is in his GCSE year and under a lot of pressure at school, and that shows at home too - he’s bright, but struggling in some subjects and unfortunately ones where I feel unable to help and that makes me feel powerless. My eldest daughter is transitioning into her teenage years and is having difficulty redefining who she is. It means we often clash and she’s unable to explain why, and this causes a lot of family stress too. 

And my wife has been very ill for the last few months too, and has been unable to play a full part in family life, adding more pressure on me to step up. More on that later though. 

And in all of this darkness I’ve had to try to maintain a strong professional focus. To try to figure out what contribution I can make to the profession, whilst still keeping my family happy and healthy. 

But they say the darkest hour is just before the dawn, and how true that may prove to be. 

I’ve recently re-evaluated my priorities in life and realise it’s more important to keep my family happy. That’s my focus. And in doing that my professional needs need to fit around me doing that. 

So I’ve left the job that was causing my family pain. And I’m exploring self employed, associate and interim opportunities that will allow me to be as flexible as I can to support my family in such an important time for us all. 

And we are having another baby in May. (Hence why my wife has been very unwell.) 

And so there’s the dawn. A new life, a new professional focus, and a renewed focus on what’s important in life. 

I’m really excited by what the next year will bring. I aim to look back on it as a watershed year in which I finally balanced things. 

After a year of darkness, comes the dawn. 

And with it, hope.

Daybreak, the Old Forest (2007) by Tom Dubbeldam

“A modern Nativity the old fashioned way” (aka “Ostentatious Over-Sharings of a Smug Git”)

Day 17 (Saturday 17th December 2016)

17 thousand solar cells on the wings of Solar Impulse 2

enabled it to achieve its record making fossil-fuel-free flight

around the globe. It has a wider wingspan than a Boeing 747.

The journey started on 9th March 2015 and was completed on

26th July 2016 when it arrived back in Abu Dhabi.

We have reached the weekend and, even though I suspect that you have a busy day ahead of you, I hope you find time to read today's post and perhaps catch up on ones that you have missed or merit a re-read. I am sure you will agree with me that the blogs so far have been extraordinary; today's is no exception. Jo Mortimer, one of the UK's leading recruitment experts, specialising in administrative and office roles is a Divisional Leader at the highly regarded Angela Mortimer Group. Jo can be found on Twitter, her handle is @J0Mortimer. Jo has a 1st class degree in Psychology from Cambridge and has retained an interest in questioning the world and the people around her. She is well-travelled and engaging company. A Buddhist, she practices Taoist Tai Chi. She has an excellent voice (singing folk and as part of a capella group). Jo is a feminist, as you will be able to tell from her post.

Jo has written a very personal post influenced by a significant high during her past 12 months: the birth of her daughter. She also, deliberately, raises a number of topics that are not often discussed or even are considered taboo in our western society.

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“A modern Nativity the old fashioned way”

(aka “Ostentatious Over-Sharings of a Smug Git”)

Around this time last year, an eagerly anticipated event came upon us – the birth of our daughter.

It was beautiful, though not in conventional Hollywood terms. Like all newborns, her grey skin was more “Shaun of the Dead” than “Casa Blanca”. I’ll spare you the analysis of bodily fluids in the birthing pool.

Image: Shaun of the Dead, Dir: Edgar Wright, 2004

But the process of giving birth really was beautiful – one of the greatest highs of my life. Not just the “phew it’s all over and we have a baby” bit, the whole experience. And that’s an unusual thing for a woman to say.

Why?

At this point, I get on my feminist high horse.

In modern history, patriarchal society has, I contend, embraced an image of the weak and helpless woman, feeling faint in a corset and heels (this is not a bygone era – remember Nicola Thorp, the receptionist sent home from PwC earlier this year for not wearing heels?). Such delicate and lovely creatures cannot be expected to do, well, hard labour.

Image sourced from www.marriedtothesea.com

Enter the men in white coats with their trusty sidekick, technology.

“Lie on your back my dear while we strap you to this recording device, give you pain relief rendering you immobile and then inevitably have to cut you in some way to wrench the poor grey specimen out of you.”

This is the prevailing model of first world childbirth, talked about by new mothers ad nauseam. The competition for top horror story makes “Rosemary’s Baby” look like “Toy Story 2”.

Rosemary’s Baby, Roman Polanski, 1968

And women with a positive birth story can hardly speak up at these coffee meets. Rule number 1 of the playground: when you’re making new friends, try not to be the smug git. So women with positive birth stories remain the silent. This does all women a disservice.

