🫠 Psychonaut POV

Welcome to Tricycle Day. If a psychedelics newsletter can be a mama’s boy, then that’s us. We’re sending love to all the mothers out there, especially Pachamama. 🌎

As a therapist, Kate Kincaid had helped countless mothers manage postpartum depression. Yet she still didn’t predict how becoming a parent herself would rock her inner world… or how psychedelics would help her find balance in the new normal.

We spoke to Kate about the parallels between birth and the psychedelic experience, intuitive microdosing for hormonal regulation, and what new and expectant mothers should consider when it comes to psychedelics.

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You’ve described birthing a child as inherently psychedelic. Can you elaborate on that idea?

To me, psychedelics offer a glimpse into the soul, a connection to something greater, almost a divine or otherworldly experience. Giving birth feels similar because you’re bringing a new life into our waking world. It's like stepping into another realm and inviting them in. When I take psychedelics, I feel like I’m revisiting that same place I went when I birthed my babies.

I've got two little ones. Before my first, I hadn’t sat with ayahuasca yet, but I had explored other psychedelics and taken part in intentional ceremonies with other medicines. They taught me about preparation, facing tough moments, and surmounting fear. I was steeped in it all before the baby. Even then, I saw birth as a psychedelic journey and even used that very language. But post-birth, it all became much clearer and more real for me.

When I think of the parallels between childbirth and psychedelics, Joseph Campbell's hero's journey comes to mind. There's the preparation phase, where you decide to step onto this path of parenthood, knowing your whole world will shift but making that choice anyway. Then come the nine months of gestation—the nesting, the room setup, the reading, the mental readiness. It's all part of the prep.

Then you have the ordeal—the birth itself—a moment that gets so much attention. Just like with psychedelics, everyone fixates on the peak experience of the journey. With childbirth, there are classes, breathing techniques, epidurals, a whole spectrum of choices. It's an intense experience, mind-blowing in every sense.

But then there's this vast aftermath, the postpartum period, that’s often overlooked. Once again, the same can be said for psychedelics. Integration is gaining focus, but still, the spotlight tends to stay on the non-ordinary states of consciousness. In both cases, it's what comes after, what it means for your life, and how you merge these newfound insights into your evolving identity and existence that have the most profound impact.

As a therapist who has worked with pregnant women and mothers for years, what surprised you most about your own experience becoming a parent?

As a therapist, I'd encountered postpartum depression and anxiety in my clients, but it wasn't until I became a parent myself that I truly grasped the embodied experience of those early days—the nagging worry about whether you're providing enough, if they're breathing alright, all those uncertainties. Despite my background, I naively believed I wouldn't face postpartum depression. I had the tools and support, and I had prepared extensively. Yet, I did. Hormonal shifts hit me hard, and a traumatic birth coupled with a near-death experience certainly played a role. It humbled me and deepened my empathy for those going through it, both personally and professionally.

Dealing with the near-death experience has been an ongoing process. Oddly, my fear of death intensified after the incident. I'd always had fears, especially of flying and other classically scary scenarios. But having this close call altered my perspective. In some ways, it made the prospect of passing seem less daunting, more like a natural transition. But now I had a new concern, which was the closeness of it all, especially with a precious baby relying on me. I worried more about him losing me than I did about losing my own life. I've been working through this in ceremony, confronting death and embracing it as a transition into another realm. I’ve also turned to EMDR therapy to process the intensity of the hospital experience.

A year later, when one of my dearest friends had a baby and required a C-section, we found ourselves back in the same OR at the same hospital. This time, I was an observer, not on the table. It was a powerful healing experience to witness how routine it was for the medical team, despite it being a traumatic memory for me.

You mentioned you’d already had many experiences with psychedelics before your first child arrived. Did these medicines take on new meaning for you once you became a mother?

Yes, I would say these substances have become distinct tools for specific purposes since I’ve become a mother. Microdosing psilocybin, for instance, helps me navigate my menstrual cycle and manage my response to natural hormone fluctuations. Sitting with ayahuasca, on the other hand, guides me in facing mortality and letting go of attachments. Now, there's a sense of intentionality in choosing which tool suits the need.

