The transition to motherhood is as beautiful as it is challenging. They've called this period 'matrescence' - the physical, emotional, hormonal and social transition to becoming a mother.

When I was pregnant, I experienced the heightened emotions and complex considerations that come with bringing an Aboriginal child into the world. My own mum's journey, however, was far more solitary. She raised my sister and I with near-zero support and experienced loss during the perinatal period. I often think of her resilience and sacrifice, particularly when I reflect on the challenges that still exist for Aboriginal parents today, many of whom continue to face similar isolation despite the establishment of support organisations.

As Aboriginal mothers, we live with the weight of cultural responsibilities, historical traumas, ancestral connections and contemporary fears, all combining into a messy mix that shape every step of our parenting journey.

For us, raising a child is not just about nurturing an individual; it's about sustaining cultural knowledge, building strong communities, and fostering a healthy and happy future for our children. But even with these rich cultural foundations, the reality is that many Aboriginal parents, like all parents, face significant mental health challenges in the perinatal period.

Statistics reveal that as many as one in five mothers and one in ten fathers experience mental health challenges during pregnancy or in the first year after birth. For Aboriginal parents, these numbers may be even higher due to the cumulative stresses of intergenerational trauma, systemic inequality, the unique pressures of ongoing racism and the horrific increase in child removals.

Today, with existential threats like climate change, ongoing global conflicts, rising costs of living, and an alarming resurgence of misogynistic ideologies, the need for mental health support for new parents is greater than ever.

Sadly, however, new data from Gidget Foundation Australia reveals that over two-thirds (67 per cent) of parents with children under five lack a strong community supporting them through parenthood, while one in five (20 per cent) have no community support at all.

Whilst some culturally appropriate parenting services and parents groups exist in some ACCOs, many cannot access these due to lack of awareness, disconnection, timing, location or even simply fear that they don't belong in such spaces. This leaves many disengaged or having to search for and build our own communities.

This Perinatal Mental Health Week (17 – 24 November), I am reminded of the unique parenthood journey we walk today in the Aboriginal community, built upon the experiences of our parents, our grandparents and generations past, which we have developed to support the modern experience where we often find ourselves disconnected from appropriate support, our communities, or boxed in by societal expectations.

The Modern Aboriginal Village: Building Connection and Resilience

The concept of "it takes a village" is one widely shared. But I think that it means more for our communities. The Aboriginal social and emotional wellbeing model specifically highlights the importance of community for our wellbeing. The idea of supporting each other through parenthood is deeply embedded in our communities, where kinship and shared responsibility are the bedrock of raising children.

Yet, I've found that in today's world, our villages often take different forms. I have my immediate family, a few close friends, and colleagues who understand the weight of these roles. When I think of the 'village' in relation to parenting, I think of the colleague, who became a sister, who became an aunty to my daughter. Who now, even though they are overseas, sends video messages back and forth with my daughter, maintaining that connection even from afar. This is what community looks like for me.

Adapting the 'village' concept to my context and my people. But many Aboriginal parents are disconnected from traditional community networks. This can be due to geographic separation, intergenerational trauma, removals or lack of culturally appropriate services. Our men and non-Indigenous partners may not feel accepted into this parenting community. Without this crucial village, most of us are left to navigate these pressures alone, relying on social media for connection—a space that can sometimes offer solidarity but often comes with the added pressures to look, parent or feel a certain way.

My mother lamented to me that when she was a new mother, formal support systems existed only on paper, and even today, many recognised bodies remain ineffective, often due to bureaucratic inefficiencies or cultural insensitivity. Programs and services frequently fail to meet the practical needs of Aboriginal parents, of disabled parents, isolated parents, of those who might not fit the typical profile.

When they lack true engagement and understanding of our unique experiences, or even the way our parenting might differ from Anglo-Australian standards, we simply 'fall through the cracks' or are labelled as deficient in some way. Then, of course, there are our justified fears of having our children removed.

This is one of the reasons I chose to join Gidget Foundation Australia, where they are making concerted efforts to eliminate the cracks, to learn from families about what they really need, the respect and understand Aboriginal parenting practices, to use trauma-informed approaches and respond both with frontline services, as well as advocacy for broader societal and governmental supports.

The Role of Self-Compassion and the Courage to Seek Help

In my journey as a mother, I've learned that self-compassion is essential. When you're a parent with a disability, you either develop self-compassion or guilt. Sometimes a messy mix of both. But through conversations with my village, I've been able to recognise that we need to free ourselves from society's rigid expectations of parenthood and embrace our own ways of nurturing and caring, rooted in culture. I love seeing strong Blak women, staunch working parents, unapologetic mums with disability. But we must realise that these people are never 'successful' on their own, nor are they free from challenges.

Seeking help from others—whether family, friends, or mental health professionals—should be seen not as a sign of weakness but as an act of strength. And yet, stigma can still make this difficult. It's hard to acknowledge we are struggling. But we all do, and we all need support. Community parents together.

For First Nations parents today, navigating mental health support often means advocating for services that respect our identities and values, recognising our models of parenting. We need to strengthen culturally safe mental health resources, prioritise social and emotional wellbeing, offer more Indigenous-led perinatal support programs, and create spaces where we can connect, share, and heal together.

A Call to Action: Building a Village of Support

The village concept needs revitalising and reimagining. We need policies that genuinely support Aboriginal parents and families, not just on paper but in practice. In this increasingly complex world, we can't afford for Aboriginal parents to continue facing these battles alone. We have too many other things to be fighting for.

As past generations have done for us, it is crucial that we continue to advocate for robust, tailored and appropriate support structures, to not only honour our own experiences but lay the groundwork for future generations. And we need to build our villages and be compassionate with ourselves.