Liz and August

Name: Liz

Child: August, 8 months

Location: Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood:
I knew it would be tough, but to be honest I couldn't actually picture myself as a mother so it all seemed a bit delusional. I tried not to think about it too much and just hoped a healthy baby would appear at the end.

Reality of Motherhood:
The first 6 weeks............... horrific! I could not believe nobody had pulled me to one side and warned me about this while I was pregnant.

Obviously the sleep deprivation is a killer, but absolutely nothing prepares you for this. You would never be put in a situation (unless as a form of torture) where you are woken every 2 hours. It was around week 2 that I realised I would not be having more than a 3 hour block of sleep for quite a while! This would be bad enough on its own, but add to it a bruised and battered body, plus learning to breast feed and its even worse!

Now 8 months in...... motherhood is still exhausting but so much fun! 

I feel so privileged to spend everyday with August.

Taking your child home for the first time:
After spending three days in a shared room with 4 other women (one of whom was in labour!) with August screaming the place down and demanding a feed every 30 minutes I was ready to get the hell home! My partner and dad picked us up and it felt like a getaway car. We shoved all my stuff into a bag, grabbed the baby and fled! I was sure they'd made a mistake and if we weren't quick enough they would change their minds and be after us.

As soon as we got home I started cleaning.....I went into hospital on the Monday morning and didn't get home til the Thursday evening, so nothing was how I left it. Two grown men had been living at home while I was away so let's just say standards had slipped a bit!

The best/worst advice:
The worst advice was from a breast feeding counsellor who said, 'if it hurts your doing it wrong'. I did everything I was supposed to but it still hurt. A lot! 

I stuck with it and after about a month things fell in to place. I think August and I were just getting used to something that was new to both of us.

The hardest parts of being a mother:
No matter how much help you have or are promised, in reality it all comes down to you. I think it was around the third month I suddenly realised, 'Oh my god I am the one who has to do everything!'

The best parts of being a mother:
The bond I have with August right now. 

I know as she gets older this will be split more equally between her father and I, but while she is still a baby and so dependant on me I'm enjoying the rewards of being the apple of her eye!

Has becoming a mother changed you?
In some ways yes but these could be temporary as it's still the first year. She is my number one and it can be hard to concentrate on much else. The idea of going back to work at some point scares the hell out of me and I'm lucky that I can take my time a bit. I do look back on things I used to worry about and think, 'WOW, you had way too much time to think about things!'

Hopes for your family:
I just want to raise a happy, healthy, and confident little girl and hope that I can be there as much as possible for her.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums?In the first few weeks only surround yourself with people who will be 100% supportive of you. You will most probably be exhausted, depressed, highly strung and extremely emotional, so anyone judgemental need not apply!

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)

Holly, Willow and Wilbur

Name: Holly 

Children: Willow 5yrs, Wilbur 8 months

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester 

Expectations of Motherhood: I always knew that I wanted to have children, but I think I wanted to wait for the feeling of being 'grown up' enough to become a mum.

I originally did a degree in Art and Sociology, but found when  job hunting it wasn’t very useful, so I initially worked in care jobs and mental health. A couple of years later I started a degree in Occupational Therapy to try and combine my creative side and my health care interests.

Half way through my degree we started getting a little complacent when it came to contraception and I got pregnant.

When I was younger I never felt that I understood other women or how I should really behave as a woman, so when I got pregnant I very naively felt like this was my opportunity to be the ultimate earth mother, living “as one” with this beautiful thing inside me that was made out of love. I wanted my birth experience to be calm, happy, the very epitome of womanhood and a bonding experience for my husband and I (and my mum who was supposed to be with me). Of course, it didn’t turn out as I had hoped or expected. 

I was utterly gutted when I went for a scan after a small bleed at 12 weeks to find out that my baby had died. I had a horrible miscarriage and cried for weeks. I became fixated on becoming pregnant again, probably to prove I could do it more than anything. 

When Willow was born I had planned to breastfeed her exclusively. I was prepared for the sleepless nights and the constant feeding and knew it was going to hurt, but I was determined I was going to feed her myself. I was even naive enough to think that women that didn’t breastfeed their child simply didn’t try hard enough!

