Kate and Arlo

Name: Kate 

Child: Arlo, 4 months

Location: Burnage, Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I have always known that I wanted to have children. When I was younger, I had a plan… I’d graduate university, get a job, work hard at my career, buy a house, get married and then have kids in my 30s. And I did it! I stuck to my plan. Only when it came to the ‘having kids’ bit, it turned out that it wasn’t as easy as I thought.

I have always been very responsible when it came to contraception – believing that if I ever didn’t use it, I was bound to get pregnant. I wanted children but I wanted to have them when the time was right – when I was happy, settled and financially secure.

In 2010, I bought a house with John, my partner of 12 years, and the year after that, we got married. We settled nicely into married life and about a year later decided to start a family. What I didn’t know at the time was what was to come…

After the first few months of trying and nothing happening, we figured maybe I hadn’t worked out the timing of ovulation quite right and promptly bought some testing kits. A year down the line, we thought maybe it was because of stress – a combination of the monthly pressure of not conceiving, day to day stress and family members with health issues. We vowed to try to relax and hope for the best. A further six months on, with still nothing happening, I went to my GP and was referred for some fertility tests. A couple of months later, I had the tests and there was nothing wrong with me, no obvious reason why I wasn’t getting pregnant. Again, we put it down to stress and continued to try. 

By this time, I was almost beside myself. I was desperate for us to have a child and I couldn’t understand why it was so hard to conceive. In the time that we were trying, over 40 babies were born to our friends and family. Each time someone told me they were pregnant, whilst I was incredibly happy for them, I also began to feel a little jealous. How come they could get pregnant and I couldn’t? I felt like my body was letting me down and began to lose hope. 

At the start of 2015, three years after we started trying, we accepted that it probably wasn’t going to happen naturally and went back to our GP to discuss the possibility of IVF. We were referred to the Fertility Clinic in May, both went through a battery of tests (mine on my birthday – happy birthday to me) only to find that there was no medical reason for me not to conceive; no problem with John or I – it was ‘just one of those things’, which in some ways was even more frustrating as we couldn’t rationalise why it wasn’t happening. So we signed up for IVF, were added to the waiting list and were told it would be 12-18 months before we could begin treatment. 

Some things to note about IVF: 

- The NHS is blummin’ wonderful. We should never take for granted how lucky we are.
- The chances of IVF working aren’t great (mine were approximately 1 in 3 due to my age).
- Because of the postcode lottery, we had one chance (had we lived elsewhere, this could have been up to three).
- They take out as many eggs as they can and fertilise them.
- They prefer to only implant one embryo at a time – the rest are frozen.
- Even if IVF did work, I could still miscarry. 

Just before Christmas 2015, I took a phone call in work - someone had dropped out of the IVF process and a spot had opened up, could I come in tomorrow for more tests? I, of course, said yes and the next day my husband and I headed off to the clinic to have the tests to determine the medication I would be on. On Christmas Eve, I took delivery of all the drugs and hormones I’d be taking in the New Year, and promptly had to pack them off to my sister-in-law’s as there was no room in my fridge due to the turkey!On 2 January 2016, I began my treatment. At the same time every day I had to inject myself in my stomach. After a couple of weeks, it increased to two daily injections plus blood tests at hospital every other day so they could monitor my hormone levels and egg supply. Approximately a month after I started treatment, I had to give myself a third injection and then we headed off to the hospital to have my eggs removed and for John to provide his sample. Once the eggs were out, they were assessed for their quality and then fertilised. The day after my eggs were removed, I received a phone call from the clinic… they had managed to take out four eggs – one didn’t fertilise, one did fertilise but died, one fertilised but the quality of the embryo was compromised and one had fertilised and was ideal for treatment. As this left me with one dodgy embryo, rather than freeze it and compromise it further, the doctors decided to implant the two viable embryos the next day and hope for the best. Two and a half weeks later, I would be able to do a pregnancy test. Three days later I started bleeding.

By this point, I was convinced that the IVF hadn’t worked, and spent the next two weeks dreading a pregnancy test that I was positive would be negative. John kept telling me to have faith that everything would work out but I was really struggling. Two weeks later, we both spent the night tossing and turning before getting up at 5am to do a pregnancy test. When it was positive, we were both over the moon! 

After checking in with the fertility clinic to let them know the good news, I was told then next step would be to attend a ‘viability scan’ – possibly the worst-named thing ever – in three weeks’ time. This scan would determine if our baby had a heartbeat and would take place on our wedding anniversary of all days. We were both dreading it and trying not to get our hopes up – when we saw what looked like a tiny bean on the ultrasound screen and were told that it had a strong heartbeat, we felt like the luckiest people alive. Unfortunately the other embryo hadn’t taken, hence the bleeding, but we had beaten the odds – we were pregnant! Again, we tried not to get too excited – we were still very aware of miscarriage statistics – the next step was to get to the 14 week scan. Then the 20 week scan. And then, because I had a placenta complication, the 28, 32, 36 and 40 week scans. Every day as we anxiously awaited the arrival of our baby, our love for him grew and grew. I loved being pregnant but I couldn’t wait to give birth and finally hold him in my arms. I think we both felt that until that moment came, there was still the potential for something to go wrong.

On 28 October 2016, nearly 11 months after I started IVF, after a mainly smooth but dramatic towards the end labour, I gave birth to Arlo. The moment they placed him on my chest and told me he was fine, I felt an overwhelming sensation of relief, immense gratitude and triumph that we had made it! He was here and he was ours and our hearts burst with joy.

Reality of Motherhood: I don’t know if it’s because we wanted him so much and that we loved him deeply even before he was born, or whether it’s because my husband and I have such a good, solid relationship (we’ve been together 18 years now), or just sheer luck, but Arlo is such a happy, chilled out baby.

We really are very lucky. Since he was about 8 weeks old he has slept through the night. He has his dinner around 7-8pm then goes down for a nap until around 11pm-12am, when we wake him for a final feed, then he typically sleeps until 8am. The fact that we get sleep makes dealing with anything that might come up in the day so much easier.

Arlo currently spends his days smiling, going for walks, playing (chiffon scarves and feathers run over his face are a favourite), working out on his baby play gym, squeaking (babies make really weird noises), going to various playgroups and classes and spending time with his grandparents. He has a lovely life and it shows. Now he’s four months old, his personality is really shining through and he makes me laugh on a daily basis. He’s only been here for nineteen weeks but it’s almost like we can’t remember a time without him. 

