Vivienne, Ed and Joe

Name: Vivienne

Children: Ed, 6 and Joe, 3.5

Location: Sale

Previous blog entry: http://www.the-mothers.co.uk/2011/10/vivienne-and-ed.html

Life since the last blog post: Since I last took part I have had another child (Joe), I have changed jobs to a more flexible working role which means I can work at home 3 or 4 days a week and we have moved house. 

Motherhood since last being on the blog: Motherhood has changed me massively. 

I feel I am far more mature, patient, responsible (some may say boring?) and care less about things that bothered me since I first became a mum. I am also far more relaxed and chilled with my second, I think anyway! 

First time round I did every baby group going which helped me in every way, but second time I attended barely anything, I just didn't have the time and I didn't feel needed to. 

Has motherhood changed you? I do worry a lot about the future and things that are way out of my control. I worry about getting old, and what will happen to the boys, and the world I am bringing them up in; things I perhaps wouldn't have thought so much about before. 

Looking back I think I was quite selfish before I became a mother, I partied quite a lot and life was all about having a good time. Of course it still is, but having a good time is now spending a relaxed weekend with the boys and an early night! This to me is bliss! 

Hardest parts of being a mother: The hardest part for me is the worrying about the future for my children. I worry about them being unhappy and having poor health. I worry about school, and the friendships they may make (or don't make). I basically worry. I'm a natural born worrier unfortunately, although I have a great group of other mum friends who put my mind at ease on a regular basis! 

Best parts of being a mother: The best part about being a mother for me is definitely the overwhelming feeling of love you have for another person. I know I am very lucky but the unconditional love we have for each other is the best feeling in the world, and to hear them say, 'I love you mummy' makes my heart explode every time I hear it. 

Every night before they go to sleep I lie with them and they tell me about their days including their best 'bits'. I love hearing about what they've been up to and how they view what's happened for them during the day. 

As they get older they're becoming our, and each other's, little pals. I am so proud of seeing what they can and do achieve. 

Also having two, seeing them play nicely together is amazing (and rare!) and makes me want to keep them like this forever. 

What you wish you’d known before having children: That it is a lot harder than you realise. Everything about it is hard. The lack of sleep, the constant demands on your time, your time is not yours anymore! But this definitely gets easier the older they get! 

Any more advice for mothers and expectant mums: Don't read the books, don't google, listen to your intuition; speak to other real life mums and get their advice. I googled everything to death and read every book going first time round but I found, and still find, the most invaluable bits of advice are from other mums.

Bethan and her children

Name: Bethan

Children: K (8), A (6)

Expectations of Motherhood: I have always wanted to be a mother but circumstances have meant that having a birth child of my own is not going to be an option. I don’t think I had ever thought that I would become a mother by myself but having found myself single and in my 40s realised that adoption was going to be the best way for me to achieve my goal. I was never concerned about having a baby and also knew that I wanted to adopt a sibling group. The adoption process takes quite a while and during that time I tried not to think too hard about what my children would be like. Instead I spent the time on preparation courses, speaking to other adopters and reading as much about adoption as I could. I like to think that I had realistic expectations and knew that any children I would eventually adopt would have had a difficult start in life.

Once I knew about K and A I considered them to be mine- however they were strangers to me and they did not even know I existed! I knew that taking on 2 children at once would be challenging, not least because they have differing needs, but I felt that I was prepared for it! For 4 months I only knew them from photographs and reports.

Reality of Motherhood: Motherhood has been exhausting, exciting, exhilarating and a whole lot tougher than I ever imagined! I don’t know about other adopters, but I could not say hand on heart that it was love at first sight. Love has grown and gets stronger every day as we get to know each other. The children have been with me for 13 months now and I would say that now it is beginning to feel more natural.

It has been so much fun getting to know their personalities, their likes and dislikes and building up new memories together. It has also been fantastic introducing them to my family and friends as well as making new friends together. I think we enrich each other’s lives and are all different as a result of having each other. The milestones of being a mother so far have been in terms of officialdom, first review, dates of court hearings, changing names etc. but now that all of that is behind us I feel like I can move forward with just enjoying being a mum.

