Becky, Leila and Asher

Name: Becky

Children: Leila, 3 and Asher, 9 months

Location: Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: When I was pregnant with Leila, I had only the vaguest of expectations, as motherhood was such alien territory. None of my friends had children at that point, so I had no 'blueprint' of what to do/not do or how it would be. I did expect to love my baby intensely and for her to bring huge joy to my life. I adored being pregnant - it was a dreamy, indulgent time and I loved my bump. But towards the end I started to worry that I wouldn't love the baby after all, and I had deep, secret fears about whether I would be a good mother - not of the 'what if my organic purees are not quite the right consistency for baby's delicate digestion?' variety; more like, 'what if I am capital B Bad, like shouldn't have children at all Bad'. These fears haunted me through the last weeks of pregnancy, as I waddled to my due date and beyond, virtually housebound by the big freeze that took hold that winter.

Reality of Motherhood: Thank goodness, when she arrived Leila swept away my fears in an instant. I will always be grateful to her for that. The moment she appeared, pink and bendy and cross, my first words were gasped with amazement and relief: 'oh I DO love you, I do love you, I love you'. She totally delivered on the intense love/huge joy front. However, those first weeks were a massive shock. Not in the sense that I wasn't expecting it to be hard work - veteran parents are determined during your first pregnancy to drum into you that It Will Be Hard. But the reality of round-the-clock breastfeeding (three hours from the start of the first feed to the start of the next- the START! And the feed takes 90 minutes!), the grizzly newborn nights, and the mystery of what could possibly be wrong with the baby when she cried, proved to be very tough. More than that, the sheer weight of emotion I felt knocked me sideways and upside down. I remember one evening, listening to a CD of gentle 'baby music' a friend had made, holding Leila in front of me and just bawling onto her fat sleeping face.

When Asher came along almost three years later, the newborn phase felt like a breeze by comparison. The culture shock had already taken place, I suppose. This was charted territory now. I just revelled in his newborn squishiness and crazy ways. I wished I could go back and experience the first time again, with the hindsight of the second time, the knowledge that the madness will not last forever, and also, woman: nothing will happen to the baby if you leave it sleeping in the basket in the corner while you have a nap, drink a cup of tea or go to the loo.

Taking your children home for the first time: My labour with Leila was long, slow and slightly complicated, in the way it seems many first labours are: I was induced, had to have a syntocin drip to speed things up, lost some blood and went to theatre because of a retained placenta. I stayed in hospital for a couple of nights. By the time we were able to take her home, I felt, physically and emotionally, like I'd been hit by a train. We did the typical anxious, slow drive home, all the while feeling like we were bound to be pulled over by the Baby Police, as clearly we were not grown up enough to be left in charge of an actual human being.



The first few days were a blur. I was exhausted beyond anything I'd known before, anaemic and spaced out. Sometimes I didn't know if I was awake or asleep; I couldn't concentrate on the television, let alone a magazine or a book. I felt like a zombie, and was in bed for several days.

When Asher was born, the experience was totally different. The labour was 4.5 hours from start to finish, and he was born quickly and smoothly in the birthing pool. It was, strange as it sounds, the best experience of my life. The three of us chilled out in the birth centre for a few hours, I scoffed a family bag of jelly babies, and we were home before 5pm. I felt on top of the world, full of energy even, and ate fish and chips with the family before heading to bed for the first of many, many nights of madness.

Of course, the main difference bringing Asher home was that there was an older sibling there to meet him. Leila cradled his head in her tiny toddler's hands and smiled a pleased smile. 'Isn't he wonderful' she said. As time went on she would swing between this sentiment, fierce, slightly aggressive love, and irritation with her little brother ('I want him OFF your nipple' she said a few days later, swiping his head backwards with her hand).

The best advice: I bumped into a male colleague at the shops when I was heavily pregnant with Leila. He has a particular straightforward, deadpan way of talking. No beating around the bush. He said to me, without drama, as I glowed with excitement and optimism: 'It'll be like a bomb's gone off, love. It's brilliant. But it's like a bloody bomb's gone off'. Not so much advice, more a simple truth which I have found oddly comforting since.

The worst: Enjoy every minute. What, every minute? Every single one? Even the ones with the crying (mine) and the screaming (theirs) and the 3am whining? That's just setting yourself up for feeling like a failure.



The hardest parts of being a mother: There are plenty of parts I find hard! It can feel like you crash from one transition to the next; just when you get the hang of one phase (weaning, potty training, tantrums), another kicks in. When you have two, the logistics of managing the very different demands that each age and child presents are pretty mind-boggling. Meanwhile each new phase is so consuming that every bump in the road feels like the hardest phase you've been through. So right now, managing the behaviour of a 3 year old coupled with the physical demands of a 9 month old, feels like the hardest thing. But I'm well aware that in years to come I'll look back on these as the glory days which, really, they are. The time before life got complicated.

Toddlers are their own special brand of challenging. Hilarious, captivating, psychotic and adorable. With Leila I have found Three more demanding than Two. It can be so hard to keep my cool at times, as she pushes with all her might against every boundary. And I am so desperate to be the calm, consistent parent I think she deserves, that the effort of disciplining in the 'right' way is exhausting.

By comparison, babies can seem like a doddle. That is, until they try to finish you with the not sleeping. Asher is and has been a very easy baby on many fronts, but not when it comes to sleep. At the height of his reign of terror (between 3-6 months) I really felt at times like sleep deprivation would break me. Some nights still drive me to tears. I read threads on Mumsnet from mothers perplexed that their four month old has 'stopped' sleeping through. They've what now? STOPPED? My 9 month old never started.

