Katie, Ted and Beatrice

Name: Katie

Children: Ted, 3, and Beatrice, 6 months

Location: Sale

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

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

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

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

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

I think that start made everything that bit more difficult.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holly, Willow and Wilbur

Name: Holly 

Children: Willow 5yrs, Wilbur 8 months

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Additional comments:

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

http://www.tommys.org/

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

Danielle and Lincoln

Name: Danielle 

Child: Lincoln, 2yrs 

Location: Salford 

Expectations of Motherhood: The only word I could use to describe my expectation of motherhood is ‘unrealistic’. I relied on ideals that had been pieced together through memories of my own childhood, through films I had watched and the practicalities from books I had read. I thought I’d be the doting mother in the rocking chair, gazing lovingly at my little bundle and trying to soak in every second. We were the first of our friends and siblings to have a baby, so there we were stepping into the unknown - maybe this was why I was so unrealistic. 

I wasn’t worried at all really, thinking I’d take things in my stride. I really hated the fact that it seemed people were trying to put a dampener on the whole experience by constantly reminding me that I was about to enter the world of no sleep. I just thought to myself, ‘I know it’s going to be hard but I will cope!’.




Reality of Motherhood:
I will break this down into the stages I went through:

The beginning (first 6 weeks): Well, I won’t lie… I hated it. I had a long labour where I didn’t sleep for 3 days, which set me up for a torturous time. The one thing that I didn’t think about when I was doing all my planning was the mess my body would be in. Hormones everywhere, wobbly body, sitting on blow up rings to avoid the pain and then there’s the breastfeeding which never got easier for me I’m afraid. Lincoln was a very sicky baby and barely slept during these weeks which meant he wanted feeding a lot. Most of the time he would feed through my tears and agony, quickly throwing it all back up, meaning I would have to start again. This went on for 4 weeks at which point I decided to put him on formula. Had I been mentally stronger at the time I may have persisted but it was just making me (and him) miserable. Often pulling all-nighters in my uni years I thought I’d take sleep deprivation on the chin, but I most definitely didn’t. I struggled. A lot. I think because I struggled I felt like I was failing - which just made it a vicious circle - so it took me a while to claw back my sanity. Luckily I have a very supportive fiancé who had saved up holidays so he could be with me during the difficult weeks and we were able to share the sleepless nights. It got better though, much better.

The rest: At a very early 6 weeks we decided to move Lincoln into his own room mainly because we were all keeping each other awake! Lincoln was (and still is) a very noisy sleeper and between that and me being overly aware of him, constantly checking his strange noises weren’t a warning sign, it was turning into some kind of sketch show. Looking back, moving him into his own room was one of the best decisions we made. Lincoln started sleeping a good 6 hours at a time from then on (and so did I). I can still remember that first night he slept through. I felt like superwoman… I could conquer the world! From then on, yes we would have the odd crap night but I started to really enjoy being a mum. My confidence grew and I wanted to go out of the house with him more, taking him to classes, seeing the grandparents… I think I even got reacquainted with my make-up again. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved motherhood from day one but sometimes felt it was hard to enjoy as there’s so much deal with and get used to at the start. It’s like learning to ride a unicycle (if you have never ridden one before of course). Life changed the moment I held Lincoln in my arms and I guess at first I wondered what I had let myself in for but the truth is I would do it all again in a heartbeat. The reality? Motherhood is blummin’ hard but my god, it’s rewarding. 

Taking your child home for the first time: Ah, I remember this so vividly. It took us about an hour to get him ready to go home in the hospital because we were deciding what to put on him (so he was warm enough, but not too warm). I was so proud carrying him through the hospital in his car seat (even though I was walking a bit like bambi on ice skates). People stopped and asked me how old he was and I’m sure I said he was 3 days old… and later worked out he was actually only 1 day old. (It had most definitely felt like 3!) 

Then we navigated the fitting of the car seat and drove home slower than a milk float. Through the door we went and naturally as it had been a good 20 minutes since his last change, we thought we better change him again. We got him on the changing mat, took his tiny nappy off and then BAM…. there parenthood officially started, with him peeing in his own face! I was horrified! I didn’t even know that this was possible. Anthony and I couldn’t do anything but shout and panic! It’s hilarious thinking back on it now but I know at the time it felt like the end of the world. Lincoln was screaming and so was I…

All was well with the world though and it was just one of the many pivotal learning curves we went through on our journey to graduate from new-born college. (Seriously, there should be a ceremony).

