Lynsey and Freya

Name: Lynsey 

Child: Freya 2.5 years

Location: Didsbury, Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I didn't have a lot of expectations really. I expected I would give birth and it would hurt, but I thought mainly about the practical aspects: washing, feeding, no sleep, teaching etc. I didn't really know what to expect when it came to the emotional impact of being a mother.

Reality of Motherhood: It's a constant juggling act of cooking, cleaning, playing, cleaning, working, organising childcare, playing... cleaning... all driven by the overwhelming desire to do whats best for your child and LOVE for that crazy little creature! It really puts into perspective all the stupid things that you thought were a problem before you had a child. Also, being a mother makes you cry at the news more!



Taking your child home for the first time: For us it was a really horrible experience to be honest. I had been in labour for a really long time (the 1st contraction was on Tuesday morning and she was finally born Saturday afternoon) so I was really tired and hadn't eaten pretty much the whole time. We left the hospital at 10pm into freezing fog and got home terrified and totally overwhelmed with a tiny baby to care for. 

In hindsight I should probably have stayed in hospital overnight, but I didn't want my partner to have to leave. So, overall it was pretty grim but it got much, much better!

Best advice: Mummy knows best! If you don't think something is right, it isn't!

Worst Advice: Your baby is underweight you should wake her up every 2 hours to feed her!

The hardest parts of being a mother:
Learning to have infinite patience in the face of utter exhaustion.

The best parts of being a mother:
Remembering all the games you used to play as a kid and getting to be a kid all over again!

Has becoming a mother changed you?
Yes, it has given me a capacity for patience I never thought possible (though I still lose my cool). It has made me understand the true meaning of unconditional love and it has made me less concerned about trivial things.

Hopes for your family:
For everyone to be happy, healthy and be the best that they can be.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums?
Go to groups! Mum & Baby groups, breast-feeding support groups, coffee mornings, anything! You will need friends who are going through the same stuff at the same time. If it wasn't for the breast-feeding support group I went to (baby cafe), I strongly suspect I would have given Freya to the neighbours (that's a joke... a bit).


Also, the sound of a hairdryer will get a baby to go to sleep!

 

 

Rowena and Maddie

Name: Rowena

Child: Maddie, 4 months

Location: Didsbury, Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I’m not sure what I expected from motherhood. Tiredness, yes, and a heightened sense of responsibility; the knowledge that my life would never be the same again. Other than that, rather than expectations, I had hopes and fears.

I’ve always enjoyed a wonderful family life, and I hoped for more of the same with my own kids. I have close relationships with both of my parents, and I knew that I had great role models to emulate.

My fears, however, centred round the fact that I have never had a burning urge to be a mother. It’s not something I always wanted emotionally (as a kid, for example, I found dolls infinitely dull); nor did any hormonal biological clock suddenly start ticking when I hit my thirties. Instead, I made a deliberate decision to have children when I agreed to marry my now husband, knowing that he was a man who wanted a family – and, more importantly, knowing that he was the kind of man who I would want to have children with, as it’s always been clear to me that he would make a great father.

Still, I couldn’t help but worry – what kind of mother would I be, given that I’ve never felt ‘naturally maternal’? If you’ve read We Need to Talk About Kevin, you’ll know my worst-case scenario: uncaring, emotionally detached mother gives birth to future serial killer… was it in his personality all along, or was it a direct result of the lack of a maternal bond?

Fears of spawning a devil-child aside, I had more practical concerns. Would I be able to bond with my child? Would I have the necessary patience, capability, fortitude to be a good carer and role model? What if I completely lacked the maternal instinct? Would my child sense this about me and somehow be badly affected? What if the baby arrived and I simply didn’t have a clue what to do? 

Reality of Motherhood: The baby arrived, and I didn’t have a clue what to do. But that, I now realise, merely puts me on a par with most first-time mums.

The cliché is true – nothing can truly prepare you for becoming a mum. As a writer, half of my work is research, so I researched the hell out of motherhood. I read the books, did the classes, investigated online articles and forums – only for an actual baby to enter the scene and throw a big spanner of reality into the works.