The best parts of being a mother: Basically, everything apart from the hard parts is the best part.

Seeing their personalities develop is the best. I love that Leila is so different from me (fiery, loud, outgoing, a performer) yet we get on so well. She is genuinely hilarious, and not just because she does funny little-kid things like stopping in front of the mini bottles of wine in Asda and saying 'mummy! Lots of special wine for children!'. And even at nine months old, I can already see that Asher is totally different from Leila (cuddly, chilled, an explorer). Seeing them together, laughing like loons at one another, is the best. Being a family is the best. 

Holding, cuddling and stroking them is the best. There must be some mummy-catnip in those babies. I wonder if one day they'll ban me from fiddling with their hair, running my fingers up the nobbles of their spines, squeezing their cheeks between my thumb and forefinger, and curling them back up into a foetal position to crush them gently in my lap. Maybe they'll still let me do it when their work friends aren't in the room.

Every day, a handful of moments are the best, happiest moments you've ever experienced. A friend who was in throes of new motherhood emailed just after Leila was born, and said 'even the hardest days have their magic moments', and that is the wonder of having kids. Though one moment I can be driven to tears of frustration, the next I'm sitting there thinking 'yes. This is it'. The happiness can just surge up through my body and threaten to burst out of my throat at any given moment. 

Has becoming a mother changed you? I'm somebody whose mind is rarely at rest. I'm forever mulling over the past or fretting about the future. Having Leila and Asher, I can be completely in the moment. And I'm more at ease. I know that if I never achieve anything else in my life - and I do intend and fervently hope to achieve other things - I have had them, and that is enough. There's a peace about that.

Also, the body-surging happiness I described above is something I thought I wouldn't experience again when my youngest sister died, several years before Leila was born. Having the children opened my heart to the possibility, and the reality, of utter joy.

Hopes for your family: I want them to be safe, happy and well. That's what it boils down to. It seems so little, yet so much, to ask.

I hope that they (and any future sibling/s) gain as much from each other as I have from my brother and two sisters, and form as close a bond.

I don't expect them to never experience sadness, but I hope they never experience traumatic loss. 

I hope they love and are loved. The right sort of love.

I hope they like their parents as they get older. And that they outlive us.

I hope we have another child. I'm not done, as I told my partner (somewhat alarmingly, I imagine) minutes after Asher was born.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Don't be smug. You may have the magical sleeping baby, the perfect eater, the most well-adjusted sweet-natured sociable kid there is. But if you are smug about it, it WILL bite you on the bum. If not next week, then next year or when the child is a teenager, or when you have your second child. (Or at least, you can be smug - all parents are - but don't do it out loud).

Understand that babies' sleep does not progress in a linear fashion. If your baby sleeps through at 8 weeks (as Leila did), don't be disheartened when her/his sleep goes haywire later on. This will continue through at least the first year. But equally, if your baby still hasn't slept through by nine months (Asher....), know that one day, he/she - and you - will get a full night's sleep. I least I hope we will. WON'T WE? Also remember that the baby books which tell you that 'most babies' sleep through at two months, or that yours 'should' be, wouldn't be bestsellers if this was actually true.

Make 'mum friends' (and/or dad friends, of course). I found playgrounds excruciating for many months, and found the idea of approaching other parents frankly horrifying, but once I bit the bullet and started talking to people, I made friends who have been a great support and, more importantly, a good laugh. It's invaluable to spend time with people who are in the same magic, manic, sick-sodden boat. I have discovered, too, that most people feel the same - i.e. that they are a socially inept, repellant buffoon, and that all the other mums are confident and popular. 

Enjoy every minute. Ha.

Nicola and Douglas

Name: Nicola 
Child: Douglas, almost 3 (and 16 weeks pregnant with 2nd child)
Location: Didsbury

Expectations of Motherhood: My expectations were that of most people I think: that it will be easy enough, it won't change your life and you will ensure the baby fits in with you etc, etc. 

Haha! How silly I was! 

Babies are like little whirlwinds of chaos at first! I didn't expect being a mother to be so rewarding however. I also expected that I'd be a mother who stayed at home 5 days a week with her children with no desire to work again. Again, that's not really what happened.

Reality of Motherhood: This will sound negative to start with, but it is the hardest and often most thankless task in the world. The relentless tiredness in that 1st year of Douglas' life was something no-one could ever have explained to me beforehand. While in it you cannot see the wood for the tress. 

Occasionally the fear of being responsible for this little person's wellbeing and their future was overwhelming, especially in the early days. However, being a mother is so rewarding and the joy you feel when your child does something new and exciting, or tells you they love you, is not even remotely comparable with anything else in life. It has taught me how to have endless patience, which I didn't know I was capable of (and can only be a good thing). It has given me a love that is so overwhelming it can still make me cry now just thinking about it.

For me I could not be the stay at home mum I had hoped to be (and had put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to be). Once my little boy was 1 I realised that I had to have something else too, and so I went back to my wedding accessories business that I had set up just prior to having him.  I think this makes me a better mum as I really look forward to the days I have with him and also look forward to work (which is often a lot easier than childcare!). 

I can deal with this decision now, but at the time felt a huge amount of guilt for wanting to be something other than Dougie's mum. I really believe women get a hard time these days whether they choose to go back to work, have to go back to work, or choose to stay at home. You can't win no matter what you do, someone always has an opinion on it. Usually other mums!

I also have made some amazing life-long friends since having Dougie and I think it has been really important for me to have this support network. No-one can understand motherhood like someone else going through the same thing at the same time as you. 