The best/worst advice: The best advice I got was from a lovely midwife who told me to keep the house nice and dark and peaceful at night and then in the day have the light blaring in and TV on. I think it definitely sped up him cottoning on to some kind of routine… eventually!

The worst advice I was given was to wake him up for a feed every 2 hours. I don’t quite understand why the midwife told me to do this but it felt ridiculous while I was doing it and that’s because it was. Being a new mum, any bit of advice from a professional seemed like it was Gospel - I think next time I’ll trust my own judgement more. I believe a mother’s instinct far outweighs some of the sound advice that gets thrown at you from all angles.

The hardest parts of being a mother: At the beginning I thought the hardest thing about being a mother was dealing with the lack of sleep, but I was so so wrong. Fear is a ruler of my psyche every day now and I find myself following news and politics more intently. All these horrid things I read about where parents lose their little ones just breaks my heart and it’s because I can’t help feeling that pain myself at thought of being in their shoes. Lincoln is my world and having him taken away would be tearing that world apart. 

My instincts are to protect him from harm, but the more he grows, the less reliant he is on me, so I am finding I have to reign in these instincts more and more. THAT is very difficult. Even the tiniest things like allowing him to find his play and explore when I take him to the park is hard to watch. I can’t help but follow him around with my arms open ready for him making a wrong move. Only now can I understand why, even past the age of 20 when I’d be stumbling in at 4am after a night out, I could hear my mum stirring upstairs waiting for me to come in. She was probably thinking, ‘thank God, now I can sleep’.

The best parts of being a mother: The best part is the fact he makes me smile every single day. No matter what mood I am in, even if he’s not even said a word… I’ll look over and I just smile. He’s the best. 

The harder times are easy to forget but those moments you remember always. I get so much joy out of seeing him grow and learn new things, he amazes me every day and I couldn’t imagine life without him. I could fill this answer with lots more clichés that are all, of course, true but the fact is it’s actually easier to talk in depth about some of the harder parts about being a mother, not because the harder parts outweigh the best, but because it’s difficult to justify with words how amazing it actually feels.

Hopes for your family: I have lots of hopes for Lincoln. Anthony and I are working hard trying to build good careers so we can teach him to work hard and aim high. Not to the point where there will be lots of pressure on him though - we just want him to find out what he likes and go for it. I think it’s natural to look at some of the mistakes you have made in your own life and try and guide them away from making the same ones. My main hope is to have a good relationship with him, I want him to feel like he can talk to me and ask for advice. I want him to grow up to be a healthy, happy and confident young man knowing that his mum and dad are there for him when we are needed (and probably most times when we aren’t). We also want Lincoln to have a little brother or sister, but at the moment it’s not the right time. The big big dream is to one day move to Canada and live an active outdoorsy life… but as with most other things we would like, it costs money! So who knows what the future holds?

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: GET YOUR SLEEP IN NOW…. just kidding. 

I would say try and relax; a crying baby is not necessarily an unhappy baby and although it sounds like a panic alarm, don’t panic. Also, don’t read too many parenting books before you have the baby - I quickly found out that all babies are different and getting things to suit your babies tastes involves a lot of trial and error. You’ll get the routine right eventually and then they will most likely change again. 

Oh and don’t fall into the trap of buying unnecessarily expensive (and sometimes useless) baby things. I mean you can buy things like snot suckers but they can’t beat a good old bit of tissue! Above all… enjoy it! Sit in your room of chaos, laugh it off and steal as many precious moments you can get with them. No one expects you to be Martha Stewart and the world doesn’t end just because you have a messy house, but time passes by so quickly. I remember always urging on the next stage from seeing his first smile, I was looking forward to him crawling, then walking, then talking and so on. Now he is running around bossing me about leaving me wondering where that tiny baby went.

How has being a parent changed you?: You can speak to any member of my family and they will most probably nod in agreement at what I’m about to write. Before I had Lincoln I was a very different person. I had a big social life, and going out with mates every weekend (and some weekdays too) was top of my agenda. I had plans to travel the world and was figuring out what career path I wanted to take. 

Looking back, I can see how selfish I was. everything was about me. I’m surprised my family weren’t more concerned when I announced I was pregnant.  Anthony and I hadn’t been together that long, we were living in separate houses and were (and still are) skint. 

