Arliah Davis is twenty-nine and lives in West Auckland. She grew up in Orewa and spent much of her childhood near the beach with her whānau, fishing and diving. Arliah learnt to surf as a teenager and has surfed around the world. Now, she and her partner enjoy spending beach days with their sixteen-month-old pēpi, Rhea. 

I’m a water baby at heart. I grew up in Orewa with a whānau who loved fishing and diving. I’d go tuatua picking with my dad, my mum was a mean game fisher, and my brothers and sisters lived their lives on a boat. Early on, I dabbled in diving but I found the anxiety of breathing underwater a bit too much. We can't win them all eh?

In my teens, I picked up surfing and have continued on and off for fourteen years; I took a few years off after slicing my leg open in surf that was way too big. I wouldn't say I’m great at surfing, but I love being out on the water and the stillness and mindfulness that it brings. I have lived overseas and surfed in Morocco, Spain and Bali. I’ve also spent a bit of time road tripping around the North Island of Aoteroa, visiting all the hotspots.

My partner is also surfing obsessed, and I love being able to share that passion with him. There is no better feeling than how happy we feel when we’re surfing together. When we found out we were having a baby, we even Googled 'how early can you put your baby on a surfboard?'. Waipu is our favourite place to surf and living out west near the beach means frequent visits to Piha. Before Rhea, I’d venture out with the rooftop tent to surf and camp wherever the surf was good.  

When I fell pregnant we were elated. Our pēpi was planned so we couldn't feel more fortunate. I was anxious about not being able to surf or be in the water in the same way I am used to, but I saw hāpu surfers and it made me determined to keep going for as long as possible, until my body told me it was time to stop. I just needed to know my limits and be extra safe with the waves I chose. I’m proud as punch to say that I was still surfing at twenty-two weeks, until my ribs started giving me grief. After that, I was still in the water in the simplest form–  swimming. 

I started surfing again six weeks after giving birth, and though I wasn't very good at it, I cherished those moments of solitude on the water. Having a child and breastfeeding has brought about many changes in my body, and my priorities have shifted a bit since becoming a māmā. With a pēpi in tow, we don't have the luxury of choosing the perfect tide or swell for our surf days anymore, but we make it a point to visit the beach frequently so that our little girl can develop a love and connection to the ocean. Nowadays, we simply take whatever we can get and make the most of it. Rain, hail or shine. 

Rhea is sixteen months old, and she brings so much joy to our lives. It feels great to finally be myself again after a challenging journey of self-discovery. Reflecting on the past, I now realise that I went through postnatal depression. Reconnecting with the activities that define who I am, like surfing, played a crucial role in managing and improving my hinengaro. Now, after sixteen months, I've returned to my usual routine, including exercise and, most importantly, spending time in nature– particularly the ocean.

The moana holds even greater significance now. Surfing and being in the water were integral to my identity even before Rhea came along. Our deep connection with the water is a fundamental aspect of our Māori heritage, and it is vital for us that Rhea grows up immersed in this knowledge, understanding her whakapapa and the bonds it creates. That's why we recently made the decision to leave the city and move closer to our whānau and the beach so she can experience that connection firsthand.

Evita Toala is a twenty-nine-year-old wahine and mother to her three-year-old tāmahine, Eva Maria. She is originally from Matapouri and now lives in Auckland. Since reconnecting with her whakapapa in Northland, she’s found her deep love for and spiritual presence in the ocean. Evita is pregnant with her second child and is looking forward to getting back on her longboard after the baby is born. 

 I’ve always had love and respect for our moana. Growing up, I was inspired by my papa who taught me how to swim, surf and fish from a very young age. Now, I get out onto the water as much as I can between my responsibilities as a parent; I love to paddleboard and longboard. It’s wonderful and we are fortunate to live in such a beautiful country with some amazing gems that give us the freedom to be present on the ocean. Sharing that freedom and presence with my own whānau is the most rewarding part.

I have a huge passion for surfing and did this a lot in my younger years, but as time went on and life got away, I found myself in a space where I didn’t do it so much. Pre-kids, I went out at least once a week when I could. For a couple of years, I lived in the city with little beach access and my career was my focus. I found myself a little lost. I’ve since reconnected with my whakapapa in Northland, and I’ve found that deep love and energy for the ocean again. 

After having our first child, my fire for surfing reignited in me and sharing that fire with my little one has been blissful. 

Now I’m pregnant so I’ve stopped surfing, but when baby number two is out I’m gunning for that longboard feeling again. 

I think the thought of getting back in the water and gaining that courage again after having a baby can be quite daunting for women. So many factors come into play for our wāhine these days, and the pressure to ‘bounce back’ after pregnancy is crazy. My first time, I was fortunate enough to have a great community around me so I could continue working out which helped me gain confidence and feel stronger postpartum. This time around, I already feel physically and mentally stronger and more confident at the thought of getting back in the water.  

 Pregnancy is a different experience for every wahine and the ability to keep doing ocean activities depends on the individual. The first child especially can bring a bit of an adjustment period for some, both mentally and physically. Personally, I have stopped activities apart from yoga. I still get into the water just to swim or be present with myself and connect. Being spiritually present with the ocean is so helpful. I think even walking along the beach keeps us connected and being able to share that connection with my whanau is amazing.  

Ocean Mead is thirty-three years old and lives in Auckland with her husband and two children, Tui and Dusky. She’s been surfing since her teenage years and has sailed competitively in both New Zealand and Australia. Now, she and her family enjoy calm seas on the family boat. 

I used to do a lot of competitive offshore sailing, competing both in New Zealand and Australia. In 2018, I completed the Rolex Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race, which was a real life highlight. I still race regularly in the Richmond Yacht Club and RNZYC regattas on Wednesday nights with a crew of six onboard a ten-metre Elliot, but this is social sailing with amateur crew. We also have a family-owned yacht called Ambrosia which we spend a lot of time on. It’s like a floating caravan– we take it holidaying around the Hauraki Gulf and are enjoying building memories aboard with our children and the extended whānau.

Being on the ocean is critical to my mental wellbeing. I spend my weekdays stalking the surf reports, watching the webcams, and critically analysing the swell to ensure I’m always ready to hit the water when the conditions are perfect. It’s become an artform now to determine what the forecast is doing, and schedule surfing around a baby and a toddler, work, and owning a small business.

Pre-children, any day or condition was fun. I had the fitness and I had the time, the luxury of time that I took for granted– where I could spend whole days and weekends at the beach, lounging around, and dipping in and out of the surf. Pitching tents in random places and embracing the mission. Going surfing is a stolen moment for me now. A brief hour here or there. And when I get out there, I always kick myself for not being more fit. 

It’s the same with sailing. Any conditions– strong wind, no wind, swell or no swell– my husband and I were keen to be on the water. Different conditions meant experimenting with different sail combinations and testing the limits of ourselves and the boat, squeezing out every single knot of boat speed. This all changes when you have kids. Then, it all comes down to the smoothest ride.

When I found out I was pregnant with Tui, I was super excited. I hadn’t expected to fall pregnant so quickly. The reality of moving into the next phase of my life took a lot of adjustment, and at around five months pregnant, I went through a brief period of mourning my former life– the dreams and goals I felt I hadn’t accomplished and wouldn’t accomplish as a mother. It’s a bit traditional and old-school to say I won't accomplish my dreams as a mother, but your priorities simply change, and dreams you once had may not be conducive to your family life or future vision. New pathways need to be forged.

I had dreams of being an on-board reporter for the Volvo Ocean Race, circumnavigating the globe onboard a Volvo 65 and documenting one of the most hardcore ocean races on the planet. Competing in races like the Rolex Sydney to Hobart was my pathway to this– I was competing in these races to get a feel for life aboard race yachts and ascertain whether I could hack the pace. To build my sailing miles, my experience and my CV; to build my media profile with great photographs and videos. However, this is a career path I’ve had to put to rest for the time being. I feel it would be selfish of me to spend six months offshore without connection with my children, and additional months away with international travel and training. The radius for my big goals needs to shift to more domestic waters. 

I stopped participating in surfing and sailing at around twenty-five weeks with Tui. Being due in March meant that exploring the ocean during the perfect summer months was essentially off-limits to me– or at least that’s how I perceived it. Gentler activities like ocean swimming and walking by the seaside just didn’t have the same appeal. They didn’t fill my cup.

The unspoken rule in our household is: new baby, new surfboard. So, my quiver has expanded by two over the years. Since Dusky was born, my new mid-length has made the few times I've surfed much easier and more ‘inclusive’. More volume in the board means I need slightly less paddle power to get out the back, and I can ride all the fun-size waves that may not have been possible before.

Post-babies, I’ve done a lot more surfing than I thought. The key has been making other mum friends who are keen for the same time-restricted missions and understand the hustle of getting in the water, even when the conditions aren’t ideal. Catching a quick hour before work while our partners look after the children is generally how we make it work. I’ve progressed more in the past year by being motivated to catch a quick wave, than I have in the previous five years. So, in some ways having a baby has been a really good thing for my surfing. It makes me appreciate every moment I get in the water.

Competitive sailing has taken a dive for me after having children. The type of competitions I was competing in are not conducive to having a young family. The races are long, over multiple days and nights, and often involve very rough and dangerous weather. Being a few hundred nautical miles from land and in stormy weather makes you realise what's important in life and the things you really value. Some risks seem much greater now.

I did have a few competitive nights on the water four-months postpartum. However, my body really struggled. My balance moving around the boat was compromised. My core strength was non-existent so it was really difficult to spend long stints on the grinders, and it was difficult to brace my body as the boat heeled over. I was also less nimble when moving around the boat from tack to tack. I decided not to race for the rest of the season as the physical demands were too much, but I have sailing in my sights for the summer of ‘23– I’m eager to return with newfound fitness and stoke. 

Sailing with the family is awesome though, introducing our kids to new experiences. We see them creating their own special memories on the boat, and forming their own relationships with the ocean. Our beach days also come with a lot more paraphernalia these days. Trolleys, umbrellas, tents, cubic metres of sunblock, a supermarket worth of snacks. They’re epic. We basically set up camp each day when we go to the beach. Travelling lean is a distant memory and I now go home with half the beach still in my car. 