I liken being a mother to being at university in freshers week. You meet lots of other mothers after you've had a baby and the one thing you have in common is a baby (when at uni it is being at uni), but understandably you won't get on with them all. Within a few weeks you work out who are your real friends. 

Generally my experience of other mums has been positive, but I do know of people who have not had such a positive experience. I think it's really sad that some women can be so horrid to other women when they should be supporting each other.

Taking your child home for the first time: For me this was a bit of a blur. I had a planned C-section with Dougie as he was breach, and so all I can really remember is slowly shuffling along endless hospital corridors and then the same into my house (1st floor flat unfortunately). I felt rather like an invalid and was constantly in a lot of pain (it went soon enough though). 

I remember us driving very slowly to the house and playing a song called "Douglas" by a band we like, and me mostly crying all the way home!

The best/worst advice: 

The best advice I was given was to, "Enjoy these moments as they pass".

The worst advice comes from people interfering when you are trying to get on with your daily life - eg. when you're shopping in Sainsbury's and someone tells you, "He doesn't need a dummy," or something equally as ridiculous, and frankly it is none of their business. You become public property as soon as you are pregnant and this seems to continue into motherhood.

The hardest parts of being a mother: For me this is now a lot easier, but for a very long time I just found it so hard to trust my instincts. I was always worried about WHY he was doing something and WHY he had changed his patterns. Now I see there is no rhyme or reason and you cannot control things, so it's just best to not analyse things too much. They are just babies and they do weird things and have no manual.

Oh and of course the tiredness- I am always always tired and have just accepted that I will always be now.

The best parts of being a mother: There are a million things, I can't really put this into words. At the moment probably the fact that Dougie makes me laugh about every ten minutes! He is like a little best mate to hang out with and have chats with (usually about nonsense). 

When they tell you they love you, when they do something to make you so incredibly proud, when they wake you up at a reasonable time in the morning (not 5am!) by coming to the side of your bed and stroking your face. I think having a reason to be rather than just being you is the best thing.

Has becoming a mother changed you?: Without a doubt. I thought I knew who I was and I think I really have only discovered this since having Doug. Sometimes you have to change too for the good of your child. There were things I looked at in myself that I wanted to change in order to make life better for him. For example learning to be braver, as I want him to experience things in life and not be scared of stuff!

Hopes for your family: Just health and happiness. We are so excited to meet the new baby in October. We don't mind what this next baby is (Dougie is adamant it is a boy called Donald though?) and we won't find out as we both like a surprise.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: 

Be kind to yourself. 

I wasn't last time and hope I will be this time! And you really do know best - it takes time to realise that, but you do. Instinct is an amazing thing.

Nicola makes wedding accessories which can be found here:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/nicolawellard 

http://www.silver-sixpence-in-her-shoe.co.uk/
http://silversixpenceinhershoe-nicola.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/#!/Silversixpence1
http://www.facebook.com/pages/silver-sixpence-in-her-shoe/243610077016

Jo, Lucy, Ava and Chloe

Name: Jo

Children: Lucy 9, Ava 6 and Chloe 3 

Location: Didsbury

Expectations of Motherhood: Si and I met when we were teenagers. We went to University and moved in together, then bought our house, got married and babies were next.... that’s how it happens isn’t it? 

Except after all those years of trying not to get pregnant I thought it’d be so easy, you know – stop taking those little pills and hey presto 40 weeks later a gorgeous baby and so on. I imagined a lovely little boy who’d look just like his Daddy, I’d breast feed, go to playgroups, have the patience of a saint and juggle motherhood with work no problem.... hahaha. 

Reality of Motherhood: Well I never expected my pregnancy to fail; to lose my precious miracle before it’s had even had a chance, and then the next one too. This was a heartbreaking journey but 3rd time was lucky for us and we welcomed our gorgeous Lucy Loo into the world 9 years ago after a horrendous labour and birth, which I swore I would never ever ever put myself through again. 

Motherhood was what I expected and more, this tiny person who I’d never thought would be here was real. I adored her, I hated it when even my husband took her out it was so intense. I tried breastfeeding and found it really hard. It hurt like hell, my nipples bled and I was so nervous about feeding her in public I timed going out around feeds, it was crazy. 

I then one day was holding Luce - she was 8 weeks old - and I had this truly horrible feeling; I was petrified I’d hurt her. I had to go and put her in her cot as I just couldn’t hold her. It was terrible. To love someone so much, but then be so scared of them at the same time. These intense feelings went on for 2 years until I was diagnosed with severe PND – seriously.. 2 bloody years! I was never going to have another baby...

Then we decided we needed to at least try and give Lucy a sibling. So we tried again. 2 more miscarriages followed then on the third go we conceived Ava. Ava is a determined little soul. I had bleeds throughout the pregnancy, bad ones, I remember going for the scans weekly as even the midwives thought I’d lost her numerous times, but there was her little heartbeat beating on the screen. 

I was petrified about my PND returning and had CBT therapy whilst pregnant to help with my feelings. It was great! Ava arrived without any problems and the birth was a much better experience. Yes it hurt, but I was in control and was home within 6 hours. It was so different than my experience with Lucy’s birth. 

I was more in control this time round, less panicked and coped a lot better, breast feeding was fantastic this time too and I have to admit I fed her until she was 2. The funny thing was as soon as I got home from the hospital that day with Ava, I knew I had to do it again. I was desperate to! It took 2 years to convince my lovely husband that it *would* be a good idea to have 3 children as 2 was far too neat! It was fabulous. I finally got my textbook pregnancy and an amazing really enjoyable delivery. Honestly.  