But now my world revolves around someone else, someone so much more important to me. Even though I would have loved to do a bit of travelling, I think I have gained more from the stability of getting a bit of structure in my life. Had I not had Lincoln, I don’t think I would be as close to my parents as I am now, we wouldn’t have bought a house, got a car and I probably wouldn’t be blogging or embarking on a career in social media. I have more important dreams and aspirations now, ones that don’t just involve me. I feel much stronger, more mature, more focused, and yes a little more tired too but it’s a small thing to lose for such a massive gain. Who would have thought this party animal would one day long for early nights and family days out? Not me.

Danielle's blog can be found at http://www.itstartedwithasquish.com

Jody and Alfred (1 year on)

Name: Jody 

Child: Alfred, 2

Location: Stockport, Greater Manchester

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toni and Arlo (1 year on)

Name: Toni

Child: Arlo, 2yrs

Location: Heaton Moor

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

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

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

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

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

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jane, Scarlett and Herbie

Name: Jane Weaver

Children (and ages): Scarlett,  8 and Herbie,  5

Location: South Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I always wanted to be a mum and imagined having this massive brood. I had this vivid daydream before and during pregnancy that I would be this calm earth-mother, walking around barefoot, long hair flowing, baking and singing to the children like one of Joni Mitchell's 'Canyon Ladies'. I would have cats and babies around my feet, strumming lullabies. I was quite looking forward to this new person I would be once I became a mother.

Instead of being a sometime-reckless, irresponsible, work-hard/party-hard musician to whom the perfect end to an evening was doing Karaoke with sailors, I thought I would actually grow up. I would be inspired, wise, confident and calm. I would be a really cool mum who would never raise her voice unnecessarily and whose kids would be guided - never punished. The children would glow from the creative backdrop of their parents. I spent hours imagining the crafts we'd make, seeds we'd plant, games we'd play, songs we'd write, clothes we'd wear and how we'd look. I was excited about entering this world.

Of course, when the children finally came along I realised that it wasn't possible, and the wood nymph mother I'd imagined was mostly unavailable; her princess locks were bedraggled because she'd not even had a shower yet as she'd been busy washing clothes and ironing. Later on that day she would spend hours pureeing home-roasted, organic butternut squash, only to find it lazzed across the highchair in disgust by a crying baby. 

In a nutshell lets just say my expectations keep adjusting as my children's personalities and preferences develop (....and my son puts his hands over his ears every time I sing, so…) 

Reality of Motherhood: My daughters (fashionably late) arrival was massively traumatic, and no book I'd read or birth plan I'd made had accounted for this. I was overdue by 10 days and had been in labour for an age, then finally the labour resulted in a very dramatic emergency c-section. 

The baby was distressed, but as they prepped me for theatre an alarm went off and another woman was rushed in before me - her baby was in a worse state. I remember lying there for about 40 minutes; I was exhausted and shivering uncontrollably, delirious with fear and feeling that my baby could die or I would die. I was praying-hard. I could feel the spinal anaesthetic wearing off and I was sick from all the medication. Any romantic notion I'd had about birth was well and truly quashed. 

I was eventually wheeled in and she was born to 'Superstitious' by Stevie Wonder (playing on the hospital radio). The nurses were having a dance and arguing about who sang the song. In my head I was shouting, 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ITS STEVIE WONDER!'

My hippy brain was convinced all the time I'd been pregnant that it was a boy. God knows why, but I would nod smugly at friends whilst rubbing my belly and say, 'I can feel its a boy'. I spent months talking to little "Sonny" Imagining his big brown eyes and mop of black hair (just like his father's). So when the nurse handed me my baby and said, 'It's a girl!' a single massive tear ran down my face because I was so overwhelmed with love. 

She was placed on me and I felt overjoyed and immediately protective of this little alien-imp. She didn't look like a girl at all and I was so confused and drugged up. I kept thinking they'd got it wrong (and I was very annoyed because I'd bought all these blue stripey playsuits with me). 

Back on the ward I felt so dreadful after 4 days of zero sleep, but also felt really really sick. I thought, 'How am I ever going to do this?' I needed to recover quickly but couldn't even feel my legs. My daughter seemed to cry incessantly with hunger; she'd fall asleep for an hour and then feed for an hour. It was non stop. The final straw came when the girl in the next bed to me started slurring loudly to her partner about how the morphine they'd given her felt, 'Just like an 'avin an E'. I was really offended by the real world and wanted to go home to my safe environment. 