The adjustment to my new life as a mother has been steep. Days are a whirlpool of stolen moments with past ambitions and dreams not realised. Fleeting interactions with the person who was your former self. It seems to be an ongoing process of evolution into a new body and new life as a mother. I haven’t completed that transition just yet– and am still awkwardly straddling the space in-between. I hope I feel at peace with it soon but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

My nine-month-old son, Dusky, is an absolute ray of light in my life– the happiest and most smiley kid imaginable. His contagious joy draws people to us everywhere we go. Whether it's at the supermarket or on the street, strangers are compelled to strike up conversations. These interactions have made the long days of maternity feel a little less lonely, easing the journey. 

Surfing and sailing are a lot like motherhood really. You have the good times, the good waves, the good weather, and there are other days when you get absolutely pounded by fierce storms that leave you questioning your ability to manage. When you’re in those moments of total high – you’re filled with unsurmountable and unrivalled joy. And looking back on the bad weather days, you’re glad you endured them because they’re always worth it in the end. You’ve learned, you’ve grown, and you’ve come out better off.

My new life mission is to instill a love for the ocean in my children. I want them to be curious about life by the sea; to explore it, run on its shores, collect their own food, fish, laugh, spend long days catching waves and embracing play. I want them to share my passion so, hopefully, we can spend time enjoying all these things together. If they grow to value it as much as I do and understand that spending time in the great outdoors is the key to happiness, I’ll have succeeded. 

Cameo Stavers is twenty-two and lives in Titirangi with her partner and her daughter Sofia. They will be welcoming baby number two to the whānau soon. Cameo is a qualified surf instructor and has helped to rebuild a skatepark in Bali. When she’s not on a surf mission, she shares her passion for the moana as a full-time youth worker teaching rangatahi to surf at Piha. 

Growing up, I didn’t have the privilege of being exposed to my culture so the ocean is a way for me to feel belonging in the way our waters of Aotearoa connect to all the surrounding islands. I feel the best version of myself when I’m in the ocean. 

I’m forced to really tune in with what the water is doing, especially when the conditions are challenging, and it makes me more aware of myself and my capabilities. I’m always humbled by our oceans when surfing, they show how small we are and how amazing creation is. 

I’ve recreationally surfed a shortboard and longboard since I was fifteen years old, about eight years. I would jump into club competitions and local comps at Piha for fun, nothing serious.  I also used to run Christian Surfers West Auckland and we would meet up weekly to surf, skate and adventure. For the past four years, I’ve been teaching surf lessons as a qualified surf instructor.

I’m now a youth worker working with youth offenders. We take our rangatahi out to Piha once a week to teach them how to surf. I’m passionate about sharing my love for surfing with those who are looking to find purpose or belonging. Te moana can change our lives and bring us joy. I get just as filled up teaching other people to surf as when I catch waves myself.  

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, Sofia, I surfed my shortboard all the way up until two days before she was born because I didn’t know I was pregnant, which is a whole other story. I was seventeen, in my last year of high school, and had just become a qualified lifeguard. As soon as I got out of the hospital, I went skateboarding and continued to surf as much as possible while my whānau looked after my newborn on the beach. 

Sofia was on a surfboard or swimming in the water with us as soon as she was old enough. Rarely did she hold us back from going on surfing missions; she adapted to our lifestyle and came along with us. The older she got, the more actively involved she was. She’s gone from lying on a surfboard, floating in the water to sitting on the front of our boards, catching waves with us. Now, she’s catching waves on her own at four years old. It’s so exciting to see her share the same passions as us and to be able to do life with her in that way. 

During Sofia’s nearly five years of life, I have continued to surf as much as possible and teach surf lessons. I’m very lucky to have a whānau who enjoys the beach and will look after her while we go out the back on our own. It does take a village to raise a child and those around me make it possible to continue surfing.

I’m hapū with baby number two now. My partner and I found out at home one morning before work. It was very exciting but for a long time we held back from getting too ahead of ourselves because we were aware of complications that can happen during pregnancy. I assumed this time around would be similar to my first pregnancy; I thought I probably wouldn’t have to stop surfing. I’m in the third trimester now and it’s a totally different experience. I have to be so careful when I’m surfing.

Being pregnant a second time has been completely different to what I expected, especially after how easy my first girl was. I haven’t had any major complications, which we are very grateful for, so it's been smooth sailing for the baby, but not so much for my overall hauora. These last seven months have definitely taken a toll on me; I now know this can be the reality of bringing a child into this world. I’m counting down the days till the baby is here so I can start feeling more like myself again. I’m lucky to have my amazing partner who has been supporting me the whole way.

As I said, I did not know I was pregnant with my first daughter so I continued all my ocean activities without any issues. I wasn’t sure how pregnancy was going to affect my body this time. I’m thirty-one weeks hapū and still surfing, and it’s a challenge. I have a baby bump which makes it difficult, and not recommended, to lie on a surfboard. I have to either swim my board out the back or paddle on my chest. I’ve also had some surfs that were just not fun because I felt the most incapable I’ve ever felt. It was pretty discouraging and I thought maybe it was just not worth surfing anymore during this pregnancy. 

It’s really hard not feeling in control like I usually do in the ocean, so safe surf conditions and having my partner to physically support me in the water are a must. My partner will push me into some waves which is really helpful but if I’m not feeling up to surfing or the conditions aren’t right, I take my daughter surfing while I swim next to her. It’s truly challenging being unable to surf properly, knowing I have a life growing inside me that I’m responsible for. The baby’s safety always comes first. I want to surf for as long as I can throughout this pregnancy in the appropriate conditions but if it's not suitable for me to surf, I have to accept that it's just not my time. 

It has been difficult to navigate being young parents but it has also opened doors for us to grow in many ways. Being young parents means we are more physically energetic and can experience more life with our children as they grow up, which is ideal for us because my partner and I definitely have itchy feet and always want to be active or in the water. 

I have big plans and goals for myself in the future, with the ocean playing a huge part in my career. In some ways, the ocean is already a part of my mahi since I teach surf lessons, but I’d like it to be a bigger part. I’m blessed that my partner supports my mahi and that we share the same passions. I think if we have the right people around us to support our career or our dreams, anything is possible. 

Krista Dixon, thirty-four, lives in Mount Maunganui with her husband. She has been surfing and scuba diving for many years and has travelled all over the world chasing waves. She is the founder of Live for More, a charity that uses surf therapy to support and empower high-risk men to make positive changes in their lives.  

My mum never fails to remind me how I was conceived in the water, and she reckons that's why I've always been a water baby. My life literally began in the water! Just getting into the ocean does something powerful for me; it's like being home. I love surfing and have been surfing since I was fourteen. I've never competed in competitions. I wouldn't want the pressure of surfing to impress someone else; I just surf for the pure joy and fun of it. 

Surfing has taken me around the world chasing new waves. I've surfed in the USA, where I was born, Mexico, Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, Tonga, Bali, Hawai'i, South Africa, and Australia, plus all over Aotearoa New Zealand. I don't chase huge waves; a perfect surf for me is a clean right-hand point break with three to four-foot peelers. Once it's a few feet overhead, those sneaky outside sets come and clean you up– I hate that. I'd always choose a small, cruisy day on a foamie over pitching, heavy barrels.

My husband is a keen surfer too, so it's always been something we do together on the weekends or after work. We usually plan our holidays around surfing and stick close to a beach so we can catch waves while away from home. We love surfing in general, and we love surfing together, so it's a win-win because it's a great way for us to spend quality time with each other.

Surfing is also a huge part of my professional life. I started a charity called Live for More, that uses surf therapy to reach very high-risk young men and empower them to make transformational changes. Surfing is the clinical tool we use to build relationships and get these hard-to-reach young men to engage and receive the support they desperately need. There are no words for how amazing it is to see their faces light up with so much joy and stoke when they catch their first wave. They absolutely love it, and we are able to use surfing as an analogy for life in many ways.

Because I was pregnant last year and lost the baby, I was so excited when I found out I was pregnant again. It took us seven months to fall pregnant after our miscarriage, and those seven months felt like an eternity. We were so keen for a baby and had already shifted our mindset to becoming parents when the first pregnancy happened, so when those two lines finally showed up again on the pregnancy test, I was excited, relieved, nervous, thankful and a little bit in shock. I found out just before Christmas, so I wrapped up the positive test with a baby Christmas outfit  as a present for my husband.

Before I was pregnant, I used to think I would surf until the day the baby came. Oh, how things change once you're pregnant! The nausea and sickness during the first few months wiped me out completely and I couldn't or didn't want to do anything. Normally, getting in the ocean is good when you're a bit nauseous, but I had days when I’d be out there spewing. I'm sure the fish were happy to have a free feed. By the time the first trimester sickness passed, my bump was just starting to exist which made laying on a board and paddling a bit interesting. So, from the very early days of pregnancy, my relationship with surfing began to change. 

I still get out there and do what I can. Getting in the water is so good for my mental health, which also benefits the little life growing inside of me. I am a competent surfer so I know my own limits and can stay safe in the water. I only go out in small conditions, never when it’s pumping and never around heaps of other people who could be a danger to me. I knee-paddle on a foamie which helps, and I only lay down when I'm paddling into the wave, but I try to put all my weight on my knees and chest and push my butt up to make room for the baby bump. Once I'm on my feet though, I'm all good and everything is fine.

 I am six-months pregnant now and every time I’m out there, I feel significantly bigger and it's noticeably more uncomfortable. The last surf I had was on a programme day with Live for More. I had been swimming and taking photos of the guys surfing with the GoPro, but the waves were so clean and nice so towards the end of the session, I couldn't resist. I grabbed a foamie from the beach, paddled out on my knees and caught one wave with the assistance of someone pushing me into it– a little help goes a long way! One wave is all it took and I was frothing. I've learned to be satisfied with less, appreciate what I am still able to do and enjoy every wave I am blessed to catch while hapū. 

Since laying on a board is near impossible now, I am in the process of making a preggo boogie board, with a hole carved out to make space for the baby bump. My friend did this years ago and was able to ride waves until she was eight months pregnant. She called it the ‘preggo fish’. I'm excited for this because I’ve really missed getting in the water regularly and catching waves with all the Live for More brothers. I'm a firm believer that if there's a will, there's a way, so I am finding a way to still ride waves and do what I love. A little creativity goes a long way!

I do miss being able to wake up, roll out of bed, jump in the car and go surf my brains out for as long as I want when the surf is pumping– and then have a quick bite, some water and do it all over again. All that being said, the season of young babies and life revolving around their routines and needs is just a season. Soon enough, babies become frothing little groms who are just as stoked on the waves as their parents.I can't wait to take my child surfing and see her catch the stoke.