Taking your children home for the first time: I remember when we brought Lucy home, how tiny she looked in the car seat, how slow we drove, how we got home and showed her around the house (even though she was asleep) and then thought ok...what on earth do we do now?! 

Taking Ava home was easier, I didn’t feel quite as unwell and I remember going to my neighbours sons 5th birthday party in the back garden with my brand new baby. Someone asked how old she was and I suddenly realised she was 9 hours old...think I was still high as a kite as I went on a bouncy castle and managed to not let my insides fall out. 

Chloe came home to two very excited big sisters, so that again was a different experience.  A busy household where the chance of having any rest was very slim. But I finally felt like my family was complete. Those first days I was shattered, but very happy. 

The hardest parts of being a mother: The continuous worry that everyone is happy, healthy and that you aren’t doing something totally wrong that is going to damage your children forever. 

The fact that I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep for more than two consecutive nights, for over 9 years, yep 9 years. 

The juggling of relationships, when your child comes home and is sad because someone’s been mean... it really hurts. 

Sibling rivalry is awful, the fights, the noise, the handprints up the walls and the washing.

Arrgghhh how can 3 small people make so much mess?! 

Wondering if you and your partner are ever going to go out beyond the local neighbourhood ever again? 

In fact just to talk about something that isn’t child related would be amazing. 

Juggling my job as a remote pa with the demands of a young family. I know they feel like I’m always working sometimes, but I love that after 9 years of being a ‘Mummy’ first and foremost, I have built my own little career again. 

The best parts of being a mother: Seeing the personalities of the little people you created emerging from the tiny bodies and screwed up faces. 

The dependency on you, although scary as hell, is also truly magical. 

Your children’s faces when they do something new or manage something for the first time. 

The unconditional love. 

Seeing the relationships within your family change and grow. 

Your toddler saying ‘Love you Mama’ and really meaning it! 

Best Advice: Bin the books! This came from my Mum. I was so desperate first time round to get into a routine, and failed every time. It took me a while to realise that babies kind of get themselves into a routine when they are ready, but then they also change it just as you start to get used to it! 

Worst Advice: To keep breastfeeding with my first child, I endured 6 months of pain, when really I should have just admitted defeat and given her a bottle. I used to dread every feed and think this contributed to my PND. Yes breastfeeding is fab, cheap, a lovely bonding experience and I had that the next times round but if your nipples feel like they are going to fall off for 6 months, don’t beat yourself up about using a bottle! 

Advice for new/expectant mums: Enjoy every precious moment. It goes so so fast. 3rd time round I feel like if I blink I’m going to miss it. Before I know it they’ll all be at school. 

Go with your instincts, you really are the best person for your baby. 

Try a few different playgroups; meeting other mum’s is a great way of realising you are feeling ‘normal’ but it took me a few goes to find some that weren’t petrifying cliquey. 

Be kind to yourself! You are going to be very tired for a while, so does that washing really need putting away right now?....

Vickie and Lily-Mae

Name: Vickie 
Child: Lily-Mae, 3

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I used to be a real party animal; there was a party at ours every Friday and Saturday. If I had money in my pocket I was going to spend it, because even though I really wanted a baby, I’d resigned myself to the fact I wasn’t going to have one.

We had tried for 3 and half years and in that time I’d had two miscarriages. Fertility testing was the next step, and during one of our first appointments at the hospital they said I had to take a pregnancy test before the procedure.

I was late, but that was nothing unusual. I did a test and amazingly it said that I was pregnant. Immediately I was sent for an early scan, which then confirmed that I was 2 to 3 weeks gone. I knew not to get my hopes up, but 2 weeks later we went for another scan, where 6 weeks and 5 days was confirmed.

I imagined family life as this little perfect bubble - with a baby we would be all luvy duvy, with cuddles on the sofa, a house full of harmony, and no stress. I didn’t realise that motherhood was going to be hard work. I only imagined the obvious things like changing nappies, playing, cuddles - those pictures you see in magazines don’t portray a realistic picture.

Reality of motherhood: When I went for the early scan they had thought I had an enlarged bladder so they kept me there for hours, constantly sending me back to the toilet to empty it. The Consultant was called and he discovered that I had a very large ovarian cyst. It was decided that they’d just leave it. It was large, but it was OK to leave.

Then when I was 6 months pregnant, I was rushed to hospital with chest pains. The cyst had grown and was taking up the precious space that baby needed. It was bigger than a brick. At that point I had to make a choice of either removing the cyst and then creating complications for the baby, or leaving it and jeopardising my own health, plus the baby wasn’t growing. The choice I made was to drain it. I was in hospital for 3 days, just in case I went into early labour and during that time a drain was put in my side. They removed two and a half litres of fluid (more than a coke bottle), but after that everything was fine.

Pregnancy had been hard work with really bad morning sickness - every second was horrific. I was massive; gigantic! I couldn’t move. I had swollen ankles and problems with my back, because after the cyst had been drained the baby went through a massive growth spurt. I was told that the baby would about 9lbs (despite the fact I’m quite small). At the end of the pregnancy, after being in labour for 4 days - having constant debates with the staff about whether my waters had gone - Lily-Mae was delivered by emergency c-section on the Sunday after her heart beat had dropped. She was 10b 5.

We were in hospital for 10 days over Christmas, including Christmas day too. 
From the day she was born, and for the duration of the 1st 6 months, motherhood was nothing like I’d expected. One of the main things I remember is really wanting skin to skin, but I didn’t get to hold her for 2 hrs. I found that really difficult. It was nothing like that beautiful mother-daughter first meeting that you imagine. 

