A Paper Village

Tanya Akrofi - Storyteller of this weeks collection of museums

When we speak of the matriarchy, what do you think of? To us, it feels like a circle; a golden bond shared from heart-to-heart.

The matriarchy lives in any of the spaces where women come together, sharing wisdom, steadying one another and holding each other as we cross life’s thresholds. It appears in laughter between friends, in the quiet, knowing support of sisterhood, in the knowledge we pass around which then gets shared from one generation to the next. Many women are lucky enough to have always been part of a web of care like this. Others take their time to intentionally create it.

Within this powerful circle, motherhood is one vivid strand. Psychologists sometimes use the word matrescence to describe the profound transition of becoming a mother. Much like adolescence, it marks a period of deep psychological change: a reshaping of identity, priorities and the internal emotional landscape. Women often speak of the fierce love it awakens, but also of the shame, vulnerability and changes that accompany caring for a new life.

Yet motherhood isn’t something a woman was meant to carry alone. Around every mother, there has traditionally been a village and that village comes into view in many forms. Foster mothers opening their homes. Women navigating post-partum depression. Mothers finding courage to carry another pregnancy after loss. As well as the unseen army of friends, aunties, teachers and neighbours, all lending hands to catch a mother when she needs it the most.

Many of them nurture young people in profound ways, helping to steady the path of a child’s life: through creative guidance, care-filled protection and consistent presence. In this sense, the matriarchy stretches far far beyond biological motherhood.

Perhaps the matriarchy is simply this: a circle of women who understand the need for widespread love and nurturing, knowing that raising children has never belonged to one person alone.

It is a shared act of care, carried quietly by many hands.

Hospital photograph

Carly Kasi - Team Manager for Lincolnshire Family Hubs

My first baby arrived in June 2020 at the height of the pandemic. I was classed as ‘clinically vulnerable’ due to both pregnancy and a heart condition and so the birth plan went out the window like it did for thousands of women. What followed was... ‘unprecedented’.

Both my baby and I were admitted with suspected sepsis.

My husband saw our son enter the world, but for seven days he dropped off supplies to us, through a small glass slot in the door. Our first beautiful moments as a family were a mix of fear, isolation, determination, and outrageous love captured through video calls. Our bonding was initially pixelated.

Even when we finally came home, we lived in a protective bubble. Every decision felt high‑stakes and risk felt like it had lovingly embraced us.

In May 2022, I gave birth again under another set of restrictions.

Just as I reached active labour, an announcement came through the ward speakers: visiting rules had been eased. I could have my mum with me. She raced there, but he arrived before she could walk through the door — proof that some babies simply can’t wait for policy changes.

Our third baby is our little girl: the only girl and she is surrounded by four brothers who absolutely adore her. She already rules the house and she completes us. There will be no restrictions holding her back, we won’t let there be.

As for me… mum.

I haven’t slept properly in almost six years. I’ve breastfed all three of my younger children, something I’m incredibly proud of, and something I could only do because I had phenomenal support. I juggle motherhood, marriage, a full-time role, and a bustling blended family.

Not everyone gets that opportunity.

Not everyone has this support.

Collection of inspirational keepsakes, t-shirt, cartoon book, toys.

Mel Langton - Curator of this weeks collection of museums

When I was a little primary school kid, way back in the 80‘s, we were asked by our teacher, ‘Who do you want to be when you grow up?’. All of my girl friends were saying Kylie Minogue or Madonna, but I said something that raised eyebrows: ‘I want to be Walt Disney’. My teacher: “But they’re dead… And a Man.”

I loved drawing, especially cartoons, and so Walt Disney seemed not only the obvious choice, but to 6 year old me, pretty much the only obvious choice. Maybe I should have kept quiet and gone with Kylie!

I became aware from a relatively early age that there was a certain stigma attached to women who chose not to have children, particularly if she did so by choice! That woman must be a bit odd, mean, or possibly just selfish!

When I was playing with He-man and She-ra dolls, because girls ‘should’ play with dolls - the thought did occasionally cross my mind. I just never ever particularly wanted children. When I was asked, I’d say “...I’d much rather get a ferret”. I never did, but I have owned several hamsters and salamanders!

Luckily for me, my partner has never wanted children either, and I’m fortunate enough to have an extended family now of wonderful nieces and nephews to care for in my own way. I can hopefully be the (slightly) cool Aunt Mel. I think that’s my place - I’m the (slightly) cool Aunt Mel.

I may not be cut out to be a mum, but I hope my journey has lead me to become a positive role model to the next generation, and any time a child tells me that they’ve been inspired to follow their artistic dreams because of something they’ve seen me create, I feel that in some tiny way I’ve been able to pass on my little little torch of tenacity.

I want every girl who was told that she couldn’t do something to know that she absolutely, 100%, can. She can follow her dreams and be her own hero. She can be the new Walt Disney.

Maybe that’s my part in the Matriarchy. I’m the tenacity torch and I’m the (slightly) cool aunt Mel.

Marmalade jars, thread

Bev Shephard - General Manager of Extraordinary Us (the organisation who birthed The Museum of Me)

I had bundles of energy through my first pregnancy and was leading a big organisational restructure which I put everything into. The project ended at around the same time I went on maternity leave so ‘stopping’ felt really abrupt.

I think work was my distraction because in hind sight I was actually very anxious about

giving birth. In my spiral I tried to find things to do, so I made 21 jars of marmalade.

Because that’s what every new born child needs isn't it?... 21 jars of marmalade!!!

I had a psychotic episode after giving birth and spent the first two weeks in a mum

and baby psychiatric unit. I’d lost a lot of blood so it could have been connected to

severe anaemia, mixed with anxiety and exhaustion. I believed things that weren't true, had extreme paranoia and my doctor told me that “it could just be your hormones”.