We'd hardly thought of any girl names, but Melodie (after Serge Gainsbourg's album Melody Nelson) seemed apt. But I then decided that Melodie with a Mancunian accent didn't sound as beautiful as with Jane Birkin's broken French one, so we changed it to Scarlett.
Scarlett didn't sleep through until she was 11 months old. She cried all the time and I remember the sleep deprivation wildly taking hold of me. I was so out of the habit of sleeping I couldn't sleep; I felt like a walking ghost. I was so focused on being a good mum that Scarlett was never effected by all this, I idolised her and my husband and I catered to her every need and more.

Reality was tough. I still felt physically ill, I had a constant stomach ache and felt awful. My husband was away working a lot and I felt so nuts that throwing myself off the top of the house seemed inviting. I went to see my GP because I felt like I was losing the plot - I was so knackered and I resented everything. Her advice was probably the best anyone gave me. She said, 'Put the baby to bed, go downstairs and pour you and your husband a large glass of wine, and let her cry. It will be very upsetting for a while, but sleeping is a social skill and they have to learn to get themselves to sleep. You are not allowing her to do this'. Harsh as it all sounded she was totally right, and it worked. 

*I'd also like to point out that we did have a baby monitor and didn't get leathered*

As we got more sleep, things were really good and our daughter fascinated us. We fell in love with her more each day. I remember recording her voice when she started to talk and thinking, 'this child is surely a genius!' (Cue visions of joining Mensa and shaking hands with Carol Voderman), but then you realise most parents think the same about their own kids and the bubble is burst. 

Amidst all these new discoveries I still felt physically ill. I was in debilitating pain and had zero energy. Initially I'd put it down to being tired, but then I started to get a bit worried and my instinct was nagging me that something wasn't right. I was back and forth to the doctors like a Woody Allen character, and after many tests over the next 2 years it was confirmed that I was actually suffering from a condition called coeliac disease. I'd probably had it all my life but it had been missed, but being pregnant had challenged my body so much that the symptoms became very aggressive. By the time I was diagnosed properly I was pregnant with my second child. 

With coeliac disease you can't digest gluten found in oats, rye, barley and wheat, so it makes you ill. You also don't absorb the vitamins and minerals you need, and when you are pregnant your body needs all the good stuff so it explains why I'd felt so rotten for years.

Thankfully my 2nd pregnancy with my son was great and I felt really healthy. Herbies arrival was a less shocking experience than his sister's, and even on the photos I'm tanned with nice hair and makeup - I probably could've managed champagne and chocolates like Posh Spice. I was physically well as my illness was under control so I felt strong, and luckily for us he slept through the night after only a few months.

Taking your children home for the first time: I remember leaving the hospital still feeling dreadfully poorly with Scarlett thinking, 'I don't know what I'm doing.' 

I felt guilty because she'd had a traumatic birth and blamed myself. I hadn't slept for about a week (which in hindsight was nothing ), but still my maternal instinct was to just look after her. I couldn't drive for weeks and I remember getting a lift to Asda, praying she wouldn't cry so that I would have to go to the toilets and breastfeed her - obviously, that is what happened. 

The lovely side of it all was my husband and I did a lot of 'staring at the baby' for hours and coo'ing,. We were both amazed and bewildered that she was ours. 

Bringing Herbie home was easy, and the good thing about another baby is that they tend to slot into everything that's already set up. At home I just wanted to be with my brood, after being on a shared ward in hospital I didn't really want visitors, and constantly having to feed them became a joke - but one that I particularly didn't want to share with everyone.

The best/worst advice: With my first child my best friend gave birth a few weeks before, so we were on the phone quite often comparing notes (usually about feeding, as we'd both rebelled and gone onto formula milk by then). Eventually - like two detectives - we figured if our babies fed well, they'd sleep well. We both tried Gina Fords book, 'The contented baby book' as it had worked and was 'amazingly easy' for someone my friend knew - we were so tired we grasped for any information that could work so we could sleep. The results were patchy. 

Sleep became like finding the magic egg, and it's funny now, but at the time I couldn't accept the fact that controlling a child it's not as easy as it seems. It's like a mule going up a ladder - you can follow anything to the letter, but at the end of the day they just do their own thing. 