Taking your baby home for the first time: Just after he was born, when we were on the recovery ward cuddling, he latched himself on and started feeding. It came naturally to both of us, which was a relief because I wanted to breastfeed but had all the usual worries: it could be hard, I might not produce enough milk, he might not latch on etc. I have lots of friends with children so from their experiences I knew it could be difficult but we were doing okay and the next day were discharged from hospital. I had a few stitches and for the next few days had to do injections in the stomach to prevent DVT, but otherwise felt pretty good considering the previous 24 hours. 

The hospital in only ten minutes down the road so after a short drive we were home. We brought him in, put the kettle on and just sat staring at him. Both cats mooched over for a look, neither seemed sure, and then we just got on with it.

I was told the community midwife would be with us at some point 8am-6pm the next day. Lugging my battered post-laboured body out of bed at 7am to get everybody up and dressed just on the off chance we were first on her list was not really how either or us wanted to start the day. But we wanted to show her that everything was fine so we could move forward with us being discharged from care. 

She eventually came at 4pm after we’d changed many nappies, fed Arlo and he was asleep. She immediately stripped him down – we’d already discovered he screamed whenever we removed his clothes, this kid was not a fan of being naked – and told me to feed him. He’d literally just eaten so wasn’t bothered for it and was distressed without his Babygro on. She then told me that the more I practised, the better I’d be, instructed me to try a different position and then tried to make Arlo latch on. He still wasn’t having it as he was already full, which I explained, but then she said that his shaky hands could be a sign of hypoglycaemia and it was important for me to feed him on demand. Those ‘shaky hands’ were his startle reflex. All babies have them but it seemed like there was a lot of pressure on this breastfeeding lark. She said she’d be back in four days.

After she left, we carried on taking care or Arlo. Changing him, feeding him, burping. You know the drill. Then, four days in, as I was going to bed, I noticed my legs were really swollen and that when I touched them they were solid and they almost felt like they weren’t mine. I phoned triage and was told to get myself to A&E asap. It was 1am and was the last thing we needed. We bundled up Arlo in his warmest clothes and headed off to the hospital. There was no way we could take Arlo in with us into the cold waiting room full of sick and injured people so John dropped me off then the two of them headed home. We both assumed I’d be home in a few hours and be able to feed Arlo and he’d hopefully sleep until then. Instead, I was admitted with suspected DVT and needed to have scans on my legs which wouldn’t be until late morning, and John was thrown in at the deep end with a baby that was wide awake and hungry at 3am. 

Luckily we had a few small bottles of ready-made formula in the house which would tide him over until early morning. I’m not sure how he was straight minded enough to do this in the middle of the night with a screaming newborn, but John checked online which local shops sold them and where they were in stock so that his mum could be there first thing to grab a pack so that he could feed Arlo. When I rang home at 7am to check that everyone was up for the midwife – she comes anytime 8am-6pm remember (agghhhh) – I could hear him crying in the background because he was hungry and I went to pieces. I couldn’t be there for him and it was awful. A lovely nurse hugged me as I sat on the bed crying and told me that it was all fine and that John sounded like he was doing a cracking job, which of course he was. He rang my parents around 9am to let them know what was going on and they were with me about an hour later with supplies, hugs and conversation to keep me distracted while I waited for my scan. 

Thankfully it wasn’t DVT – it turned out that I had a liver deficiency due to the blood loss in labour. The wonky levels caused swelling and it would right itself within a month or so. Massively relieved, I headed home and promptly fed Arlo. He latched himself on, had a big feed and seemed happy. However, over the next few weeks, breastfeeding became more and more difficult. He was feeding for 40-60 minutes on one boob, then had to go on the other for the same amount of time and then was still hungry so we’d have to give him one of the little formula bottles. Again, we were very lucky in that regard. Boob or bottle, he didn’t care. But something wasn’t right, what used to be easy now seemed a marathon for both of us. Arlo was using all of his energy trying to eat, he was definitely getting my milk but no matter how long the feeds were, he never seemed satisfied. 

I went to a breastfeeding clinic and they confirmed I was definitely producing milk but my supply had likely decreased due to that one night I spent in hospital so soon after giving birth when I didn’t feed him for nearly 24 hours. They suggested that as well as continuing to feed Arlo exactly as I was, which was up to 10 hours a day at that point plus bottles, I should also express for 10 minutes each side, 10 times a day. Up to 15 hours a day with something attached to my boob. No thanks. The most important thing to me was that Arlo was satisfied and didn’t have to work so hard to feed. The decision to wean him off me and onto bottles was easy. 

He’s been on bottles since he was 5 weeks old and it suits us. He is finally satisfied and doesn’t have to use up all his energy trying to eat, plus we can both feed him which means it’s been relatively easy continuing as we were before. I go to my WI meetings, I’ve done a few Keep in Touch days in work, and from time to time the grandparents will look after him while John and I get something done or maybe go out for a meal.

The best/worst advice: You will be given so much conflicting information that you feel like your head will explode. One example being that after Arlo had fed on the recovery ward, I started winding him and a nurse came over and said “Oh no, you never burp a breastfed baby.” This confused me but I thought “Oh okay, she’s a medical professional” and stopped. Later on the maternity ward, I fed Arlo and then asked a nurse to help put him down as I couldn’t – I was still numb from the spinal I had to have in case I needed an emergency C-section. The nurse promptly gave me a lecture on the importance of burping and said she’d be back in ten minutes. Ten minutes later my freshly winded son was put down for a nap until he woke up again for another feed. 

If you’re a first time mum your head will also feel about ready to pop when you’re faced with things like the Pram Department at whichever shop you are in. The first time we went to look at prams, we walked in, assessed the vast array of travel systems in front of us and left without looking at any of them, totally overwhelmed. Being a data geek, I conducted a study amongst my Facebook chums who are parents and worked out the Top 5. We went back, looked at those and picked my favourite one.

If you’re planning on childcare or sending your baby to nursery, then look at them as soon as you can. I know. It sounds dramatic but it will save you a headache. Just before Arlo turned three months old we started to look at nurseries, catching up on Ofsted Reports and setting up visits. Three were already full and had massive waiting lists. One was nice but a little bit out of the way and couldn’t do the days I wanted. One was awful. And one felt just right, so that’s where he’s going for a few days each week from October when I return to work.

