Katie, Ted and Beatrice

Name: Katie

Children: Ted, 3, and Beatrice, 6 months

Location: Sale

Expectations of Motherhood: Both me and my husband had an idealistic view of what it would be like when we had children. Of course, I’d never let my child have a dummy. And tantrums, we’d be able to deal with them really well. I also thought I’d be this really creative mum who’d constantly be doing stuff with her children.

I suppose you don’t think of all the downsides. You just imagine it to be this lovely thing; the baby arrives and you just spend all your time cuddling them. You think that your life basically goes on as it did before you had children.

A couple of times before I had Ted, when I was pregnant, people would say to me, ‘You need to go out and enjoy yourself before it’s over.’ I thought, my life won’t change that much. No, I’m still going to do everything. I’ll take him out and he’ll be with us in his car seat while we’re eating nice meals.

Reality of Motherhood: I had quite a difficult birth with Ted, which resulted in me having a c-section. It wasn’t at all what I’d wanted. I hadn’t even considered it as a possibility. I wanted a water birth - as most people do - and to have no intervention. In the end I was in the hospital for 3 days before I even had him. Then when he was born, I had to stay in hospital for another 3 days. It was hell because he just wouldn’t sleep. He just cried. I was absolutely exhausted.

I don’t think it ever crosses your mind that after you deliver this baby you’re have look after them as well. And at Wythenshawe you're on your own because husbands have to go home; at 10pm at night they leave until the next morning. I begged the midwives to let my husband come in an hour earlier, but they said, ‘No!’ 

I think that start made everything that bit more difficult.

When I became pregnant with Bea, I thought, I’m going to do this differently. I’m not just going to be waiting for her to come. With Ted, I was just so desperate to have him (and he was 6 days overdue). With Bea, I did yoga and learnt how to meditate, and it did actually work. I don’t tend to do stuff like that, but it was brilliant for me. I became quite mindful. In that week before she was born I used the time well. I made a pair of curtains for Ted’s room, and enjoyed the time we had. When I went into labour it was exactly what I’d expected it to be with Ted. We were kind of rushing to the hospital, and I delivered her really fast, and naturally, with no interception at all. It was brilliant. I went home the same day. We’d decided we would be really prepared with Bea so we’d bought everything in advance, including a dummy - I was not going to be a snob about it - but she just slept. She was a completely different baby. The whole experience was so different.

In hindsight, after having Bea, and having time to reflect on Ted’s birth and when he was small, I don’t know if it was actually depression, but I definitely had proper baby blues. I feel like I had it for a while. At the time you’re so involved in it that you don’t think that’s what’s happening, and a lot of people say, ‘That happens to everyone. You’re fine,’ but I didn’t leave the house on my own with Ted on my own for months. It was about four months before I actually went out in the car with him on my own. I was terrified. With Bea, we were doing stuff after we’d been home for a couple of days. I didn’t have any worry or anxiety with her even though I expected to. 

Taking your children home: I was so relived to take Ted home, but then he just didn’t sleep. I think that’s was when it struck us that our lives had changed so much. He didn’t sleep the first night at all. My husband was just in shock - he’d been going home on his own every night and getting a full night’s sleep while I’d been in hospital. He couldn’t believe it. We changed so many nappies, we fed him again and again, but he wouldn’t stop crying. We tried everything, but nothing really worked.

When I came home with Bea, it felt so normal. She was so laid back and settled. In a way it felt like she’d always been here. She just fitted in. The next day, we woke up with her in our room and Ted came in. It just felt completely normal. There wasn’t any disruption. I think it’s because our lives had already changed massively after having Ted. We didn’t have that period of grief for the life that we’d lost. 

They’ve been entirely different children. Some people say, ‘Is it because they’re girl and boy?’ But, who knows. I’m know I’m not having another one to find out! 

Best Advice: I’ve got a few friends who are due to have babies any day now. I’ve just said to them, ‘You will know what’s right. Trust your instincts’.
First time, I was so desperate to have a quick fix, but you have to follow what is right. I was constantly seeking that perfect advice. We’d spend hours in Mothercare looking for something that would help us. Obviously there wasn’t anything - he was colicky. I do think if you follow what you think’s best then it tends to just work.