We’d wanted this baby for so long, but I was so scared - even the simple things like changing her seemed so daunting. My husband was great though and he took over the care. I was quite poorly and both of us needed antibiotics intravenously, then I got another infection in my womb – a haematoma. In hospital Lily-Mae was amazing though. I thought I had a bit of an easy life because she never cried, she was so quiet in hospital and she slept lots.

In the hospital I felt quite pressured to breast feed, but it just wasn’t working. They tried to get me to express, but I wasn’t having any luck with that either and we weren’t prepared for bottle-feeding because I’d assumed breastfeeding would be second nature. You don’t get warned that there could be initial problems with breastfeeding and the added pressure from midwives doesn’t help when you don’t succeed. You feel upset that you can’t do best for the baby, because ‘the perfect mother breastfeeds’, but what can you do if you can’t breastfeed? It really got to me, and coping with the infections at the same time was really tough.

Taking your child home for the first time:
We had my husband’s step son at home with us for the first week because it was New Year. I couldn’t wait to get home and enjoy the time as just me, Sam and Lily-Mae.

I found that first week very very hard - Luke doesn’t usually live with us, so finding our routine with another guest was difficult. I tried to establish a routine for the 3 of us, but Sam was having to look after his 8 year old son. I felt that I needed my husband’s full attention. It probably is through selfishness, but I wanted him all to myself.

When we got home Lily-Mae started to wake through the night. I didn’t have the help of the midwives and I was very scared - you get used to being told what to do and how you should do things. Those first 6 months were extremely difficult and I’m really sad to look back because I don’t remember an awful lot of it.

Best advice:
Sleep when baby sleeps. 

My husband and I tried alternate nights so that we each got a full night sleep every other night - we were really lucky that his shifts allowed us to do this.

Get some fresh air everyday.

Mother And baby groups are great. I’ve made some amazing friends through having Lily-Mae. My friends don’t really have kids, so meeting other mums who could give me advice and I could chat with was great. We were all on maternity leave at the same time.

Worst advice: Feeding on demand. I found that when bottle feeding this technique ends in screaming fits. Lily-Mae was waking up starving and it was stressing us all out. We ended up feeding every 2/3 hrs and if she didn’t finish it she didn’t finish it.

Regarding breastfeeding - it isn’t best for everyone, so if it doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t make you a bad mother.

Hardest part of being a mother:
When Lily-Mae was 6 months old I was rushed back into hospital with stomach pains.
Doctors discovered that had an ovarian tumour which had grown in the pocket of the cyst. There were massive complications in surgery and the tumour ruptured, leading to me being in surgery for 7 hours. I’d had no idea I was ill, putting any pains down to the c-section and having a big baby.

I left hospital after the operation, seemingly well, only to be told by doctors that the biopsy they’d taken on the operating table had confirmed that that the tumour had spread. I had to have my whole ovary removed in the end. In this 2nd operation they carried out open surgery rather than keyhole and they found another tumour. After that I was given the all clear (although I am still under Oncology because I do have fibromas on my other ovary).

After all that has happened I think I’m very lucky to be here. I am thankful for being healthy and well. Now I’m over the surgery I’m OK, but I struggle with the fact that I’ve forgotten that first year (though I don’t want to feel sorry for myself). I didn’t want Lily-Mae to know I was poorly and had to keep upbeat all the time, so that’s probably why I found it such a chore. 

Another difficult thing to deal with as a mother is when they're ill. It’s impossible to be rational - you don’t get told how scary it will be. You constantly checking they’re OK, listening out for their breathing in the night, but in reality they’re a lot tougher than they look. Weaning was hard work for me and potty training too, but it could have been made harder by the timing and the illness. 

Best parts of being a mother: Everything.

Unconditional love - she thinks her mummy can do no wrong. I’ve never felt that love before in my life, where you love that person no matter what they do.

I love the way you know what they’re thinking and you learn to read their moods. You find out what they need just from looking at them. You become their translator and understand everything that they're trying to say.

I love having the responsibility and feeling like an adult. She’s made me grow up and act like an adult. I enjoy cooking for her and we have lots of fun together. You never know what the next day will bring. We do lots of colouring together, painting, reading, playing with playdoh, watching movies and having cuddles - just having lots of fun! I love that she’s suddenly become really girlie and her own character with her own favourite interests that we can share, like doing hair and nails.

We’re best friends. She’s so happy and I feel responsible for that. I must be doing something right because she’s so happy and healthy.

One of the best moments of my life was being told I’d had a little girl - I thought I was having a boy because a consultant had told me he thought it was a boy.

Has being a mother changed you?: It’s made me organised.

When you’re looking out for someone else you forget about yourself. The things that were important before are no longer important. It’s all about Lily-Mae now and how she’ll fit in to everything.

Hopes for your family: I want her to stay happy. That she’ll be who she wants to be, I hope that she’ll never be afraid to talk to me and she’ll tell me whatever is on her mind. I might not like what she has to say, but I’ll always be here.

Advice to new and expecting mums:
Let your child guide what you do in the day, so if they don’t want to stay in go to where they want to. We get out everyday - even if it’s just to walk down the road. It gives you a break from the same four walls.

Take help if you need it (and take as much help as you can get). It doesn’t make you any less of a mother to accept help. I wanted Lily-Mae to know who her mum was, I wanted to do everything perfectly - being super-mum - but it didn’t work. You need to realise what’s important and that is spending time with your child. There’s so much that I can’t remember from the first 6 months and it upsets me. I feel like I spent too much time trying to be perfect. Having a messy house doesn’t matter, having an occasional takeaway, having a day in your PJ's and leaving the pots in the sink - none of it matters.