Taking your children home for the first time: I met K and A for the first time 8 days before they moved in with me permanently. Over that period of time the amount of contact increased each day as the foster carers gradually passed on the caring responsibilities to me. The morning I went to pick them up was an exciting moment for me, but I was also very conscious that it was a sad time for the foster carers and a bewildering time for the children. For the first few weeks the children would not leave my side and I had to learn to do everything at their pace. As a single carer this was exhausting as I had no one to pass the baton to. However, those early days, weeks and months are incredibly important and we managed to get through them pretty much in tact!!


The best/worst advice: The best advice I have been given is to ‘ditch the ironing!’ 

It is too easy to set yourself really high standards and then feel a failure when you do not meet them, so I have also decided to lower my expectations to almost zero so that anything more than that is a bonus! I cannot think of any worst advice, but I suppose it has been easier to relate to people who have been through the adoption process. Some people offer advice with the best of intentions but when they do not fully understand the situation I find it often leaves me feeling like more of a failure!

The hardest parts of being a mother: In the early days it was the sheer exhaustion. I have never known anything like it. Now I would say it is trying to get the balance between being fun mum and strict mum.

The best parts of being a mother: The cuddles!! It has also been watching the children grow in confidence as they become more secure. I am proud of their achievements and love spending time with them. Sometimes strangers tell me how much my daughter looks like me and that gives me a warm glow inside!

Has becoming a mother changed you: Everything has changed for me. After 21 years of working full time I am now a full time mum and I really do not miss work which is a surprise to me. I am now looking at ways of working that fit around my children rather than my children fitting around my work.


Hopes for your family: My main hope is that my children have a life full of love and opportunities. We are fortunate to have amazing friends, and the children enjoy school and have a sense of adventure so are always keen to try new things. I hope that this continues.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: To anybody considering adoption I would say ‘go for it’. It is not an easy option and you need to go into it with your eyes wide open, but the rewards can be amazing!

Emily and Leo

Name: Emily

Child: Leo, 6

Location: Manchester


Expectations of motherhood: 

Low. I was a student and single and skint and it was a complete shock. I wasn’t keen on babies and didn’t know much about them, apart from the usual screaming, smelly stereotypes. I’d known the father for a while, but we weren’t together and he wanted nothing to do with it. I was absolutely mortified. 

I was and still am pro-choice, but when I was faced with that decision myself, I found I couldn't have an abortion. I spent eight months feeling very scared and angry. Had I known how things were going to turn out, I would have been quite excited, but at the time it all seemed pretty bleak. People kept telling me the baby would be the best thing that ever happened to me, but I thought they were just being kind. I went through a lot during my pregnancy; working long hours, having to fight to save my job, saying goodbye to the people and lifestyle I loved. Despite the weirdness of the situation, through all that, I did begin to feel like my baby and I were a team. I spoke to him when he moved and he became more real to me when I found out he was a boy at 20 weeks. But I couldn’t really see very far past the horror of giving birth, which terrified me. Beyond that, I knew I was signing up to a life very different to anything I’d ever imagined and just hoped it would all work out. 

Reality of Motherhood: 

Overall, a pleasant surprise... 

The birth was atrocious, but that’s what I expected. There was no earth mother idyll for me; I knew it was going to hurt and I knew I wanted every drug I could get. My predictions came true: thirty-odd hours of back-to-back labour, loads of gas and air, two shots of pethidine, an epidural that I had to beg (scream) for, followed by an emergency Caesarean (it turned out after all that, he wasn’t even engaged and never would have come out the conventional way.)

I didn’t get the bolt of love people go on about but I did think my baby looked beautiful – and weirdly familiar. They put him in the crook of my arm in the recovery room and I knew I wanted to protect him no matter what. Happily, one sunny afternoon when things had calmed down a bit, I got the famous rush and it was as good as everyone says. The late nights and bodily fluids take over for a while and you get on with it because you have to.