I actually did everything I was told not to. They said, ‘Don’t feed them to sleep,’ but I fed Ted to sleep. Then they said, ‘Don’t rock them to sleep,’ but for a bit, after I fed him we rocked him to sleep. We were worried that he was never going to be able to sleep on his own. People would say to us, ‘You need to let him cry,’ but it would be awful and he’d make himself sick. It was just not working. 

In the end we decided to do it our way, and gradually he learned to get to sleep by himself, steadily, and at his own pace. Now he’s absolutely fine. So many people I speak to are worried about these things, and feel so guilty for doing them, but it’s not doing any harm.

I’ve got one friend who’s especially helpful. I think it’s because she gives really positive advice. I think that’s a great way to be. A lot of people can be really condemning. I hope to be like her when people ask me for advice. 

Worst advice: I’ve heard some terrible things, but I probably shouldn’t say!
I think some people don’t realise how things have changed and so they push ideas that are now considered quite old fashioned. It’s tricky to listen and be polite whilst being fully aware that you can’t take it on. It can be hard to take advice when you don’t want to.

This time, I’ve not had so much advice. People tend to back off a little with the second child. First time, you get given it whether you ask for it or not. 

Best part of being a mother: Watching how they grow and learn. I know it sounds cheesy but we’re always amazed by Ted especially. I went back to work after having him and he went into nursery pretty much full time. Now when I’m off I get to see how quickly he’s developing and how his language and imagination are growing. I find that incredible.

It’s amazing how they love you and trust you as well. You can never explain that to anyone, the relationship you have with them. It’s like having little friends around (that you argue with occasionally). Ted’s like a companion to me. It can be really lonely being off work so having someone there with you, who knows you, and knows when you’re upset or angry, it’s lovely. In the last year Ted’s turned into a real person. He’s definitely not a baby anymore and I love doing stuff with him.

Worst parts of being a mother: The sleep deprivation. I hate it. It’s the worst thing. Bea wakes up about every two hours at the moment. We’re going through a bad stage.

I miss the freedom of being able to just leave the house on a whim, without thinking. Now, I have to think of everything. And I’m not the most organised person, so often I’ll leave the house without stuff I need and I end up having to improvise. I don’t think I ever relax because I’m constantly preparing for something to happen.

Social media is another thing. I’m just as guilty, but, people only upload the amazing things. It’s so easy to look at other people lives and be envious. Friends without children enjoying a really different life; going on holidays, going away on mini breaks, eating at really nice restaurants. I have to remember what I’ve got instead. I’m sure at the same time people might look at us and think that we have the perfect life. People have said to me, ‘You make it look so easy with two’, but I say I’m not putting the horrible photos on, like when I’m having a screaming argument with a toddler. 

Has being a mother changed you? Yes, definitely. Completely. I think I thought I was a really laid back person, and other people did too because I’m quite disorganised and messy, but actually, having children you have to let go even more of everything. I have to let go of the fact that our house is always going to be a mess and there’s nothing I can do! Even if I thoroughly tidy it’s messy again within minutes. We can’t have really nice things in our house because they get wrecked. When we moved into this house we put effort into making the house nice, then Ted drew on the carpet with a black wax crayon. I’ve had to change how I feel about stuff like that.

For example, you have an idea that you’ll be able to bake a cake with your child and it’ll be really nice, but for us all Ted ever wants to do is eat the ingredients. If we’re painting, it drives me mad because he wants to mix all the colours together, and he wants to colour things in the wrong way. You just have to let go and say, it’s ok. Make a mess, it’s fine.

I think I’ve grown up a lot since becoming a mum. I’ve realised that some things just aren’t important anymore. I used to get so stressed about work, and then I’d come home to the children and think, ‘Why are we all fussing about something that minor?’ It puts things into perspective. Actually, that was one of the best things about going back to work after having Ted. I became more mindful and thought, ‘This is really silly, I’m not rushing around doing this. What’s the worst that will happen?’ 