Shona Whittaker is thirty years old and lives in Kaimarama with her partner, and two year old son, Kōa. She has spent over a decade working on the oceans as a dive instructor, whale guide, and research photographer. Shona and her partner now own Aotearoa Expeditions and Sea Cave Adventures. She’s looking forward to the day her son and future daughter will join them on the boat. 

My love for salt was ingrained deep from the beginning. The ocean soothes my soul, fills my cup and pays the bills; I have spent the last ten years working and living on the ocean. I was a professional dive instructor for seven years in New Zealand, Australia and Tonga–  I have well over eight thousand scuba dives under my belt. I’ve also been a qualified skipper for the last five years.

I started in New Zealand working at a dive academy in a small beach town, then I headed overseas to a high-end expedition and marine research vessel going from Torres Straits to Townsville. After that, I went to Cairns and worked on day boats on the Great Barrier Reef, and to Vava’u, Tonga to work on whale and dive boats, before finally settling back home in Whitianga to further my career as a skipper and business owner. 

You can’t spend that much time at sea without having some pretty life-changing experiences and I certainly have a few that stand out. I was once lost at sea, drifting from the south end of Ohinau Island to Castle Rock. After six hours, I’d come to terms with dying and wrote my goodbye notes on a water-proof slate. Just before nightfall, I was found by the Coastguard. No great job comes without great emotion and sacrifice; I’ve also been the one to rescue strangers and have lost friends over the years– the emotion that comes with those experiences has overwhelmed my career at times. 

Swimming with dwarf minke whales and humpbacks– no words can explain the feeling of insignificance I felt when sharing space with these mammals. These are some of the most surreal and rewarding experiences of my life. The feeling of being engulfed by whale song will be something that stays with me forever.  

After a decade, I returned to New Zealand with my partner and we bought a marine tourism business. Three months later, we were working hard to get it up and going, and I found out I was pregnant with Kōa. 

My pregnancy journeys have been rough. We’ve suffered two miscarriages over the years and both of my pregnancies have been difficult for different reasons. With Kōa, I was still working as a day skipper and suffered severe morning sickness. I lived with my head out the window and a sea sick bag in my pocket, just surviving.

A month after we found out I was pregnant, we were plunged into our first Covid-19 lockdown. This came with anxiety, loss of sleep, solo appointments and endless questions about the unknown. Our highly anticipated twenty-week scan came, and I found out I had a shortened cervix. After many more scans and specialist appointments, I had a cerclage put in my cervix (they literally stitched it closed) to prevent me from early labour. This, along with lockdown, ended my time driving boats. 

Even if I had wanted to work I couldn’t, doing so would risk preterm labour or harm to the baby. Kōa was still born earlier than expected, and we spent a week in the NICU while he gathered the strength to return home with us. The day he was born, all my fears and worries about what it meant for my life on the ocean went away. The minute I became a mother, nothing else mattered.  

My pregnancy this time has been quite the same– endless days of throwing up, but this time I’m also chasing a two year old around. Mentally, it has been a lot easier the second time around though– knowing what’s coming and having the confidence to deal with it and to adapt to soon being a family of four. I had the same cerclage procedure done and have just had the stitch taken out. Now, we are patiently waiting for this little girl to join us earth-side.  

I knew having children was always on our timeline, and that between my partner and I, it would be me who would give up my career; I knew that when I became a mother, I would have to change and sacrifice what I had spent the last ten years doing. I committed most of my adult life to my career, and the thought of it just dissipating was hard to come to terms with. I felt like I was about to lose who I was– my purpose, my fuel, my passion.

But I didn’t. In fact, once Kōa arrived, my life just changed direction, along with my perspective on almost everything. They say when you have a baby your life begins again, and ‘they’ were right. It does. I learnt to appreciate how lucky I was, how grateful I am for the time I got to spend on the water and for my encounters with so many great ocean animals. I guess I’ve learnt to adapt and instead of giving up my life on the water, I've just changed my relationship with it. This age is hard, but I know as my children get older it will get easier. Humpback season has turned into exploring rock pools with curious little hands and my cup is full. While the younger years keep us in the shallows, I look forward to the day I’ll have my very own dive buddies. 

Katie-Marie Jervis is a thirty-eight-year-old surfer, swimmer, and stand-up paddle boarder. She has competed in swimming, SUP surfing and Waka Ama and participated in the 2014 Waka Ama Nationals before dedicating her time to her other ocean sports. Katie-Marie lives in Tairua with her husband and two children, Acacia-Anne and Koa. 

I never envisaged that a lot of my activities would be water-based, but I suppose it was coming. My mum has always loved the ocean. Even in the coldest of winters, she would strip down to her swimming costume and embrace the water. I grew up in the middle of the UK, miles away from the ocean, so moving to New Zealand was a big shift for me in terms of lifestyle. 

In my life before children, the ocean took up all my time outside of work. I started surfing at uni when I was eighteen. Later on, I would go to work then rush off for a Waka Ama paddle. I used to train five times a week and competed in the sport at a National level. I would surf or SUP surf when I wasn’t doing Waka Ama. On flat days, when I was living in Papamoa, I used to SUP around Maoao and its surrounds. I would also go ocean swimming or train with a team in the pool, so that I was even fitter for the time I would next be in the ocean. 

Of course, I was overjoyed at the prospect of getting pregnant, as motherhood had always been a dream of mine. It was a hard transition though because when I fell pregnant, I had only recently moved away from Tauranga, where I had a full life of ocean activities and lots of friends, to a farm in Ohui, on the far side of Opoutere. My husband worked the farm and it was beautiful. It had its downsides, though. There was no phone line and the internet cut out most days. I was isolated. I knew nobody. I had awful morning sickness and was driving long distances for work; I was also grieving the loss of a close friend by suicide. It was a hard time in my life.

Surfing was the only thing that brought me back to myself and got me grounded. I would venture into Tairua on the weekends and try to get out in the surf. I entered a local surf comp at nineteen weeks pregnant and then decided that enough was enough. I guess back then I didn’t feel confident that my baby was perfectly safe, tucked away in my belly, so I listened more to the opinions of others who told me that I was placing my baby at risk, rather than my own intuition. I think I randomly decided to SUP surf at around twenty-one weeks pregnant and had a lot of judgemental comments thrown my way about risking my baby’s safety. I packed away the gear and stopped surfing and SUPing. So in short, I stopped my activities because of the social pressure to do so, rather than doing what I wanted to do.  

Things changed for me during my second pregnancy. I’d moved to small-town Tairua and was no longer living in the middle of nowhere. I lived close to the beach and was in a good head space. I felt emotionally strong and decided that if I was going to surf during pregnancy, I was going to research how to do it safely and effectively so I could do it for as long as I could. I watched several YouTube videos about surfing a mal for added buoyancy and then transitioning to a smaller board later, when my belly was larger. These videos showed women surfing until they were full term. It was so inspirational. 

I managed to surf until I was about twenty-nine or thirty weeks. I had to stop then, as I was massive! My placenta was also on the back wall which meant that when I lay on my stomach, the baby would move out the way; this never happened in my first pregnancy. It was much easier surfing for longer. I have a photo of me at about six-months pregnant about to get out in the surf at Raglan. All the locals were taking the waves, then a local wahine saw me and announced that the next wave was mine – “She is pregnant after all!”. A group of women paddled around me and we all took over; the men backed off– I still smile thinking about it. 

As my pregnancy progressed, it was clear that not everything was going to plan. I developed preeclampsia symptoms, had high blood pressure, low platelet count, and I was tired and sore. One day, I was walking the dog and she pulled me hard towards a bird she saw; that led to a hip/pelvic joint injury. I had SI joint issues, pelvic girdle pain and suddenly, I couldn’t walk. For a week, I had to lie down. I couldn’t even get up to use the toilet without the assistance of my husband to lift me. I needed crutches for seven weeks. I was unable to work, walk, surf or swim without pain. The second baby was going to be a big one! He was causing no end of issues from the inside out. 

When I finally gave birth to my second child, Koa, the birth process was very fast. One and a half pushes and he was out but I suffered from significant internal tearing, prolapse, pelvic floor weakness and haemorrhoids as a result. My coccyx moved, and to this day my physio thinks it was likely that I fractured it. The arches of my feet dropped due to the ligaments stretching and my knees were sore. It took me a few months before I could even hold my baby in the mornings as my body ached and I lacked strength to be able to get myself upright while holding him. I struggled to sit down and once sitting, I couldn’t get up without assistance. I could barely walk without peeing my pants. Adding to this, my baby had significant feeding issues which took up hours and hours of the day. He had two tongue tie releases and terrible reflux. He also saw an osteo, as he also had a head tilt. 

I went to a specialist physio in Auckland who did a thorough examination, and she told me to stop exercising as I still needed to heal. Getting back into the surf and feeling strong was going to be a long road. I’d like to say that I listened to the physio and took it upon myself to rest, but with a new baby and a preschooler, that was near impossible. I wanted so desperately to be in the ocean. I went out for a few paddles and attempted to surf, but I had no strength and my back would ache so badly for days later. It turns out that those pelvic floor exercises really do make you strong enough to hold everything together! 

I am now ten months postpartum and am only just at the stage where I feel strong enough to surf regularly. I still can not run; my feet, knees, hips and back still scream at me. Every morning when I get out of bed, it takes me half an hour to be able to walk properly because my feet ache so much. I am waiting to see a podiatrist about it. I see the osteo every four to six weeks. I’ve seen two specialist physios. I have seen the chiro twice. It’s been a long road the second time around and an emotional one at that. 

The general busy-ness of life with two kids, two businesses and trying to fit in time to socialise and then surf is hard. 

Some days I just feel so overwhelmed and guilty for leaving my kids behind as I venture to the ocean,

Other days I can get grounded and be present, then my surf can last an hour. Always, always, always in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “Is my baby hungry? Do I need to get back to breastfeed him? Is my little girl missing me, as I’m so busy with the baby, and now I’m out surfing and leaving her behind?”. It is constant and never-ending. I’d like to say that my husband and I share the load equally, and while he would say he does, of course women still carry most of the load when birthing a baby, both physically and emotionally. 

I’d also like to say that in an ideal world, becoming a mother doesn’t get in the way of my career (I’m a psychologist), but I’d be lying. I have less access to opportunities, and progression up the ladder is slow. But for now, I have made peace with that. This season is for my family– and the ocean!