People say nature makes you forget the pain of labour and I reckon it makes you forget the general chaos of having a small baby too. I sometimes think, ‘it wasn't that bad.' I was very lucky because Leo slept and smiled a lot, but it was hardly a relaxing time. Now, I'll see a bottle of Infacol or get a whiff of a newborn nappy and think ‘Oh God, remember all that...’

I love Leo immensely. I am so pleased that I was miles off the mark when I thought parenthood would be crap. We have great adventures together, he’s endlessly entertaining and loving, friends love spending time with him and that makes me proud. Leo can remedy the worst days with a drawing or a cuddle or a pun. He comes out with wise stuff way beyond his years, but then he’ll still ask me to do a puppet show with his teddies at bedtime. Leo gave me the determination to get stuff done, too: I went back to university and finished my degree, then forged a career. So it is a cliché, but all those people who said he'd be the best thing that ever happened to me weren't wrong. 

I’m not going to say being a single parent is perfect or ideal: it is hard on your own, but because it’s just been us two from day one, it’s all both of us have ever known. I am also incredibly lucky to have a lot of practical and emotional support from friends and family and I am extremely grateful for that. I love being Leo’s mum and I am so happy he came along when he did. 

Taking your child home for the first time: 

I stayed in hospital for a week, overhearing the other women on the ward begging to go home and thinking they were mad. OK, the food was abysmal, but who wouldn't want to be able to buzz the nurses for more morphine or help changing nappies? Then I realised it was because they had partners waiting for them and were actually excited about what lay ahead. 

I’d moved in with Mum in the late stages of my pregnancy. After she’d driven us home (really slowly), I put Leo down in the car seat in the middle of the living room floor. He looked out of place. I stared at him, wondering what the hell I would do with him when he woke. Not long after that, he did and I didn’t get a second to worry about how I’d cope again. 

The Best / Worst Advice:  

On one of those early, blurry days, the crying was relentless. I kept forgetting to eat, my Caesarean wound was hurting, I had greasy hair and I really needed a shower. I remember sitting on the loo sobbing with Leo strapped to me in a sling because I didn't think I could put him down while he was crying. It was exactly how I’d imagined motherhood was going to be and I didn’t like it one bit. 

I rang Mum on her lunch break and wept. She said, “If he has a clean nappy and you know he’s not hungry, just try putting him down and seeing if he'll go to sleep.” I took her advice and a few minutes later, he did. Obviously, if he cried for longer than ten minutes (which he did during the colic stage), I picked him up and comforted him, but nine times out of ten, he was crying because he was overtired and just fell asleep. I do realise this isn’t the case with all babies and apparently it’s quite controversial, but it worked for us. 

Mum and the health visitor meant well when they told me to go to mother and baby groups, but as a young, single parent, they didn’t turn out to be the best environment for me. There’s definitely a silent air of competitiveness in that scene. Who’s the earthiest? Whose baby will get a tooth first? Who will get back into her old jeans first? Who has the fanciest pram? Also, having just had a baby, the last things I wanted to talk about were baby poo, baby clothes, baby wee, baby sleep patterns, baby accessories, babies, babies, babies, hubbies and babies. I found the whole thing more intimidating than supportive, but I realise that was probably because of my circumstances. 

Since babyhood, the best advice I’ve received is just to give your child a lot of love, be as open and honest with them as is age appropriate and praise them loads when they’re good. 

I didn’t read any manuals. Even if you haven’t got a clue, instinct kicks in. They’re humans, so they’re all different. You’ll figure out what works for yours. 

The hardest parts of being a mother: 