The best advice I’ve had is that if you are chilled out the baby will be. Over the years, we’ve built a lovely home that was just waiting for this little dude to come and make it his. I feel quite relaxed about being a mother. I think that because we waited so long I had such a lot of time to think about what it would be like to be one. It feels amazing when I hold him in my arms or play with him on his mat, and when he cries I tell him the story of how he came to be to settle him down. I’ve certainly got a lot sillier. I have to be silly to make him laugh! And when he laughs or smiles, it’s just the best thing. He lights up the room.

The hardest parts of being a mother: Breastfeeding – see above.

When we did switch to bottles full time, Arlo developed colic and would spend nights fast asleep but grunting and straining and kicking his legs. Seeing him in distress was awful but with a lot of cuddles, winding, leg pumps, baby massage and Infacol, we managed it for the next six weeks or so and now he’s happily colic free.

I’m sure everyone says this but one of the hardest parts of being a mother is the sheer responsibility of raising another human being. You want to do your absolute best by them and for them to be happy and healthy. I’m only four months in and I’ve already made choices for him about how we spend our time and where his formal education will begin when I go back to work. It’s wonderful watching him grow and develop. Every day something new will make him laugh or make him curious, and it’s my job to make sure that each day is an adventure, leaves him smiling and knowing he is loved.

The best parts of being a mother: The smiles he gives first thing in the morning when I look in on him. He goes really wide-eyed, smiles a huge smile, kicks his legs and puts his arms up. It’s the best thing to wake up to.

Smiles in general. I am drunk on his smiles. If I’m really lucky, I also get squeaks.

Any time I make him laugh. I will literally do anything to make him laugh.

Box sets and films – I’ve caught up on loads whilst trapped under my feeding infant.

Seeing Arlo enjoy spending time with his grandparents is lovely – he’s got them all wrapped around his little finger. I’m sure that at some point they must have considered that they may not have grandchildren so to see them with their grandson is a wonderful thing. 

Watching John be a father fills me with absolute joy. He has been a brilliantly supportive partner, changing nappies, doing the late night and early morning feeds, doing bath time, walking Arlo around the house whilst trying to lull him to sleep, taking him to classes and entertaining him whilst I make dinner. I really love to cook and find it relaxing so it’s lovely that I can continue to do that whilst John spends time with his boy. The conversations they have often make me laugh out loud. He’s a great dad and I’m looking forward to us growing together as a family.

Has becoming a mother changed you? Yes and no. Yes because I have this little person who depends on me and will always be my first priority. And no, because I feel that my life hasn’t really changed that much and instead Arlo has fit into our lives like the missing piece of a puzzle. Before I was pregnant, my idea of a good night out was a nice meal, a film or a trip to the theatre (I work in one, it’s handy), and I’ve done all of those things since having Arlo. He’s even going to see his first play where I work – The Very Hungry Caterpillar – in a couple of weeks. Obviously I know he won’t have a clue what’s going on but the colours and shapes and songs will be fun for him. Another way that I’ve changed is that I notice things more because Arlo is so curious. I’m constantly explaining what something is or pointing something out for him to look at and naming what we can see. It’s just the little things but I now look at the world from a different perspective.

Hopes for your  family: Some of the consultants and doctors we have come across on our journey have said that now I have been pregnant, because there’s no underlying reason for me not to, I may be able to conceive naturally. If I can, that’s great! I would love to add to brood and for Arlo to have a little brother or sister. If not, though I’ll forever be grateful to IVF and the nurses, doctors and consultants we came across who made Arlo possible, due to the decreasing chances as I get older, I don’t think we’ll go down that road again. There’s always the possibility of adoption. Who knows what the future holds. The one thing I can say for sure is that we will always feel incredibly lucky to have Arlo. I hope that he grows up knowing how much he is loved, how much we wanted him and how incredible the world is. We feel privileged to be his parents. 

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Have some ‘me time’. Whether that’s a long hot bath, a trip to the cinema with a friend or doing the food shopping (a favourite of mine), whatever makes you relax and unwind. I’m very lucky because in the first few months after Arlo was born John finished work at 4pm and was home by 4.30pm. He’d come through the front door, take Arlo off me for a cuddle and then took over parenting duties so that I could have a few hours to myself. I love spending time with Arlo but it’s nice to be able to continue to do usual day to day things that keep me sane. 

Develop a network of mums. Most of my friends have children and it’s great to be able to ask them questions and hear about their experiences. I didn’t know anyone who was going to have a child around the same time as me so I did an NCT course to meet other local mums to be. The women that I met through that are all lovely and we often meet for play dates, classes and coffee. We have a What’s App group, which has been brilliant. In the first few weeks there was a lot of ‘Hello… anyone else up?’ messages in the middle of the night (at least two of us were always up). Being able to ask each other questions about anything from baby massage and breastfeeding to box set recommendations and the ridiculous outfits we plan to inflict on our children (think reindeer and elves), has been great and more than once has reassured me that whatever is currently happening, it’s probably also happening to someone else. 

Enjoy every moment because it’s gone in a flash. He’s only four months old but I can’t believe how much he has changed already, and it’s only going to get worse. Be present. Have fun. Love with abandon. Be kind. Be patient. Teach your child all of the qualities that you admire. We often wonder what kind of little boy Arlo will grow up to be and I like to think that it will be the best part of the two of us, with some of his grandparents, aunt and uncle and our friends for good measure.

Any other info: I donated my placenta and cord blood to Anthony Nolan Trust who help people affected by blood cancer or blood disorders. It’s a great cause and something I’d encourage mums to be to consider. Visit their website www.anthonynolan.org for more information.

Find me on Twitter @FitzBowden

Kate and Edward

Name: Kate 

Child: Edward, 7 months

Location: West Didsbury

Expectations of motherhood: We never expected to have difficulty conceiving, and so we waited until we had everything in place before we started trying for a family. By this time we were both doing well in our careers, and had probably had more than our fair share of living like we were twenty-somethings (even though we were well into our thirties). My hopes were for a large, close-knit family. I had seen my partner Alan with our friends’ children, and knew he would make a wonderful dad.