As Willow grew up I had very clear vision that I wanted her to not feel restricted to girlie toys and have everything pink. I wanted her to hate Barbie, to climb trees, to get mucky and love it.
With my second child, Wilbur, I had expected to get pregnant straight away; it took three years. In this time I lost three stone and had another miscarriage, then I finally got pregnant with Wilbur. Eventually, I realised that he was a real baby who was going to make an appearance and so I should plan for his birth. My plans were very modest and all I really wanted was for it to be a positive experience, and nothing like my first birth experience.


I had expected motherhood to come naturally to me. I had expected what people tell you will happen; the rush of love for your baby, the elation when they are born and the grief of separation when they have to go to nursery and school. Needless to say, the reality was quite different! 

Reality of Motherhood:  Wow, the reality of motherhood hit me hard!

Willow’s arrival could not have been more different than how I had planned. She was breech and I had to have a planned Cesarean section. I had assumed an elective c-section would have been calm, positive and a pain free way of having my baby but I was totally shocked about how brutal the process was and how brusque the staff seemed. I started crying on Willow’s second day and must have stopped only 3 weeks later. Looking back I quite obviously has a rather nasty case of postnatal depression. 

Breastfeeding Willow did not go to plan, my milk never came in fully and she lost over 10% of her body weight. I had to mix bottle and breast feeding and beat myself up for months for not being able to exclusively feed her. I was not prepared for the constant anxiety and guilt or the insomnia, and not being able to drift off to sleep because I was so wired and terrified that she would wake up and want feeding at any moment.

Despite my hippy, earth-motherly dreams I was not a natural maternal type. Willow was a very unhappy baby, full of colic and never seemingly comfortable. She would scream from about 3pm in the afternoon until 9 or 10 pm and would be inconsolable. We would call it “suicide hour”.

I knew I had to care for her but I remember not being in love with her or particularly liking her. All the mums at the baby groups seemed to be doting on their babies but I just wanted mine to stop screaming for long enough for me to get some sleep. It turned out that poor Willow had silent reflux but she didn’t get diagnosed until she was about 5 months old. After being put on the right medication she became a much happier baby and we got to know each other all over again. I started to fall in love with her and realise that we had all had a really tough few months, but now things were only going to get better. 

My experience with my second child was totally different. I had a c-section booked but wanted a natural birth so when I went into labour naturally I was really happy. The labour was actually OK, I’ve had more painful toothache and although it was very uncomfortable and very intense I almost enjoyed the primal, instinctive aspect of it. My husband and one of my best friends were with me throughout. Sucking on gas and air and a couple of jabs of Diamorphine got me through 26 hours and then Wilbur was born. I was completely elated. I fell in love with him the moment I saw him, and I finally understood what all the other mums I knew were going on about!

Wilbur seemed so easy compared to my first experience. He was easily soothed and he didn’t cry all the time. I exclusively breastfed him, however he got an infection in his umbilical cord and again I didn’t have enough milk to keep his weight up. He lost 15.9% of his body weight and had to be admitted to hospital at 5 days old. I was gutted to have to start mix feeding again but he was going to be seriously ill if we didn’t.

Taking your children home for the first time: Taking my daughter home felt wonderful because I had had such a horrible time in hospital that I thought home was the answer to everything. As it turned out, home was the start of a whole new level of sleeplessness and perforated ear drums from the constant screaming. I ran on adrenaline and hysterics. My mum had come to help us out and ended up not leaving for about three months because I was such a wreck. My mum being around was a blessing and a curse really because she seemed to be the only person who could soothe Willow - I felt increasingly useless.

Taking Wilbur home was a totally different experience. My mum was there again, but I was determined to be more together this time. I was really lucky enough to get the support I needed.

There was a moment when I looked at my daughter and my new baby and suddenly all the hippy-dippy earth motherly feelings I had initially hoped for actually happened! I felt like I had everything I had ever wanted.

The best/worst advice: The best advice I had was from my friend Audrey. I would often take my daughter and go and hide at her house in the afternoon (to try and distract the baby from the evening screamies). She told me everything with children is a phase, even the good stuff - so whatever they are like now, it won’t last forever. That saw me through some very dark times!