That reality is simple: there is no definite answer to many issues and decisions that you will face as a mother – simply because all babies and all parents are different. Google, previously my lifeline, became my enemy, pointing me to all sorts of vastly contradictory information and opinions. It amazed me, truly. How can something that humans have been doing since, well, humans came into existence, NOT be pinned down yet and completely understood? Where was my fool-proof baby manual? With that all-important chapter one: The On/Off Button, or How on Earth to Get Your Child to Sleep? 

Granted, I’m still in the early stages of this, but motherhood seems to be something you simply muddle through initially, doing whatever it takes to keep your baby as happy as possible while keeping yourself as sane as possible.

The first three months in particular felt like a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. Only after week 12 did I finally feel as though I were able to draw breath and take stock. Breastfeeding in particular came as quite a shock – I didn’t realise how hard it would be, assuming that it would all come, well, naturally. Cluster-feeding most evenings from 4pm until 10pm was exhausting, not to mention the inevitable worry about whether I was producing enough milk.

When the doubts creep in, I keep reminding myself to take a good look at my baby and see how she’s thriving, how happy she seems – and believe that everything does seem to be working out okay. Perhaps I’m even doing a good job. Miraculous!



Taking your child home for the first time: It was snowing as we left the hospital. That’s such an irrelevant detail, but I feel it’s one I’ll remember forever, those delicate flakes floating around our sleeping baby.

After five days of watching our tiny daughter recover from an infection in the special care unit, when it came to going home I found I didn’t have any of those fears about how fast we were driving, whether we’d ‘break’ her, what on earth we were going to do now we were officially in charge. I was just thankful to be going home with a healthy baby.

I do, however, remember arriving at home and putting Maddie down on a mat on the floor, and being amazed at how little room she took up. How could something so tiny herald such a massive change in our lives? 

The best/worst advice: The best? Forget about routines. At least for the first few months. 

Fair enough, routines might work for some people, but I found they stressed me out – mostly because I couldn’t stick to them. Babies, funnily enough, don’t appear to do what you want them to when you want them to – in fact, they seem to derive great pleasure in doing the exact opposite. Worst of all, there’s just no reasoning with them. Routines made me feel like a failure. Acknowledging that I have very little control over my baby daughter has, conversely, made me feel more in control – of my emotions, and my ability to be a good mum.

The worst? Enjoy every moment – this time when they’re babies is so precious. It’s the best!

Impossible. Some moments you will truly hate and want to leave behind as soon as possible. I’ve come to believe that the cuteness of babies is no accident, it’s 

Darwinian; if they weren’t so cute, parents would abandon them without a thought! Hormones don’t help in the early weeks. I don’t think anything has ever made me cry as much as motherhood. Conversely, nothing has ever cheered me up as quickly and successfully as my daughter.

I also refuse to believe that babydom is ‘the best’ period of motherhood. It’s like when people say that your wedding day is the best day of your life. Does life really go downhill from there? Mine certainly hasn’t, and I don’t believe that motherhood will, either.

The hardest parts of being a mother: Sleep deprivation, oh yes. I now know that it is possible to be walking (staggering?) around your home, baby in arms, and suddenly realise that you’ve started to dream – and I don’t mean a daydream, either.

But it’s the all-consuming nature of your new role that I think is the hardest part. Mothering a newborn takes everything – all your time, energy, emotion, attention, commitment. You and only you are your child’s mother – and that can be a very lonely realisation, even when you have family and friends on standby to help.

The best parts of being a mother: Smiles. Huge, all-encompassing, gummy grins that light up her whole face and make the world a little bit brighter. 

Seeing a little personality start to emerge from amongst the feeding and sleeping. Feeling proud – already – of a determined, curious, observant, sociable, fun-loving, stubborn little monkey.

Having a license to be silly. Who doesn’t love an opportunity to embrace their inner child?

Has becoming a mother changed you? I don’t think so – I’m still the same person. But I have gained new perspectives and priorities. Some things just don’t seem that important any more, while I enjoy taking pleasure in really small things. Who knew that watching the changing expressions and reactions of a small child could be so entertaining?

