Exclusive: Breaking Waves Chapter 4

The First Breath

As the copy edits come to a close, and Breaking Waves is hurtling ever closer towards actual publication, I am sharing an exclusive excerpt from each of the 10 chapters between now and September, when it will become available for pre-order.

I have previously shared excerpts from Chapter 1: The Shape of Water, Chapter 2: The Taste of an Iceberg. and Chapter 3: Drowning. Today I would like to introduce you to Chapter 4: The First Breath.

This is for you 🌊💕

Chapter 4: The First Breath

In chapter 4, I meet some incredible women who share their stories of water births with me. These are truly beautiful tales that emphasise the primal connection of womanhood and water, and what it means to have a safe space. Whilst their experiences are starkly contrasted against my own, there is great comfort in learning what our bodies can do given the right support.

Coming back to the open water in the aftermath of such a fundamental life change reminds us that there is always a constant, and that despite the seismic life shift, whilst lying in the water looking up at the sky it is possible to feel that ‘this is exactly the same as before’. The excerpt I have chosen was shared with me by a wonderful woman named Alex Kasozi, who describes how the water drew her in before and after the birth of her first child, and how it felt to return.

Photo by Katia De Juan on Unsplash

I hope you enjoy it, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🫶

“Shortly after Alex had her first child, she found herself back in her own calm waters, the sea, at Studland Bay near Dorset. Those first three months post birth had been a whirlwind of new motherhood madness; identity shock and managing all the previously unknown adjustments that had to be made. Now, with her husband holding the baby, she waded alone into the sea on a hot day, and lay in the water, looking up. The bay is a beautiful stretch of natural coastline; expanses of golden beach and pines, dramatic towering sea stacks and chalk cliffs, and gently shelving waters in front of soft rolling dunes. As she looked up at the blue skies in the midst of life with a newborn, she realised with joy that ‘this is exactly the same as before!’. The same sky, sand, dunes, cliffs. In the water she was in a timeless place where nothing had changed, although everything had changed. There was comfort and reassurance in accessing something she had previously accessed, and it still being the same.

During her first pregnancy, Alex and her husband had taken a last couple’s trip before two became three, to an island called Eilean Shona in the Inner Hebrides. They took an overnight sleeper train to Fort William, and then waited on the jetty to be collected by boat to go over to the island. There are no cars on the island, no Wi-Fi, no televisions in the nine guest cottages that dot the landscape. All the electricity is generated from a hydro-electric power station, and the peaty water comes down from the hills. There is no hot water save that which guests power from their individual coal stoves. What there is, however, is the sea. The island is nestled in Loch Moidart, a tranquil sea loch where the waters are crystal clear and cold, but pristine. Inland, the forests are ancient and rare – classified as part of the Scottish rainforest: ‘an ancient swathe of forest on the Atlantic Coast dating back to the last ice age’.[i] J.M. Barrie wrote Peter Pan here. It is a place of magic and stories, of wilderness and adventure.

They shopped before their stay, arriving in Neverland laden with groceries for the fortnight ahead. The options for supplies on the island are limited – the village shop that sells wine, milk and frozen handmade fish pies is open for about half a day, twice a week. The ferry back to the mainland and the lifeline of Morrisons goes on a Wednesday. You wouldn’t want to miss your return crossing. Nature owns Eilean Island, not humankind. There are two permanent human residents and two that commute in from the mainland. This island belongs to the stags and the seals, to pine martens and red squirrels; to birds of prey and butterflies, to minke whales and otters. Visitors to the island gather once a week for a social night in the village hall, a rare opportunity to spend a few hours hearing human voices, away from the animals that act as the island’s true custodians. Upon leaving the hall one evening, Alex was greeted with the terrifying yet majestic sight of an adult male stag in rutting season calling out to potential mates. During their stay, Alex baked bread in the cottage over a firepit, and, with her husband, hiked over the hills to Shoe Bay, where the sea surrounded them on three sides. As they descended to the bay, Alex could feel the sea before she saw it; the sea breeze, then the smell, then it appeared, and it was everywhere. They took soup down to the beach, built a fire and heated it up, then picked wild mussels and brought them back for dinner. One day Alex was walking in front, her husband on the path behind, when the sea came into view. One minute she was there, the next she was gone, running into the water. It was October, the end of the season and there was no one else around. She stripped naked as she ran and entered the water at this magical place on the fringe of the world. Her hand softly cradled her gently pregnant belly as she delighted in the waves. The draw to the water was instant, impulsive. With no towel to dry her as she came back to shore, she wrapped herself in a huge tartan scarf. The next time she felt this connected with the open water was lying on her back, postpartum, staring at the sky in Studland Bay, feeling claimed and reclaimed by the water.”

[i] https://eileanshona.com/wilderness.

Chapter 5 excerpt next week…if you like this, please do share! It means the world 🙏

As always,

Love & lemons 💕🍋

Em xx