The worst advice I had was whilst we were trying to get pregnant with Wilbur. It took three years to get pregnant and I had to go to the women’s hospital for investigations. People would constantly say, “Oh you just need to relax!” and, “Stop trying and it will just happen”. It drove me nuts even though I knew people were just trying to be nice.

The hardest parts of being a mother: The hardest part of being a mum has to be accepting that I have limitations and I don’t always have the answers or solutions to every problem.

Finding (and sharing) the time and energy for the people I love is also tricky. With my first baby I think my husband and I forgot to give each other enough attention, and that made it hard to get on when we were both tired and grumpy. 

The best parts of being a mother: The best parts of being a mother has to be being able to witness this creature that you have made turn into a little person with a very big personality.

The laughter and joy in simple and unexpected things is wonderful, for example, the relief in seeing a great big poo erupt from your baby when he has been constipated for days are joyful!

Hopes for your family: My hopes for my family are that we will remain close. I come from a large family of half brothers and half sisters, but none of us are particularly close. I would love for Willow and Wilbur to be there for each other when they grow up.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Have realistic expectations! Child birth and babies are unpredictable things and trying to have control over every aspect of it can really backfire. 

I listened to a hypnobirth CD about giving birth naturally after a c-section for a few weeks before I had my second child; I found it really helped to relax me and give me a positive outlook on having another baby. My other bit of advice would be not to worry if you don’t immediately feel gushy and maternal, it doesn’t mean you won’t love your child or give it a great start in life.

Additional comments:

Miscarriage affects 1 in 4 pregnancies, and that is a lot of women. I found the silence surrounding being pregnant for the first 12 weeks and pregnancy loss very isolating. The Miscarriage Association website is full of information and Tommy’s do fantastic work and have a midwife available to talk to.

http://www.tommys.org/

http://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk/

Charlotte and Max

Name: Charlotte

Child: Max, 17mths

Location: Chorlton, Manchester 

Expectations of Motherhood: My journey into motherhood didn’t happen easily, so when it came to me taking the last pregnancy test - I had done so many by this point - I knew this one was different. I was scared to take it! I didn’t want to believe that what we had hoped for (and had started to feel wasn’t meant to be) was finally going to happen!

No matter how much I had wanted and planned for that moment, I couldn’t believe it was happening (and took 3 more tests!). After my initial feelings faded I had the most magical day, feeling that it wasn’t just me anymore, that I had a little one inside me. Oddly enough this actually eased my fear. From that day onwards I made a conscious decision to talk to my baby (well, bump!) and to make sure I continued to do all I could to feel connected to my little one.

I loved being pregnant and had so many special moments that I was quite scared of how I would feel not being pregnant and how would I deal with the reality of a baby. I didn’t have any experience of babies and wondered, 'What if it turns out that I don’t know what to do?' 

These were some of the many chats I had with my bump, or ‘bean’ as he was known by then. 

Reality of Motherhood: After a 37 hour labour I can honestly say I didn’t have that gushing feeling of overwhelming love, I just felt so relieved that it was over and we were all ok! 

Unfortunately we both picked up an infection which resulted in a further 5 nights stay in hospital - suffice to say I was exhausted and well and truly feeling the baby blues. I was desperate to take my baby home and for us to start to be a family, however in this was a difficult, and an often very isolated time. There was one moment that stayed with me, and made it all worthwhile, cuddling Max one night I read his tiny wristband, and it hit me, that this was MY son I was holding, and that I was now a Mum! A delayed reaction I know, but well worth the wait! 

And then came the getting home, and my God, although I had been desperate to get home it was a case of careful what you wish for! I had issues with breastfeeding from early on and basically became permanently attached to my breast pump (bought by my very stressed husband on the second day of being home after I had burst into tears on him again!). 

I had made the decision in my own mind that if I was going to have to give him a bottle that it would at least be breast milk that I fed him. I felt so guilty that I couldn’t breastfeed that sometimes when I fed Max in public I would try and hide so people wouldn’t see the bottle. Because of this it became a bit of a mission that I was determined to carry on for as long as I could and consequently expressed continuously to build up enough stock. I knew deep down that I couldn’t keep this up for too long (and my health visitor tried to say the same). I knew that I needed to stop beating myself up about it and just make the decision to stop, but anyone else who has been in this position will know how hard it is. I had to make the decision when I was ready to do so. 