On coming homing it became more apparent that there was a real push from ‘society’ to do things the perfect way. Everyone seems to strive to be the ‘perfect’ mum. Over time though, I discovered that a happy mum makes a happy child. I wanted to be a perfect housewife with the perfect house - a wife and mother who looks amazing and cooks brilliant food - but it just isn’t possible. I don’t think you should listen to anyone else who tells you what to do, you know best even if you doubt yourself on occasions. 

For everything I’ve been through, Lily-Mae is so worth it - I see her as my angel. I believe things happen for a reason. If it wasn’t for the scans the doctors would never have seen the tumour and then who knows where I'd have been. She’s saved me in a sense and so I idolise her. I’m so grateful for what she’s done for me.  I wouldn't change a thing about motherhood - my little lady is my world!

Joanna, Pablo, Nico and Lola

Name: Joanna 

Children: Pablo (3), Nico & Lola (6 months) 

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester 

Expectations of Motherhood: I guess I expected to be more of an "earth mother" type. I thought I would want to stay at home with my children until they were at least two like my sister did. My mum was a stay at home mum until I was about 11. I also kind of expected to be more soppy about my children, as I am quite a sentimental person. And I thought I'd be the sort to make my own baby food and breastfeed as long as possible. 

Reality of Motherhood: Pablo, my eldest son was a very colicky baby and wanted to be breastfed every two hours around the clock. Apparently this is normal, but that doesn't stop it from being intolerable! Especially, given that poor Pabs used to scream the whole time he was awake for the first four months of his life. He was a very light sleeper and I had to walk up and down jiggling him for at least 20 minutes after each feed to get him to sleep. Then I'd put him down and he'd wake up and I'd have to start the whole thing again. Even co-sleeping did not work. He would lie next to me and scream in my ear! He wanted to be in my arms and he wanted me to stand and pace the floor, preferably whilst listening to white noise CDs at full volume! My husband and I would fall asleep listening to the sound of Arctic winds sweeping across the icy tundra, only to be awoken one hour later. I was getting a couple of hours of sleep a night and the adage "sleep when he sleeps" used to send me into paroxysms of rage. "But he doesn't sleep!" I ranted to anyone who would listen. Daytime naps lasted maybe 20 minutes, and I had to walk him round the park in the pushchair to get him to drop off each time. Then he would wake up at the slightest noise and I would have to be on hand to jiggle the pram and get him to sleep again. There was no way I was going to be able to nap when he did. 

I was dying to stop breastfeeding but he refused to take a bottle until one day when he was seven months, I gave him fruit juice in a bottle and he liked the new flavour so much that he took to the bottle. That gave me a bit more freedom. I know breastfeeding is very beneficial to babies but the reality for mums can be a life of 24/7 slavery. At times I felt like my baby was deliberately torturing me. I wasn't depressed, but I was very angry that this whole burden was foisted on me and only me, and nobody could give me a break. Sleep deprivation made me extremely short-tempered and I would phone my mum to complain or cry down the phone. She's had it really tough, dealing with me dealing with motherhood! 

I tried taking Pablo to a cranial osteopath, I tried taking him to a specialist, thinking he had reflux, but nothing seemed to help. Then when he was 4 months he smiled and was happy for a bit of the time he was awake. That was a breakthrough. He still wanted to be held and entertained constantly but at least it was possible to make him happy! I did think motherhood would be a bit more of a doss; that I might be able to do some nice home cooking while my baby napped. In reality, I constantly had to hold and entertain him or work to keep him asleep, so there was no blissful period of watching daytime TV and meeting friends for coffee. Just drudgery! Suffice to say when Pabs was nine months old I was very glad to have the chance to go back to work. I'd been a language teacher previously, but I never fancied combining teaching with motherhood. I knew I'd end up using all my patience for other people's kids and have none left for my own! My husband had started a business about 18 months previously and was struggling with the admin side of things, so I started helping him two days a week, which went up to three days when Pablo was 19 months and four days when he was two, as the business grew. 

I probably sound like I don't even like my child, but I really really do! My love for my children is like a fact of life, it's just there, hardwired, like having brown hair (well mostly brown!) It doesn't make me weepy and sentimental but when I cuddle them I often get a rush straight to my heart. It's physical, I can actually feel it. I really like Pablo too, which is not the same as loving him. I enjoy his sense of humour, and his imagination. He is also very affectionate, and passionate and a bit of a charmer. Even when he was about eight months old he used to give me these fierce hugs, where he'd press his little face into mine so hard that it hurt! As I get to know Nico and Lola, I like them more and more too. I'm dying to know what's going on in their little heads! 

I found out I was having twins at my 12 week scan. Before then I'd noticed my bump was bigger than first time round, and I'd been joking that I was going to have triplets, little thinking that a multiple birth could really happen to me! Of course I was shocked, though not as much as my husband, Guille, whose reaction was "Oh Gooood this is the end of our lives!" I was very worried about how I'd cope, especially if I got two babies as colicky as Pablo. I felt a sense of impending doom for most of my pregnancy and I forced myself to get stuff done (potty-training Pablo, buying our first house) because I couldn't face the thought of doing it later with twins in tow. When I was about 30 weeks pregnant I received a magazine from TAMBA (Twins and Multiple Births Association) which had loads of photos of cute twins and next to each picture how many weeks they were born at: Kira and Kyle 35 weeks, Jordan and Dane, 34 weeks, Mia and Megan 32 weeks - Aargh! I realised my babies were statistically very likely to be born prematurely (i.e. in a couple of weeks' time) and I still didn't have a double buggy or any tiny baby clothes (they were likely to be titchy too). So I rushed around buying everything which was fortunate because they were born shortly afterwards at 34 weeks. 