Conceiving, however, was anything but easy. It took us four years, a battery of invasive tests, four failed cycles of fertility treatment, a devastating miscarriage and numerous other disappointments. We had almost given up hope when Edward was conceived. My expectations of motherhood then were very different – I dared not expect too much for fear something would go wrong, and even when it seemed as though my pregnancy was to be successful, it was impossible to see beyond the birth. Becoming a mother had become so elusive – something that would never happen to me – that I actually had no expectations other than to desperately hope that I would be able to hold a healthy baby in my arms.

Reality of motherhood: It sounds obvious, but pregnancy and early motherhood have been an incredibly intense experience, both physically and emotionally. My pregnancy gave me every side effect possible – acute sickness up to week 14, digestive problems, extreme hunger, unstoppable weight gain (four stone!), hip problems (I was unable to walk for the last two weeks of my pregnancy), bleeding gums, terribly sore feet. I could go on. It also made me feel remarkably alive, and I skipped out of bed in the morning during the second and most of the third trimesters, so utterly delighted to be pregnant. 

When Edward was born, I fell in love immediately. It was such an extraordinarily strong emotion, and so overwhelming at times that I spent quite a bit of the first few weeks in tears. These were tears of joy, and not the ‘baby blues’ I’d been warned about. I had, and still have, an overriding urge to be with him all the time, to make sure he feels safe and loved, and I have no doubt I would do anything – anything at all – to protect him. My priorities feel different too. My career has always been extremely important to me, and I could never really understand why some of my friends chose to be stay-at-home mums. I now understand why, and am trying to work out how I can do my job part-time.

The other reality for me is that my health suffered quite considerably after Edward’s birth. I developed a terribly bad back at about week seven, and was unable to lift anything at all, including my son. Initially I was told a bad back following the birth of a child was quite normal, but it went on for so long with no improvement that eventually I was sent for an MRI scan. I was not expecting the result at all – five spinal fractures. The vertebrae had basically collapsed. A bone density scan and further tests revealed that I had developed a rare condition called pregnancy-related osteoporosis. It’s hard to explain how difficult it was to be unable to pick up or properly care for my much longed-for baby while the fractures healed, and to see other people doing things with Edward that I had expected, and longed, to do myself. I also had to stop breastfeeding very suddenly following the diagnosis at four-and-a-half months, as I was advised this would help my recovery. This was probably the most difficult part of the whole saga, my distress partly hormonally-driven I’m sure. But Edward soon realised he could get twice the milk in half the time through a bottle (he’s not daft!), and has thrived. And because I spent so many months unable to lift him he is not a clingy baby, and is very happy in the company of other people. 

Taking your child home for the first time: We spent a week in hospital following a rather long labour which culminated in a dramatic birth, and when we finally got home it felt pretty unreal – I recall being surprised actually. I took Edward from room to room so he could see his new home, and remember breaking down in the kitchen because I never thought this moment would happen. I then spent the next 24 hours convinced I was going to accidentally harm this tiny creature. If he wasn’t going to die from being too hot or too cold in his Moses basket (how many times can you check the room temperature in one night, or fret about blanket thickness?), then I was going to probably injure him when I was changing or bathing him. I remember taking him for a hip scan when he was about three weeks old as part of a routine test to check his bone alignment because he had been born with turned-in feet, and being convinced they were going to find broken bones or other injuries. Silly I know, but he seemed so fragile to me that I felt so utterly cumbersome and clumsy when I touched him.

The best/worst advice: The worst advice I had was that babies are unable to get themselves to sleep. So in the early weeks I spent hours and hours rocking Edward and pounding the streets in an effort to get him to nap. I also at one point ended up with my iPad on my pillow blasting out white noise at full volume in an effort to ‘lull’ him to sleep in the dead of night. It became some sort of torture device! Not surprisingly I became very, very tired.

We were also told that newborn babies are rather dull, and our expectation was that Edward would probably not become ‘interesting’ until aged around six months. Not so! We have found every stage to be fascinating, and Edward has always interacted with us and given us so much back. Right from his birth we both felt a connection when he looked at us (I have a wonderful photo taken a couple of minutes after his birth where father and son are staring into each other’s eyes). And those gummy smiles of his have melted my heart since he was four-and-a-half weeks old.

The best advice I had was that babies tend to need a sleep after about two hours of wakefulness. So we gave it a whirl, and started popping him into his cot after he’d been awake for two hours; most of the time he would go straight to sleep. Once I binned the books with their reams of conflicting sleeping and napping tips, life became much easier. Another piece of advice I’m so glad we followed was to not have too many visitors in the first couple of weeks. Those few weeks with Edward and Alan – just the three of us – were incredibly precious and tender. There was plenty of time to see friends and family when Alan returned to work after his paternity leave. 

The hardest parts of being a mother: There are numerous challenges, most of which have taken me by surprise. The constant worry that you’re doing it ‘wrong’ is one. I had heard many times that your baby “doesn’t come with a manual”, and I didn’t really understand what this meant until Edward was born. I have spent hours questioning my own judgement, and I do seem to live with the nagging fear that something I am doing is unwittingly causing him long-term damage.

Another difficultly is seeing him poorly. We have been lucky so far that this has only stretched to coughs, a mild cold and a vomiting bug; I am dreading seeing him really unwell.

Yet another challenge has been letting go – or trying to – and accepting other people’s help in holding him when I have been unable to. It’s excruciating having to watch someone else comfort your baby.

The best parts of being a mother: The absolute, unconditional love I feel for my son. He has enriched my life immeasurably, and makes me feel glad to be alive. His huge, gummy grin first thing in the morning – so happy to see me; making him giggle uncontrollably by doing something really silly; him falling asleep in my lap when I sing to him and stroke his hair; seeing him develop more and more all the time, with each day bringing something new; and just the sheer privilege of being able to spend so much time with him and getting to know him. This may sound a strange thing to say as motherhood affects so many, but being a mother is probably the best kept secret ever – I never imagined how wonderful it could be until it actually happened to me.

Has becoming a mother changed you?: Yes. I feel I have grown emotionally. My priorities feel different; I would do absolutely anything for my son. I also feel different with regard to my own health; being in so much pain for such a long time, and being dependant on other people, has made me realise how fragile my own health is, and how important it is to look after myself. Lastly, I now understand a part of my own parents that I didn’t before, and feel closer to them because of it. I wish my father was alive to have been able to meet Edward. He would have fallen for him too! 