In truth I was massively unprepared for the reality of having a baby and how much my life would change. If someone had told me before that I would walk down Beech Road after meeting a friend for lunch wearing a white top covered in mustard baby poo, I would have simply said, 'Absolutely no way!' and laughed out loud. But I did do that, and although it was mortifying, I did laugh - although not in the way I would have thought. 

The reality is you do these things, and sometimes it isn’t glamorous, or easy, but there is one very good reason why you do it, and that’s for your baby. Although unprepared on one hand I was also so well equipped on the other. All I had to do was what I had always done, talk to my baby and somehow by doing so we’d get through it - together - and 17 months later I’m still doing that and we are! 

Bringing your baby home for the first time: After being stuck in hospital and having to see Max given antibiotics through a cannula strapped to his tiny little arm (which made dressing around it fun!), I couldn’t get out of there quick enough to start family life (whatever that meant). 

Walking out of hospital with your baby is one of the most surreal moments you will ever experience, followed by a very tense drive home. The drive was especially tense for Olly (including a few choice words for the man who nearly crashed into us)! 

We made it home…and after that, well to be honest my overriding memory was of eating the nicest bowl of pasta Olly had ever cooked (following 5 days hospital food). I’m not entirely sure where Max was (asleep in his car seat I assume!). Following that the health visitor turned up at some ridiculous hour the next morning to find Max and I still in bed, and none of us being clean! Not the best start, but it only got better! 

Best Advice: For me, the best advice that I was given was to talk to my baby, and that by doing so he would find a way of telling me what he wanted/needed, and if I kept that up we’d be ok...and it’s true, but then again it did come from the best source - my Mum! From my perspective I would say no matter what you read, or what you hear, it’s really important to trust yourself. After all your baby and your own instincts are there for a reason. 

On a practical level I would advise investing in a baby CD (The lovely sleepy baby one worked for us!). It might drive you mad after a while but it really helps to settle them during the witching hour that is late afternoon/early evening!

I also used a sound machine in our room from day one, allowing Max to fall asleep to the sounds of the ‘ocean! This still works really well now, and helps me to sleep too! It helped to soothe Max early on, especially as he was quite jumpy after being poked and prodded continuously in hospital. 

Although somewhat controversial, I would say moving babies to be in their room early on works - Max outgrew his Moses basket after a couple of months and we didn’t have room in our bedroom for a cot, so he went into his own room. Of course it felt hard seeing such a tiny baby dwarfed by this cot bed, but it worked; he loved his room (and still does) and is (touch wood) a brilliant sleeper! I know it’s absolutely an individual choice and not everyone will agree, but I’m simply sharing my thoughts on what worked for us.

Worst advice: I didn’t really receive any bad advice as such. It was more that my personal experience of a breast feeding counsellor wasn’t helpful - and I actually felt worse as a result. I felt I couldn’t recreate what I had been told to do and was also made to feel a bit stupid when I'd said I hadn’t wanted to give Max my milk whilst I was bleeding. The response was, ‘A bit of blood won’t do him any harm!’. Whilst this may have been ok for him, upon reflection maybe it wasn’t ok for me! Instead I simply persevered, and carried on feeling guilty and in pain. 

Hardest part of being a mum: For me it has to be an inability to switch off - your mind is always thinking, is he OK doing that? Has he eaten enough? Will he sleep through? Good, bad, fun, sad, whatever it is, your mind will be thinking.

Coupled with this is the guilt. Such as, am I playing with him enough? Has he been out enough? Is he eating the right things? I really struggle with a lot of this as I am at home with Max on my own 4 days a week (it was 5 until recently). Olly and I both talked about this when we decided to have a baby - but after 15 months I started to struggle a little. I felt I needed to do at least a few hours work for a break in routine and enjoy some adult conversation. I also felt it was important for Max, as I really didn’t want to get to the point where I resented my decision to stay at home with him. Thankfully my dad is able to help out 1 day a week, and they both have so much fun that it helps me switch off and appeases the guilt - for a few hours at least!

