Jackie, Wilf and Betty

Name: Jackie 

Children: Wilf (2.5 years), Betty (5 months)

Location: Northenden 

Expectations of Motherhood: I was expecting it all to be a total blast. I knew I'd sail through labour(!), enjoy my year "holiday" from work and then pretty much carry on as normal but with a new little friend in tow. 

Reality of Motherhood: It's much harder work than I could have ever believed! I haven't had a full night's sleep for almost three years, and I haven't had more than one glass of champagne in a sitting for even longer, due to either being pregnant or breastfeeding. Huge changes from the red wine and lie in lover I used to be! My world has changed completely. But I really had no idea how happy my babies would make me, and how much I would love them. 

Taking your children home for the first time: With my first born I was incredibly anxious. About everything. I would walk into a room and see danger everywhere. Everything my other half did would be wrong. I went baby-bonkers. With my second I am much more relaxed and it seems to have been rubbed off on her. She's a laid back little thing. Although I have less time to sit and just adore her, I make sure I try to as much as I can - time flies even faster with the second one because there are so many more distractions! 

Best advice: A wise friend told me that our role as parents is to give our kids everything they need to be able to go out into the world on their own and be happy. We are raising them to be confident about themselves. They are not a part of us to keep and control. Another friend gave me an enormous slab of chocolate and told me I could use it as a sleep replacement. I couldn't have wished for a better present!



Worst advice: Being told not to feed my breastfed baby so much. I was told that he couldn't possibly still be hungry, that I should give him a bottle to give myself a break, and that he would get too attached to me etc. Sometimes my little man just liked to feed, partly because he was small and therefore had a small tummy and had to feed quite often, and partly for comfort and to help him sleep. It's not for everyone, it was hard work during growth spurts etc but I have loved feeding my babies. 

The hardest parts of being a mother: The tiredness. The loneliness of the long night feeds. The constant demands on your time. Never being able to fully get ready for an outing as someone will need a nappy changing, to be fed, or to have a story read to them while you are busy trying to make your hair look half decent! 

The best parts of being a mother: I've grown in confidence from performing this very important role - there is the saying that no one will know your kids like you do. I would never have believed that when I first held my tiny little boy and felt I hadn't a clue what I was doing, but I know now that I am their Mama, and for the moment, I am their world. I know them inside and out and I will always do my best to make sure their trust in me is not misplaced.  

My babies have brought me a deep joy that nothing else, even my great relationship with my partner, has before. I love the giggles, the sticky, snotty hugs and kisses and curling up with a sleeping baby in my arms.

Has becoming a mother changed you: I'm still the same person waaaay down underneath but my life and my priorities have changed dramatically. I've put myself, my other relationships and my career in the back burner in order to muddle through these early days with my babies as best I can. I realise that is not healthy in the long term and I hope that with time (and more sleep!) I can expand my focus and get more balance back in my life. I need to do that for my own happiness, for my (very patient!) boyfriend and our relationship and also to be a good role model for my kids as they grow up. 

Hopes for your family: My hopes at the moment are simple. I hope that we continue to be healthy and happy. I hope I can provide them with a strong and supportive family environment, a childhood full of happy memories and a good grounding to make their own way in life. And I really hope that it's not too late for me to learn to surf one day.  

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: If you're pregnant, get yourself to a hypnobirthing class! I was wildly unprepared for my first labour and I ended up being incredibly frightened and fighting the process the whole way. I went to hypnobirthing before having Betty as I didn't want to go through that again. Her birth was a much calmer and happier experience. Dare I say I enjoyed it? Well, I didn't lock myself in the toilet and refuse to come out the second time around, so that was a big win for me!!

Bethan, Otis and Felix

Name: Bethan

Children: Otis, 5 and Fèlix (4)

Location: Preston (Just moved back from Spain, where the boys were born and I lived for 13 years)

Expectations of Motherhood: Years before becoming a mum, whenever I thought about motherhood, I envisaged a huge kitchen table full of children, sticky hands, dogs running around and random people eating cake. I most definitely wanted to be a mum though, I just didn’t really have a clue. All I knew was that any child of mine would be massively loved and wear dungarees. I also thought I would just carry on my life as it was with my baby. I was living in Spain, where we went out most nights to gigs etc. and people met up about 11pm. I had visions of taking the baby with me in his sling….

Reality of Motherhood: Sticky hands, dungarees, and love in oozing abundance. Unfortunately, when I had my first, I didn’t have any other friends where I was living (Spain), who had babies, but that didn’t really matter as I was in a baby bubble and didn’t really mind. But unfortunately come 7pm, I could be found slumped wherever after a feast of leftover baby mush and not even remember my name, let alone get it together to go out for dinner at 11pm. That was the new time for breakfast in our house!