It takes courage to step outside the prevailing paradigm. I came under pressure from the well-meaning family to have a hospital birth. This was motivated by loving concern for our welfare, and in the context of the modern norm is understandable.

But taking control of your choices is key to ensuring that you feel relaxed and comfortable, and that you have the best chance of a gentle, natural birth. Our mammalian cousin, the household cat, is renowned for shunning birthing baskets meticulously prepared by owners, favouring instead the solitude of the garden hedge.

Image source: Dailymail.co.uk

The “hypnobirthing” movement, championed by Marie Mongan amongst others, sounds whacky but has at its heart a simple physiological fact: as with all mammals, if the mother is relaxed, the muscles of the womb will contract easily. If the mother is tense and fearful, the muscles of the womb will not want to contract. They will fight to remain closed to delay the birth until the mother feels safe and secure – ‘out of the lion’s den’. This is likely to result in an extended and painful labour.

I decided to create a ‘birthing nest’ in the front room of our house. My husband surpassed himself with birth pool logistics (getting an inflatable Jacuzzi filled with water that remains at a stable 37 degrees isn’t as easy as it sounds), a perfect playlist (Max Richter’s “Sleep” amongst others) and a veritable shrine of candles. Oxytocin, the hormone associated with love and relaxation, was flowing and the birthing goddess was ready to emerge!

And she’d been training.

Realising the importance of a relaxed mind, I repeatedly listened to a man (Phil Parker) telling me in deliciously rhythmic tones that I was going to be “amazed by the easy…simple…and natural process of giving birth”.

Image source: www.prenatalyoga.com

I also tried pre-natal yoga, which gave my pregnant body some vocabulary to move with. For some years, I’ve ‘played’ Taoist Tai ChiÔ (www.taoist.org), a powerful tool for improving physical and psychological health. Tai Chi teaches how to ‘let go’ in body as well as mind. The Chinese have the concept of ‘yin’ force (the opposite of the ‘yang’ force), associated with the empty, yielding, the ‘hollow’. It is the essence of feminine strength, the heart of natural birth.

The second stage of labour (commonly referred to as the ‘pushing’ phase) was long, because hypnobirthing teaches not to ‘push’. In breathing through contractions (and don’t get me wrong, this was not a quiet experience - there were many noises coming out of my mouth that choir girls have no use for), the baby gently moves down. If the modern hospital birth scenario is akin to relieving yourself at work as quickly as possible to avoid breaking wind in a board meeting, this was akin to a relaxed Sunday morning experience with plenty of time to read the weekend supplements.

Image source: http://www.123rf.com/

Our baby was born gently into the water, did not cry and was calm and alert during her first moments outside the womb. I also got off very lightly from the experience (apart from several months of urinary incontinence, which virtually all new mothers suffer from (why does nobody talk about this?)). There was no inflammation to the lower spine, and the wonderful post-natal massage therapist @beccyhands said she wished she could show my lower back to a room of medics to demonstrate the benefits of a gentle birth without intervention.

In her brilliant book, “Birthing From Within”, Pam England explains how in some cultures childbirth for women is held in the same regard as going to war is for men: it is an intense and high risk experience from which you hope to emerge bloody and victorious, shrouded in honour.

The nature of war is that you don’t always emerge victorious. Giving birth is challenging.  It’s bloody.  It’s perhaps our closest shave with death. Many have a tougher experience than I; and if I give birth again, I may not have such good fortune.

If things do go wrong, thank goodness for the amazing staff of the NHS. The Juniper Community Midwives were outstanding in the home care they provided and I felt in very safe hands. Had things gone wrong, we were lucky enough to have King’s College Hospital a short ride away.

Image source: http://www.healthwatchlincolnshire.co.uk

As it was, we did not need a hospital bed, and the baby did not need to be exposed to the increased infection risk from being outside the home. Many of us in our jobs feel we need to be ‘busy’ and ‘doing’ as much as we can in order to be effective. The community midwives understood that the less they intervened, the more effectively they were supporting us.

So as with any battle, the reality of giving birth is likely to surprise. But let this not stop us from training for the big day, eagerly anticipating it and visualising a positive experience. And whilst I’m not advocating medals, for the sake of future mothers, let’s not shy away from talking about our beautiful victorious experiences. I dare say our men folk would!