Lucy van Oosterom is thirty-one years old and a confident water-woman. She is a scientific diver, ocean swimmer, and surfer. She has a daughter, Māhina, and a son, Kahu. Lucy lives in Leigh, a couple of minutes drive from the beach where they spend time as a family. 

I’m a skilled scientific diver and have worked with some amazing teams in science and media, in really challenging situations, and remote locations. I’d say that being very confident and competent in the water is part of my professional identity in a way, and something I am very proud of. 

Before being a māmā there were very few days I wasn’t in or on the ocean for work or for fun. My job was often flexible, so if the surf was good I could fit one in. I’d get so anxious if I thought I was going to miss a good swell, even if I was underwater all day instead. I love diving, but when it’s for work I don’t get the same meditative fulfilment that comes with just following whatever fish I want on my dive. In my spare time, if I didn’t get a beach walk in at the very least, I would feel like something was out of balance. 

When I fell pregnant with Māhina, I was terrified. Not of motherhood or birth or my personal relationship with the ocean, but of what would happen to my job and my career. My job required me to dive and if I couldn’t, what use was I? I had to fight for a further contract I was promised prior to falling pregnant, and through this process I realised people’s knowledge and understanding of basic equality was still so limited and how far we still were (and are) from achieving it in some professions. I always knew I would encounter inequality in my career as a female field technician, but I wasn't ready for how hard that would be to swallow, or to watch young men stroll in and take opportunities I would have normally scooped up. It still gives me anxiety thinking about it. My first pregnancy wasn’t planned, and it certainly wasn’t the ‘best timing’ in terms of my employment situation, but I’ve come to realise there may have never been a good time.

Work aside, I felt too sick in my first trimester with Māhina to even attempt a surf, but I was back in the water in my second trimester and I was so happy to be! I tried to surf at every opportunity, but I  kept to smaller conditions and got out if I felt like it was unsafe– usually that was due to another surfer not respecting my space, or too many people on one bank. Despite my very large baby belly, I was lucky to feel comfortable paddling into waves on my stomach until about thirty-two weeks. I just woke up one day after surfing all weekend and knew I was done. I’m really not sure why, I just felt like I needed to slow down. It was peak summer then, so I just floated and swam multiple times a day before, during and after work. 

After Māhina was born, I went back to work part-time. It felt too early for me and my baby but I also felt I had to show up for the contract I had fought for. When I finally did want to work to regain a sense of self, it was difficult not being in peak shape, and juggling childcare with a weather and tide-dependent job. Also, only working part-time meant that I was losing out on career opportunities, but I wasn’t ready to go back full-time. Falling pregnant again (again unplanned) was almost a relief, because I felt this weight lifted and I no longer had to choose between my family and my career, at least for a few more years. This definitely plays on my mind when considering how many kids we'll have and when, and how I’ll ever work in a fulfilling way again, but I really wouldn't have it any other way.

After Māhina, I was so focused on returning to work in the same capacity as before. But now that I’ve had Kahu, I see that it’s just not realistic for the kind of mother I want to be, or the way our family flows. At least not right now. I finally feel open to exploring other ways in which I can work in marine science with less emphasis on diving and sea time, and I'm so excited to see how my career evolves in the next few years. 

The biggest change after having a baby has been the ability to be in the ocean when and where I please, for as long as I want. I cannot do that very often now, except on rare occasions, and I often find once I'm there I don’t want to. It’s the strangest feeling to absolutely crave time to myself, doing what I love, and then to finally get the opportunity only to find I absolutely crave being back home with my baby in my arms. In the first few months, I had full-time surf FOMO but when I was finally surfing, I had really intense separation anxiety and would get out of the water well before my body was tired or the waves were done.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the freedom of time I had before kids, but I think it's all tied to an evolution of self. It used to be about surfing more or swimming longer, but now it's about what I get out of my time. If I can't get in the ocean as often, I just need to put more of myself into each surf, swim, or dive. The stoke of a good surf can carry me through a month or two without the salty taste going sour.

I get a similar stoke knowing that no matter the weather, my kids always end up peeling off their clothes and racing to the sea. The way they dance on the sand and grin when they get in the water, it's in their blood. And that means more than anything. My first wave with Māhina in my puku was just insane. The thought that you’re surfing for two is something else. How lucky I am to share that with them, and how exciting to think that one day in the not-too-distant future I can surf and dive and swim whenever I want, and they'll be right there with me. 

Natasha Loo is thirty-thee and lives on Waiheke with her fiancé and daughter, Kainoa. She’s an Advanced freediver and scuba diver. For Tash, the ocean is integral to her hauora, and provides a deep connection to Tangaroa and to herself. Now, she’s looking forward to sharing that connection with her daughter as she grows.  

Before I got pregnant, I was diving often. I had a boat that I would go out in on as many weekends as I could. My friends would go spearfishing or diving for scallops and crays, sometimes I’d freedive if it was a quickie to gather kai moana. Other times, I’d jump in with a tank and just be. Just be amongst Tangaroa, the stingrays, the sharks and all the fish I’d see in between. To feel the crisp water that surrounded me on my skin; that is what grounds me, makes me feel whole and filled with peace. I guess it’s a form of meditation on the ocean floor, soaking in my salty surroundings. I especially love swimming alongside rays and sharks– sharks usually tend to swim away, but I like to follow them anyway. 

When I found out I was pregnant, I was going to keep diving, but my fiancé wasn’t too keen on the idea. I researched and tried to find proof that it would be fine but there were mixed reviews and I couldn’t one-hundred percent say that diving posed no risks to a growing baby. I felt it would have been disrespectful to ignore his wishes, since it was his baby too. I was gutted about not diving and I was dying to get deep in the ocean.

I still went to the beach most days, whether it was for a walk or a swim. Being near the ocean helped me massively. Breathing in salty air and feeling the water on me is a daily ritual that is super important to my hauora and my spirit. I always go barefoot so I can feel the ocean and the wet sand beneath my feet. I went to the beach with my new pēpi a couple days after I gave birth. I would have gone the day after she was born but my family came over and was there all day.

I swam right up until birth. I gave birth in a pool in my lounge on Waiheke. A few friends and family were concerned about me being away from a hospital in case of complications, but women have been giving birth for centuries and the midwives know how to do their jobs well. Anyways, my birth was perfect– I mean it was a wild ride because it's the craziest thing I’ve ever done– but she came out sweet in a pool of warm, island tank water.

I still roll down to the ocean. I don’t get to swim as much during the week when Kainoa and I go on our own, as it’s probably frowned upon to leave her in the stroller on the beach far away from me. Sometimes, I will put her in the front pack so I can walk in the water up to my waist without getting her wet in the freezing winter water.

I’m really looking forward to summer when she’lll be able to go without a feed for a couple hours which should give me enough time to go for a dive. I’ll just need to rope someone into coming along to look after her on the shore or on the boat, wherever I jump in. But it will mean I can get back to my usual diving self. 

I reckon being connected to the ocean in some way on a daily basis throughout my pregnancy has helped not only my wellbeing but Kainoa’s wellbeing too. She’s a super chill baby. I take her everywhere with me and she’s pretty happy and adapts easily. I wasn’t sure what mama life would be like, as everyone has their own stories, but it’s actually a really relaxing period of my life. I have time to appreciate, love, care, self-develop and spend a lot of quality time with my little whanau. My career is taking a break– that's a little challenging as I am passionate about my career as well– but it’s only for a short time, so I’m making the most of it and loving hanging out with my little girl. Mama life has been pretty easy so far; I’ve got supportive friends, family,  fiancé and a cool, hungry little pēpi. I feel really blessed and grateful for all of that, as well as for living so near the ocean. 

Sophie Hamilton, thirty-two, is a New Zealand Spearfishing Women’s Champion and has competed as a member of the NZ Inter-Pacific team. Her love for freediving and spearfishing is the product of her travels to Okinawa in 2017. Now, she lives in Auckland with her partner, and they are expecting their first baby. 

I wasn’t born a waterwoman but became one. Growing up, I think I went fishing once. It was in an old dinghy, and I didn’t catch anything but an old boot. I didn’t try surfing or snorkelling; I hated sand and didn’t like the beach much. Most of all, I had a deep fear of the ocean and ‘what lies beneath’. But as a Wellingtonian, the ocean was always reassuringly within eyeshot. I didn’t realise I had a connection to it until I lived inland in Leeds, UK for six months. It felt so unnatural being away from the ocean.

 When I went to Okinawa, Japan in 2017, I went on a snorkelling charter and fell instantly in love with the warm, tropical water and the sensations that being in the ocean gave me. It was like flying through a new world, completely weightless. After the charter, I bought myself a mask, snorkel and fins and spent ten days snorkelling around different islands in Okinawa. I look back and think I was crazy, stupid, and brave, given my complete fear of everything in the sea. I spent lots of time duck diving to see how deep I could dive, and playing with the fish. I love how strangely fitting it is that I fell in love with the water in Japan, the same place that breeds the amazingly independent Ama divers. 

When I came back to New Zealand, I missed the ocean so much. It felt like I had activated a part of my soul I didn’t know existed– like I’d experienced some sort of rebirth at twenty-seven. I felt weirdly spiritual about it, this connection to the ocean. I needed to get back into the ocean. 

My boyfriend at the time was into spearfishing and freediving, which were fascinating to me. Eventually, I got the chance to tag along with him and I’ve never looked back. Given my fear of the water, it’s amazing what I achieved in my first year of diving, especially in the murky depths of Wellington. The fear was paralysing but addictive and thrilling to overcome. Thankfully, diving seemed to come naturally to me, and my competitiveness meant I was trying to keep up with the boys as much as possible, to better my catch and my dives.

I got into competitive spearfishing and through participating in the National competition, I got the chance to go to the Inter-Pacific Spearfishing Champs in Eden, NSW 2019. This is where I met my current partner, who also has a love and respect for the ocean and the same competitive spirit. The biggest difference between us is that he’s been diving since he was five and has done everything, whereas I’ve just started. 

Normally, we’d go diving once a week, either out of a trailer boat or from the shore. The Hauraki Gulf is our playground, but we venture to Northland and Bay of Plenty too. I’ve seen some of the most incredible sights over the last few years. Whale sharks at White Island, bait balls getting nailed by tuna and huge sharks, and more schooling kingfish than you could ever count. When I wasn’t diving, I’d be thinking about the next dive. Where will we go next and what will we see? Will the weather be good enough on the weekend? The addiction is real. Normal life just doesn’t compare.