Losing friendships. Inadvertently, I became an outsider and lost a lot of friendships, I suppose you can only refuse invitations so many times! Luckily I stalked someone that my partner knew who was pregnant and we became firm friends and just having one friend to walk around in a zombie snot covered state with, is the best.

I also had no idea that breastfeeding hurts. In the movies, the midnight feeds look so beautiful and peaceful. My first days involved bleeding nipples, tears (mostly mine) and mastitis. BUT then somebody mentioned nose to nipple, which for me was like winning the lottery. No more biting or bleeding, result! I breastfed for a long time after that. But I didn’t really have any guidance or support at the beginning, so just muddled through.

I also always say that it would be brill if we could have our second child first. I think you do it better with your second, because you’re just generally more chilled out. When Otis cried, even if he was 2 cms away, I would gallop to him and if somebody had offered me a helicopter, I would have taken it, Fèlix most definitely benefited from me being more chilled out.

Taking your children home for the first time: When I took Otis home, I was overwhelmed by the stillness and the calm. I was in hospital for almost a week with him and I hadn’t realised how hectic and noisy hospital was.

It was also a bit manic, I remember us being inundated with visitors, a day after we’d got home, there were 16 people in our not very big lounge, who had just popped in to see us. It was very surreal and I think I actually ended up sneaking off for a nap with Otis!

With Fèlix it was different. Again, I’d been in hospital for five days and I missed Otis massively. I’d had my second C-section and been told to rest and not lift heavy objects. On the way back from hospital, we swung by Otis’ nursery where I virtually ran in and swooped him up with excitement and mostly spent the first year with two children hanging off various parts of me. In fact, not a lot has changed!

The best/worst advice: This sounds SO obvious. But pick your battles. What’s important? Does it really matter that your child is filthy 3.5 seconds after you´ve dressed them? No, of course not. That’s why washing machines were invented.

The worst advice was to give my teething 5 month old a dried apricot to suck on to ease the pain?!! Next thing I knew, small 5 month child was struggling to open his tiny mouth due to giant apricot obstruction. It was a split second and nothing sinister happened, but I was aware that the consequences could have been hideous.

The hardest parts of being a mother: That you are supposed to know EVERYTHING. From fractions to the answer to Why? Why? and why? I bought an Usborne General Knowledge lift the flap book, under the pretense of it being for the boys. It was so obviously for me!

Being strong and keeping it together when everything is actually falling apart. You are your child’s reassurance, you need to promise them that it’s all going to be alright and find the words to tell them when it isn’t.

Also when the boys are happy so am I. If either of them isn’t, it breaks my heart into smithereens. It is so true that you would fight off dragons in nothing but your pants with a spatula if you needed to.

The best parts of being a mother: Pretty much EVERYTHING! It rocks! The randomness, the fact that these two small people are hilarious and you get to live it. It’s brill. Also of course, no matter how rubbish the day’s been, or how feral the kids have acted, there’s always a moment of rip-roaring comedy (normally very slap-stick) or an impromptu outpouring of love. Nothing beats that.

Has becoming a mother changed you: Yes, it’s definitely given me a purpose, a reason and direction. Giving up is not an option. Ever. You have to keep on going for them, always. It’s also given me a sense of what’s important and what’s not. At the end of the day what matters is that the boys are happy and well and feel safe, not that the house is clean. I think I’ve got a general grip on myself. There are moments when I think I’m not grown up enough to be responsible for two actual people, but I recently bought an actual grown up bag instead of my usual bag for life, which I think is a positive sign.

Hopes for your family: Obviously health and happiness, and for them to be grounded with a great understanding of what’s right and wrong, but I hope they know that they will be supported in whatever they choose to do and that I will always be here for them, always. Nothing is too big or too small. I want them to look back on their childhood and say, “Well that was a bit bananas, but we had loads of fun" and obviously to never doubt how much they are loved.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Follow your heart and your instinct. People, especially random strangers are really good at giving their opinions, especially when you don’t ask. What works for my child, won’t necessarily work for yours. You know your child best, do what’s best for you and them, not what Supermum is telling you to do.

Find a friend with a baby/child. Do it! When I had O, I made one local friend who had a baby too and it was the best thing ever. Through joining things and just being able to have a coffee with somebody in the same zone as you is a blessing. Also, leave the house at least once a day, even if it’s for a 1 minute walk.

Also, my pet peeve; Boob versus Bottle. This makes me want to scream loudly. My advice is, do what works for you and your child. If you can and want to breastfeed, then brilliant or if you can’t or don’t want to, also brilliant. It’s YOUR choice. Not society’s, not the midwife’s, not your neighbour's. All that matters is that your baby is loved and getting fed. It doesn’t matter HOW. It doesn’t make you a better or worse mum for choosing bottle over boob.

