1
2
4
5
My intention for this project is for it to be a resource for women to read and share. My favorite part; is women sharing their stories & experiences of pregnancy, births and motherhood. The wisdom of the ones who before us inspire, educate and let us laugh at the purity and pure craziness of life, as a mother.
Hello, My name is SarahKate Butterworth and I am happy to welcome you to this first edition of Art*full Mother, a magazine devoted to the interests of mothers and the art which empowers them. Since I picked up my first henna kit, in 2003; I’ve been (art)working my way to this project; painting and photographing these intimate moments of pure mama love & nourishment; sharing and honoring this precious bond with my art. I am sharing these honest images and true life stories, which I’ve gathered from the women who sit in my henna chair, with you dear reader, in reflection of the beauty of mothering and in hopes of inspiring ~ supporting women to embrace motherhood with art.
6
My hope for Art*full Mother is that I can somehow share a measure of the joy and satisfaction I have come to know in my own life, largely through sharing with my community of women, mothering my beautiful children and creating art. Blessings,
SarahKate Butterworth SarahKate lives with her husband and daughters in Boulder, Colorado. When not caring for her family or practicing ecstatic dancing; she can be found in her studio; where women come from all over the Colorado Front Range and beyond for SarahKate’s unique style of henna and commemorative photography. Contact SarahKate any time through her website, on Facebook or txt plz 303.345.1516 for a henna pampering or party.
Art*full*Mother ~ a mother who celebrates her motherhood with art * Please check here for more online resources http://www.sarahkatebutterworth.com/artfullmother
7
8
9
10
Verna nurses her baby girl at age 6 months (left), 13 months (above) and 19 months (below).
11
M
The Journey
ing cuddly enough for snugotherhood is a jour- gles and kisses. ney. An ever growing, always changing journey. From preg- I feel like I’ll blink and we’ll nancy to birth- infancy to be on a different part of the childhood- late-night feedings Journey. We will be replacing to kissing skinned knees- it’s Rafi with Taylor Swift, tea parall a journey. ties with prom, and “don’t let the bed bugs bite” good nights On my journey I have learned with mom and dad sitting anxthat I’m a planner, an artist, iously by the door awaiting her a singer, a chef, a talented return home from a date. This actress, a nurse and a hilari- is the Journey. The most wonous comic--all before noon! I derful, beautiful-yet terrifyingcan be strong for my crying Journey that is motherhood. daughter, even though I’m really weak and crying on the Regardless of where we are on inside with her. I can be the the Journey, I am in awe of this hero who vanquishes away the perfect, beautiful little girl that boogie monster, while still be- was created out of mine and
12
my husband’s love for one another. Whether she is 2 or 22, she will always be my love, my Sun and Stars, and the Moon of My Life. Written by Loren, pictured with her daughter below ~
“This is this Journey. The most wonderful, beautifulyet-terrifyingjourney that is Motherhood.”
13
14
15
16
17
18
“There are many mistakes I have made as a parent, and even some things that I regret. Breastfeeding my baby is not one of those things. In fact, it is possibly one of the greatest things I have ever done!� ~ Alexis 19
20
21
The Left One Was Bigger Breastfeeding
my children has been by far what I am most proud of in this lifetime so far. For those of you who don’t know my story, I’ll offer the short version. With Calvin, nursing was extremely difficult to the point even a very Boulder “breast is best” lactation consultant shook her head and told me she wouldn’t blame me if I quit. Later, when I stuck with it and came back to visit her when Kyle was a newborn, she told me that I was the worst case she had ever seen then proceeded to snap some photos of my nipple scars with her iPhone camera. Nothing like scrolling through your camera roll of grandchildren and pretty scenery and coming across those puppies. (I am all about education though, so of course I let her.) With Kyle, nursing came easier at first, but then I started to make A LOT of milk. At first I was received mostly with, “Wow! You are so lucky!” and porn star boobs, but soon I realized I was 22
not so lucky after all. My supply was so robust that it choked my baby, clogged my ducts, and sent me spiralling into more breast infections than I’d like to remember. And when trying to care for both a toddler and newborn, being out of commission isn’t really an option. The hard parts of nursing is part of what makes me consider it among my greatest accomplishments. My personal choice was to do everything I could to nurse through the challenges, and I am both grateful and proud that I was able to. When it came to weaning Calvin, I didn’t give it much thought. I was working full time and didn’t have a lot of time to think about my emotions amidst the stack of ungraded essays that grew and grew. But with Kyle weaning has been a whole different experience. We started weaning a few months ago when my supply seemed to drop and he needed more fluids than I could provide. Honestly, that step came with re-
lief because it really freed me from being chained to him or the pump at specific times of day. We were nursing in the morning and at night, and it seemed perfect for a yearold baby and a mama who was rediscovering the joy of happy hours and yoga
classes. I knew that I’d make the 14-month mark our quitting time because my brain just works that way. Calvin weaned at 14 months, so logically Kyle would too.
which was probably for the best.