Taking your children home for the first time: I had Pablo at home, so there was no coming home from the hospital. I just hit the ground and kept on running. My labour was very quick, 6 1/2 hours from start to finish. I was talking to my contractions going, "Come on pain, do your stuff, open me up and let Pablo into the world!" It was like leaning into the wind. I'd wanted to have pain relief, but because it was all so quick, I didn't get the chance.

It was 11pm on boxing day when I went into labour. Everyone tells you to just chillax and carry on as you were until the pain gets too much, so I just kept on watching Peep Show, then tried to go to bed, though of course I couldn't sleep. Then at about two in the morning I woke Guille up and told him he should start inflating the birthing pool. He spent ages pumping the thing up and filling it, which was no easy matter as the water tank wasn't large enough to provide sufficient hot water, so he had to run a hose from the electric shower and boil the kettle and numerous saucepan. We'd had a dress rehearsal, so we were prepared for all that. The only thing was, once it was full, he realised he hadn't put the liner in, which meant it wasn't hygienic enough to use, so he had to pump all the water out and start again! Cue some choice swearwords in Spanish! Meanwhile I was on all fours on the bathroom floor, groaning.

By the time he had refilled the pool, it was about 5am and the midwife had arrived. "Don't worry, you probably won't have baby till about lunchtime tomorrow!" she breezed as she started to examine me. 
"Can I have some gas and air?" I pleaded. 
"Maybe later," she said, "You're doing so well with your breathing!" 
With me in agony, she took my blood pressure, felt the baby's position, and lastly had a look to see how dilated I was. "Oh, I think you're about to have this baby!" she said brightly. Hmm that's what I thought! "Do you want to go down to the pool?" 
I did, so she nipped out to get her equipment, but while she was gone I got this overwhelming urge.
"I'm pushing!" I roared to Guille who was still twiddling with the birthing pool downstairs. "Get her to come back!"

Despite underestimating how far on I was, she was a very nice midwife and helped me decide when to push so as not to tear. I got on all fours and roared and thrutched, it was all very primal. Guille was pretty awed. Then Pablo was born onto the bed, looking like some kind of purple grub, but strong as hell, pushing himself along. Guille remembers feeling bad for him, thinking, "When are they going to pick him up?" He was there for seconds all alone, before he was scooped up for the skin-to-skin with me. The second midwife arrived after an hour or so (there are meant to be two of them at a home birth, one for you and one for the baby, but me and Pabs were a bit too quick off the mark.) 

After they left it was a bit weird, living in this twilight world of constant waking. He was jaundiced so I had to feed him every two hours (timed from the beginning not the end of the last feed) and midwives came to visit every couple of days to check on us. One of them made me feel awful for giving him a dummy "A breastfed baby doesn't need a dummy, you're stopping him from feeding and getting the fluids he needs." I ended up bawling my eyes out that I wasn't doing right by my baby. Although things didn't go entirely according to plan, I would definitely count Pablo's birth as a good experience. I felt in control of my body and of the whole process. 

The twins' birth was the polar opposite. Twin births are considered high risk, so it's not possible to have a home birth. I suppose you could if you were very radical and got in a private midwife, but if someone tells me my baby could be in danger, I'm not going to argue. Nevertheless, I was keen to have as natural a birth as possible, and as both babies were head down, that seemed reasonably likely. 

The labour was horrid because the contractions came so close together right from the start. They were about three minutes apart from the beginning and rapidly escalated to a state of constant agony. Meanwhile instead of crawling around and responding to the pain, I was laid on my back and strapped to a monitor while various doctors and midwives desperately tried to find a trace of Lola's heartbeat. They brought in a portable ultrasound machine and scanned me, only to find that one of my good little head down babies had migrated into a transverse position. Naughty Lola! Then they checked how I was progressing and this weird male nurse who looked like Lurch gave me an unwholesome grin and told me I was fully dilated. This precipitated a frenzy of activity. "OK mum, we need to take you to the delivery suite, we might need to do a C-Section or we might have to deliver twin 1 vaginally and twin 2 by C-section." They all call you mum, which is incredibly annoying, (I am not your mother OK?!) but seems to be NHS policy. I was raced through corridors on my wheeled bed and was just about compos mentis enough to let them know that, no thanks, I really didn't want scars in two places and could they please just get both babies out by C section if possible, ta.

Meanwhile, poor Guille was given a gown to put on, then he made a quick film on his iphone of him saying "So, this is it, ready for the birth, let's go and meet our twins!" Then when he emerged, everyone had disappeared! He found the theatre where I was, but he wasn't allowed in because it was an emergency C section, and they had to give me a general anaesthetic. I just remember there being about twelve people in the room. A doctor was trying to explain the implications of this document I had to sign, but I was in so much pain I said "It's OK, just give me the pen!" I had a carbon copy to keep and when I read it weeks later I realised I'd basically given them carte blanche to get my babies out by whatever means necessary: C-section, forceps, ventouse or any combination of the above. Under the circumstances I feel very fortunate that it went so well.