I’ve just realised that possibly wasn’t advice, just me jumping on a soap box! Sorry, it just drives me bonkers!

Other info: I have a blog where I post from the frontline of parenting.
www.muddlingthroughthemayhemofmotherdom.com

Gemma, Joel and Nathaniel

Name: Gemma 

Children: Joel, 3 years 9 months. Nathaniel 14 months

Location: Sale

Previous blog: http://www.the-mothers.co.uk/2013/04/gemma-and-joel.html

Since the last blog post: We’ve had a busy few years. I found out I was pregnant with Nathaniel about a month before Joel turned 3. We were in the process of buying a new house and I was busy back at work. When I was only a few weeks pregnant we moved in with Steven’s parents whilst we renovated our new house, at the same time I had a massive bleed and assumed I must have miscarried. I waited an agonising weekend for a scan whilst I bled continually. We were astonished when the sonographer told us there was a strong heartbeat, and thankfully I went on to have a healthy pregnancy. 

When I was 5 months pregnant Joel suffered a serious infection and was rushed to hospital where he was given strong antibiotics and fluids. It was a really scary time for all of us and having just thought I was going to lose the new baby we had genuine worry that we were going to lose our big baby. Once he came out of hospital we then spent a very difficult couple of months living with Steven’s parents with a really unsettled toddler. Emotions were high and we were incredibly relived to finally move into our new house. 

On the last blog I said I wanted a bigger house and a new baby, I feel very privileged to have got exactly what I wished for – even if the road to this was a bit bumpy!

I spent most of my first pregnancy worrying about getting Joel here safely, during this pregnancy I spent most of the time worrying that I was not going to be able to cope with two children and I was really concerned about the impact it was going to have on Joel. 

The pregnancy itself was fine after the first few weeks, I got SPD towards the end but I don’t think I really had much time to think about it. The night before I went into labour I cuddled Joel in his room and cried because it dawned on me that it was our last night alone together. It was a weird sadness and one that I had not anticipated. I was worried I would not have enough love for a second child and that Joel would resent me for being made to share. Even though we made an active and considered choice to have two children, these thoughts appeared unexpected and uninvited. 

I had contractions on and off for a day the day after my due date and we had child care on standby, but they stopped. I remember picking Joel up from nursery and waiting at the lights to cross over to bring him home and I knew they had started again (it’s true that keeping active helps get things going!). 

I put Joel to bed and tried to get some rest, but at 11pm I called the hospital as the contractions were every 2 minutes. I didn’t trust myself as I had been sent home from hospital with Joel so I called and asked for advice telling them they were frequent but didn’t hurt. The midwife calmly told me to wake my husband and get to hospital immediately. I still expected to be sent home when I was examined but I was taken straight to the delivery suite. I wasn’t really in pain and enjoyed a cup of tea and a chat with the midwife. 

I hadn’t really thought about a second labour and had taken for granted that it would be as magical as it was the first time. It was not. Having had an easy few hours I had a very dramatic transitional stage and really wanted to leave the hospital. I suddenly felt terrified and completely out of control. I remember taking on so much gas and air I was completely delirious. I pushed when I shouldn’t have done and collapsed on the bed saying ‘thank god that’s over’. I will never forget the look of alarm between the midwife and Steven before she told me I had not had the baby, and had hallucinated it. It was the single strangest experience of my life. I really thought I’d done it. She told me she could not even see his head but then minutes later she burst my waters and he was born, healthy and screaming.

I re-read my previous entry before writing this, and it saddens me that Nathaniel’s entrance into the world was not magical like Joel’s. I was in total shock when he was born and could not believe he was really mine. I certainly did not get the instant connection and I felt very detached. He was screaming and thrashing about and would not feed easily. I had to be stitched up and left on my own so Steven could get home for Joel. The whole thing felt bizarre. I recognise how lucky I am to have had two straight forward short intervention free labours, and so I cannot imagine how women recover after a difficult delivery. I felt traumatised and undignified and this was completely new to me.

Breast-feeding was a struggle in the first few weeks but having been there before and knowing I could do it I got plenty of support and eventually we both got the hang of it. It was very important to me that I breast-feed Nathaniel, but it’s hard work with a toddler competing for attention, and I quickly began to feel resentful that it was all on me all of the time. I decided not to express milk this time round and we tried to get Nathaniel to take a bottle so I could share feeding him with Steven. When this finally clicked for him life certainly got easier for us and I could commit some more time to Joel. This for me is the reality of having two children- there are often two conflicting priorities and I needed to figure out the happiest compromise.