Hopes for your family: I hope that we’ll be a close and loving family, enjoying lots of fun times and supporting each other through the tough times.

I hope that I can encourage my daughter to be honest with me, and inspire her to be the best at whatever she wants to be.

I hope we’ll stay as healthy and happy as possible.

I hope that one day I’ll get an eight-hour stint of sleep again. 

Advice you would offer to new and expectant mums: If you’re breastfeeding, buy a tube of nipple cream that contains lanolin, such as Lansinoh. Essential. (While you’re at it, let your husband know in advance that yes, there does exist such a thing as nipple cream, and you’re not just setting him up for having the piss taken out of him in Boots.) 

All babies are different, as are all parenting styles. Don’t rush to be an experts, just allow yourself time to get to know your child and build your relationship – because it will take time. The parenting decisions you make (and break) in the first few weeks of your child’s life will not mentally scar them for life, nor set them up for being spoilt, nor mean they will grow up to hate you.

In your darkest moments, repeat like a mantra – this too shall pass. Everything is a stage with children. 

In your best moments, take a deep breath and commit them to memory. Feel proud of yourself for helping these moments happen – they couldn’t happen without you.

Be kind to yourself. Don’t beat yourself up with guilt when (not if) you make mistakes – we all do. You’re only human, and Supermum doesn’t exist. Don’t skip meals. Eat chocolate. And don’t bother with the bloody hoovering.

And, if you’ve not yet had your kid, set some time aside now for some leisurely, non-tired sex. Trust me, it’s soon to be a luxury!

In my former life (to be resumed later this year) I work as a creative copywriter. Find out more on my website – www.rowwrites.com

Lucie and Charlie

Name: Lucie

Child: Charlie, 14 mths

Expectations of Motherhood: I guess I didn’t really have any expectations of motherhood – I had no experience of babies whatsoever and could count the number of times I had held a baby on the fingers of one hand (1,2,3…yep, that was it), I had never changed a nappy, never been left alone with a baby, never helped to dress or bath or feed a baby. I think it’s fair to say I was utterly clueless. I knew it would be hard work, intense and tiring (although I had no idea just how hard work, intense and tiring!) and I was terrified by the ‘foreverness’ of having a child. There is no changing your mind, no going back, no half measures – once they are here, they are going to be around for the rest of your life and that’s a frightening prospect. Of course, once they arrive, the thought that they might not be around for the rest of your life is even more terrifying. 

The Reality of Motherhood: My partner Dave had been broody for a while and, whilst I had never really considered myself particularly maternal, I always saw myself having children at some point in the future. We adopted a very casual approach of ‘when it happens, it happens’ and we were really lucky that it happened very quickly - although finding out three days before we were due to go to Glastonbury was less than ideal to say the least(!). I think I had the most sober festival experience in human history and was in bed by 9pm on the Saturday night (rock & roll, eh?) My friends all wondered what the hell was wrong with me but as it was such early days, I didn’t want to jinx it by telling people (call me superstitious…). Other than me and Dave, my sister and her boyfriend were the only people there who knew – my sis helped me with my ruse by buying me pints of lemonade and orange juice so it looked as though I was partaking in the Glasto mandatory standard, pear cider! Looking back, fainting spectacularly whilst dancing to Paul Simon may have been something of a give-away. 

While I was pregnant I constantly stroked my bump – that feeling of love and protection was immediate and intense. I felt so proud of my body and loved the private little world I was sharing with my growing baby. People seemed friendlier in general, more helpful and chatty, and I enjoyed the slight nod of solidarity that I exchanged with fellow mums-to-be on the street. But alongside this sense of wonder, excitement and love, I also felt I was operating on a level of heightened anxiety – the worry of something going wrong was, for me, far more exhausting than the physical changes of pregnancy. 