For me, breastfeeding. There was this natural thing that was going to give my baby the best start in life and I couldn’t bloody do it. What a start. I didn’t get the skin-to-skin contact I’d requested after the Caesarean and when I put him on my breast in the recovery room, he just ignored it. A few hours later, the ward staff told me he was hungry, he’d have to eat and I should try him with a bottle. I asked them if it would jeopardise my plans to breastfeed and they said it wouldn’t. I was shattered and worried so I agreed and that was a big mistake. Bottles give babies milk instantly, but they have to work for a bit to get it from the breast. After that first bottle, he would pull away from the breast screaming because no milk came out straight away. He just wouldn’t do it. Breasts only produce milk when they’re stimulated, so I was running low on supplies and in a bit of a Catch 22. Instead of resting when Leo slept, I tortured myself with the breast pump. They’re vicious machines; growling and dragging your nipple unfeasibly far down a clear plastic tube. I’d be plugged into the mains for an hour, exhausted, all for a pathetic trickle. I never quite mastered it and ended up doing half-and-half. I got daggers at the mother and baby groups when I took out a bottle and felt guilty, but I’d been through a heck of a lot and I know I did my best, so I wish I’d have gone easier on myself. 

God, the loneliness gets you in the evenings when you’re on your own. You want someone to summarise the day with, talk about your child’s achievements, put the bins out, muck in with the washing up, maybe pour you a glass of wine and give you a massage (or whatever it is partners do.) I’ve learnt that the best thing to do is to go to bed and wake up in the morning to the best company, even if he does think my bed is a bouncy castle. 



 Nits are a horrible business. Big decisions are tricky, as is the anxiety.

Being the sole wage earner is a lot of pressure. Nursery lulls you into a false sense of security with its long opening hours. When they start school, you’ve got 13 weeks a year of holidays, 3pm finishes, assemblies, plays, inset days, sports days and massive guilt to contend with. But you know, it might be trite but all of it is worth it.

 The best parts of being a mother:

There’s a lot of ephemeral pain, theories, processes and paraphernalia involved in having a baby. It can be chaotic and slightly traumatic, even if it all goes well. When all that’s over and you’ve chucked out the last nappy sack and the safety gates and the buggy, it’s just you, a really interesting person and their toys. That’s when things start to get exciting. I didn’t dislike having a baby, but I loved the magic of Leo learning to talk, draw and trying to understand the world. Other notable good parts include: smiles (especially the first one when all you've been getting before that are dirty looks), contagious chuckles, massive fat thighs (theirs not yours), general pride, getting back into stuff you'd forgotten like metamorphosis, swings, space, dinosaurs, trick-or-treating, wobbly teeth and Father Christmas. Also bedtime stories, colouring in, nonsensical chats and crap jokes, copious hugs, bonkers drawings, endearingly misspelt cards and cute mispronunciations.  (“Please may I have something from the offending machine?”) Finally, feeling a part of a bold team and having loads of regular laughs. A rubbish day is quickly picked up when I go to collect Leo from after school club. I can be walking along a grotty street getting battered by the wind and rain, but if I’m holding his hand and listening to him telling me about his day, it’s a joyous stroll.

Hopes for your family:

Everyone says it but all you want is for them to be happy. I hope Leo will always be as confident as he is right now and that the teenage years will pass without too much drama. Before he grows up and buggers off, I hope I can afford to buy us a house. If it had a garden, a trampoline and maybe even a treehouse, that would be perfect. I'd also like to go on a magnificent adventure with Leo somewhere far, far away but I think that might be pushing it a bit.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums:  

Pessimism pays! If your pregnancy is unplanned and you think that having a baby is going to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you might be in for a pleasant surprise.

 Don't bother with a birth plan – you're only setting yourself up for disappointment. It is going to hurt and if it’s your first one, it’s probably going to take ages. Gas and air is good stuff.

If you really want to breastfeed, insist on skin-to-skin contact as soon as possible after the birth. Don't be tempted to give your baby a bottle in the first few days, even if you’re off your face on morphine and you’re told it’s hungry. Your real milk doesn’t even turn up until day four or five and until then, nature makes sure colostrum does the job. If you are knackered and in pain and you’ve reached the end of your tether and you do end up giving them a bottle, don’t beat yourself up about it.

 Talk to your baby from an early age – they take in more than you realise and will shock you with what they pick up.

Don’t buy CDs of kids singing nursery rhymes (unless you want to send yourself under.) Listen to whatever music you’ve always listened to and they’ll grow up loving it (or at least having an opinion on it.)



A Nitty Gritty nit comb, tea tree oil, gallons of conditioner and lashings of patience will serve you well when the head lice move in.