The anaesthetist warned me he would have to put pressure on my windpipe to stop me regurgitating the pizza I'd innocently troughed just a few hours previously, and I woke up hours later, shivering so much my teeth chattered and incredibly thirsty. I went into labour at about 8.00pm and the babies were delivered just after midnight. Lola weighed 4lb 4 and Nico 3lb 14. They were carted straight off to the neonatal unit, but I was informed that they were both doing well. Unlike Pablo, I didn't get to see them till the following afternoon. It was nice on the maternity ward. I've never been in such a female dominated environment, (a sorocracy!), but they do try to squeeze you out as soon as they can see you're OK. I was told five days, but after three they were already asking if I felt ready to leave. Having your babies cared for by specialist nurses for the first three weeks of their lives has a lot of advantages. eg. you can actually get some sleep and recover from the birth, instead of plunging headlong into the hideous world of sleepless nights. Visiting them, helping with tube feeds, changing their nappies, all feels like a privilege instead of a chore. I was planning to try breastfeeding them , because I thought it was only fair after Pablo had bagged himself so much boob, so I was expressing every couple of hours. They have a pumping room for this purpose, which makes you feel distinctly bovine, but you do meet lots of other friendly cows in there, and a kind of blitz-spirit reigns. It would make a great Radio 4 play. In any case, we found out that our twins were quite lucky to be born at 34 weeks, and they made very good progress. Only two weeks after they were born we moved house, which was pretty hellish, but at least we didn't have any screaming babies to deal with on removal day as they were still in hospital. 

The neonatal staff were incredibly lovely and it turned out to be a very positive experience for us. Before we brought the twins home, I roomed in with them for a night, which turned into a nightmarish breastfeeding marathon as they took it in turns to feed for two minutes before falling asleep and waking hungry five minutes later, and this throughout the whole night. It took me right back to the darkest days with Pablo, a place I was really not willing to revisit, so after that I decided to bottle-feed them a combination of expressed milk and formula. I kept it up for about two months, but my milk supply dwindled and the health visitors were acting like I was a saint, so I thought, I don't need to be that good! And promptly gave up. 

Motherhood this time round has been a very different experience and mainly because of my mother-in-law, who serendipitously retired the week the twins were born, packed up and shipped in to our new house. She's been here ever since. She has made it bearable, helping with the sleepless nights and generally giving the babies and Pablo lots of love and attention, as well as doing plenty of cooking and housework. She is great and we get on very well most of the time. She's Spanish, from Madrid and doesn't speak any English, but I am fluent in Spanish because I lived in Barcelona with my husband for a couple of years, so we can communicate just fine. It's also great that Pablo has picked up a lot more Spanish with her around, and he surprises us every day with new phrases, many of which make him sound like a granny! He'll do stuff like hold up one of Lola's new outfits and go (in Spanish) "Aw isn't this gorgeous! And look, it's got trousers as well!" 

There are moments of tension sometimes, mainly because I can be such a cow when I get no sleep. I try to be assertive and explain our way of doing things, and she tries to go along with our choices about how to bring the children up. The main thing is that there is a lot of goodwill on each side. My Mum also comes over several times a week to help out and my Dad has helped us so much in our new house, building a ramp for our enormous buggy, repressurising the boiler and all kinds of other tasks that we have no idea how to do. If we didn't have so much help from our parents we would have to get an au pair and spend a fortune on handymen, which obviously we couldn't afford.

The best/worst advice: The best advice is use your instincts, accept all help offered, and don't beat yourself up about not being perfect.

The worst advice is to do with making a month's food in advance and freezing it, and similar over-organised stuff.

The hardest parts of being a mother: Dealing with toddler tantrums and resistance to every step of daily routine, whilst simultaneously dealing with two babies with colic or teething, after a sleepless night which I know will be followed by another sleepless night. Feeling rage that my children could be so mean to me as to never let me have any sleep. Losing my temper with people I love, seeing my husband lose his temper. Never having any time for myself or quality time with my husband.

The best parts of being a mother: Making babies giggle with their cute little gurgly laughs, kissing their lovely baby skin, watching the twins start to take notice of each other, seeing my children's personalities develop. Enjoying toddler humour:" Harry Pottermus", "Grandad's a dustbin!" Enduring toddler love including bisses which are bitey kisses (and quite disgusting!) Seeing my husband being a lovely dad. Sharing a look with each other when one of the kids does something cute. Reading to Pablo and discovering some fantastic kids' stories, such as the Dr Seuss one about the pale green pants with nobody inside 'em!

Has becoming a mother changed you: I am the same person. I just have a lot more responsibilities than I ever thought possible, and I've had to become more organised and have routines whereas I've always preferred to do things randomly. I am more irascible, but I always had that in me. It just comes to the fore more because I have more triggers.

Hopes for your family: I have so many hopes for us. It's not just about being happy, you know! First up, I want everyone sleeping through the night by the end of 2013. 

I hope the kids will get on well like I do with my sisters, that they will appreciate each other's personalities and rarely fight. I want them to speak fluent Spanish and appreciate their Spanish roots and culture, I want them to survive the teenage years unscathed and unbullied. I'd like them to be more financially savvy than me. I'd like them to learn to play musical instruments. I want them to be hardworking but funny and creative. And I want them to be able to talk to us about stuff that's bothering them. So, not much to ask then!

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: It's easy to feel guilty all the time, because there's always something you could be doing better, but it's OK to be just good enough to get by, and sometimes being just good enough requires actual heroism, for which you can give yourself a little pat on the back. When you are not good enough, get over it and get on with it. You are only human after all.


Get a dustbuster, and a tumble dryer and a dishwasher. Get a cleaner if you can afford it. Cut the corners you need to cut to remain sane. 


(Lola's first roll captured during the shoot)