Hopes for your family: My hopes for Edward are that he is happy and healthy, feels secure and knows he is loved, and that he is able to fulfil his potential. I would also like to have a close relationship with him, and be an important part of his life when he himself is an adult.

As for other children…we always planned on having more than one, but we recognise this might not be possible, both because of my age and my health condition. We are seeing my hospital consultant next month, so will discuss the options around having a second child, and whether it is safe. If not, Edward is such a blessing that we will count ourselves very fortunate if he is our only child. We have a wide circle of friends, many of whom have babies around the same age, so I am certain he will grow up with numerous good playmates who will be as important to him as siblings.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Bin the books. All their conflicting advice about routines and sleep patterns just made me anxious.

The other must-do is to take part in an NCT antenatal course. The women I met have become firm friends, have kept me sane and have helped me through a pretty tough time; I’m not sure how I would have coped without them.

And lastly, take as much maternity leave as you can afford. It is such a special time, and it will fly by. Enjoy it.

Pregnancy-related osteoporosis - This is a poorly understood condition which affects a small number of women each year. It is believed that the hormonal changes associated with pregnancy somehow cause massive bone loss. Most of those affected regain their bone density within 12 months of the body’s hormones returning to normal after pregnancy. More information is available through the National Osteoporosis Society: www.nos.org.uk

Laura and Florence

Name: Laura

Child: Florence (9 months)

Location: Levenshulme

Expectations of Motherhood: Being the oldest of three children, and having a mother who was a childminder when I was young gave me fairly realistic expectations. Quite a few of our friends had babies in the year or so prior to us, particularly our best friends, so we had experienced their joys and frustrations second-hand.

In terms of getting pregnant, I was really disappointed that it didn’t happen straight away. I come from what seems like an ultra-fertile family – my relatives pop out babies left, right and centre with very little difficulty so I had always assumed that I would be the same. The months ticked by until I found myself at the doctor’s, having been trying for a year without success. I was referred to the hospital and after various tests they discovered I had PCOS.

At this point, I realised I had been putting my life on hold – I was stuck in a job with a bullying boss, producing photographic work with no real focus, with dreams of doing something to inspire me – so I got a new job and a place on an MA course. Starting a new job coincided with taking fertility drugs – my poor boss must have wondered what sort of madwoman he had employed. And within three months, I was pregnant. Having to break that news three months into a new job was a little embarrassing, but as we’d waited two years by that point, we were ecstatic. 

I was slightly apprehensive about maternity leave as I have always been very focused on my career as a photography teacher and enjoy being independent and socially active. I was photographing abandoned buildings for my MA project, we ate out and went to gigs all the time – I couldn’t see how any of that was going to be compatible with motherhood…

Reality of Motherhood: Turns out none of it was, but I don’t care now we’ve got Florence!

Motherhood is amazing. It is joyful, it is magical, it is wonderful. And it is bloody relentless. I don’t think I had longer than an hour to myself in the first four or five months. There are days when I practically throw Florence at Ewan as he walks through the door, and there have been days where I have just sat and cried with her, but as I have been told so many times, it gets easier. Those days are few and far between now, as Florence and I have grown into each other’s rhythms – I know when she is likely to get grumpy and how to prevent (or to get through) it. But it is rare – she is a lot of fun to be with. I can’t think of a person I would rather hang out with. And certainly no-one else with whom I would willingly spend 24 hours a day.
The reality is strange though – just last week I thought, “I’m a married mother of one” and it seemed like somebody far away from me; somebody older and wiser.

Taking your child home for the first time: I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. The birth was quite quick (so I’m told – 11 hours didn’t feel that quick to me, but what would I know?) but I lost a lot of blood at the end, so I had to stay in overnight. I wasn’t expecting that, and after a hot, sleepless night with a shellshocked newborn baby, and two meconium-filled nappies to deal with when I could barely stand up, I just wanted to get home. I hassled the midwives (apologies) and even spent the final hour sweltering in my coat as some sort of pointless protest. When they finally let us go, I felt like the first woman in the world to take her baby home from a hospital. Walking gingerly along, carrying this tiny bundle, I was so proud when people stopped to look and ask about her – I thought we were so special, but people are just interested in tiny babies I now realise! 

Both sets of parents had turned up at the hospital within a couple of hours of Florence being born, so my parents set off first to put the kettle on (a brew solving all of life’s problems) whilst we carefully buckled Florence into the car and spent the five minute journey home on full alert for signs of reckless driving (everywhere).

We got home, and all six of us just looked at her in the carseat. Shit!

The best/worst advice: It’s been said many times on here, but being told to wake your child up to feed them is just beyond comprehension. Here you are, an exhausted new mother with no idea what’s going on and a midwife tells you (as she did me) to blow in their face to keep them awake, to strip them naked and wipe a cool flannel on their body. I cannot believe that I even attempted this (never the cold flannel – the midwife did that at the hospital and I was horrified) but I was told that if I didn’t feed Florence every two hours that she would sleep through the hunger signs and become too weak to wake up, and essentially die. As if I wasn’t worried enough! With the next one, I will definitely leave them to sleep. Oh how I will leave them to sleep!

Another piece of terrible advice – sleep when the baby sleeps. I don’t understand when you are meant to wash, put a wash on, clean up, cook etc if you are always asleep at the same time as your baby. How would anything get done? And I am lucky enough to have a hardworking husband and loads of really supportive family and friends nearby. I shared some naps during a few weeks of a brutal growth spurt, and the house looked practically derelict. We ate a lot of beans on toast (when we’d remembered to buy bread – sometimes just beans).

The best advice has been to do things my own way and ignore all other advice! I feel lucky that I have been brought up to be very confident in my abilities and I resolutely refused to read any books during pregnancy. I am not doing things the way the midwives and health visitors suggest (co-sleeping, breastfeeding on demand, baby-led weaning etc), but do you know what? I have a really happy and healthy little girl who loves life so I must be doing something right. 



I understand that not everyone will feel confident enough to forge ahead blindly, and that seeking advice can be really helpful but I think one needs to be aware of over-seeking. You can find evidence to support whichever path you choose to take, and worrying about the smallest details won’t have any real bearing on the way your child grows up. We are all brought up differently but on the whole, most people are pretty decent human beings.