 Make videos: that funny squeaky noise they make when they come out, the dance they do when they’re eighteen months old – they’re all just phases.

Read to your child every evening, unless you’ve had a long day out and it’s a late night, or you’re in a tent with a wind-up torch.

If you’re on your own, Gingerbread (http://www.gingerbread.org.uk) offer brilliant advice and support. Also, I’d have been lost without my Homestart volunteer (http://www.home-start.org.uk) and the wonderful SureStart Centre and services (which have very sadly been drastically cut by the Government, but do still exist in some areas)

(https://www.gov.uk/find-sure-start-childrens-centre.) Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. Babyhood is surreal and chaotic, but it passes and calms. Your child keeps you focussed, amused and strong. Always.

Don't forget your non-parent friends. Don’t forget yourself.

And tell your child just how much you love them, every single day.

Emma, Jake and Ted

 Name: Emma 

Children: Jake, 6 and Ted, (nearly) 3 

Location: Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I can’t think what my expectations of motherhood were. I was very clear I wanted children, but I’m not sure I’d properly thought about the whole thing of bringing up a baby. I knew it would be hard but I think during pregnancy I was very focused on being pregnant and the birth and had maybe forgotten to think about the baby bit! In some ways this was really naïve, but then at the same time I’m glad I didn’t spend loads of time looking at books and building up an unrealistic sense of what motherhood and my child was going to be like.

It meant that I hadn’t set myself really high expectations (first time round). I hadn’t spent loads of time thinking about how I was going to ‘do’ motherhood, I rather muddled along, which has worked pretty well for me. I guess there are things that I’ve found myself feeling quite strongly about, but they’ve not been things I’ve thought about loads in advance, more stuff that I’ve come up against and found myself having quite clear ideas about what is the right thing to do for my family and me.

Reality of Motherhood: I look back at myself when Jake was a baby and I think I had some crazy times. Jake was the kind of baby (or I was the kind of mother) that wanted to be permanently attached to me, feeding, carried whatever and lots of crying (can I just balance this with saying he was also the sweetest loveliest little thing, but he certainly wasn’t an ‘easy’ baby, if there is such a thing). And I totally went along with his every whim. Some of the time this was OK, but I remember once being on the phone to my friend and crying saying I haven’t even been able to have any lunch (bless her I’ll never forget this, she then got a box of groceries/goodies sent round to me that afternoon, so sweet and she must have thought I was losing it!). I have to remember those times when I see first time mothers seemingly fussing. It’s such a life-changing experience and you kind of exist in a bubble for those first few months.

Second time round with Ted, I was properly prepared. I knew (or thought I knew) how difficult it was going to be. And then Ted was the happiest, easiest baby.. apart from reflux and the sleep thing, which took over 2 years to work out! But whether it was me being less highly strung, or what it was, he seemed pretty contented from day one and I found motherhood so much easier second time round. 

Taking your children home for the first time: When we brought Jake home it was so exciting, my mum and dad had driven up from London and I just couldn’t wait for them to meet him, it felt really special. With Ted it was all about Jake. Ted’s birth was really quick and I had him in the night so basically we went into hospital at midnight and were back around 6ish, so before Jake was out of bed. I remember it so well, saying “Jake there’s someone we want you to meet” and him coming downstairs and sitting on the sofa next to Ted asleep in his car seat, with Jake grinning from ear to ear. I have a photo and it’s one of my favourite ever pictures, Jake just looks so happy, so excited. I just remember how huge and grown up Jake suddenly seemed, 3 years old but suddenly a proper little man. And then, calling my mum up from the spare room in the cellar. She thought I’d just gone in for a check-up and had no idea that there would be a new grandson waiting to meet her.

The best/worst advice: I don’t know that I sought much advice as such, apart from specifics like to do with breastfeeding and sleep when I needed them, but I can’t think of any lifesaving advice that has helped me, in particular. However I have been very lucky that I’ve got lots of friends and people around me who don’t push advice on me but are there for me if/when I need them. I am also lucky that my mum isn’t one of those ‘I know best types’ and I think maybe I took my cue from her in terms of just going with the flow working out what worked what didn’t etc.