On Tuesday morning when he woke, I asked Angus to give him a bottle. I said, “I think we’re done.” And I rolled over in bed and As 14 months drew near, enjoyed the quiet of the I genuinely started to feel morning alone. more ready. I knew that we were near the end, Fully awake, some new especially because Kyle, thoughts took hold. This given the choice between is it. Is this it? Wow, this a bottle and breast, be- is really it, it. No more gan to whine and point at babies to nourish. No the bottle adamantly. He more breastfeeding. 28 was ready. This was right. months on my resume. Before officially weaning, I Attachments formed. decided to honour and cel- Bonds established. This ebrate my journey breast- is it. And then the tears feeding by doing some came. Heavy at first, the body henna with the same shoulder shaking kind, lovely woman who paint- then slowing to a gentle ed my belly during both kind of weep. I wept for pregnancies. My jour- the moment each of my ney with nursing evoked babies emerged from my feelings similar to natural body, were placed upon birth, a real connection to my chest, and found my the earth and the passing breast without much help. of time, and her art ex- I wept for the middle-ofpresses this wonderfully. the-night feedings with Calvin when Angus and I, I nursed Kyle for the final young, delirious, and so time on a Monday morn- much in love, made up siling, just the two of us in ly nicknames for our firstbed together, me adorned born and snacked on trail in symbolic henna, him mix and chocolate covwith hair a little too long ered pretzels. I wept for and a urine-soaked dia- the quiet moments with per. I didn’t really know Kyle, when Angus was it would be the last time, taking care of Calvin, and
getting to fall asleep next to him in bed after nursing time and time again. I remembered a long nap in a bedroom in Telluride with the windows open to the cool mountain air. I wept for the complete adoration of being able to look into the eyes of my babies at my breast and for our closeness. I wept at the closing of one chapter and the opening of another. I let the fear seep in and let myself feel the purpose in nursing and wonder what it’d be like without it. And then I smiled. I laughed as I remembered the size of my left boob was often double the size of my right. At the pool last summer, I filled out one side of the bathing suit while the other gaped 23 open. I
laughed at the one time I squirted milk from my breast straight into Calvin’s eyeball and how he squealed. I smiled at the evolution of my modesty. Privacy with Calvin; who the hell cares with Kyle. The image of me nursing for the first time in public, my boob a spectacle for many around us enjoying their brunch still makes me giggle. Gosh, it’s been quite the ride. And now, we are done nursing. Kyle is officially weaned at 14 ½ months. I am no longer lactating. My breasts have done their job. They are scarred and squishy, yet I am so grateful. Here I am
24
on the other side of nourishing two children staring “never again” in the face and moving toward feeling OK about it. More than OK. I am moving to a place of honor, remembrance, and excitement for what’s to come. This morning when Kyle woke up at 7:20 a.m. cooing in his crib, I made a quick bottle of milk and went in to find him. In the back of my mind I thought maybe he’d glare at the bottle with angst and pull my tank top down to get to my breast. What are you thinking woman?! Gimme the goods! Instead, cradled in my arms, he happily sucked down the bot-
tle of milk holding it with one hand and moving his other hand over my arm, shirt, his own sleep sack – the “raking” reflex I am in love with. After the bottle was empty, he sat up on my lap and looked into my eyes. Instinctively, I took out my right breast and offered it to him and thought, well if he goes for it, I guess we won’t be done. He looked right at me and shook his little head back-and-forth. No, mama, he seemed to say. Thank you, but I’m good. ~ Written by Keri, pictured with her son below Read Keri’s blog: whos-shee.blogspot.com
25
26
This mama was adorned for her pregnancy on a Friday, gave birth on a Sunday, and was photographed with her daughters on a Monday. Many blessings on this sweet nursing bond ~
27
28
“So long as the spirit flows through me, I intend to create,
With those who are pleased by my work, I intend to share, And if the fruits of my efforts inspire or support,
�
I am strengthened and satisfied by a job well done.
29
30
31
32