I was surprised when I fell pregnant quickly. I was almost counting on it taking a long time and having a nice, long summer of uninterrupted diving before maybe having a baby over the winter. We had talked about it for a while and knew that, at a certain point, we just had to have kids, despite all the things we still wanted to do together. As someone who has just started diving, the list of things I want to achieve and places I want to see is insurmountably long. I can’t help but feel as if I have been robbed of something– so much potential to compete, travel and experience amazing things. I wish I had started diving so much earlier in life.

It took me a while to truly process that I was pregnant. I waited for all the confirmations and the health checks from the doctor; the first trimester was over before I really started believing and embracing it. There have been a lot of tears of frustration and grief, especially early on as I came to grips with my changing world. 

It seems so strange to talk about grief when I’m healthily pregnant. It feels selfish and almost shameful. I am so lucky to have conceived and carried a healthy baby to this point when so many others struggle. The reality for me was that it was always going to be hard, even though I really wanted it. I’ve lived a selfish and lovely life, fulfilling all my wants and desires, with so much on the horizon I still want to do. I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing the driven, competitive, adventurous, independent person I had become because I take so much pride in being these things.

My grief has subsided to joy as the pregnancy feels more real and I get closer to meeting my baby boy. I remember my twelve and twenty-week scans when I saw my baby move, breathe, and exist. It changed so much for me. Suddenly, I realised how real and serious and beautiful it is and how amazing my world was going to be. I don’t think my grief will disappear altogether but it will certainly be worth it.  

I am thankful that I’ve been able to dive during most of my pregnancy. It’s been hard though. I’ve tried to dive as normal, and during the first trimester, I could for the most part. But the thing I didn’t realise about the first trimester was the sheer exhaustion you experience, even if you are otherwise healthy. I feel like I was betrayed by my own body. Diving got harder and harder as my pregnancy progressed. My breathhold shortened and my dives got shallower. I think my body was a good compass though, and I didn’t push back too hard if it was telling me something. 

There are a lot of annoying and unexpected challenges about diving pregnant. Firstly, the boat trips. Bangy, rough, swelly trips have felt scary and hard while pregnant. I’d be so worried about hitting my stomach or the baby experiencing too much impact through the motions of the boat. I’ve felt fear and guilt for the boat rides I’ve taken. The baby is so protected, but what does he feel on a clangy ride? I started getting seasick too. Other annoyances have been weight belts– where should it sit? Wetsuits– you grow out of them so quickly! Duck diving– your tummy gets in the way! Not to mention actually getting back into the boat. 

Thankfully, my partner has been my best advocate, supporting me as much as possible and trusting my decisions. I know holding your breath, diving deep and succumbing to the ocean's pressure is a controversial thing to do while pregnant. I, however, felt confident I could do it. Confident that my body would protect the baby and sacrifice its own comforts first. 

Diving through my pregnancy has been important to me, I needed to do it for me and to show that pregnant women don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool. But I can’t help feeling a little guilty and self-indulgent. Am I just taking unnecessary risks? I’ve felt judgement from friends and family, even if nothing was said. My midwife had no concerns though, and that was enough for me. I’m facing retirement now as I approach my due date; I’ll need to be close to home soon and not put too much stress on my body by going out on long boat trips. 

Becoming a mother is honestly terrifying. Will I ever be able to leave my child and do a day’s diving again? I hope I don’t lose who I was and become only a mum. There are sacrifices I’ve already needed to make. Sadly, I’ve just declined the opportunity to be on the next Inter-Pacific team competing in Tahiti in October. It’s being held in the Marquesas Islands, which are just too remote for a three-month-old baby. This really hurts me, as trips and once-in-a-lifetime experiences like this are why I compete and dive. I’ve earned a spot on that team the last two years, and as the world finally opens after Covid, my life closes in a little. 

Stephanie Brookes is thirty-three and lives in Muriwai with her partner, Vini, and their two sons, Kaio and Sebastian. Steph started surfing at the age of fifteen with the help of her dad. Since then, she has travelled extensively in search of waves and become a founding member of Betty, a female-focussed surf magazine. 

I have been a water baby for as long as I can remember. My earliest memory of learning to swim is in an ocean-side pool in Waikiki, Hawai’i when I was three years old. My parents and older brother called Hawai’i home for many years until I came earth-side and we moved to the beautiful and sparsely-populated Aotearoa– a land not so different to Hawai’i in terms of Polynesian culture, but dramatically different in terms of the way of life.

Aotearoa is where I grew to love the ocean, to revel in her beauty, to dive to the deepest depths of dive pools, to hold my breath and swim for as long as possible. I impressed my friends with all kinds of swimming styles and techniques. As I grew, I continued to pursue water sports. I placed third at the New Zealand swimming championships, and represented my country for water polo. However, this wasn’t enough, and to be honest the politics became irritating. My soul needed more. I manifested and dreamt of learning to surf and living a life of wave-riding and sliding everyday. 

At the impressionable age of fifteen, I began my soul-searching journey into surfing and what that lifestyle encompassed. With the help of my dad I began ‘studying’. My theory sessions involved watching the classic surf-culture films The Endless Summer and The Endless Summer II, Blue Crush and Morning of the Earth. I used the Yellow Pages to call up shapers and discuss board shapes, lengths and costs. I trawled through the Trade and Exchange looking for anything called a ‘mini-mal’. Finally, going fifty-fifty with my dad, we found the piece of fibreglass that would shape my entire future. You could say acquiring this surfboard was the turning point in my life– the pivotal moment where I saw my future ahead of me, so bright that it blinded me, full of endless opportunities.

Since then, I’ve ridden waves in over ten countries across three oceans. I have presented surf reports on the radio, become an administrator of the largest group of female surfers in New Zealand and am a founder of Betty– a female focused surf magazine focussed on empowering lady sliders of all ages, races, identities and surf abilities. 

But after becoming a mother, I realise it’s not about the achievements; it’s about the journey and the stories. The wild surf trips with mates, that time we got all our stuff stolen in a far-off land, and watching tropical sunsets over oceans with my partner, the warm summer days and frigid icy winters, having beach BBQs and spending time together as a family. I truly believe the most valuable currency is time. Not money, not material things or achievements, but time. The time to surf, to camp under the stars and take ambling walks with my loved ones. To explore and experience new things through my children’s eyes.

During my first pregnancy, I surfed right up until seven months. Most of the time I ride a shortboard, so I graduated to a fish when my belly got in the way, however, I mostly bailed as my centre of gravity was totally skewed. My second pregnancy was a mix of being very sick for the first three months and surfing sporadically when the conditions and time allowed– the polar opposite of my first pregnancy.

I definitely opted for a more gentle approach the second time and took the pressure off myself to do more or be more. I chose a relaxed style of surfing with a longboard, a twin fin, or a hand-plane to body surf, which actually translated well into my work and social life. I was more calm and familiar with the road ahead. I didn’t have to prove to anyone that I could still surf, or worry that I’d lose muscle memory during my downtime with a new baby. I knew that within three months of giving birth, I’d be right back in the water for the best surfing season on the west coast.

During my first pregnancy with Kaio, I was super nervous that my life would flip upside-down and that I’d not be able to surf as much as I was used to, but I was proved wrong. My surfing became less about how I needed to improve or practise that one manoeuvre over and over and more about feeling so much gratitude to just be in the ocean. There was one time at Maori Bay when it was about two-foot, a beautiful offshore beach break with peeling waves and I was about seven months pregnant. I was so exhausted paddling out the back that I did second guess myself– was this a good idea? After getting caught on the inside, I called it a day and from then on I chose to body surf and swim instead. 

After Kaio was born I surfed more than ever. We did so much surf-travelling as a family when Kaio was an infant. We stayed with friends around New Zealand, travelled overseas to Brazil and discovered the east coast of Australia in a campervan. When I went surfing I’d hop out of the water to nurse him in my wetsuit, and head back out to surf again. Although I was frothing on surfing, it took me at least a year to get my physical strength back and have the confidence to charge larger waves. The lack of confidence was definitely the biggest challenge for me to overcome after having Kaio. 

My partner and I tag team now, so we don’t get to surf together that often. But surfing is such an individual thing anyway, you are out there with your thoughts, focusing on the next crest, looking towards the horizon, waiting patiently for your perfect wave. 

I’ve found a clique of surfing mums here in Muriwai. We have a fabulous group of women who have children of a similar age. On summer evenings, the families come down to the beach and the mums and dads all surf-swap to watch one another’s kids. Now my main way of ‘catching up’ is seeing friends in the water, instead of going out for dinner or a coffee.

As women, I believe we have to embrace our femininity and be true to who we are regardless of how others (or industries) perceive us. You may not wish to embark on the motherhood journey, or you may believe motherhood is your purpose in life. Either way, being a woman and having the divine feminine within you means you have that choice. Women can do anything even with a grommet in tow– I know, I’m doing it. The strength of motherhood lies within you, you just need to trust your instincts. You may not have everything figured out right now but trust me, it will all fall into place if you are true to yourself. 

Children are bright lights in this world full of shadows. They bring joy, new perspectives, and give hope to future generations. They allow you to eat ice-cream for breakfast and spend all day being sandy. They let you have naps with them during the afternoon and eat toast and eggs for dinner after an adventurous day at the beach.

Reality. What is reality? Is it the baby crying, is it the three a.m. feeds and nappy changes? The sleepless hours spent feeding, shushing, and not sleeping with your partner for four months? Or is it gazing into your newborn’s eyes with awe, holding him while he is looking at everything and nothing at the same time? Laying with him on the bed, watching his arms and legs flap uncontrollably. You can choose which is your reality; I chose mine.

My life has exponentially more meaning now that I have two children to love. I never thought I'd have more love to give after experiencing motherhood with Kaio, but holding my second baby while cuddling my first, I am in new mother heaven. Early mornings are my favourite. As soon as they've both climbed into bed and into my arms, I become the luckiest girl in the world; I have three boys to love, who love me back.

With Kaio, becoming a mother was more of a technical journey. I read loads of books and was constantly Googling ‘how to get your baby to sleep’, ‘what is colic?’, and ‘when will he sleep through the night?’. Taking a break from the technicalities of mothering and focusing on the intuitive nature of motherhood is sometimes the most empowering thing we can do during our journey into parenthood. This definitely comes more naturally the second time around but don't beat yourself up over it– nothing lasts forever. The night waking will end. Colic will be over, and you will soon be wishing the quiet three a.m. feeds with your baby lasted just a wee bit longer; when it felt like the whole world was asleep and it was just the two of you getting to know each other, and you whispered in his ears how beautiful he is and sung sweet lullabies. It will all be over in a heartbeat. 