Max recently had a nasty bump to his head, after which he went floppy for a few seconds. For a minute I panicked and allowed my mind to go to that dreaded dark thought, the one that lies dormant but never far away in the back of your mind, 'what if?'. It reminds you what it feels like to be scared and helpless - both of which I’ve felt frequently as a new mum. 

It all comes down to loving someone so much you can’t imagine being without them. 

Best Parts of being a mum: Now to the fun part! And that’s exactly what it is - lots of fun! He makes me laugh out loud most days and has lightened my life in a way I never knew possible. Watching my little man grow and develop is incredible. I love that we have been a team since day 1. Seeing the way he looks at me, holds my hand, strokes my face (all on a good day!) - it melts me and makes all the guilt, anxiety, tiredness and stress disappear. Tantrums aside, I love the stage that he is at now, and although it’s exhausting, seeing him become a little person - trying in different ways to communicate with me and getting an idea of his personality - is just magical. 

Hopes for your family: Naturally my main hope is that my little family stays happy and healthy. I feel so proud of what we have achieved up to now and I don’t want to put too much pressure on where we will be in the future, or what lies ahead. It’s all part of the adventure of having a child - you don’t know where you’re at from one minute to the next, from tantrum to laughter - it all happens in a split second.

Advice to new and expectant mums: To reiterate, on an emotional level it’s about trusting yourself and talking to your bump/baby.



I don’t read baby books, and try not to compare us with others (although it’s inevitable sometimes). You’re not going to be looking at it from a neutral perspective though, so other peoples' babies will seem better behaved (though never cuter!) and other mums will appear calmer, more groomed etc, but I would go back to the advice of listening to, and learning from, Max. To be honest I take it minute by minute and go from there.

On a practical level - buy a sound machine and a Baby CD. In addition buy yourself a coat with a hood. Trust me, wrestling with a buggy and a brolly is not fun - I only found this out the hard (and very wet) way!

Personally, I loved having a pre-natal baby listening device (despite being adamant I wouldn’t get one!). There was something quite amazing, and surreal, about sitting on the sofa watching TV with Olly - headphones in, listening to our baby’s heartbeat. 

To be honest though, it’s such a personal journey, and you will find your own way through it, and that’s part of the magic of it. You do find a way through it, and while it may not always be easy, it’s rewarding on a level you could never imagine.

Jody and Alfred (1 year on)

Name: Jody 

Child: Alfred, 2

Location: Stockport, Greater Manchester

Last blog: 1 year ago, click for Jody's Previous blog entry

Life has changed massively since I was on the blog. I'm now a single mother, working full time and seeing my son 3/4 times a week (rather than every day). This is a double edged sword that comes complete with a massive bucket of guilt.

On one hand, the fact that I have to 'share him' and grab snippets of him through the week (either side of work) makes me feel terrible, like I'm not doing my job properly as a mum. I'm aware that I'm missing things like new words and jokes and 'first times'. I've relied massively on my own parents and friends for emotional support over the past 12 months and it's highlighted how incredibly lucky I am to be surrounded by such a strong support network. 

Alfred has adapted to his new set-up like a duck to water - I'm really grateful that he's such a chilled out little guy - although thinking about it, I grew up in exactly the same set-up and It never deeply bothered me either. The change in circumstances has given me a new and deeper understanding of what an amazing woman my own mother is. Her circumstances were harder than mine, and I take my hat off to any woman who has to go through the breakdown of their family without being surrounded by a support network. I'm so fortunate to have some wonderful people in my life. 

The other hand - the time that Alfie spends with his father - I initially filled up with distractions so I didn't sit, staring at the wall, thinking, "how on earth has this all happened?!" 

I filled it with things that I'd forgotten I loved (as I'd begun to define myself as a wife and mother); music, art, friends, sport, reading, going out. It's been a real journey of discovery, and for the first time in a very long time I feel like - and I'm comfortable with - me. I'm trying and loving new things that I would have never have done otherwise. It's a new lust for life which I intend to keep this time round. 

Motherhood has been intense but amazing. I love being the mother of a toddler. Alfred just makes me laugh all the time, and I think we bring out the best in each other. We are quite similar - both wind up merchants - and have loads of fun when we are together. It's great that we can have full conversations now too - although he's become a master of selective hearing. 