Maybe the best bit of advice I heard after Jake was a bit older and some friends and I were reflecting on early motherhood was that “nobody ever tells you that babies won’t die from crying” – meaning you can put them down for a few seconds, rather than in the sense of leaving them to cry all day. Which actually I wish someone had said to me when Jake was very small, as this probably would have made a huge difference, even though it is so obvious!

The hardest parts of being a mother: When the children are ill. We’ve been lucky with both Jake and Ted, there are no significant long term health issues that we’ve become aware of. However Ted’s had a few scares along the way, some worries with his breathing when he was very small, a hernia op and most recently (just after these photos were taken) a meningitis scare. For a child under 3 he’s had too many nights in hospital and it’s been in part awful – watching your child go under general anaesthetic is not an experience I would want to repeat – but at the same time he’s amazed me by the way he’s coped with situations like this. When we were in recently for two nights, he was ace. Once he felt a little bit better (but we were still waiting for blood test results) he saw it as an adventure, which made it easier for me to cope with the situation too. It’s only when I stop to think, I get scared about what might have been and also think about all the children and families whose hospital visits aren’t quite so fleeting and realise how lucky we are. I think the hardest thing is this overwhelming responsibility you feel, when you don’t always feel like a responsible adult yourself.

I should also say the challenges of combining a career with motherhood. For me this necessitates working most nights and constantly juggling my part time job with school pickups etc, but then I’m also so pleased I’ve been able to do this, and happy to accept the challenges this involves.

The best parts of being a mother: It’s so difficult to separate out the best parts. I love being a mum, I love the strength of the bond I have with my two boys, I love seeing them grow up, learning new things. I love the way they are with each other. I love seeing them laugh and grow into individual personalities. I love watching my children when they are unaware of my presence and just getting on with their lives, talking and playing with friends. It feels like such a privilege to be part of something so exciting.

Hopes for your family: It’s quite simple; my hopes for Jake and Ted are that they will be happy. For me I think confidence is a really important aspect of being happy, and I hope that’s something I can help instill by being supportive and encouraging. I also think it is my job to help them to learn to be caring citizens which involves lots of things including being tolerant of many different kinds of people from different backgrounds and basically thinking about others rather than just themselves. Of course as young children they are currently fairly self-centred but I hope they will develop into sensitive, but also hopefully hilariously funny, adults. And I hope that we manage to retain a close relationship and friendship in their adult years.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: I think it has to be to go with the flow. I don’t think you can ever fully prepare yourself by reading and listening to people, as so much depends on what works for you and you baby/family and how you are feeling at the time. I’d say don’t set the bar too high in early motherhood. So what if you are still in your pyjamas at midday? What does it matter if the housework isn’t done? Enjoy your time with your baby and try not to put yourself under too much pressure, do what works for you and your child. It sounds clichéd but you will never get that time back and I think it’s important to find your own way that works best for you.

Sally and Frank

Name: Sally 

Child: Frankie (nearly) 6

Location: Preston

Expectations of motherhood: My pregnancy was, lets say, sooner than I had planned, and so with that my expectations were limited, I spent most of my pregnancy worrying and panicking. Retrospectively I was so underprepared and just dealt with things as they came along. Having few expectations was not necessarily a bad way to do it, it was just the way it was at the time (with intermittent ‘oh shit’ moments of course!) And sweet fantasies of what this little person was going to look like, smell like, feel like, sound like, my expectations kind of rolled from day to day.....

Reality of motherhood: Essentially the first few years you seem to be so tied up, involved, and breathe every essence of it. From the tiny routine chores to the massive overwhelming feelings of love and guilt and knackeredness; it's border line insanity. This sounds so terrible, but I think it took me until he was about 5/6 months old to realise that he wasn’t going anywhere. I was so wrapped up in the sleep patterns, teething pains, feeds and nappies... I remember sitting down one day and thinking ‘What's next? Whatever it is, Franks here, an he ain’t going anywhere!’ I just had not had the time to take it all in.