Neither me or my husband brings work home with us now. We spend our days working solidly until we pick them up and then we can relax. I don’t want to put work first, but at the same time I really want to work still. That was one of the things I hadn’t expected. I’d thought I’d finish work and I’d want to stay at home, but after a bit - maybe on the first day! - I thought, ‘work is so much easier than this! It’s so much easier that being at home on your own and entertaining someone that doesn’t talk to you.’ Some people think that it’s a shame for me, as a working mum. I don’t think they realise that I choose to work because I want to and I like applying my mind to something different. There’s more to me than being a mum.

Hopes for your family: We want to make our children's childhood the best it can possibly be. As we are both teachers it's important to make the most of our holidays by spending our time together. There are so many places I want to travel to and think it will now be even more fun (if not very different!) with children. We both want to encourage them to have creative and enquiring minds and know that we are proud of their achievements.

What advice would you give expectant mums? Trust your instinct and trust what feels best for you and your family. Try not to doubt yourself or compare yourself to others; we're all in it together!

Cathy and George

Name: Cathy 

Child: George, 6 months 

Location: West Didsbury

Expectations of Motherhood: I have always known that I wanted to be a mother. I am very close to my Mum and I can only hope that I will have an equally strong bond with my own children.

I didn't meet my husband Ronan until I was thirty three. When we started trying for a baby it took quite a while to conceive, so when it happened we were ecstatic. I was very superstitious during my pregnancy and was afraid that something might go wrong. Although I loved my bump I couldn't imagine the baby that would eventually come out, so I didn't prepare a nursery, buy any clothes etc. The only thing we bought was a pram and everything else was kindly handed down to us from my sister.

Reality of Motherhood: I found the first three months pretty tough. George basically cried whenever he wasn't feeding. The period from 5 weeks till about 3 months was the worst - I nicknamed it the 'all night disco'. George would initially go to sleep for a couple of hours then be pretty much up from about 2am onwards with colicky symptoms. I found the sleep deprivation very hard to cope with, but people kept telling me it would get easier and they were so right. Watching George develop and change daily is beautiful. Being a mother feels so natural and has made me happier than I have ever been.

Taking your child home for the first time: I was totally shell shocked and exhausted after pretty much no sleep for five days. I ended up having to have a caesarian and was prescribed a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers. The three of us lived in the living room for the first few days grabbing snoozes when we could. I'm so glad we didn't have any visitors for the first week. Those first few days together bonding and surviving as a new family are so important.

The best/worst advice: The worst advice had to be, 'Sleep when your baby sleeps' - what do you do with a baby who doesn't sleep! 

The best advice was from my sister about establishing a routine. I began a bedtime routine when George was about six weeks old. It is true babies really do appreciate the consistency and predictability of following a set pattern each night, and although it took a while to establish, as soon as I play the bedtime music now George knows exactly what's happening. He relaxes, enjoys his bath and self settles himself to sleep.

The hardest parts of being a mother: Breastfeeding is one of the hardest things I have ever done. For something that is supposed to be so natural there was a lot of pain and discomfort. The pain of latching George on in the early days was excruciating. I would often cry with pain and send Ronan out of the room. When feeding was eventually well established and pain free at about six weeks I found out that George wasn't gaining weight and he had dropped from the 75th to the 9th centile. I was heart broken, I fed him constantly and he wasn't putting on weight - I couldn't believe it. My Doctor and Health Visitor advised me to give him a formula top up. The first night that my husband gave George some formula I was distraught. He gulped it down. I was so upset that this little creature who was so dependent on me would happily take milk from a bottle.

A friend sent me an article from The Telegraph entitled 'Breastfeeding may be best, but bottles of formula milk aren’t the end of the world'. The article basically said that lots of mothers don't produce enough milk and just because breastfeeding is natural it doesn't mean it works for everyone. Reading the article really helped me to lose the sense failure I felt for not being able to exclusively breastfeed. It was also reassuring to find out that my Mum had a similar experience feeding the four of us.

The best parts of being a mother: Seeing George's face light up in the morning and the way he kicks his legs in excitement when he sees me. Cuddling him and making him laugh. The love I feel for him is indescribable and I appreciate how lucky I am to have him.