With him being so chilled out, I'm still not very good on what to do if he throws a tantrum in public, as it's so rare. He had one right in the middle of the Natural History Museum not so long ago and I just held his reigns while he rolled around on the floor. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment, so pretended to look at the stuffed birds, then just proceeded to kind of slide him across the floor to the next exhibit. 

The logistics are also more complicated with him living between my house, his dad's and his grandparent in the day. Plus it's emotionally quite stressful with the extra guilt incurred as we've shifted from being a 'classic' family to the kind of family we are now. But, truth be told, I've really taken to being a single mum. It's just about recognising, and making the most of the positive aspects of being a single parent.

I've definitely changed since the last blog entry, massively so. However, I think it's becoming a single mother (rather than motherhood in general) that has been the catalyst for that change. Surprisingly it's made me a lot more chilled out than before and open to new things. I worry less, I have fun more and It's given me fresh eyes to see the sort of attitude I want Alfred to grow up with. 

At the moment, the hardest part is maintaining a positive relationship with Alfred's Dad (which we seem to be doing OK at) and dealing with the guilt of not seeing him all the time - although I've noticed the hardest parts change from one month to the next! If you'd asked me 2 days ago the answer would have simply been, "getting out of the door on time without him taking his shoes off, rolling around on the landing and refusing to come down stairs 2 minutes before I needed to leave for work." 

I've also found hanging out with other families very hard. Kids parties especially. Then I feel guilty again, because I really don't want to be there pretending to be all happy and jolly - in fact I just want to crawl under the table and eat all the party rings and not feel so exposed as the one who hasn't brought their partner.

The best part of being a mum is being told, "I love you mummy" - no feeling compares to when I hear these words (apart from when he says the same thing to a snail on the way out of the house and I realise he's not fully grasped the meaning)... but it's still the best music to my ears. 

I don't wish I'd known this was how motherhood would turn out. I'm glad I didn't know what I was in for, because otherwise I may not have done it and I'm eternally glad that I did.

Any more advice?: Keep your child alive for consecutive 24 hour periods until they are 18. At which point, if you have done a good job, by then they should be able to do it themselves. Do it the best way for you and don't care what anyone else thinks so long as your house is filled with happiness, laughter and respect. Oh, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with wiping your own child's nose with it's sock if it's the only thing to hand.

Jody earns pocket money by making cake stands, bird feeders and jewellery trees out of vintage china. www.etsy.com/shop/jodyapple

Toni and Arlo (1 year on)

Name: Toni

Child: Arlo, 2yrs

Location: Heaton Moor

Previous blog entry: http://themothersphotos.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/name-toni-child-child-arlo-aged-1.html

The last year has been bloomin' busy. We moved not long after we had our first photos taken for the blog and then we moved again another six months later. At the ripe old age of two, Arlo has now lived in four different houses. As someone who's on her thirty third home, I know all too well how badly this state of perpetual flux can effect you when you're growing up. My parents were forever moving, and this rootlessness had definite repercussions for me, in terms of establishing friendships, and creating the stability a permanent family home can bring. I really wanted to make sure that we found somewhere completely perfect that we could happily stay in until Arlo reaches at least the Surly Teen phase and in this one, I think we've found it. 

Motherhood can be defined for me in one word - sacrifice. The absolute focus for me now is Arlo - whether in time, money or social activities. In everything I do, I think of him first and pursue his happiness with an almost military-like zeal. As a result, there's no time for being as self-preoccupied as I was before and I've also stopped being quite so bothered about what other people think. As a formerly painfully insular person who was pretty much crippled by social insecurities, this has been a massive change of seismic proportions. I spend much of my day now crawling through cardboard tunnels & blanket-covered dens and am perpetually coated in PVA or whatever substances we've been playing with that day (currently it's our homemade play dough - http://www.theimaginationtree.com/2012/04/best-ever-no-cook-play-dough-recipe.html). There's no place in my wardrobe for the high maintenance, dry-clean only types of clothes I used to adore.

