Self-Trust
self-trust is the mark you leave on your heart—a reminder that no matter what happens ‘out there’ you can always find home inside yourself.
It’s that full-body exhale, the quiet knowing that you’ll be okay.
It’s the moment you stop fighting the current, and finally let go.
self-trust
Why I Teach HypnoBirthing®
I’m not going to lie — during my own pregnancy, I was angry a lot.
Angry at how little space there was for women’s actual experiences in the system.
Even with a background in public health, I didn’t always know what questions to ask at my appointments. And when I did, I didn’t always have the confidence to speak up. I worried about seeming “difficult” or “needy.”
Maybe you can relate?
As birth researcher, author, and educator (and former midwife), Dr. Rachel Reed writes that women have long been conditioned to play the role of the martyr mother — the one who endures, stays quiet, and doesn’t make a fuss. Even now, people are mocked for making a birth plan or wanting something different than routine protocols.
But wanting to understand and participate in your own birth isn’t being difficult — it’s being human. And it’s your right as a birthing person.
How I prepared for birth
When I prepared for birth, I tried everything: journaling, therapy, energy work, research, podcasts, and courses. I didn’t think I was afraid of birth— most women in my family had smooth, uncomplicated experiences. I was actually intrigued by the challenge and approached it like another physical feat to train for.
But underneath all of that preparation, there was a quieter truth:
I was trying to outrun birth trauma.
I was also trying to lay the slate clean for my son. I wanted to heal everything so I wouldn’t pass on any of “my stuff.”
Pregnancy has this uncanny way of pulling you back into your own emotional landscape— the messy parts, the unresolved parts, even the things you thought were long healed. It’s as if the mind and body offer one last invitation to release before stepping into parenthood.
(A blog for another day, maybe.)
But the point is: beneath all my efforts, there was fear.
Not just fear of birth— fear of myself in birth.
A dear friend of mine, who’s also an incredible therapist, once listened to me list out everything I was doing— all the books, the courses, the modalities, all of it. She paused and said:
“That makes sense… your way of coping with uncertainty is to seek knowledge.”
It hit me hard— in a good way.
It uncovered a deeper belief I didn’t even realize I was carrying:
that if I just knew enough about birth, I could somehow guarantee I wouldn’t be traumatized.
I feared not knowing what might happen.
I feared who might walk into the room.
I feared the decisions other people might make around me.
But the deepest fear?
That I would abandon myself in a moment of need. That I would slip into survival freeze — the way trauma had taught me in the past.
So I had to dig in.
Not into the mind— into the heart.
I had to see my fears honestly and make a different kind of commitment to myself. Not one built from knowledge, but one built from trust. Even if it wasn’t fully formed yet.
Later, when I trained as a HypnoBirthing educator, the science finally gave language to what I had felt intuitively:
The body follows the mind -
Our neurology rehearses what we show it.
This is why possibility thinking is powerful— not because it’s “positivity thinking,” but because it lays the groundwork for a different experience to emerge.
Fear constricts.
Hope opens.
And that isn’t just poetic— it’s rooted in our neurobiology.
self-trust. that’s what it was.
Self-trust is a stamp you place on your heart— a reminder that no matter what happens “out there,” you can always find your way back home inside yourself. It’s like a full-body exhale— the moment you know, really know that you’ll be okay, no matter what.
>> what you can do to build self trust <<
One small practice I often share with parents in my classes to start building self-trust is this:
Pause, take some calming breaths, place a hand on your body (somewhere that feels most supportive and grounding) and ask:
“What is true for me right now?”
Not what you should feel.
Not what someone else told you.
Not what the books or blogs say.
Just what’s real, here, in this moment— whatever you sense that to be.
It could be a sensation, an emotion, a need, a boundary, a question (or even a numbness).
The practice isn’t about finding the “right” answer—
it’s about creating the inner conditions where your own voice has space to show up.
Over time, this simple ritual softens fear, strengthens discernment, and opens the door to deeper self-trust in birth and beyond.
What led me to teach HypnoBirthing® Mongan Method
That’s what eventually led me to wanting to teach this program. It pulled together everything I had pieced together on my own— the psychology, the physiology, the deeper emotional meaning, the layered tools that support the mind, the body, and the birth environment.
Instead of months of trying to do everything separately, it felt like a five-week weaving-together: science and spirit, information and intuition, and support for both preparation and becoming.
What I love most about this approach is that it honours the whole picture.
Even if you’re not a “spiritual” person, meaning matters— and birth is nothing if not meaningful.
Birth is a doorway into parenthood, yes— but it’s also a doorway back into yourself.
A process of remembering who you are and what you know. In a world where there is so much bringing us out of our body and instincts, this matters.
That was the missing link for me: learning to listen to my heart, not just my head. I had to stop approaching birth like a research project and start trusting that I would be okay— no matter what unfolded.
Because when you’re not connected to your body or emotions, the early weeks and months can feel even harder. This work helps people reconnect— to show up authentically, to feel heard, and to hear themselves again. And that’s what I love most about working alongside families — holding space for that process.
Because birth isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something you’re deeply part of.