Has becoming a mother changed you? As George is only six months old I think I am probably in the honeymoon period of being a full time Mum. I love my new life. At the moment I can't imagine going back to work and being apart from George for more than a few hours. Everything I do and plan is about George.

I have found though, that since becoming a mother I have definitely had to be tidier and more organised. I no longer worry about silly things.

Hopes for your family: I come from a family of four children and am very close to all of my brothers and sisters. I would love nothing more than for George to have a brother or sister sometime in the future. 

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums? The early days turn to weeks and the weeks to months and before you know it that tiny helpless newborn is a sturdy little vegetable scoffer. Try and enjoy every stage because the time really does fly by.

The advice, support and friendship gained from my NCT group has been invaluable, so I would definitely recommend attending a course. The breastfeeding support groups at my local Sure Start centres have been amazing. Talking to other new Mums in the early days kept me sane.

If you decide to breastfeed resign yourself to the fact that a newborn will be attached to your breast twenty four seven. The lady who ran the NCT class told us that you will barely have a chance to make a sandwich. I remember thinking how ridiculous, but she was right. Make yourself a little breastfeeding station with lots of water and food. I was permanently starving. Order yourself some box sets and try and enjoy the hours of cluster feeding. As they get older, babies become very efficient feeders and I now miss those long feeding sessions; just the two of us snuggling up together.

Never say never - a dummy, white noise and rocking all proved to be lifesavers in helping George to settle in the early weeks.

Here are a couple of articles I found very reassuring:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/mother-tongue/9877692/Breastfeeding-may-be-best-but-bottles-of-formula-milk-arent-the-end-of-the-world.html

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/lifestyle/9839227/Help-my-baby-wont-sleep-through-the-night.html

Nat and Frank

Name: Nat 

Child: Frank, 6 months 

Location: Didsbury 

Expectations of motherhood: My younger sister has two boys, 12 and 6 so I already had an insight into motherhood and all that it can be and to be honest, it’s probably why I put off having kids as long as I did. Just from my auntie duties, I knew first hand how tiring and relentless caring for a child can be and I quite liked being able to come home and drop them off before it got too much.

Jon and I had been married 5 years when I got pregnant and I think people had got fed up with asking us if we were going to have a baby. I just never felt like I was ready or old enough, just one more year and then maybe.

The year before Frank arrived we’d been living in Namibia, I was a lady of leisure and with all that time on my hands it was probably the first time that I’d really thought I could see myself with kids, instead I got a Jack Russell puppy, named Jim and he became my baby.

We’d not been living together back in Didsbury very long when I realised I was pregnant. Despite being in a position where I should have been overjoyed being pregnant - 33, married, good job, financially secure, house etc - I was mortified when I was holding a positive pregnancy test in my hand. 

The truth was I really liked my life with no baby in it. 2012 was going to be all about me after the last couple of years focusing on Jon and his career in Africa. We were trying to get back to some semblance of a normal married life together, enjoying going out and enjoying Didsbury’s bars and restaurants, throwing myself back into work and progressing my own career and then bang my year of ME was gone.

Consequently I didn’t tell many people until it got too hard to hide. I didn’t even let Jon tell his parents until 24 weeks in, I couldn’t face lying at how happy I was when people congratulated me. I knew I would love the baby when it arrived but I just needed to get my head round it first.

I was petrified of giving birth. To the point where I went out of my way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about it. I was scared of having no control of the situation, being so vulnerable and in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know.

People telling me that you just need to leave your dignity at the door when you give birth used to drive me crazy. I used to think if I could just take myself off and come back with a baby like the San bushman women do, I would have.

The first day of our weekend NCT course was dedicated to the birth and I did my best to zone out and pay no attention at all to what was being discussed around me. I didn’t want to know. The only things I retained from the whole weekend was 'you’re best off being on all fours in labour', that you needed to 'breathe your baby out' (seriously, I have NO idea how that’s meant to happen) and that you needed to 'lean on your family and friends (your network)who lived around you'. As Jon and I didn’t have any friends or family living nearby, my overwhelming feeling at the end of the course was that we were all alone in Manchester and I had another couple of months to get even more wound up by the thought of giving birth in front of a room full of strangers. 