While gleefully getting myself up the duff, I had no concrete concept of what I'd do after the birth. I airily assumed our family would help shoulder the burden of childcare and had vague concepts of childminders and the like. When it came down to it, the fact that my meagre window dresser's salary of peanuts couldn't support childcare costs, and our family weren't in a position to help either, came crashing down on my vague ideas of returning to work part-time like a concrete block. Living on my other half's salary is just about keeping us going; we don't bring in enough income for holidays or treats. I hate that. 

I spent my childhood watching my parents try to buy stuff with post-dated cheques and hiding from debt collectors. I had the brainwave of setting up my own business, selling the handmade things I make for Arlo to generate extra income (and also as a means of trying to keep my brain ticking!). It's a lot of fun, but definitely a temporary solution for while I'm a stay at home mum. In the long-term, I'm planning to retrain in my spare time, so I can attempt to get back into full-time work (with hopefully a somewhat better salary than what I was on before!). 

  

Probably the worst part of motherhood for me was how I wasted a lot of time in the beginning. I'd rage against the suffocating feeling of having only (on average) fourteen hours a week to myself (including time asleep, as we share a bed), and debating whether I was doing the right thing, continuing breast-feeding and co-sleeping. 

After accepting that this is only temporary things have got easier. My reasoning is that this is the only time in Arlo's life that I'll be able to ensure he feels utterly secure, and if it takes an hour of my time each night to hold him until he sleeps, then that's what he'll get. I appreciate that the 'Cry it Out' solution works a treat for billions of other people, but I'm afraid I'm a soft sod and it's not something I can personally do. Plus, I love the intimacy of having our entire family unit all in one bed. It has meant we've needed to create a Mega Bed system (using a king size bed plus an attached cot-bed), but we've got a huge bedroom so it works fine. 

The best parts of being a mother for me are all the shared moments I have with my son. His head lain on my shoulder, his arms giving me a big squeeze and a reassuring little voice whispering to me in the dark: "Mummy's got you. Mummy's ALWAYS got you" (it's what I say to him when he's hurt himself or he's scared). 

I'm hoping the strength of our relationship will be the base-line that he can build himself and his confidence upon. I hope to be my son's foundations and scaffolding, equally as much he has become my own. Motherhood has helped to ground me; it's given me the stability that I missed when I was growing up, along with the confidence that I've always lacked. With these, it's like a floodgate has opened on both my creativity and on my openness to other people, and it's been amazing.

Arlo is also my license for lunacy. We have a zillion ridiculous games we play together and are already establishing those shorthands and in-jokes that make up a family's secret vocabulary. I also spend a lot of time creating him things to play with - partly due to being massively skint, but mainly because my brain feels like it's on fire with a thousand ideas of crazy things to make. Most recently, I've stitched a pirate parrot (onto a shoulder pad with an elasticated strap), a gaudy neon superhero cape for his dressing up suitcase and hand-carved stamps for his personal stationery set. I make something pretty much daily and, after suffering a creative block throughout my entire Design degree and making very little at all, it's ironic that my creativity has finally found an outlet now thanks to my tiny Muse.

One of the things I wish I'd known beforehand was that becoming a mum would make me mentally revisit my own childhood and break my heart all over again. Both my parents were alcoholics and I had a bit of a weird upbringing that was very isolating, mainly due to their behaviour basically repelling all their friends and our family. I also never had any friends round, knowing instinctively that my home wasn't normal. I look at the sombre eyes of myself as a little girl in the very few remaining photos that exist, and I feel angry. As a parent I can see the selfishness of decisions made when bringing me up. 
Now, as (pretty much) the only man left standing from my own family, I feel like some strange kind of pioneer leading my small band of three into the uncharted territories of stability. Breaking the family cycle of disfunction and self-annihilation has taken a lot of hurt and no small amount of balls to do, but for Arlo - it was worth it. 

My two penneths of advice for other parents to-be: 

- Remember everything is finite. There are an awful lot of random stages that roll in, turning your world upside down, only to then wane out again just as fast as they arrived. 

- Say sorry. If you raise your voice at your offspring or you're in the wrong, don't be afraid to admit it. I apologise most days, I'm only human.

- Have a laughter quota. I aim to make Arlo do a minimum of one laugh per day (tickling does not count). You'd be amazed what good it does you both. A bit of silliness is good for the soul.