The hardest parts of being a mother: The absolute relentlessness. Feeling a bit tired? Cranky? Headache, sore throat, cold, backache, unable to go to the toilet because of stitches? Tough. Get up, get on, do it. Your baby has no concept of you as a separate being – you are simply there to nourish them. It changes and evolves as they get older, but it hasn’t let up yet! The initial newborn helplessness segues nicely into separation anxiety and now Florence is developing mobility with alarming speed – if I so much as look the other way she manages to crawl to something dangerous, grab the cat or otherwise cause mischief.

The failure to protect your child is something that I can only imagine increases as they become more independent. Whenever Florence falls over or is in pain, I feel like I have failed as a mother. When she gets older and has her heart broken, or gets teased at school for something, or is influenced by insidious advertising I will fail over and over. All I can do is my best, but it won’t always be good enough. 

The best parts of being a mother: Seeing your baby for the first time. I couldn’t believe that this amazingly perfect little thing was mine. It took about six months to stop wondering when the knock on the door would come to take her back – I was sure we were only allowed Florence due to some administrative error.

Making her smile and laugh. Florence was an early smiler, at around two weeks, but didn’t give up laughs easily. She was easily amused, but didn’t give a real belly laugh until????? Now we know how to get a giggle from her, but it’s also exciting discovering new ways. 



Seeing Florence interact with others. She is a sociable little thing and particularly loves other babies and children. Because she is so smiley, people react to that so she does get a lot of attention when we’re out – it’s great because I’m quite outgoing but people think you’re a bit odd if you just strike up conversation with them – a baby is a great excuse. I’ve met so many people through having Florence and had so many positive experiences just chatting to strangers when out and about.

Each new experience with her is amazing too – every time she does something new, I become extraordinarily excited. Just seeing positive (and sometimes negative) elements of yourself and your partner emerging in this tiny being is interesting beyond belief – genetics is infinitely fascinating to the people involved!

Has becoming a mother changed you? It has made me more tolerant of others – I used to get really annoyed about small things, like bad driving or someone being grumpy but now I try to put myself in their shoes more. They may have been up all night with a screaming baby; they might be experiencing any number of difficulties. Or they might just be an idiot. But I can’t know one way or another and I would want to be given the benefit of the doubt, so I must do the same for others. 

But in other ways I am less tolerant – less tolerant of selfishness - people parking on the pavement so that I can’t get past with the pushchair (or even the sling sometimes!) makes me furious. Loud swearing in public really annoys me. Probably all the things I did before I had Florence.

It has made me a bit softer, I think (and not just physically). I was probably a bit more cynical before. It has made me wonder at the world again – if Florence finds a tiny piece of foil fascinating, then perhaps it is. Maybe I need to look again.

What I was worried about prior to birth and what I have been really pleased to discover though, was that motherhood hasn’t changed me – it has added to my experience and personality but I am still essentially Laura.

Hopes for your family: I hope that we treat each other (and those around us) with kindness and respect. I hope that we can all be patient with each other.

I hope that we can provide siblings for Florence; we are both one of three siblings and would love to recreate the childhoods we both had, and the bonds we have with our siblings. I hope that our children love each other and like each other.

I hope I’m one of the cool mums when Florence goes to school…

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums? I know it’s been said before, but trust your instincts – you grew your child for nine months, and spend all your time with them, so who else would know better than you? Be confident enough to make your own decisions. However, seek help if you need it. There is no need to be embarrassed if you are unsure – most of the time, the answer you find will only confirm what you thought anyway, but it might help to find that others agree. 

On a practical level: stock up the freezer with meals that are easy to chuck in the microwave; accept all offers of help; let visitors get their own drinks and be firm about how long they stay.

Above all, don’t worry if you don’t feel like a ‘natural’ mother straight away. This is the biggest change you could ever make in your life – why on earth should you know exactly what you’re doing? It took me at least three months to get the hang of breastfeeding, and even now I don’t think I’ve ever managed to leave the house with everything I need in the nappy bag.

And, enjoy it.

Gemma and Joel

Name: Gemma

Child: Joel, 14 months

Location: Sale

Expectations of motherhood: I always knew I wanted to be a mother, but I didn’t think we’d have a family until we were in our 30s. I was only 25 when we got married and although we planned to have a baby we also had big plans to travel the world. Then a few years ago I got diagnosed with endometriosis, I was quite poorly and was told that I might find it difficult to get pregnant. Suddenly my priorities changed and it seemed like the most important thing in the world. We talked a lot about it and decided that it was better to start trying earlier. 

It took us a while to get pregnant, but not as long as a lot of people and I’m now really grateful for that. However, at the time it felt like we were the only people in the world who didn’t just have to think fertile thoughts to make a baby. After a few months it became an obsession, I read every book and took every fertility test and it felt like it was all I could think of or talk about. I was scared it was never going to happen for us and felt so guilty that there might be something wrong with me. After more than a year, we arranged to see a fertility doctor and the day I got my appointment I found out I was pregnant. It was such an amazing feeling; I remember just saying those words over and over in my head ‘I’m pregnant’ just to see what it felt like. I loved how it sounded and felt such relief that we were going to get what we so desperately wanted. 

During pregnancy, if I thought about motherhood I imagined myself as a complete natural who would be back in her skinny jeans within a week, would breast feed like a goddess and would raise healthy brilliant children all whilst whipping up a spectacular batch of cupcakes and keeping an immaculate house. On other days I thought I would be a disaster who would raise delinquent children and never wear mascara again, but thankfully I think the reality is likely to be somewhere in between.

I was nervous when I was pregnant as I felt quite out of control, obviously I could control everything that I did and what went into my body, but I was terrified the baby would just stop growing or that I had wanted a baby so badly it was a phantom pregnancy. Because of this I don’t think I gave too much thought to what it would be like when he got here, I naively thought that conception and pregnancy were the difficult bits! 

Reality of motherhood: I was very lucky as I had a straight forward and quick labour. I had been very positive about it and didn’t feel scared as I just wanted him here and really thought as soon as he was, everything would be fine. I had imagined that I would have a relaxing, dignified water birth and they would pass me my beautiful child and all would be well. In reality, even the most straight forward labour is completely undignified. When I first saw him I was a bit stunned and I couldn’t hold him because I was horrified at the amount of blood and just kept asking, 'Is that normal? Is everything ok?' 