I was six days overdue when my contractions started and everything went according to plan, until a few hours later when I was rushed to hospital with a scary bleed. In the rush my birth plan went all to pot – I forgot my phone (containing my hypnobirthing mantras and music), and the bleed meant that the birthing pool was out of the question (somewhat to Dave’s relief, who was dreading having to use the “poo-catching net” of water-birth lore – yeah, thanks very much whoever told him about that). In the rush to leave the house we’d also forgotten the baby bag, so when Charlie was born he was swaddled, Baby Jesus-like, in hospital-issue blankets. It didn’t do me many favours in the Mother of the Year category when the midwife noticed I had remembered to bring THREE bags of my own clothes, either.

The labour itself was relatively straightforward and I got through on just gas and air. The pushing stage did seem to last a very long time, though – and I had an unfortunate experience with a less-than-tactful doctor (amongst myriad excellent hospital staff) who marched in, barked at my midwife to ‘JUST CUT HER!’, and marched out again. Talk about bad bedside manners. The best physical description I’ve heard of giving birth came from my best friend, now a mum of two, who when pressed to describe what it actually feels like (an impossible question, but you can’t help but ask) said: ‘It’s just like doing a massive poo.’ And, in a way, it is. 

Charlie was born at 2:15am – exactly 24 hours and 7 minutes after my first contraction. As he was plopped on my chest, I fell in love instantly - He was absolutely perfect other than a slightly pterodactyl-esque head shape (luckily a temporary result of the series of tight turns that marked his journey into the world). After about five minutes, he tilted his head up and latched himself on for his first feed - I had been worried about whether this would come naturally to me, but he knew exactly what to do! At least one of us did.... 

Dave left a few hours later to get some much needed sleep and I was left in the delivery suite with my son. My son. My son. My son. You have 9 months to prepare yourself, but it still feels most surreal when it actually happens. I tried to shower but was bleeding too much and left the bathroom looking much like the famous scene in Psycho. I remember trying to mop up the blood with loo roll whilst feeling like I was about to pass out before giving up and apologising profusely to the midwife. 

After a while we were taken up to the ward. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. I was terrified that he would wake up and I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with him.

The next morning, breakfast was brought and I asked for tea and bran-flakes. The rather brusque midwife left these just out of reach on my tray table. As I’d had a stitch (not to mention a baby) mere hours earlier, it was painful to move and as I watched my tea go cold and my bran-flakes go soggy, I suddenly felt like bursting into tears. It was all too much. How could I do this? I felt hopelessly out of my depth already. At exactly that moment, Charlie started to stir and I suddenly realised I had a choice. I could either fall apart, or I could dig deep, realise that this tiny person was entirely dependent on me, and step up to the mark. I popped to the loo, brushed my teeth, had a wash and changed my clothes. I emerged a different woman and felt genuinely excited and ready for this new chapter in my life and all of the uncertainties, challenges and adventures that lay ahead.

Taking your child home for the first time: We were able to go home later that day, although lack of food and loss of blood meant I almost fainted carrying Charlie out of the main hospital entrance. I managed to hand him to Dave in the nick of time - it’s not a very good start to motherhood: dropping your baby before you have even left the hospital. It took 15 minutes to fit the car seat (note to future parents: put the car seat in before you have the baby) and then Dave drove home so carefully (waiting ten minutes before right turns, hands at ten-to-two on the wheel etc) I felt as though I was sitting in on his driving test. When we got home, our three cats came for a quick sniff of the new family member and our biggest cat Fletch went to sleep in the pushchair, which set the tone for much (ongoing) territory-marking. It took us three weeks to name Charlie – which shouldn’t have been surprising given that it once took me three months to name my cat and she ended up “picking” her own (well, it was the piece of paper her paw touched first) from the shortlist. His middle name was easy and had been picked pretty much as soon as we found out we were expecting a boy at the 20-week scan – Frank, after my Dad. 



Best Advice: Trust your body. It sounds a bit hippy, but it knows what it needs to do at every stage. Throughout my pregnancy and labour I was constantly amazed that my body could produce and provide everything that this baby needed to grow and develop into an actual mini human. It still blows my mind when I think about it. Ain’t nature great?!
Try to make time for yourself. Even if it’s just ten minutes a day and remember who you are. Becoming a Mum is an incredible experience. It does change your life but that doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself or your identity. 