For me, as the years slide along and you can see the time going so fast, that sense of worry eases and you start to get bits of yourself back and it allows you to appreciate the journey at bit more. After spending those first years giving yourself to the baby you slowly remember that you also have to give to yourself and let your child see that, as a positive life lesson.

As Frankie is growing the problems change - the joys, and tears and laughs - but he still takes up the same amount of space in my brain as he did from day one (just in different ways). I guess it will always be that way from now on.

Taking your child home for the first time: Seems blurry. It's weird but i enjoyed the cooked bland hospital food, lack of house work and the safety of the warm night lights in the  hospital ward, and, to be honest, was in no massive rush to get home.

As I believe all new Mums are, I couldn’t take my eyes off Frankie whether he was asleep, awake, feeding, whatever, and became quickly addicted to smelling the top of his soft, dark, damp little head. We drove home, midday, with the new car seat so so so slooooooowwwww because we had the most precious cargo. The house had been cleaned - and although with the greatest of intentions I am sure - it really infuriated me because Frank’s Dad had used bleach. I could smell it, and I remember thinking, ‘How rude and harsh and inconsiderate - my baby cant have products like that used in his environment!’ (jeeseeee) Over reaction, but the hormones seemed ridiculous by day three; home day! 

But as I stepped into the living room i saw it was full of cards and flowers, and the moses basket was set up all ready and perfect and that made me feel proud. Frankie had fallen asleep in the car on the way home, I hadn’t imagined that he would, I had thought it would be hectic and crazy, but for the first hour or so it was just still and quiet. I found that comedown a bit intimidating, the world closed down so small. It didn’t stay quiet for long!

Best/Worst advice: I think all of the advice that comes from friends and family whether you find it useful or useless comes from a good place, and it just lands which ever way you and your baby choose to place it.

My Mum is an experienced, practicing midwife and her advice is essentially 'roll with it'. Obviously if I ask for help she’s there without fail, but I know ultimately her faith lies in nature and the waves between newborn babies and their mother. I feel lucky to be around someone like her, with such faith and commitment, but at the same time I applied pressure on myself to be the same, and I’m not sure I was self-confident enough to go with that mind set all the time. I sometimes enjoyed the simple, rigid advice that my Grandma threw out from somewhere in the late 1950s, which I am sure made my Mum silently cringe... but only for a second.

Hardest Parts of being a mother: Aside from the practicalities of the whole balancing act, controlling feelings of worry about doing the best thing for you baby/child in the long run is easily the hardest part for me. Frankie goes to his Dad’s most weekends and it's difficult coping with the empty house after the noise of the week. But I know its more important that he remains close to his Dad, and remind myself that in many ways I am lucky to have that freedom.

Best Part: Chubby cheeks, first smiles, mashing up bananas, silly words, pointless giggles, the stressed times when one small thing they do takes it all away. Sleepy sleepy cuddles, first sloppy wet kisses, wellington boots, trying not to laugh at tantrums. Realising that they’ve got you exactly where they want you and that quite frankly you don’t mind anymore, play fights, christmas mornings, paddling in the sea, sweets. Deciding that McDonald’s is officially guilt free, having your own favourite kids show, getting new pets. The bringing home of drawings, leaves, conkers and finding weird things in Frank’s pockets (like squidged up orange segments, yum.) Watching them do something kind for some one else, night time chit chats and the sound they make when scoffing their tea in........... millions and millions of tiny things make the best bits of being a Mum. At the moment I love Frank’s conversations - I am surprised at how insightful he is, but the best bit is watching him play with and develop his own sense of humour.

Hopes for your family: I hope Frank will always feel that I am here for him to come to and that we remain always best buds. I really would like to see him grow into a kind, non-judgemental, confident, ambitious and fulfilled soul.

Any advice for expectant mums: Its important to talk, don’t be shy, don’t feel judged (there is no right way to do it), remember that the sky won’t be falling down if you fuck up a few times! And take millions of photographs... they might bore your peers right now, but they’ll only increase in value to you, gold dust.