When I calmed down we had skin to skin contact and he fed straight away, it was pretty magical and I knew instantly that I would do everything in my power to be the best mother in the world. Unfortunately, the panic then came back as dozens of nurses and doctors all came in to take a good look at me. I had to go to theatre due to some complications and this burst that magical little bubble. It was rotten to be whisked away, but I was back with him within a couple of hours and we were both fine. 

When I got taken up to the ward the midwife made me a cup of tea and gave me a biscuit and I sat in bed and watched him sleep. It really was as wonderful as I’d expected and I felt enormous calm. Everyone had said I wouldn’t sleep in hospital, but after staring at him for a while I slept really well. I heard other babies crying and thought perhaps I’d got a really good one because he slept all the way though. I’m really glad I slept that night because for the next four months Joel did not sleep for more than an hour at a time!

To say Joel was a bad sleeper is the biggest underestimation ever. We became obsessed with sleep, I know every new parent says the same, and everyone will warn you about it, but nothing can prepare you for it. Someone once said to me that once you have a child, sleep is never very far from your mind, and this was so true for us. I used to meet up with friends and we would compare how much sleep we had the night before, the standard greeting became, ‘How was your night?’ At the time I genuinely believed I was the most tired person in the world and if someone told me their baby had slept for more than an hour I would be sick with envy. I breastfed Joel, and from what I know of mothers who haven’t, lack of sleep is the biggest downside. I thought there must be something wrong with him as he fed all the time, and for ages. I would sit up at night feeding him looking at articles on the internet about breast feeding and wondering what was normal. I realise now he was fairly normal for a breastfed baby, but I just was not prepared for it.

I think the reality of motherhood is quite different to looking after a newborn baby. Motherhood is terrifying, exciting, difficult, rewarding, exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time. But that first 6 weeks is like a boot camp before you can start getting to the really good bits. In the beginning, just getting out of the house is a small miracle. Our first proper trip out was when Joel was 5 days old, we went for lunch and I sat in a café whilst Steven was at the counter and just cried. It suddenly felt overwhelming to be out of the house with our baby. He looked so tiny and it seemed wrong that he should be anywhere near the real world. I was also equally terrified that he would wake up and I would have to feed him (god forbid anyone might see my nipple!) or he would cry and I wouldn’t know what to do and I would be found out as the incompetent mother that I obviously was. 



I was struggling to keep it together and a lady came over and asked if I was okay, she assured me, 'It gets better,' and said I was very brave for being out of the house with a 5 day old baby. It’s funny because at the time I thought it was weird to say I was brave, but now I see people out with tiny babies and I understand what she meant. At the time I thought I should be out and about, getting back to reality and showing the world what a competent parent I was. If I have another baby I fully intend to stay in my pjs for a month and demand everyone else comes and makes me tea. 

During the first couple of months when everything felt like a battle and I doubted myself and my instincts on an hourly basis, my husband and I would ask ourselves each night, ‘What went right today?’ Some days the best I could come up with was, ‘he’s still alive’. In hindsight, there’s not much that can beat keeping a small child alive.

After that first few weeks of feed, change, sleep, feed, change, sleep, panic, feed, cry, feed etc etc. Something clicked. I’m not saying I was suddenly the wonderful earth mother I fantasised about, but somehow it wasn’t all so terrifying. I could get out of the house in under an hour, I was a dab hand at feeding without exposing myself, and I could make, butter and eat a piece of toast one handed. I began to relax and actually enjoy this little bundle that I had been given. There was a momentous evening where we put Joel to sleep upstairs whilst we stayed downstairs and had tea and watched TV. I felt like we had really achieved something! It was a far cry from the early days where I would fall sleep without any dinner.

Taking your child home for the first time: I was so excited to get out of the hospital and take Joel home. After Joel had passed all his tests, I had eaten some fairly grotty fish and chips, had the best shower of my life and had been visited by Graham (the very handsome anaesthetist), we were given the green light. I bundled all my things into a bag, put Joel in his snow suit which drowned him and we got him into his car seat. As we walked him down the stairs and to the car I could not stop grinning. I felt like we were doing something naughty and half expected a mid-wife to come and say, ‘Sorry, we made a mistake, of course you can’t keep him; he’s too perfect’. But we must have slipped through the net because we got him to the car and buckled him in, this was all spoiled by a crazy lady in the carpark who kept asking us for money, but we shook her off and Steven drove us home. I don’t remember if we talked, I sat in the back with Joel and we listened to Noel Gallagher’s high flying birds. I remember thinking it was a shame that the first bit of the outside world Joel got to see was an industrial estate in Wythenshawe. When we got home we put his car seat down in the middle of the lounge and both just looked at him. He was asleep and neither of us knew what to do.

One thing that really sticks in my mind about the first few weeks was how insignificant everything else seemed. I remember watching TV and getting cross - they were making jokes and it all seemed so frivolous. It’s ridiculous but I just thought, ‘I’ve just had a baby, do you not know how significant that is?’ and I couldn’t think about anything else or anyone. If a friend talked to me about work, or a problem, I couldn’t concentrate and kept thinking, ‘this is nothing compared to having a baby, look at that baby! How can you care about anything else’? Of course, thankfully, this wore off and I am now able to hold a relatively normal, non-baby related conversation. 



Best advice/worst advice: The day after Joel was born and we were still in hospital I asked the midwife for help breastfeeding, she manhandled him and me to get him latched on, it was unpleasant and I felt like I wasn’t part of it whilst she grabbed my breast and shoved it into his mouth. Eventually he was feeding and as I relaxed into it I instinctively stroked his hair. She batted my hand away and told me not to do that as he would ‘enjoy it’. I immediately stopped and felt so silly that I had got this basic thing wrong. Looking back I should have slapped her. He is my baby and how dare she criticise me for touching him. Once I was home and got some perspective I could see that she was wrong to have said this and thankfully breast feeding went well for us, I went back to stroking his hair when feeding and still do it when I give him his bottle now. Who knows, maybe it’ll ruin him for life but it’s nice for the time being!