NEVER GOOGLE YOUR CHILD’S SYMPTOMS. 

Worst Advice: “Trust your instincts.” Okay, so I know this one is controversial and I’m sure that tonnes of people have had this as their best advice. I agree it’s a wonderful idea in theory, but what do you do if, like me, your instincts are predisposed to hysteria?! When every cough is the start of tuberculosis, every rash is the onset of meningitis, every bump to the head is a serious concussion waiting to set in... I know, I know, these are my neuroses and I have to (and am trying to) deal with them. I just get frustrated when people tell me to “trust my instincts” because I honestly don’t think I can, and it makes me feel as though I’m failing at the most basic level of motherhood.

Other worst advice, “Sleep when the baby sleeps.” He didn’t! 

The best things about being a mother: Unconditional love both ways. It really is like nothing else I have ever experienced - loving and being loved so whole-heartedly, so completely, without reserve, question or judgement. I know it’s a cliché but when he looks at me and smiles, everything is truly right with the world. 

Seeing traits of the people I love in him. Sometimes he’ll grin at me (usually whilst doing something mischievous that he knows he shouldn’t be!) and I’ll just see Dave’s face looking back at me or he’ll be snoozing on the sofa, a perfect, miniature version of my Dad, his Pops. He has inherited the deepest, bluest eyes from my Mum and Sister, and when he shrugs and rolls his eyes, he is suddenly his eldest cousin. The person I love most in the world reflects the people I love most in the world and that is a wonderful thing. 

Seeing how excited he gets about the simplest things is helping me to appreciate them afresh. All of the things I had been taking for granted or had stopped noticing years ago, I am suddenly seeing again. It is both humbling and inspiring to rediscover the world through his eyes. 

Spending time with him – he is genuinely a cool and funny little guy. He has a cracking sense of humour and makes me laugh out loud on pretty much an hourly basis. 
I love daydreaming about who Charlie will be, what he will do, what will excite, inspire and amaze him. The whole world lies in front of him just waiting to be explored. So many wonderful discoveries and untold adventures await him and I hope he will experience, embrace and enjoy it all. 

The worst/hardest thing about being a mother: Constant worry, particularly about his health. I sometimes feel that I lurch from one paranoid obsession to the next: from 0- 6 months it was SIDS; from 6-12 months, meningitis; since 12 months (now he has learned to run and climb), it’s head injuries I fear the most. 

Early mornings. 7am is a good lie-in these days. On the bright side, I suddenly have so many more hours in my day and feel as though I’m much better at managing my time and making the most of every minute that I do get to myself. 

It’s relentless! All day and all night, every day and every night, although we are really lucky that my family live close by and are happy to help out to give us a much-needed break. 
The immense responsibility is sometimes overwhelming. 

Has being a mother changed you?: Yes and no. I’m still the same person I was before I had Charlie, but with a few tweaks. I’m Charlie’s Mum and I am immensely proud of that, but I’m still Lucie - and that’s really important. Motherhood has changed me in the respect that I’m now much better at putting things into perspective and not sweating the small stuff. I also have a better work/life balance than ever. Being a mother is the most important thing in my life and Charlie comes first, but that doesn’t (and shouldn’t) mean that nothing else in my life matters. For me, being a good mother is about being able to balance all the different elements of your life and give each the right amount of time and energy to keep everything on an even keel. I don’t always get it right but I try. 

Hopes for your growing family: 
In no particular order: 
That Charlie learns to stroke the cats gently rather than demonstrating his love by grabbing fistfuls of fur and pulling their tails. 

That as a family we remain happy and healthy and strong and supportive for one another. 

I want to make Charlie proud of us as his parents. We don’t necessarily need to be best mates but if he grows up thinking his folks are alright, that’ll do me. 

That Charlie is happy in his own skin. 

That he is kind, caring and courteous but not too preoccupied with what others think of him. 