Seb is eighteen months old already, and I feel like I've definitely got my pre-baby bod back. I also feel like I drink way too much coffee to keep me going while I’m rushing doing all my daily tasks– time management is so hard for me because I pretty much live in the moment and have far too much fun doing it. I’ve got laundry coming out of my ears, an exploding email inbox, dishes everywhere, untidy benches, untidy rooms, and a chaotic mind, but the funny thing is that I wouldn't change a thing. 

I do miss our time surfing together, just Vini and I. I miss being able to stay out in the lineup until my arms are jelly with no commitments or responsibilities waiting for me. I miss being that little bit reckless and surprising myself. But I know that one day we'll be doing it together again. We'll be able to surf for as long as we want, knowing our boys are off doing something great (or maybe cooking us dinner!). I'll probably miss them so much that I'll wish the days back when they were four and one, staring through the sliding glass door, sticky fingers printed on the glass, waiting for my much anticipated return from a forty-minute surf when only a handful of waves were caught.

Any amount of time spent at the shore or in the ocean is a gift, no matter how fleeting it is. We never know how long we will continue stepping on this earth for, and to do it alongside little people is magical. To see things through fresh eyes, and to experience childhood again is the ultimate richness of life, everything else is just a bonus.

Tania Harris-Mackay is forty-two and lives in Mangawhai with her husband, her son Austin, and her daughter Isabella. She is a self-employed massage therapist which means she can schedule her days around the tides and the surf reports. Tania is looking forward to meeting her third baby. 

Before becoming pregnant, I was at the beach nearly every day.  We live in Mangawhai so I’m only about two minutes away from the ocean. If I knew it was a good day for surfing, I’d strap my board to the roof in the morning, drop the kids off at school and get a surf in before going to work. If the forecast wasn’t looking good, I’d have a coffee at the beach just to make sure– if it looked possible to catch a wave, I’d race home, get my board, and go out. 

I’ve been surfing for about five years and have been freediving sporadically over the last twenty years, but I have done so much more diving since having my first two children. Because I am self-employed as a massage therapist, I can structure my days and hours around the tides. A lot of my clients in Mangawhai surf as well, so if the conditions were really good, there’d be a joint consensus for everyone to delay their massage appointments in order to get more time in the ocean– sometimes that meant not finishing work until ten-thirty at night, but it was always so worth it. 

Until two years ago, I was a solo mum. We lived at the beach so my first two kids and I would either surf, dive, or swim until it got too dark to see, then grab a quick dinner on the way home. I took my daughter for her first moonlight surf session when she was eight years old and it's one of my favourite memories with her so far. Watching their love for the ocean grow has kept me motivated no matter what the weather or how I’m feeling. I think having kids to share experiences with has given me a new found love for our moana and the things that I’ve possibly taken for granted when it’s just me.

When I first fell pregnant this time around, I thought I would be able to surf at least until I got too big. The reality was that I started getting terrible morning sickness around the five-week mark. I was throwing up all day and lived on the couch until I was about three months pregnant. By the time I felt better at around four months, I had grown out of my wetsuit and it was winter, so another few months slipped by without getting into the ocean at all. 

There were some days during this stage that were really depressing. Some days I could laugh about it with my husband and we’d have some good banter; I’d tease him saying, ‘Look what you’ve done to me,’ but other days I didn’t feel that humorous about it at all. Time dragged a bit and I just wanted ‘me’ back, and the life that I had worked so hard to get back after having my first two children. Being in the ocean helps me to feel grounded and connected with both myself and my surroundings, and without that daily hit I felt detached from who I am without the ‘mum’ title.  

Once summer hit again and it was warm enough to swim in a bikini, I definitely felt like I got a part of myself back. I haven’t been surfing during my entire pregnancy, but sticking to swimming has been enough for me to feel reconnected and has reminded me that life post-baby will be filled with ocean days again. I’m excited to share my love for the ocean with this baby and am really excited to see what little personality she has.  

Petra Powell, thirty-one, is from Prague and started surfing on the southwest coast of England. Her love of surfing sparked her career in photography. Now, she lives in Tairua with her husband, their one-year old daughter, Eda, and fur baby, Awhi. 

I was born and grew up inland but I always loved our yearly holidays to the seaside, mostly to the Mediterranean. I remember first watching Blue Crush at the age of eleven and dreaming about becoming a surfer one day. It wasn't until I got accepted into my dream university, quickly learnt that it wasn't what I wanted to do, and made a sudden and spontaneous move to North Devon on the southwest coast of England, that I discovered my love for the ocean and surfing. Yes, there's surf in England, and it's amazing! It was meant to be just a summer break, but I never went back. 

Instead, I embarked on a journey to become a freelance photographer, travelling the world. A couple years later, while I was living in India and Indonesia, I was working with some big international brands and my photography focused mostly on surfing and the lifestyle around it. It was the ocean that allowed me to live my dream lifestyle in Bali, and I loved it. 

Later on, a family situation made me move back to my hometown of Prague. My career took a more corporate direction, and I worked in advertising for six years. Two years ago, my husband and I made the move from Europe to his homeland, Aotearoa. Since then, my work and daily life have again revolved around the ocean, as we are so fortunate to be living right on the beach in Tairua. 

After having a large tumour removed from my uterus at the age of twenty-seven, I was told that I would be reproductively challenged. My husband and I tried for a baby for many, many months with no success at all. Once we started the move to New Zealand, we agreed that it was not the right time to be having a baby, anyway; we’d be settling into our new home and starting a new business and it was the hectic times of Covid. 

Well, of course, I found out I was pregnant two days before our flight. We were both so excited, I remember my husband rolling on the floor with my positive pregnancy test. But we also didn’t allow ourselves to be too invested until we landed safely in New Zealand, saw a midwife and got the first scans.

As for surfing and freediving and any other physical activity, I imagined myself to be like all the Alana Blanchards of this world who surf with a pregnant belly until the baby arrives. I surfed as often as possible until I was twenty-three weeks pregnant. It was harder than I imagined, but not impossible. I went from my twinny to a mini-mal, then to a foamie in the space of those twenty-three weeks, getting wobblier by the day. Physically, I felt great. It was the mental side that I found challenging– I was suddenly scared of literally everything. I knew I had this precious new life growing inside my belly and I really didn't want to mess it up, knowing that I would never forgive myself if anything happened. There were some freaky moments too, when I got pregnancy nosebleeds in our sharky waters. 

At twenty-four weeks, I had to stop all intense exercise, including surfing, as my diastasis recti (abdominal separation) was pretty bad. Shortly after, I ended up at Waikato hospital with a pretty intense early labour episode, which kept me in ICU for days. My pregnancy was labelled as high-risk after that, and I couldn't really do much as I was stuck in bed with heavy, daily contractions until my c-section at thirty-nine weeks. But I tried to stay positive and thankful for my baby staying put for as long as possible, as the early labour episode was such a frightening experience.

After my c-section, I wasn’t allowed to do much physical activity for months, especially with my bad ab separation added to the mix. I did physio, gentle yoga and little ocean dips, but that was about as much as I could do. I felt so jealous, almost to a spiteful level, of everyone making the most of their spring and summer– surfing and having the best time in the ocean.

I was finally allowed back on my surfboard four months after having Eda, and it has been a huge learning experience. It’s been a process of getting my fitness back and letting go of irrational fears that start creeping into my mind now that I have a little baby to keep alive. I’m just learning to feel confident and comfortable in my new body and my new role in life, in and out of the water. We women are incredible creatures, our bodies are so strong and the fact that we can give life and nurture it is mind-blowing. We should celebrate our strength and lioness energy every single day.

Ngaio Yelavich is thirty years old and lives in Hahei with her husband, Brando. The pair are ocean adventure lovers and have circumnavigated Vancouver Island in kayaks. Ngaio also loves riding her horses to the beach. Ngaio and Brando are looking forward to welcoming their first baby. 

 Pre-pregnancy, I considered the ocean to be part of my daily life. Our family home in Hahei looks out over the ocean, and it would be rare for a day to go by without seeing the sea, hearing the waves crashing on the cliffs below, or being in the water. Fishing with my dad was one of my favourite things to do; providing whanau with kaimoana is just as much of a way of life as taking the boat out and spending time together on the ocean. When I was younger, my dad would share his stories of sailing to the islands and teach me about the ocean.

I’m a recreational ocean lover. The majority of my time in the ocean is spent swimming, fishing or kayaking. I swim to find peace and solace and come back to my centre. For me, there is no better feeling than diving into the sea, especially after a day of work or travel. I once spent seventy days kayaking in Canada with my now-husband, Brando. We circumnavigated Vancouver Island, carrying all our own food and supplies. 

I also ride horses. Riding my horses to the beach is such a special way to connect two sacred aspects of my life. I feel so blessed to be able to do this. The horses are wary of the sea; it is so foreign to them, but they are trusting enough to let us take them swimming as long as the waves aren’t big. 

My husband and I are lucky enough to have access to the cliffs on my family’s land and have spent countless hours climbing down them to get to the ocean. We scramble our way to the water, and Brando will spearfish and freedive while I will swim and carry the catch bag and laze the day away. 

When I fell pregnant, I thought I would be able to carry on as usual– like those women you see online, running marathons while heavily pregnant. I was blissfully unaware of what my own journey would be like and I was viciously stubborn about making any changes to my life.

I still remember the last time Brando and I went down the cliffs to go swimming and diving. I was fourteen weeks pregnant and very unwell; I was severely nauseous and weak. I could barely grip onto the rocks and was so unsteady on my feet. I was absolutely exhausted by the time I made it to the bottom. Brando had to do three trips up and down, shuttling the gear, because I couldn’t even manage a backpack. Once he got in the water, I just sat and cried because of how terrible I felt. I didn’t feel empowered or capable of getting to one of my favourite places on earth. All I could think was: How the hell am I going to get back up?. I didn’t want Brando to see me struggle and I didn’t want to feel weak. When I got home, my body was covered in cuts and bruises from clinging to the cliffs and dragging myself up. I no longer trusted my body to be able to do what it usually could. 

I kept riding my horses for as long as possible but I no longer had the energy to ride all the way to the beach. Eventually, I started exercising them without riding because it felt like the right thing to do. The horses love attention, so thankfully they aren’t bothered by having a rest from riding. 