Joel struggled to adjust to having a sibling. I know this is not the case for all children but for him, his life really was chaos for a year or so. Moving house, a serious illness and then a brother was probably all a bit too much. I know we expected too much from him and I have re-learned to parent over the last year. Things I used to do, I do not consider acceptable anymore. I think I used to be quite strict and we were obsessed with routine and sleep. I care much less about all of this now as in my opinion, it just doesn’t really matter. I would never do controlled crying again, I try to take a very gentle approach to parenting and we try not to shout or punish. That doesn’t mean there aren’t rules, there are, and Joel is growing into a very responsible and respectful child. We talk a lot and make decisions as a family. He has his say and knows that we value his opinion. I anticipate this will be much easier with Nathaniel as that ethos is already there in our house now. We try to have a lot of fun and for me that is the most important thing. I might not be able to give them all of the things other kids have but I am teaching them to be grateful for all the wonderful things we have and how to laugh – a lot. 

Has motherhood changed you? Undoubtedly. My priorities are different – on nearly everything. Yes I still love all the things I loved before I had children, but I accept and am happy with my life which is now full of play-dates, nappies, paw patrol, and fish fingers. I really appreciate little luxuries now and feel I don’t take anything for granted the way I might have done previously. I still struggle with the work life balance and sometimes feel like I’m not doing anything particularly well. My work can be emotionally draining and sometimes the last thing I want to do after a day at work is make long jump hurdles in the lounge, or sing row row your boat a dozen times, but my children did not choose for me to go to work and so I owe it to them to be enthusiastic and give them my full attention when I do get home. Equally, I can’t let my work suffer because I’m not in the office two days a week. I know I talk about my kids incessantly and I probably drive my colleagues mad with my stories and endless photos, but I can’t switch off from them; they are always there in the forefront of my mind and I relate everything I do to them.

Hardest part of being a mother: When anyone is ill. Kids ill? Childcare nightmare. Grown ups ill? Childcare nightmare. There is nothing worse than trying to muster the energy to entertain children when you feel rotten. No, that’s not true, looking after poorly children and worrying about them is much worse than being ill myself.

The hardest part of being a mother to two children is splitting my time. Before Nathaniel, Joel did not have to share me with anyone. I could play with play dough all day if he wanted, run round the park? No problem. Read ‘giraffe’s can’t dance’ 50 times? Let’s do it. Now, I find myself saying ‘just give me five minutes’ or I’m just feeding natey’ too often. When Nate was tiny I thought it was tricky as he fed almost constantly, but when he was finished I could just put him down and concentrate on Joel. Now they are both after my attention, and both on the move – usually in opposite directions. It’s hard to find activities that entertain them both and they both seem to move into a new phase together, so when Nate was small – and stationary- Joel didn’t have the concentration span for his train set or lego, now he’s got an interest in these things, Nate is on the move and hell bent on destroying any quiet organised play.

Best part of being a mother: I actually really enjoy the things I now have an excuse to do with the kids – sealife centre, crafts, walks in the park, farms, zoos. I love exploring the world with the boys and seeing new things as they do.

Cuddles all the time. I know they won’t last forever and so I’m banking them now. When Joel reaches over to hold my hand or leans in and tells me he loves me, all his tantrums and hitting just melt away. I hope Nathaniel is as affectionate as he gets older. He’s already blowing kisses so I’m optimistic!

What you wish you’d known before having children: That you are never alone, yet sometimes feel completely isolated. Having kids is a great way of meeting people but it takes you away from all of the things that you knew before. Work is not the same, friendships you had for years change, and your relationship with your partner is sometimes unrecognisable. I have sat in baby groups with women I really like and felt like a complete outsider, I have sat for lunch with childless friends and wanted to cry because I felt like I had nothing to contribute, I have sat down for dinner with my husband and realised that we haven’t spoken about anything other than children in days. Sometimes I feel like I am the only person in the world who is really struggling (when I know this is not the case). As a mother you always have company from your little people, and this for the most part is great, but let’s be honest here, it can be boring. I didn’t know it was okay to admit that until recently but it is so true. Repeatedly hiding a plastic cup under a pillow might be exciting for a one year old, just like whizzing a train around a track is exciting for a 4 year old, but to a 32 year old? Not so much. I love seeing my kids happy but adult company can be a very welcome break. That said, there are times where I am in adult company and think ‘I’d be having more fun with my kids’ so maybe I just can’t be pleased!

Any more advice for mothers and expectant mums: Don’t be hard on yourself, and surround yourself with people you trust. Be honest with yourself and those you love. If you need help – ask for it. Live by a park, buy lots of storage, sleep when you can, and find what works for your family.

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)

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