A sibling for Charlie… but not just yet (!). 

Advice for New / Expectant Mums: There is no ‘right’ way. There is no magic book that has all the answers and will, if followed to the letter, guarantee a happy, healthy, socially confident, well-balanced, polite and resourceful child who sleeps through the night from two weeks, eats a healthy and well balanced diet and never cries. Sorry. 

The truth is we are all just bumbling our way through, trying to do the best we can and find the things that work for us and our family. Sometimes it would be amazing to just have the answers handed to you but in the main, one of the most rewarding things about motherhood is finding your own way through a tricky situation and coming out of the other side. 

You don’t need to buy everything the adverts tell you to – I was something of a marketing person’s dream. I despair of the number of things that remain in their boxes to this day...
That said, if you are planning to breastfeed and prefer to cover up, I would highly recommend buying a breastfeeding shawl (I opted for a Baby BuBu poncho style one with press studs so it fastened securely) My life changed after I bought it and suddenly feeding in public was a far less daunting prospect. 

Go on a baby and children first aid course. Hopefully you’ll never need to put it into practice but the confidence and peace of mind it gives you is priceless. (www.milliestrust.com is an amazing charity that offers free / reasonably priced courses across the country)

Jo, Lucy, Ava and Chloe

Name: Jo

Children: Lucy 9, Ava 6 and Chloe 3 

Location: Didsbury

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The unconditional love. 

Seeing the relationships within your family change and grow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emma and Effie

Name: Emma

Child and age: Effie, 7 years 

Location: Prestwich, Manchester

Expectations of motherhood: I was a bit terrified about being a Mum. I had planned my pregnancy, was in a stable relationship and at 28 years old had a secure job and home, but I still felt a bit like I was a kid and I wasn’t sure whether I would be any good at being a parent. My husband Adam and I were friends with a lot of musicians who didn’t seem to have any intention of settling down and having children so it was very much a voyage we were taking on our own. My elder sister down south had recently had her first child and seeing my delighted parents with their grandchild made me realise that if I wanted to be a mum then now would be a good time.

When I became pregnant I had worked in media research for six years, so I took that approach to my impending motherhood and found out absolutely everything I could about pregnancy, babies, parenting groups and childcare. I felt that if I did my research I would be prepared for anything and this was particularly important because whilst my husband and I had lived in Manchester for quite a few years, we had absolutely no family in the north west at all. 

I tried to enroll in NCT classes because my sister had made some really supportive friends at hers (who she continued to see post birth), but I didn’t even get a response to my enquiries so I ended up at the free classes provided by my local hospital. These ended up being a bit disappointing; not only did we not manage to ‘click’ with any of the other couples there, but the classes seemed to be mostly about giving birth and not much else. Despite this I was sure that even though I was intending to go back to work full time after six months I would be able to find a few other mums to be friends with.



I knew motherhood wouldn’t be easy. I was having the most fantastic pregnancy where I didn’t suffer from any morning sickness, and I had never felt so healthy, but I knew there would be challenges and so I tried to be pro-active and plan for any eventuality. I have a history of depression so I spoke to my midwife about post-natal depression and how we needed to look out for it, I attended a breast feeding workshop prior to giving birth and I filled out the birth plan in my NHS pregnancy book so my midwife would know exactly what I wanted (this was a great move; my ace midwife talked me out of having pethidine because in my birth plan I had said I absolutely didn’t want it, but then I started to request it in the middle of my labour). My feeling was that it was ok not to know everything, but that you needed to do lots of homework first.

Reality of motherhood: It sounds daft now but I think the thing that shocked me most was that after I had put in all this hard work preparing myself for motherhood and being surrounded by health professionals for nine months, I was pretty much on my own once I left hospital.

I gave birth late on a Sunday evening and didn’t really feel like I knew what was expected of me at the hospital once I became a mum. Not long after I gave birth I passed out in a bathroom, and after being found on the floor I was taken to what I thought was a side room with my husband and daughter (it was in fact another birthing suite). We settled down for the night, only to be woken up in the early hours in order for Effie and I to be moved to the main ward and Adam to be chucked out. Then when I woke early the next morning an imposing ward sister immediately told me how childbirth was miracle of God because the babies didn’t drown in the birth canal. Even as a church goer I was puzzled by this overtly evangelical approach and it just added to the confusion I was feeling.