Fishing is now an absolute no. Even the thought of bait is enough to make me throw up. Not to mention I don’t have the energy to launch the boat. I have been so lucky to have my dad bring us fish and my husband to go out fishing and diving throughout my pregnancy. 

There was a phase of acceptance to go through in not doing these things anymore, which was challenging. But swimming has remained my solace and provided me with so much relief and happiness, physical and emotional. 

Magenta Hyde, thirty-seven, is an ocean photographer and videographer. After years of working as a guide for a whale tourism company in Tonga, she started her own business called Magenta Oceans. She lives between Aotearoa and Tonga with her husband and six-year old twins, Indy and Naia. Their third child will be joining the family soon. 

I’ve worked on the water since I was nineteen. I spent ten years working on a dolphin and whale watching boat in Auckland on and off. In between, I’d crew on yachts, sailing the Pacific. I did that until I got the job running whale tours in Tonga, where I took groups of people swimming with the humpbacks every winter.

In 2012, I started as a videographer in Tonga, guiding people in the water and filming them. How I got this job is another story– I had no experience and no idea, just a massive love of whales and a lot of determination. This before GoPros and selfie-sticks were a thing so I’d make DVDs of the tourists swimming with the whales. 

That job introduced me to the incredible world of underwater photography, which began as a hobby alongside the videos I was making. I’d capture stills whenever I could, and eventually I assembled a portfolio. I started to sell prints, had a little exhibition, and continued trying to refine my skills; it’s a hard craft to master! 

Pre-children, I would spend six months of the year in Tonga working the season and island-hopping, living the simple life and diving everyday. When I found out I was pregnant, I had so many mixed emotions. I felt joy and excitement about being pregnant, mixed with grief for the old version of myself and my life. 

I had always believed that when I had children I would be able to take them along with me on my adventures and give them an exciting and intrepid childhood, climbing coconut trees and diving with whales. I was pregnant with twins though, and that definitely felt like a bigger challenge than just dragging one baby along on my adventures.

I distinctly remember sitting on my couch that first winter– the twins had just been born. 

It was whale season in the Islands and amazing underwater shots of the humpbacks, dolphins, sharks and rays were starting to trickle through on Instagram and Facebook. I had a baby on each boob, and I constantly felt like a milking cow. My heart ached to be in the ocean. That winter, I resigned myself to the fact that my whale swimming days were probably over and that my idealistic dream of raising little island babies was probably just that– an idealistic dream. It’s not what I wanted but the overwhelm of becoming a first time mum took over and I lost my mojo.

Fast-forward to the next winter: I was enduring the flight from hell with two screaming one-year-olds and a completely shattered husband, but we were on our way to Tahiti! 

My boss from my old job in Tonga was starting new tours there and had asked me to help her run them. So off we all went. The dream became a reality. 

My little blonde, bare-bummed babies were running around in the white sand and learning to snorkel in the turquoise reef. And their mamma was out all day on the whale boats, freediving, taking photos and frothing over all the magnificent encounters I was having with the humpbacks. We had three beautiful years of travelling to Moorea for the season. 

I never wanted to sacrifice my ocean career or the opportunity to have children. I always knew I would have babies so my only option was to create a life where I could have the best of  both worlds. As a result, it made sense for our family to be completely independent and do things our way. We chose to home-school our children and be self-employed so we could be relatively free to travel as a family.

I decided to start my own whale tour biz, Magenta Oceans. I went by myself on a recce to Bora Bora for a week to suss out the possibility of running tours there. The wildlife is off the hook and despite what the brochures say, it is possible to have a cheap-ish DIY holiday there. After my trip, I took a leap of faith and left the company I was working for. I had to really back myself and my abilities to be my own boss, something I'm not that good at. 

It’s been an amazing gift to facilitate a connection between children and the natural world.

One of my most joyful memories of the twins is when they finally let me put a dive mask on their faces and saw what was below the surface for the first time. The awe and excitement was so raw and real, and they were hooked instantly. 

First, it was an obsession with tropical fish and crabs. By age two, they were swimming with reef sharks and stingrays, and at age three they came swimming with the whales. With total trust, they jumped off the boat into the deep blue and swam full tilt in their little floaties over to a massive whale singing below them. That was hands-down the most magical experience I’ve ever had in the water– and I’ve had some pretty incredible experiences.

I am pregnant again with our third babe, and although dragging three kids around the world and out on boats definitely adds more cost and logistics, I know it won’t hold me back. If anything, having kids has given me more determination to pursue my dreams because I want to show them that life can be anything we make it. I want to show them other cultures, ways of living, and evoke a love of the ocean and all the creatures in it.

Mira Moran is thirty-two and grew up in Scandinavia where ocean ventures were few and far between. After moving to New Zealand, she started diving and spearfishing with her partner, and her ocean confidence grew. Mira is determined for her daughter to have a connection to the ocean that she herself did not have as a child. 

I didn’t grow up by the ocean and had little exposure to it until I moved to New Zealand in my mid- twenties. I would go so far as to say that I was afraid of it, especially after an incident where I was caught in relatively small waves and struggled to get out of the sea. In 2018, my partner introduced me to basic sea-safety and freediving. From then on, my confidence grew with every dive. My beginnings were far from elegant but I realised I had found my zen place where I could centre my mind. I’ve always been an overactive thinker, which is exacerbated by external stimuli. For me, the underwater domain is the perfect mindfulness therapy. 

I come from Scandinavia; our culture is very centred around lakes, so swimming in cold water, even in the Arctic circle during winter when the water is only two degrees Celsius, has always been in my blood. Besides cold-water swimming, I also surf (poorly but gleefully) and kayak– sometimes for fishing, sometimes for an adventure paddle but often to get to diving spots or when there might be a lot of sharks about. 

Diving and spearfishing is how we feed ourselves, as we do not eat meat which has not been caught by us or our friends. I have competed in a couple of national competitions, as well as the annual trip to the catfish cull, but I find the idea of shooting to fulfil a fish hit-list is now the opposite of how I want to treat the ocean in return for what it gives me. 

When we got pregnant, we were in Ireland staying with my partner’s family. We’d just started trying and were instantly successful. It was very difficult to be excited about the pregnancy though, because I experienced severe nausea and vomiting from very early on and it was hard to keep it a secret from his family. 

During my first trimester hyperemesis, I found that diving alleviated my nausea, which I attribute to the focus on deep breathing and relaxation. We did a lot of diving along the east and west coasts of Ireland, catching pollock, monster sea bass, and spider crabs that were even more gargantuan. I’d lost a lot of weight so buoyancy issues were rife.

In general, I haven’t enjoyed pregnancy; I feel hampered in many physical aspects and I don’t like the loss of control over my own body. Even though I started to regain my physical well-being after twenty weeks, I have found it psychologically challenging to come to terms with how my life will change. We don’t have any family in this country we now call home, so I know that for an indeterminate amount of time, spending a whole afternoon in the sea together will not be possible like it used to be. 

As an avid planner and organiser, I struggle with this uncertainty as well as the practicalities of combining parenthood and my passions. A large part of my fear lies in the possibility of entering into a life defined by centuries of patriarchy where motherhood is my primary definition and everything else becomes a relic of times past. It is important to me that my tamāhine sees me following my passions and making time for the things that make me complete outside of our family unit. 

I miss the escape of the ocean– the break from our world of over-stimulation, the frozen-in-time feeling of a breath held underwater, the reset of consciousness. The ocean feels like an old best friend I no longer see because of the distance between us. This friend is the keeper of all my secrets and has seen me at my best and my worst and everything between. She knows me inside and out, and reminds me of who I am, was and hope to be. I am sad that we are parted but the wait for our reunion will make it an even sweeter homecoming. I’m also determined for my daughter to have this connection to the ocean which I lacked for so many years, in the hope that, before long, we can enjoy it together.

Hannah Jensen Fox is thirty-eight years old and is an avid ocean lover. She SUPs, surfs, swims, bodysurfs and bodyboards. Hannah grew up spending summers in the Bay of Islands and now lives in Christchurch with her husband, Morgan. Since this interview, they’ve welcomed their baby girl, Zara, to the family. 

Oh, the beautiful sweet ocean. I am lucky to wake up to the sound of the ocean. We cannot see it from our home but we can hear it, and the seagulls that fly past. In summer, the ocean is my happy place– swimming, surfing, body surfing. As the winter sets in down here in Christchurch, the ocean is swapped out for warm yoga rooms. But there is always a sprinkle of ocean each week, whether it's a mid-winter dip or walks on the beach, and it's only for a few months until the sun returns for epic sunrise adventures once again. 

I was very lucky to have had a childhood filled with ocean delights. We spent many summers around the Bay of Islands on boats– fishing, water skiing and picnicking in faraway bays, constantly swimming. I started surfing in 2010 after breaking up with a guy who had said I wasn’t allowed to surf because it was ‘his sport’. I ended up in Noosa on holiday by myself and took up some lessons. I’ve never looked back. I got into SUP surfing a little later when my step-dad bought an extra board, and for the next ten years, that was our jam. Since moving to Christchurch, I’ve bought my very own little SUP, which goes great in the waves.

I also did a lot of fishing before I moved down to Christchurch. We had a tinny up at Langs where my step-dad lives, and I would head out with the neighbour or take the girls out to catch dinner– beautiful snapper, kingy, and gurnard. I even went to Samoa for my thirtieth birthday to do some game fishing and caught my first marlin and mahi mahi. I’ve pulled back on fishing now, since both Morgan and I are pretty much plant-based now and we don’t have any of the equipment down here. Still, I’m always open to catching dinner any day. 

After moving down south, I had to seriously adjust to the temperature change, especially in the water. But after a year or two, I could swim all year round in my togs and, amazingly, my body did adjust. I love surfing down here (definitely in a wettie), and popping over to Sumner or exploring the epic bays of Banks Peninsula and camping overnight to get a dawny in.

Looking back on my pregnancies, I’ve certainly been on a journey and I have always understood parenthood to be exactly that, a journey. I don't know if life is ever smooth sailing and I’m not sure I would really want it that way; the troughs are the lessons, the deep learning of how far we can go, grow, and evolve. It makes me appreciate the peaks, magic, and joy that make up so much of life, too. Death is a huge part of everyone's life. We just don't really talk about it; none of us live forever. But the juicy, delicious time we do have here can be absolutely exceptional.