To me it felt like much more than just... hormones.

Bright Balloons

Bev Shephard - Continued

…Six weeks later, baby and I were in the post office queue buying a stamp. I must have been looking stressed because an old lady (and she was ancient) said to me, "don't worry, the second one will bring themselves up” and... I just laughed. I don't know if it’s connected but as I left, the weight of anxiety I’d been holding on to suddenly just lifted. I felt like me again.

My second child was born in the bath, in an unplanned free-birthing experience at

home. The midwife was on the phone with Tim and I, and I was completely fine. I think because I’d been attending hypno-birthing classes, I learnt how to relax.

Our child came out blue at first and we were told to keep rubbing him down, there was a moment where I started to turn to panic, but then our baby started yelling and his face turned pink. I recall being out and about at a kids birthday party the next day!

Mum's are resilient aren't they?! They can go through traumatic and liberating

experiences and their children will never know. My kids are now 14 and 9, so it feels

like a lifetime ago.

Family Hub items

Carly Kasi - Team Manager for Lincolnshire Family Hubs

My name is Carly. I’m 35 years old. I was born in Lincoln, and I’ve never lived anywhere else because this place, its people, its values, its sense of community has shaped not only who I am, but also the mother I’ve become. I’m married to my proud South African husband, and between us we have a big, blended, beautiful family: two grown-up step‑sons and three little ones who are one, three, and five. Life is full-on, loud, joyful, messy, exhausting, and utterly precious. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.

I oversee Lincolnshire’s Family Hubs programme, a role that is intimately connected to my own lived experience. I know what it feels like to need support, reassurance, guidance, and connection - and I know how life‑changing it is when those things are available. I believe Family Hubs are lifelines. I believe that with my whole heart because I’ve lived it personally. I use them myself.

They helped me navigate some of the hardest moments of becoming a mum, and they continue to support me through the daily chaos of raising five children.

Family pictures, books, toys

Carly Kasi - Team Manager for Lincolnshire Family Hubs

I’m fortunate to have an extraordinary family network: my grandparents, parents, aunties, uncles are all ready to help at a moment’s notice. My husband, my friends, the village around me have made this journey possible.

And that’s exactly why I advocate for Family Hubs. I share my motherhood journey because I want other women to feel seen. To know they’re not alone. To recognise the strength they carry even when they feel overwhelmed. To understand that support is not a luxury - it is a right. Motherhood is never one story. It is many stories, woven together by courage, sacrifice, growth, and love.

This is mine: imperfect, chaotic and beautiful. It has shaped every part of who I am today and will continue to do so.

Not everyone has a ready-made village - so we must build one.

Photo album, nightie

Alicia Davis

Rachel Olin - Lincoln Museum & Usher Gallery

I had a relatively smooth pregnancy and then I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. The Labour itself was amazing, and very empowering but then it was followed by a haemorrhage where I lost 1.5 litres of blood in 10 minutes, just an hour after delivery. My partner thought he was watching me die.

I was then faced with Post Partum CardioMyopathy which essentially means I had Heart Failure caused by Pregnancy. I was lucky; I was diagnosed and medicated, so I recovered. I eventually needed EMDR [Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing] therapy to get past feeling completely paralysed at the sound of ambulance sirens. All this whilst caring for a baby that barely slept - at the worst period it was 3 wake ups per HOUR.

My health worsened post pregnancy – a combination of Relaxin hormones and a suspected connective tissue disorder leading to osteoarthritis in my knees.

Creating life is brutal.

Baby’s first onesie, hat and sling cover

Rachel Olin [Continued]

By the age my son was around 2 I was starting to recognise that he has ADHD [Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder]. It was pointed out by nursery staff, and teachers, and I was recognising it too.

I think he might have got this from me because I realised I’m likely ADHD as well. I understand my son, but also face my own difficulties with emotional regulation, demand avoidance, ADHD decision paralysis! I didn’t start understanding this until I saw it in my son.

I started feeling different when I became a mother. I couldn’t tell if it was all the hardships I personally faced in bringing life into the world, or whether all mums felt the same. For a while I became just “mum”.

My son and I are growing together, as I learn how to help him, I learn how to help me,

Collection of self help books

Rachel Olin - Continued

I’m not sure where I first saw it, but I found a book by Lucy Jones, called ‘Matrescence’. I felt seen. I felt seen by this word that described the transformative, and brutal, experience of becoming a mother.

Matresence has not yet made its way into common vernacular, but it is firmly in mine. I believe we need to use words and pass their meaning along, so that they become commonly used. Mothers are desperate for support and understanding, so… Matresence!

“When something isn’t named, it doesn’t get taught, it doesn’t get funded, it doesn’t get discussed,”

[Michelle Battersby]

Mothers… let’s discuss Matrescence.

Self help book

Rachel Olin Continued

There is an idea of the invisible mother; women disappear into motherhood. They are carers, teachers, nurses, workers - all rolled into one title: ‘mother’. Society demands perfection, and a silence regarding the ongoing struggles that that brings.

Women aren’t even given the opportunity to recognise themselves in complete

metamorphosis of their being. But knowledge is power... so, learn the word: Matrescence. Matrecence literally rewires our brain, it shifts our skeleton, and fuels us with huge amounts of hormones. We are different and that’s part of this complex process.

I’ve initiated this week of the Museum of Me project because I wanted to birth an opportunity where Mothers of Lincoln could share their process, their experience, and importantly - their struggle. I hope that our week will spread the word to Lincoln’s Mothers (and wider society), and help them to understand themselves a little better.