Focusing on microdosing for a moment, I tailored my approach around my menstrual cycle, specifically targeting PMS and PMDD. Instead of adhering to a rigid protocol like one day on, two days off, I took it intuitively. About a week before my period, I'd microdose every day. This approach was transformative. It lifted a sort of hormonal veil that tended to cloud my judgment, leading to thoughts like "everything's bad" or "I'm a bad mom." With microdosing, I was able to recognize these negative thought patterns for what they were—products of my mind, not necessarily reflecting reality. It made a significant difference.

Before becoming a parent, my focus with psychedelics was on personal growth. Now, it's as if the work ripples through to my lineage. This connection surfaces in ceremony in a way it didn't before. From an individual perspective, I recognize the need to evolve now to prevent passing on unwanted patterns to my children. Separately, there have been experiences where it feels like it's all happening at once. I'm healing not only myself, but also my line of descendants.

One particularly elusive memory stands out. During an ayahuasca ceremony, I experienced his fleeting moment where time seemed to collapse, and all my ancestors and descendants were present, here and now. It's challenging to put into words. We were all together, but not as people, more like geometric patterns, vibrant with color.

Can you speak to the potential risks of using psychedelics in the postpartum period? How should new or hopeful parents think about these substances?

Of course, there are always inherent risks. Research on what substances may pass through breast milk is notably limited. I recall a study on ketamine that suggested waiting 6 to 12 hours to pump and dump. Each drug has a different half-life, so that’s an important consideration if you're breastfeeding.

Then there’s the psychological risk. After childbirth, you're undeniably vulnerable. It's very important to proceed with caution and truly listen to your own instincts about when you're prepared for ceremony or a psychedelic experience. Those initial days with a newborn are incredibly intense. Personally, it took some time before I felt ready to open myself up to that again. I was primarily focused on getting through each day. Perhaps with more support or guidance, I could have considered it earlier, but I opted to wait until I felt truly prepared. It's something I would advise others not to rush.

Between the demands of new parenthood, the potency of psychedelics, and the shifts in hormones, any external factor can set off a cascade of emotions. It's as if everything in your energy and physical being needs time to settle and integrate after giving birth. For me, being in a group setting or exposing myself to other realms wasn't something I wanted right away. I craved containment and a chance to reassemble myself before venturing back into those spaces.

If you could change one thing about the way our modern society relates to motherhood, what would that be?

If there's one thing I'd want to shift in how our modern society views motherhood, it's the whole setup we have with the nuclear family. It can be incredibly isolating, and if I had the chance, I'd work towards restructuring or even reimagining it entirely.

The idea of "it takes a village" goes deeper than occasional visits with food, although that kind of support is invaluable. What's really needed is a robust system where people are there not just to help care for the baby, but to actively share in the responsibilities, including the act of breastfeeding. Being the sole provider of nourishment is a significant burden. The societal pressure, not only on mothers but on the entire nuclear family, can be unbearably heavy. I envision a world where these roles and joys are distributed more expansively. It’s a revolutionary concept that would bring so much relief.

Drawing from my experiences with psychedelics, it becomes even more apparent that we are all connected in ways that transcend the conventional bounds of family and society. These substances can reveal our shared humanity and intrinsic oneness. I believe we do have the power to revolutionize the way we approach motherhood, but it all hinges on our willingness to act in the interest of the collective. By supporting and uplifting mothers, we are really taking care of everyone.

Want more from Kate? Check out her private practice, Tucson Counseling Associates, for psychedelic integration resources and ketamine-assisted psychotherapy trainings.

That’s all for today. Before you head off, don’t forget to share, rate, and review Tricycle Day below. Catch ya next time, Cyclists! ✌️

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DISCLAIMER: This newsletter is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice. The use, possession, and distribution of psychedelic drugs are illegal in most countries and may result in criminal prosecution.