So, I sat down, as many who begin their journey into learning more about Ayurveda, with the following consultation questionnaire and answered a series of questions about my body, my mind, my sleep, skin, appetite, ambition, body temperature… insightful, yet incisive, questions that had me nodding along emphatically – yes, yes, this is definitely me!

I remember sending my husband a text message at the time: ‘I am a very PITTA pregnant person!’ I learned that, yes, I had a lot of fire in my system. I am just built that way – prone to skin rashes, sudden flashes of rage, overheating… and the more I read about my constitution, and about Ayurveda as a whole, the better I became at feeding myself foods that, in my pregnant state, really nourished, supported and balanced my body. My body responded easily, happily and quickly. I had a great pregnancy, tons of energy, and a really positive mind-set.

Like many pregnant women, however, I was extremely sensitive to smell… the fragrances and essential oils I’d loved often made me feel bilious… but I became increasingly drawn to Rose. Ayurveda helped me make sense of why – it is used to treat and balance Pitta constitutions, as it is both calming & cooling. Ideal for my Pitta nature! During pregnancy, I enjoyed regular rose baths with petals & a few drops of organic rose essential oil… deeply comforting, soothing & relaxing and the Rose Hydrating Mist went into my hospital bag where it sowed a seed of support and comfort.

To this day, the smell of rose takes me back to those birthing moments – when I felt empowered & strong – and the moments afterward: the miracle of my little girl in my arms.

My skin also became quite sensitive during pregnancy (it’s always been sensitive, but began to react to anything that was fragranced or overly ‘active’). As a health editor I was already on the path towards organic & natural beauty choices, but remember discovering the MV Skintherapy Daily Soother Booster and never looking back. My skin drank in the calendula-enriched oil – it felt like the most beautiful ‘kiss it better’ for sensitive skin, and I would massage the Daily Soother, and Rose Plus Booster all over… the smell of rose, once again, felt deeply supportive and comforting; a scent that came to define my pregnancy.

I woke on my due date, knowing the baby would come that day, and within an hour, contractions had started. I stayed at home, calm and happy, listening to music, meditating, bathing, until the contractions were five minutes apart. The 40-minute drive to the hospital was tough – the contractions were very, very intense, but I did keep my mind focused. Two hours after I arrived at the hospital, my baby was born. There’d been no intervention… five minutes after birth I was walking around the hospital with my baby in my arms. I was absolutely fine! My mother couldn’t believe it. My husband couldn’t believe it. (I could hardly believe it).

Beyond The Baby Blues

My eldest was four days old when I opened my inbox and responded to two editors who were offering me freelance writing commissions. I can still remember that night – baby temporarily quieted by the few gulps of breast milk my exhausted body was able to conjure, eyes raw, mind in full throttle yet deepest fog… knowing I had just a couple of weeks’ worth of money saved up ‘for a rainy day’ and no paid maternity leave available to me – a full-time freelance writer.

I’ll work when she naps, I remember thinking… babies eat and sleep for much of the day… I can even write while feeding her. At no point did anyone close to me, older than me, wiser than me, take me to one side, long before I planned to have a child, and ask if I had any savings. Any extra support. Means to rest and heal. To nourish myself. To understand that I may not sleep properly for many years. That the financial security I thought I had – regular commissions, regular chunks of money flowing in – would feel very different if I needed to take a month or more away from my desk. If I didn’t answer the urgent email and the work fell through. If my usual sparkling copy faltered. If I faltered. If all I wanted to do was lie down, fall down, pull it all down.

Those first weeks were a blur… there was wonder and awe that she was here… all teeny-tiny toes + fingers… she looked like a little sparrow; gratitude that the birth had gone as it did, and grief that breastfeeding was so agonisingly hard.

The pain, sleep deprivation, and anxiety over work and money, were like a dripping tap. Within weeks, the sink was full… and overflowing. And my mood – which had been so positive, golden, during pregnancy, and utterly elated, after her arrival, morphed into something familiar to millions of women the world over… postnatal depression.

I still fed her… oddly stubborn about the breastfeeding, even if, looking back, I ought to have given myself a break – a chance to sleep for more than an hour at a time before she was howling for more milk.

Postnatal depression can look different for different women… for me, everything started to feel dark and cold… it was summer at the time, but I remember a period of life when the curtains seemed forever drawn… I didn’t feel like myself… didn’t remember myself before the baby.

She Rose, Once More

I don’t really remember much from that time… just how ‘out of body’ I felt. What I do remember, so clearly, is the day my mum arrived unannounced, scooped the crying baby up and took her out into the garden, where she rocked her to sleep for a few hours…

I remember the daze of the sunlight… wondering when I’d last had a bath or washed my face… and before I realised what I was doing, I was running the bath… the thunder of hot water into the empty tub, sobering, somehow. To that bath I added a handful of rose petals and a generous glug of rose oil. And something magical happened… the rise of the steam from the bath, laced with the scent of rose, began to work its gentle magic on my mind… my shoulders dropped, my head fell, and as I stepped into the hot bath, I began to sob… not a lost, estranged sob, but a complicated, relieved, releasing sob…

To be held… to float and feel light and free… to let the air out of my lungs in deep cries and exhalations, coming back to my body for the first time since I went into the birthing centre… I remember gently washing myself… the sore, bruised, tender parts of me, with love and gratitude.

I remember how the scent of the rose lingered on my skin all day and night… and that when I fed my baby afterwards, she too seemed soothed by that scent. How I would make a point of running myself a rose bath every day after that… anointing my skin with rose oil, feeding her as we both rested and relaxed and breathed in that soothing scent… and how she’d eventually come into the baths with me, sleeping or feeding while we let the water hold us both.

15 years on… and I am still learning how to nourish myself as a mother – something I write about every week on Substack. Motherhood is nothing like I thought it would be… so many frayed edges and stretched seams… and yet so much more beautiful and magical in so many ways than I believed possible. And to this day, Rose is my ally on this journey… the Rose Booster remains my beloved favourite, and I make a point of adding a few drops of organic rose oil to my baths every few weeks (and to my now-teenage daughter’s baths too)… that connection stronger than ever, something I give thanks for, every single day.

written by Emine Rushton

Emine Rushton is a former award-winning health editor, author of five wellness books (her sixth, all about mother nourishment & perimenopause is out next year), and can be found off social media but on Substack - at eminerushton.substack.com - where you can also find the full version of this article.

This article reflects personal experiences and is not intended as medical advice or an endorsement of any particular health system. We encourage you to consult with your trusted healthcare practitioners to explore the best options for your individual well-being.