Tag: parents

Holy War

This gave me full body chills…

“👁️ Did you ever wonder why the baby’s taken across the room? Why the cord is clamped fast, the mother left shaking, the lights so bright it feels like judgment?

Did you ever feel the stillness—the eerie quiet when the father’s hands are empty, the grandmother’s not in the room, and the newborn is nowhere near a breast?

It’s not just medicine.

It’s not just policy.

It’s a ritual.

And it’s not ours.

🧬 They inject pig-derived Pitocin to mimic the hormone God designed to flood a woman’s brain in labor. But it doesn’t reach the brain. It only contracts the body.

The love doesn’t flow.

The imprint doesn’t land.

The bonding doesn’t seal.

Just pressure. Just force.

💉 Synthetic love.

⚡ Counterfeit release.

🧠 Neurological silence.

And while the woman is watched but not touched, while the baby is wiped but not suckled, while the father is praised for being “supportive” but not leading—

they cut the thread.

👶 The mother-baby dyad was made to reflect divine intimacy. To pass down trust, peace, protection.

But when it’s broken—

the body remembers.

The child stores the grief.

The mother learns disconnection.

The father fades from view.

That’s how it starts. But it doesn’t end there.

Then come the bottles.

The cribs.

The high chairs.

The eight-hour separations called school.

The praise of independence that is really just early detachment.

The lie that the nuclear family is enough. That Mom runs the home. That Dad is just for weekends. That children are safest raised by strangers in buildings funded by gods they do not know.

🕳️ We are not looking at broken systems.

We are looking at precision-engineered fragmentation.

And you feel it. You’ve felt it all along.

That something was taken before you could name it.

That someone was missing even while you were being told you had “everything you need.”

But listen: the lie only wins if we let it.

And we won’t.

We are pulling the babies back to the breast.

We are restoring the mother’s voice in the birth room.

We are putting grandmothers back at the table.

We are praying over the placenta.

We are keeping them close at night.

We are burning the counterfeit and walking in the design.

This is not soft work.

It is a holy war”

– written upon the heart of almost every midwife

– author – Cardinal Birth Midwifery Service

Raising the bar – Moms & Dads

Dads deserve to be held to the same standard as moms.

Showing up isn’t “extra.”

Being present isn’t “helping.”

Being an active father isn’t a bonus, it’s the bare minimum.

We don’t get a standing ovation for changing diapers or rocking our babies to sleep.

We don’t get applause for knowing our kids’ routines, their doctors, their favorite snacks, their school schedules.

That’s just called being a parent.

And it should be the same for dads.

Fatherhood isn’t babysitting.

It isn’t part-time.

It’s full-time. All in. Every single day.

Because our kids deserve two parents who are fully present. Not one doing it all while the other gets praised for showing up once in a while.

Let’s raise the bar.

Powerless Triggers – Charlie McCready

I’ve come to understand that this isn’t about me personally; it’s a deeply rooted attachment pathology, and complex family dynamic involving disordered parenting. It’s spiralled into a situation where my child’s thoughts, beliefs and behaviours have been significantly influenced – trauma-bonded, coercively controlled, emotionally manipulated. Learning about this has helped me see the bigger picture, though I am working on my sense of isolation, frustration, injustice, and of course the grief. There’s nothing like it. People say it’s like a ‘living bereavement’ and that’s so true. It seems people don’t truly understand this unless they’ve been through it, and alienated parents are united in feeling let down by the mental health and family court system.

Still, I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned not to react to the hurtful behaviour anymore. Sometimes, I catch myself just shaking my head, thinking, ‘Oh, this again.’ It’s like recognising a pattern. I remind myself that ‘this too will pass.’ My focus now is on maintaining my love for my child, even if they can’t see it right now. Detaching with love has become my way of preserving our bond through this difficult time. Nobody can take the love I have for my child away from me. Nothing and no one.

Conscious parenting plays a significant role here. It’s about recognising the importance of my child’s emotional well-being even when they may not fully comprehend it themselves. So, I make an effort to create a safe and loving space for them whenever/should they ever walk through my door. My door, and my heart, are open. I don’t let their negative behaviour dictate my response. Instead, I model the behaviour I want them to see—unconditional love, patience, and understanding. It’s challenging, but it’s also empowering because I believe this will help me and it will help my child heal and come back into my life when they’re ready.

Meanwhile I’m getting on with my life and not feeling sad or guilty about it. I have my moments, but I’m focussing on the present not the past, the love not the loss. If I can do it, and I’ve been in the pits of despair believe me, I know you can too.