The best piece of advice was from a friend who already had two children when Joel was born. She told us to do whatever was necessary for us all to get some sleep. This did mean feeding him to sleep when he was tiny, giving him a dummy, letting him sleep in our bed and at about 10 months doing controlled crying. All big no no’s according to some people. I don’t think it matters, he now sleeps in his own bed every night, doesn’t need a feed to fall asleep and I seriously miss the days where I could bring him in bed with us in the morning for half an hour’s extra sleep! I’m sure there’s a cut off or maybe we’ve just been lucky (or thanks to controlled crying), but I think that as with most things, if you listen to your child and follow their cues, they will get in the end. 


Hardest parts of being a mother: The worry and anxiety, every minute of every day. I have terrible visions of Joel choking, stopping breathing, getting kidnapped, contracting a horrible disease, getting hit by a car etc etc. I lie in bed at night and will suddenly be overcome with terror that he’s stopped breathing and I’ll have to go in and check on him. I don’t know whether I’m more or less anxious than other parents, but the constant thought that something awful might happen to him is exhausting.

My emotions are now more powerful than ever and I react to things in unpredictable ways. When Joel started crawling I turned up at a friend’s house in tears because I felt unprepared. I’d spent that morning trying to get ready with him mobile and I felt I was going to unravel. I suddenly realised I couldn’t just leave him because he could move and so the logistics of getting a shower and getting dressed foiled me. I came up with the brilliant plan of shutting the bedroom door with him in the bedroom whilst I ran to the toilet. Inevitably he crawled over to the door and sat behind it so that when I tried to get back in I had to edge the door carefully so as not to knock him over. In hindsight, leaving a baby behind a closed door is stupid for many reasons and I felt like an idiot for not realising that at the time. The reason I was crying when I got to my friend’s house was not because I nearly hit my small child with a door, but because I felt guilty for being annoyed that his crawling made my life harder. I felt awful that instead of celebrating this milestone I felt resentful.

Although I have had amazing support from some of my friends and my sister, I often feel like I don’t have a role model and that I’m making it up as I go along. I don’t have a very good relationship with my mum and although I have some very happy memories of childhood and there were some things she did very well, she’s not able to be there for me now and when other mums talk about their mums coming over and ironing/cooking/babysitting/listening/giving advice I feel a bit sad. 

Best parts of being a mother: It’s lots of fun. Before he arrived, when I thought about being a mum I imagined this tiny person who was completely reliant on me and how that would completely change my life. What I never bargained for was how much I would enjoy hanging out with him. He is brilliant and he’s only 14 months old. I love seeing the world through his eyes and realising that there is so much that is exciting and beautiful out there. Experiencing all of his firsts is a privilege and I’m documenting them like I’m the first person to ever have a child – first foods, first time at the beach, first shoes, first tooth, first car journey, first steps, first easter egg, first day at nursery. It’s never-ending and brilliant. I love how he’s so enthusiastic about things, tonight he laughed with excitement and flapped his arms up and down because I presented him with a satsuma. It’s infectious and we both sat there giggling whilst we shared a satsuma. 

I loved being on maternity leave, that’s not to say that looking after Joel full time was easy because at times I was a wreck with how hard it was. But I pledged to make the most of my year off and do as much stuff as I could with Joel and I feel I did that. We were out and about every day, I took him to lots of groups, and we always had plans. If we’re at a loose end we’ll go to a café and share a tea cake and I’ll read him a book. I never realised that having a baby meant I would have constant company and would never be bored, I am so in love with my little family. Sometimes Joel will do something funny or new and Steven and I will just look at each other and smile, I’ll say ‘he’s ace isn’t he?’ and we’ll both feel very smug that somehow the pair of us managed to create this perfect little person.

Hopes for your family: I hope that Joel will always know he is wanted and loved. I hope that he continues to be the happy and funny, sociable child that he is, and that we continue to cram as much fun stuff into our free time as we can. I hope we’re able to move in the next year or so to a bigger house where he can run around in the garden and have a play room, and that we will fill the spare room with another baby who will be excellent company for Joel (I secretly fantasise about what good friends they will be and that they and their partners, and then children will always want to come to our house for Christmas).

In the longer term, I hope that we will be able to teach Joel enough about the world that he will go out on his own and have some amazing adventures. I hope that he grows into the kind of young man who gives up his seat on the bus, instead of the kind who smashes up bus stops. I hope that he finds someone wonderful to love who loves him back, and that he finds something to do for work that he is good at and enjoys. I hope he is the kind of man who calls his mum once in a while.

Advice for new and expectant parents: This is not so much advice, but an observation/warning. Becoming a parent changed my relationships… all of them! Some for the better, and some not so much. I have been amazed at the support of some friends. Of course the very fact that I was off work with a baby meant I spent time with people who were also off with their babies and in doing so I have made some amazing friends that I don’t think I would have got through this year without. But parallel to this, some friends have not been as supportive or enthusiastic as I needed, and that has been hard to accept. Probably most profoundly, it has changed my relationship with my husband. I didn’t think I could love Steven much more, but when I hear him laughing with Joel, or reading him his bed time story, it’s super cheesy but my heart just swells fit to burst and I cannot help but smile.


Advice - If someone offers you help, take it, get your visitors to make the tea and don’t let anyone in who doesn’t come bearing cake. Going back to work after maternity leave won’t break your heart (even if it might feel like it at the time), don’t leave a small child unattended with a toilet roll and boxes/wooden spoons/anything dangerous are much more exciting that the most expensive, top of the range educational toy.

Relax! I think I was too hard on myself with a lot of things, I cried over giving Joel a dummy because I thought it made me a failure. In reality it stopped him crying which gave us all a bit of peace and quiet, how can that be a bad thing? As long as he doesn’t have it when he’s off to university I think he’ll be okay. I wish I had really believed the advice that you can’t spoil a baby. I remember worrying in the first few days whether it was okay to hold him all the time, if I could go back I probably would have never put him down.

Everyone will have their advice (she says typing advice) some of it will work for you, some of it won’t. That doesn’t make you or them a better parent. We’re all doing the best we know how to do, and no one can be perfect all of the time. Mums can judge one another, I think we’re all guilty of it and some opinions are more acceptable to have than others and some mums have louder voices than others. If you surround yourself with people who support you, encourage you and who you can be honest with, you won’t go far wrong. 

Oh, and buy a hand held hoover.


Gemma chose to have her photos taken at the Bean and Brush, Sale because it has provided a baby and mum friendly haven for her since she's had Joel.