We’ve had three miscarriages, the first was hard (January 2020), the second was more challenging (May 2021) and the third nearly had me in hospital (January 2022). Due to the strict restrictions of the pandemic and the fact that my darling fiancé (now husband) was unvaccinated and couldn’t accompany me, I was too nervous to go to the hospital. So I rode it out, haemorrhaging for two and a half weeks. It totally wiped me out and I felt so incredibly weak. I remember one night when I was on the toilet every hour, flooding and thinking, ‘I can't do this again.’ I lost hope that we were going to be able to have a child of our own. 

In April 2021, I was booked in for surgery to reshape my uterus. We had heard so many good things about this surgery and its success stories, we knew we had to give it a go. But the day before surgery, I found out we were pregnant, such a miracle, followed by a miscarriage at eight weeks. We rescheduled again, but my period was late and we had to cancel the surgery for a second time. Finally, the surgeon put me on birth control. It felt so backward when we were trying to have a baby but I followed orders. The third scheduled surgery went ahead in August 2021- a general anaesthetic and a couple of hours in surgery to create a better home for our future child. By December, we were pregnant again. We thought this was it! But it wasn't meant to be and we miscarried again at eight weeks. 

Over the last couple of years, my workload has been really intense. I was teaching workshops around the country and went viral on Instagram, which led to endless requests for private commissions. I knew in my heart that a huge barrier was just working too hard. I had to make space. 

So I did. I stopped taking on any major work in April 2021. It took me over a year to catch up on the work I had already committed to, but nonetheless, I said no to countless opportunities. It felt very strange, but if I was to be a mum I had to make space to be one, in the way I wanted– to be present with this magic soul who was trying to join us earthside. I committed to my health and put time for myself first. I fell pregnant for the fourth time in April 2022 and found out two days before my husband and I got married. 

I am beyond grateful that my incredible husband has been my rock through all of this. He has always had trust in me and a hope that, together, we can do this. Watching my body grow this divine child inside feels like the most natural and rewarding thing I have done. Being in this season is where I am meant to be, and I know my career will always be there. However, for now, it takes a back seat while I sleep, eat and cruise my way through pregnancy. 

I was advised by some beautiful elders I trust not to go in the cold water over winter, which has been a challenge but easier than I thought. After having been through so many other challenges to get to this point, skipping the freezing cold ocean for a few months doesn’t seem too bad. I know I will be back in it soon enough. 

During my other pregnancies, I carried on as usual and still surfed in big waves at very early stages; I have done quite a bit of reflection around this. I now know the ocean will always be there, not to push myself in it and to find gentler ways. I have always felt grounded in my pregnancies, like my body has been waiting for this. 

That’s not to say it hasn't been hard going through the miscarriages, but I wholeheartedly trust that my body is doing everything it needs to in order to bring a beautiful, healthy soul into this world. I also have to trust that it knew when to release the previous babes. 

I can’t wait to walk to the ocean with pēpi strapped to my front and share its magic with him or her. I very much imagine an ocean-fuelled childhood for them. I hope, as both Morgan and I love the ocean (a newer thing for Morgan since meeting me, I taught him how to SUP surf and now we adore it together), that our time with our child by the ocean will grow their fondness for it too. I would love for them to be confident in the ocean, however that sits with them. Even when our beautiful child is earthside, there will still be so much that is unknown about them, and that will always be the way. 

Every time I have had a miscarriage the ocean has held me. 

I would be in the ocean either that day or the following, being held by her grace. The last miscarriage in January was so intense. I woke from a horrendous night and as my mum was with me, she insisted on driving me to the hospital because I was as pale as a ghost, but I wish I had gone by myself. Mum had too many emotions of her own to be able to hold space for me at the time. The ocean is divine, the ocean is wild, the ocean is all encompassing. She connects every continent in this world and when I am in her, I am not alone. I am whole, I am held, I am enough. I love her in all her ways and on those still quiet autumnal mornings, when it’s crystal clear and the rising sun streams through her languid waves, my heart beats in my chest and I feel so incredibly grateful. She has taken all my previous babes away to care for and graced me with this divine soul I now hold and carry in my internal ocean. Every time I return to her, I am home. 

Postpartum reflection:

The before and after of motherhood is so visceral and yet also so blurred. I had grown to feel so confident and secure pre-Zara, and now there are days when I feel in a constant state of unsureness. I’ve felt so stretched and unequipped, yet I know that this is all a part of it. I’m growing alongside her, with her, finding my feet as she finds hers. I’m getting to know her as I get to re-know myself on a whole other level and find more peace on the days I feel such frustration– a deeper dive for grace. Some days, I feel so in the flow and on others I just can’t get anything right. 

I do miss the freedom of going to the ocean whenever I please and following the swell maps looking for surf. But at this stage, I’m in full surrender to what our beautiful babe needs, and being mid-winter I’m not exactly missing the freezing conditions of surfing. But I do miss that post-surf feeling. There’s nothing like that exhausted, joyful buzz. 

What I do most days though is walk, no matter how cold or wet. Zara and I bundle up and get outside, often a couple of times, as we are such early birds. To the beach, up in the hills, around the block, new tracks and old, it is my return to me and Zara’s beautiful introduction to movement and getting outdoors. I absolutely adore our adventures together and watching her take the world in. 

What I hope for, in bringing this magical soul into this world, is that she loves and honours herself– how she feels, not how she looks– that her soul is empowered to learn, grow, discover and play. To feel connected to nature and to others. To be kind, empathetic and a dear friend. To feel confident to ask for help, share her feelings and find ways to fill her cup so she can keep being the divine being that she is, curious, cheeky, happy and animated. 

What that means for me is to love and honour myself and reflect all those things so she can see them in action. To be the role model for her, and growing alongside her. I’m here for the wild ride. 

Kristin Buswell is thirty-two and loves adventure and cold dips in the ocean near her home in Milford. She and her husband enjoy fishing often, as well as spearfishing, surfing and scuba-diving during summer. As a marketing director for Icebreaker, Kristin is passionate about bettering our planet for future generations. She is looking forward to welcoming her second baby to the family. 

  Connection with the ocean grounds me and centres my energy. I love the ocean’s movement, the life it holds and the constant changes it showcases– it’s always different. It reflects our moods and it shifts with us. Clean and calm; rough and unknown. The change and newness brings me excitement and a sense of moving forward, progress, and opportunity. 

I’m lucky to live close to the ocean. A barefoot walk to the beach or simply seeing the ocean centres me, even if just for a minute. My favourite feeling is a cold ocean plunge in the morning or evening. When I’m not pregnant, I do this at least once a week, even in winter; a sudden change in temperature is not advised for pregnancy, so I’m very much missing this breath-taking feeling.  

When the weather allows, my husband and I go fishing every two or three weeks– something we’ve done for the past ten years. I’ve also just purchased a paddleboard so I can still get on the water and explore a new local bay when boating isn’t an option. In the summer, I’ll spearfish or freedive, go scuba diving, or surf a clean one or two-footer a few times before the season is over. 

When we found out we were first pregnant with our Bee Buswell, we were camping in Pataua South. It was our anniversary and Scott, my now husband, proposed to me there three years prior. I realised by chance on our anniversary date that I hadn’t had my period for seven weeks. It was our first time trying, and I did not think there was a chance it would happen the first time. I mentioned I was late, got giddy with nerves and took a test. We sat staring at the upside-down stick for almost five hours. We stayed up late chatting on our sinking air mattress with a head torch on inside our tent– “So, what if we are? Okay now, what if we aren’t?”. 

Even though we knew we were ready, I hadn’t quite worked through the full reality of either outcome and needed to mentally pre-process that before the stick decided. I knew we’d make it work. I knew I’d feel excited, but at this point in time independence, adventure, and freedom ruled our lives– my life. We’d built our lives on these things, right down to jobs that gave us access to travel and the ability to get out into nature and on the ocean doing what we love. So, should the test be positive, what now? 

We settled on being excited to share that life with a new human who could love adventure and the ocean just as much as we do. We could give someone else the inspiration to love it, protect it, preserve it for many generations to come. 

So we checked; the test said yes, and in that moment the future was happening. 

I was super lucky with no sickness and was able to do most things. I went hunting in Queenstown for a week with Scott at fourteen weeks and I surfed at fifteen weeks. However, our twenty-two-week anatomy scan revealed that our baby had a severe heart condition and wasn’t going to make it. I had an induced labour at twenty-four weeks and gave birth to stillborn, Bee Buswell. 

We were unsure whether to name, acknowledge and form a relationship with Bee, but we had amazing support and decided that fear wasn’t a good enough reason to avoid the grieving process, so we threw ourselves in. A few days before I went into labour, we did a pregnancy photoshoot and special farewell on Tawharanui Beach, just the three of us. When Bee was born, we spent three days together, two in hospital and one at home. We made playlists, picked special blankets, and still have reminders of Bee all around the house. Bee’s birthday is coming up which we will acknowledge with another trip to the ocean.

Four months after Bee’s birth, as soon as we were able to try, we fell pregnant again. My current pregnancy has been a blessing and a huge privilege. The first time we weren’t so calculated, but this time I did tests to determine the exact time it would be possible to become pregnant. When I knew, it almost consumed me. After two days of pregnancy tests, we got a smiley face. 

Whilst we were still in the grieving process, we set a goal to continue living our lifestyle of independence, adventure, and freedom, even– and especially– when family arrives. So, at twenty-four weeks, we did a bare boat yacht course and got certified so we could take the baby on the ocean as soon as possible. The twenty-week scan was also a huge milestone to cross, so studying for the course provided a distraction and gave me an opportunity to channel my love for the ocean with a sense of purpose; it helped get us to that milestone after a very patient wait through summer. I know maintaining our lifestyle with a baby will be challenging, but hey, one can dream. Naturally, we’ll go with the flow and pivot if we need to.

Even though I haven’t been sick during my second pregnancy and am mostly able to continue my daily activities, I have definitely felt restricted in the water activities I’m used to doing. Not being able to scuba dive, surf, or push myself too hard has been a new mental barrier to cross. I tend to want to challenge myself. I feel a physical draw to the ocean and I still crave my cold water plunges, even more than raw fish and wine. My paddleboard is a gentler way for me to connect with this desire. 

Carrying a baby gives me a new sense of responsibility and purpose; it’s a challenge and an acceptance at the same time to forgive and congratulate myself for participating, or not participating, in these activities, knowing that my purpose has shifted.