It kind of went downhill from there. Whilst all the other mums on the ward were assisted with bathing their new babies, my nurse proceeded to bath Effie for me before taking the bath away and leaving me with my naked brand new girl who promptly did a sticky black poo all over the bed sheets. I panicked at the awful mess on the nice white sheets and asked for help cleaning her up; they gave me a small kidney bowl of water and some cotton wool balls. When my mother rang the nurses station to see how I was, all I could say to her was “Get Adam. Now.”




Any confidence I had started to seep away. I was finding it hard to feed Effie for starters. The intimidating nurse told me I should breast feed naked (and she meant me being naked, not the baby) and she told me off when I didn’t heed her advice despite me being on an open ward. Weeks before at my breast feeding workshop I had been assured that no one would leave hospital without having mastered the art of breastfeeding, but after two other nurses (including the lady from the breast feeding workshop) had simultaneously struggled to get Effie to latch properly I was quietly allowed to go home.

When I left hospital I was told a midwife would come and visit me at home that day, but she didn’t arrive until 5:30pm and only came when my Mum told me to ring up and find out where on earth she had got to. At that point I realised that Adam and I were very much in charge of our own destiny and no one outside of our family was going to help us much.

As it panned out I didn’t meet any other mums because I returned to full-time work after six months, and during my maternity leave I couldn’t find a local baby and toddler group that was open to babies under six months. Once I did go back to work Effie was at nursery full-time in a place based at my husband’s workplace, so I didn’t even drop her off or pick her up, and therefore couldn’t meet any mums at nursery either. It sounds obvious now, but I just assumed I’d get some support or help with finding some other parenting groups because the whole looking-after-a-very-small-person-thing was pretty much new territory to me. The reality was that I felt very much on my own and quite isolated and even now I don’t like to ask for help too much when it comes to childcare.

Taking your child home for the first time: Driving Effie home in our tiny lime green Volkswagen seemed the most perilous and reckless act anyone could have ever committed (even if I had read all the Which? magazine safety reports for baby carriers). Thankfully, once I got home I was quickly joined by both sets of grandparents and I was able to tackle important questions with the two matriarchs such as, ‘Do you think I will ever be able to go to the toilet again?’ and ‘Do you think I should have gone upstairs instead of trying to breastfeed in the living room in front of my father-in-law?’.

My mother stayed for a week which was just completely amazing. Her only advice was that we should get into a routine as quickly as possible (just because we would be on our own most of the time) and she spent the rest of the time cooking and cleaning for us. Her continued mantra of routine, routine, routine seemed ridiculous at the time but was probably the reason we stayed sane during those first few months.

Effie lost more weight than she should have due to my dire problems breastfeeding and the midwives visits were infrequent because I looked like I was ok, so I had no one I could talk to about if face to face. I had had it drummed into me right from the start of my pregnancy how very, very important breastfeeding was so I didn’t want to give up even though my baby was failing to gain any weight and each feeding session ended with both Effie and I in tears. Eventually my GP sister got on the phone and told me to get in the car and go and buy some formula. It was absolutely the advice I needed. It was the moment when I started to not only love feeding my baby but also to love being a mum. 



The best/worst advice: I was genuinely worried about giving up breastfeeding. When I told my midwife what I had decided to do she instantly told me that she had never been able to master it (well now you tell me!) but I was still convinced I was going to get dirty looks when out bottle-feeding. That didn’t happen, but I did find myself trying to stop breastfeeding without being given any proper advice on how to do it, something which appalled female friends from my mum’s generation. I had absolutely no idea how you stopped producing milk and the midwife just said to go cold turkey and take ibuprofen, and on no account release any milk to ease the pressure. I didn’t entirely manage this but at the suggestion of a friend of mine, I did end up buying several savoy cabbages so I could pop the leaves down my bra - which were bizarrely wonderful in easing the pain.