I was expecting to spend Christmas Eve in the delivery suite. Frank was due on the 9th December. Everyone was telling me that first babies are always late and so I thought I had plenty of time to get ready, mentally prepare myself, relax, watch lots of TV, read some books. But after spending a long day walking around Manchester getting the last baby bits, Frank decided I was ready for him, nearly 3 weeks early.

Reality of motherhood: I wasn’t ready for him. Not in my head. I was expecting/hoping to be turned away from the hospital but they said no chance, he was on his way. It all happened very fast but ended up like an episode of Holby City. I cannot think of the whole experience without wincing.

He is ace, but it is relentless and I’m bloody knackered.

Motherhood has made me a bit crazy and I never realised what an obsessive Google fiend I was. How did Mothers know what to do before? Armed with so much information and choice at every stage has meant my ability to make decisions and be sure that I’ve made the right one has totally disappeared. 

A prime example of this is Frank’s name. I’ve spent the last 6 months avoiding using Frank’s name as I had major baby name remorse and I was convinced we should have called him something else. I could have named 30 girl babies, but boys names were really hard.

Frank didn’t have a name for over a week. As I was expecting him to be late, I’d thought I’d have at least another 4 weeks to think of one. In our hasty hospital packing, we’d forgotten a baby hat. The nurses put a tubagrip on his head after he was born, he looked like a little pixie so we nicknamed him Pixie and it’s stuck.

I found out a few weeks ago that you can easily change a babies name on their birth certificate before their 1st birthday. So I got my baby name shortlist out. Frank was lucky to be called Frank, I had some seriously weird names on that list. So he’ll stay Frank and hopefully I’ll be able to start calling him that soon.

I certainly wasn’t expecting to have to think about childcare so early on as I have a year off work. As Frank reached 8 weeks, someone asked me if I’d got my childcare sorted. I thought they were joking, but I soon discovered that finding the right nursery with a place available for Frank wasn’t going to be easy. It was quite depressing having to look into this kind of thing when he’d only just arrived and it was yet another thing to get obsessive about. Every nursery/childminder I could find were all booked up. I was so worried. Luckily as my worry was about to reach fever pitch, a lovely new nursery opened up in Didsbury, so he’s going there. That said I’ll have probably changed my mind several times about going back to work by the time he has his first day.

Taking Frank home for the first time: After one night in the hospital, we decided that we’d brave it and head home. Also I was dying to show the baby off to my mum who was still at ours with a chicken casserole. Getting out of the hospital was another matter altogether, the midwives were run ragged and trying to get one to discharge us seemed mission impossible. 

At 10pm we decided the best chance of getting out of there was to go and sit on the front desk of the ward. Funnily enough one of our new NCT couple friends Elly and Mike had the same idea, their baby Gabriel had arrived on the same day as Frank. It was lovely to see them and to swap notes on the previous 24 hours. (Me and Elly – How are you - that was bloody horrendous wasn’t it - never doing that again - The men- I’m so knackered, yeah me too I’m so knackered, haven’t slept for 24 hours etc...). My god.

Upon leaving we were warned to watch out for a fox that had attacked people in the car park. And before that I was just worried about Jon’s driving.

The Best advice: The best advice, I chose to ignore. When my GP told me I was crazy to be expressing milk every 2 hours and I’d be better off spending this time with the baby, I was still obsessed with upping my milk supply and giving my baby the best start I could. 



Oh how I wish now I had listened. It was only when I stopped that I really started enjoying motherhood. I feel sad when I try and recall those little details of the early months of Frank’s life, as I struggle. The memory of the whirring breast pump however is a vivid one.

The worst advice: Breast is best. I really did try breastfeeding. I never wanted to, but I felt I should, so when 2 minutes after he arrived I was asked if I was going to breast feed I said, 'Of course' (I’ve just breathed this baby out on all fours with no pain relief). I will feed him myself. So it was a shame when Frank wasn’t having any of it, which meant I had a humiliating few months ahead. 