#charliemccready

#parentalalienationcoach

Dear Child who watched their parents fall apart

Dear Child Who Watched Their Parents Fall Apart,

You remember the slammed doors.

The words that cut through walls.

The silence that said more than shouting ever could.

You remember trying to be small,

to not take up space, to be the reason they stayed

or at least the reason they didn’t fight that night.

And you tried—you tried so hard to keep the peace in a war that wasn’t yours.

You didn’t understand all of it,

but you felt it.

The shift.

The distance.

The way love started to sound different—like something sharp and cold.

You watched the people who were supposed to teach you how to love, forget how to love each other.

And that kind of heartbreak?

It stays with you in quiet ways.

In the way you flinch at conflict.

In the way you over-apologize.

In the way you question if love always ends in leaving.

But none of this was your fault.

Not the tension.

Not the breaking.

Not the way they stopped looking at each other like they used to.

You were just a child.

And children should never have to carry adult heartbreak.

You deserved to feel safe.

To feel shielded.

To feel like your home was a soft place to land—not a battlefield with no winner.

So if no one ever told you this before,

hear it now:

You were never the problem.

You were just the quiet witness to something they couldn’t hold together.

And you deserved so much more peace than they gave you.

You still do.

Parents

He didn’t enjoy living at his father’s house — mainly because of the constant “nagging.”

“You’re leaving the fan on when you exit the room.”

“The TV’s on in the living room and no one is watching… Turn it off!”

“Close the door properly.”

“Don’t waste so much water.”

He didn’t like how his father bothered him with those “little things.”
He tolerated it… until one day he got a call for a job interview.

“As soon as I get this job, I’ll leave this city. I won’t have to hear my dad complain anymore,” he thought.

As he was leaving, his father gave him some advice:
“Answer every question with confidence. Even if you don’t know the answer, speak with certainty.”
And then… gave him more money than necessary for the interview.

When he arrived at the interview center, he noticed there was no security at the entrance.
The door was wide open—swinging outward and possibly disturbing people passing by.
He closed it gently and stepped inside.

On both sides of the path, he saw beautiful flowers, but the gardener had left the hose running.
Water was spilling everywhere.
He adjusted the hose and placed it where the plants actually needed watering.

There was no receptionist, but a note said:
“Interview upstairs.”
He walked up slowly…

The lights in the staircase were still on, even though it was 10 a.m.—probably since the night before.
He remembered his dad’s voice:
“Why are you leaving the room with the lights on?”
Annoyed, yet thoughtful, he looked for the switch… and turned them off.

Upstairs, in a large hall, many candidates were waiting.
As he stepped in, he noticed the Welcome doormat was upside down.
With a slight sigh, he fixed it.
Old habits die hard…

He saw the front seats were full while the ones in the back were empty.
Several fans were blowing over empty chairs.
Once again, his dad’s voice echoed in his mind:
“Why are the fans on where no one is sitting?”
He turned off the unnecessary fans and sat in the back.

Candidate after candidate entered and left through another door—nobody knew what was being asked.

Finally, it was his turn.
He walked in nervously.
The interviewer took his papers but didn’t even look at them.
He asked:
“When can you start?”

He froze.
“Wait… Is this a trick question? Or… is he really offering me the job?”

The interviewer noticed his hesitation and said:
“Wondering why we’re not asking questions? Because we don’t believe questions reveal a person’s true nature.
We believe in observing people’s actions.”
“We tested everyone through surveillance cameras. Only one person closed the door, fixed the hose, turned off the lights, straightened the doormat, and shut off the fans.”
“That person… was you. That’s why you’re hired.”

In that moment, he realized that everything his father had taught him made sense.
All the discipline he once resented… was what helped him get his first job.
The irritation vanished.
He smiled—grateful—and decided:
“I’m bringing Dad with me. We’ll live together.”

Everything our parents tell us is for our good. They want to shape a brighter future for us.
A rock doesn’t become a sculpture without enduring the sculptor’s chisel.
To become people of value, we must accept guidance, corrections, and love—
Which is exactly what our parents give us.

A mother lifts a child to feed, comfort, and love.
A father lifts the child onto his shoulders…
So they can see the world he never could.

We easily feel a mother’s pain,
But a father’s pain is often invisible—only noticed when others reveal it.

At 5, our father is our teacher
At 20, he might feel like a villain
But for life… he is our guide.

Mothers may grow old and live with their children…
But many fathers don’t know how to ask for that.

Don’t wait until it’s too late to show love.
Care for them while they’re here. Hug them. Appreciate them. Always.

They are our greatest gifts.
Parents are real-life superheroes. Never forget.