I remember being horrified at my first pre-natal appointment when the mid-wife said, 'Don't buy a baby bath - you don't need it. Go down to the pound shop and buy a bucket. Babies prefer it.' ...I didn't, but now I understand you genuinely don't need as much fancy stuff as you are led to believe by 'Mothercare' and 'Mamas and Papas', etc.  

You'll spend 100s on a digital baby monitor and it will break just as easily as the 40 quid one. You get guilted into buying stuff and then you have a clear out and stumble on barely-worn, expensive minature shoes and 2 factory-sealed copies of 'Babies first year diary', all bound for Oxfam.

My Mum has always been great with advice she said to me fairly early on (after one of my familiar bouts of ranting), 'You need to learn the word "acceptance". Things will never be the same again,' and she was, and still always is right.

The hardest parts of being a mother: It's relentless. Before I had kids I was much more laid back and such a free spirit, but I remember the first time I took my daughter for a walk, the world outside our window was a very dangerous place all of a sudden - cars driving too fast, sunshine shining into babies eyes, fighting dogs in the park. It was like a risk assessment and health and safety switch had been flicked on in my head and now it won't go off: 'Get down off that wall!', ' stop putting that pencil in your sisters eyes!', 'dont put too many grapes into your mouth or you will choke.'...I could go on (and on) and on. The kids are fun but they don't see danger at all. 

It's terrible when they are poorly or actually hurt themselves; Scarlett had a bad fall recently, but she really surprised us though as to how grown up and brave she was in hospital (whilst we where shaking and turning green as she was stitched up). 

As a mother you also are never ever allowed to be ill. Forget the old days of catching flu and lying in bed for a week and talking in tongues - you have to work through the hallucinations (after a box of Lemsip Max).

Working is still challenging. I'm a singer songwriter mainly, but I also work with others on my own record label (releasing mine and other artists' music) and I also DJ from time to time. My creativity has not gone away since having kids, and it's still really important for me to keep doing this - hopefully when they are older they'll appreciate this more! 

 The frustrating part is these days I can't just drop everything anymore - burn the midnight oil or hop on a flight - because everything has to be planned out months in advance.

The best parts of being a mother: The love I feel for them is boundless, and I get told constantly, 'I love you mummy' - I also get cards and amazing drawings and cuddles. 

 The love I feel for my own mother, and knowing my kids feel like that about me, makes me feel special and complete; we are tight. Its also made me appreciate and respect my parents on a whole new different level too - I can't believe they did this for me as its so hard, and they still are so supportive now.

My kids make me howl with laughter - usually when they are being naughty. 

My son once broke free, with me in hot pursuit whilst we were shopping in John Lewis and he decided to run all over the expensive Persian rugs in muddy wellies for what seemed like an eternity. Everyone looked at me in disgust.. but I kind of enjoyed it.

Hopes for your family: I want to hang out with them for as long as I possibly can. Family time and all being together and having fun is the best; its magical. I want them to continue to trust me more than anything as they grow. When they start school you realise they start changing so quickly - the one that was a good eater now dramatically weeps at every meal, and now there's door slamming and storming off etc. You can't control everything that goes on but you hope you can get them through the tough times.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Before you give birth go out socially with your partner, mates or whoever as much as you can manage. Go shopping, go out for meals, gigs, go on holiday - anything! Pamper yourself because once the baby arrives even getting in the shower is like a challenge from The Krypton Factor.

This is probably the most important thing though… be honest with your fellow sister. Post-partum I was really looking forward to meeting other new mums - hanging around drinking coffee, off-loading, and sharing experiences. The idea seemed nice. I imagined this commune-vibe, village co-operative from the 70's - everyone on an equal footing because we were all mothers. But it's not the case. Some groups can seem a bit like The Stepford Wives - perfect, cliquey and competitive because little Jimmy had already rolled over at 15 weeks, and Sue had lost all her baby weight from breast feeding alone. I sought out the odd poor cow who was rubbish at lying like me and found out that this was how you make good friends.

…..Oh and don't bother decorating your whole house in posh victorian chalky matt emulsion paint, as soon as they can crawl you'll have buttery crumpet handprints all over your living room, for the next few years you'll be wishing you'd have gone to Wilkinsons and bought its own brand silk paint. 


Jane's music and record label can be found here http://janeweavermusic.com