The first 24 hours in hospital meant having my boobs manhandled by various midwives who were determined that this baby was going to feed whether he wanted to or not. We managed to get out of the hospital as me and the baby pretended that it had all gone well and we’d managed it ourselves without midwife intervention....

We tried again at home, but it still wasn’t happening.

That’s when I got it into my head that I would just express the milk. That way the baby got the best milk but without that trauma.....

After 6 weeks of expressing all the milk that Frank needed, the sound of the breast pump was driving me insane. I thought I should have one last try at breast feeding. I called one of the NCT breastfeeding counsellors who arrived screeching outside our house like some breast feeding emergency service. It’s only now that I can see the funny side of a 60 odd year old woman in my bedroom saying to me – “Right lets have a look at these nipples then”. But after the nice lady left, we still couldn’t get the hang of it, so the noisy, heavy milking machine was here to stay. 



Producing milk filled all my waking hours, when I wasn’t attached to the breast pump feeling like a prized heifer, I was Googling how to increase milk supply, tracking down supplies of Fenugreek or reading medical papers about drugs that have a side effect of boosting milk supply. Buying these over the counter remedies pretending I had an upset stomach...To say I became obsessed was an understatement.

The hardest part of being a mother: Undoubtedly the guilt is the hardest. After a good catholic upbringing I am no stranger to guilt, but the guilt I’ve experienced since Frank was born has driven me quite demented. Guilt that drove me to become obsessive about producing breast milk. Guilt for then expressing for so long when I should have stopped and spent more time with the baby. Guilt for not taking him to baby massage or baby yoga, or baby signing or baby dancing or baby sensory....Guilt about feeding him food out of pouches and jars. Guilt for not giving the dog enough attention. Guilt for not managing to get us into a routine. Guilt about not getting a nursery place sorted while pregnant. Guilt for putting him in his Jumperoo in front of Cbeebies. It’s never ending and I wish I could stop it.

The best parts of being a mother: He is wonderful. I love the beautiful smile that he gives me the second he wakes up and the vice like grip on my finger when I’m giving him his bottle. My favourite sounds are his happy squeal as he bounces like a maniac in his Jumperoo and his babbling conversations he has with my mum when she visits. It’s bitter sweet seeing him grow, he’s already such a little personality but it makes me a little sad when he grows out of his clothes and needs a bigger size of nappy!

Maybe not something to admit, but I love to escaping being a mum. Going to the Trafford centre or the pub – without Frank and pretending things were like they were before. Stuff I took for granted before but now give me more pleasure than they ever used to. Not surprisingly I now feel guilty for admitting that......

I’ve loved making my new NCT friends. We were all so reserved on the course and on the first couple of follow up meet ups but that all changed in the first get-togethers after the babies arrived. They are a wonderful group of women who don’t pretend that everything is perfect, thank God. I’ve loved getting together, getting their advice, eating cake (or drinking wine) and having a bitch fest about the guys or in-laws.

Has becoming a mother changed you? I think having Frank has made me a nicer person, I’m definitely more friendly and happier in general. My husband Jon tells me I’m less impatient and more tolerant. Most of the time. 

Hopes for your family: I hope that Frank is a happy boy. I hope that he’s respectful and polite with impeccable manners. I’m hoping he is kind. I’m hoping he doesn’t have any worries.

 I’m hoping that he will love to read and play tennis like I do, rather than have an obsession with motorbikes and riding them to the point of injury like his Dad. 

I’d like to think I’ll get over the traumatic birth, but I’m not sure I will enough to have another baby. Consequently I hope that Frank doesn’t mind having a Jim the dog for a brother and that he makes friends easily so he doesn’t get lonely.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums:
PACK YOUR HOSPITAL BAG. A bit of advice you read all the time, but due to my hatred of packing even for a nice weekend away, chose to ignore. Packing a hospital bag when in labour though was not fun.

Breast pumps will slowly drive you crazy.

Don’t go near a pair of jeans for a while after the baby arrived. They make you feel fat.

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)