It’s stuff like this that makes me incredibly frustrated. Sometimes in order to get an important message across we can end up alienating people and making them feel guilty if they can’t meet those demands. At my birthing class we were told that bottle feeding would not be discussed because, “if you want to do it you just need to read the packet” but when I started bottle feeding I didn’t even know you could get teats with different sized holes because no health professionals felt they could discuss it.

The best advice can be the worst advice, and my advice to friends who have got pregnant has always been, try what’s ‘best’ and if that doesn’t work for you then look at other options, but don’t beat yourself up about what you can or cannot achieve. It applies to a lot of things in life, and parenthood, if nothing else, is all about compromise.

The hardest parts of being a mother: I was told that having a baby is like throwing a hand grenade into your relationship (true) and that the first 18 months are the hardest (also true), but I think that hardest thing is finding your motherhood path. I went back to work full-time for four years and sent Effie to a great nursery, but I remember seeing a photo at a parents’ evening of her using chopsticks at nursery and being completely guilt ridden that I didn’t even know she could do that. My work life balance was pretty rubbish for a long time but my employer has an amazing flexible working scheme which now means I work term-time only so getting home late and missing dinner with her in the week (using chopsticks, obviously) doesn’t matter when I know I’ll spend every day of the holidays with her.

It’s finding what’s right for you that’s hardest, because everyone does things differently and has different support networks and priorities. I think finding your own pattern is the biggest challenge for most of us.

The best parts of being a mother: It sounds like I’ve moaned a lot when in fact I have never regretted for a second being a mother. I still remember to this day the moment when I looked at my daughter and thought “Oh my God, I never realised how much my mother loves me”. I can’t say I particularly miss the baby years because I mostly love the interaction I have with my child which obviously develops more and more over time. I love sharing stuff with my daughter. We read lots together but I also like to share art, archive telly and music with her too. I refuse to believe that you have to bring your child up on godawful music (there’s a place for Bob the Builder records, but don’t let it dominate your car journeys) and I do feel a little bit proud that my seven year old has a genuine love of Mazzy Star, Ivor Cutler, Richard Hawley and The Dutch Uncles.

The other thing that makes my heart swell with a warm glow is seeing my daughter enjoying spending time with her friends (although this may well change in future years if they all stay out late without telling me). I don’t want to not be needed but I love it that Effie has her own little network now and she has her own interests and priorities. I am hugely aware that in a minute she’ll be all grown up and going to gigs on her own (please not One Direction) and that maybe she won’t want to cuddle me any more so I am making the most of her childhood. It’ll be gone in the blink of an eye, I’m sure of that.

Hopes for your family: Without wishing to sound morbid my hope is that we stay a family for a very long time. A family friend lost her life to a sudden illness a few years ago leaving behind two young children and it is incredibly heartbreaking to think that she is going to miss seeing them grow up and become adults, and they in turn have lost their lovely, kind mother. I think of her a lot and can’t really get my head round how life can be quite so cruel. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing Effie grow up so with that in mind I try and cherish every moment.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Well apart from my mother’s “Routine, Routine, Routine” (it’s hard but it does make life easier in the long run, especially if you don’t have much of a support network.) I’d say just try and find your own path and don’t be too disheartened if you’re finding it hard to do what other people seem to be doing easily. Everyone has different challenges in their lives and no child is the same. On a personal note, I’d also like to add that it’s ok to give your kid a proper telling off, even in public or in front of friends and family. We were quite strict with Effie when she was little (why have a naughty step when you can have a naughty corner? Every shop in town has a corner) and we now have a child who can politely sit through a restaurant meal or a long church service without legging it and doing five laps of the building. I’d love to be her best mate, but I’m her mum and I think it’s important to act like that (sometimes). I think not always being chilled out pays dividends. Although of course, I’d prefer it if you didn’t quote that back to me when she’s a stroppy 16 year old though...

Emma can be found on Twitter as https://twitter.com/Missus_IP