Elisa and Nova

Name: Elisa

Child: Nova Millie, 10 months (4 months in the photos)

Location: Warrington, Cheshire

Expectations of Motherhood: I was so nervous. I’ve never been the most maternal of all souls. Before Nova, I had never changed a nappy or fed a baby, and if one was handed to me I’d prefer to not hold it in case I dropped it – they seemed so incredibly fragile and dainty to me. Also, to be honest I only really thought as far as giving birth and the following first couple of months – I expected many sleepless nights, a much more scruffy-looking version of me and a lot of chaos.

Reality of Motherhood: Wow. It was a different sort of tiredness than I could ever have imagined in my wildest dreams – at times I couldn’t even string a proper sentence together. But we were so lucky with Nova and 99.9% of the time she was a super-pleasant, totally laid-back and happy little creature. It was so strange to all over sudden have her home after preparing for her arrival for so many months.

The first three months were really hard. I felt like a robot: changing nappies, feeding, putting Nova to sleep. Changing nappies, feeding, putting Nova to sleep. Changing nappies….you get the gist. And even though she was mine, even though I loved her from the moment she was put on my chest she was still a stranger with a personality and character that would first really emerge in later months. Then the day came when Nova first smiled at me. I just melted, and our bond since has become stronger and stronger.

Taking your child home for the first time: When we walked out of hospital and the sunlight hit my eyes I felt like that dude must have felt when he woke up in 28 Days Later – confused, weak and like I had been in a deep comatose sleep for a very long time. My partner was carrying Nova in her car seat in front of me, and I remember the congratulations balloon tied around the handle hitting me on the head every couple of steps. It took quite a while until we had figured out the car seat (it seemed so straight-forward in the shop!), and then we drove home at 20mph. All three of us were exhausted, but also happy (well, Nova was asleep but she must have been happy to get out of there).




The best/worst advice: When I was in hospital after giving birth, I was told so many conflicting things. Each midwife would do things differently, the health visitor had a separate opinion and then there are so many members of the family who all want to help with advice. But the truth is it confuses the hell out of you! What is the right thing to do? Who is the most appropriate person to listen to? Is there a ‘right’ way? An important realisation to me was that your confidence as a mother grows with time. After all, babies aren’t delivered with an instruction manual and all babies are utterly different! I’ve been to so many different activity and play groups where we met other babies Nova’s age, and it was amazing to see that even though there are the general baby behaviour characteristics, each of them is a completely unique individual. So stick to your guns and do what you think is right. Oh, and it really is bliss to speak to other mums with young babies – cause dads don’t and physically can’t really understand all the emotions you are going through. They do try to (bless them), but when you chat to other mummies it’s amazing when you discover that many times they feel exactly what you feel. And you’ll need that validation sometimes.

The hardest parts of being a mother: The sheer amount of responsibility that comes with being a mum. You now have to be a role model, a proper adult, and you are on duty 24/7. When your childless friends go to a Stone Roses gig so can you – only, you best not attend the after party, as coming home at 4am does really not work when you need to look after a sprightful baby from 12pm. Trust me. 

And if you thought you had little time before, you’ll be kicking yourself now. Tiredness is hard too – it makes you a lesser, more grey version of the original you, and sometimes it makes you look more negatively on life that you normally would.

The best parts of being a mother: Being able to say ‘that’s my daughter’. I am so proud of her and absolutely adore my little girl. And I will move heaven and earth to make sure that she will have everything she needs in her life. When Nova giggles and stretches her little arms out to me it makes it all worth it and I’d do it all over again a thousand times.


Has becoming a mother changed you?: It has changed everything. And I mean everything. I don’t feel, act or think like the Elisa I was before. Nova comes first now and I have adapted. Sometimes it makes me feel a lot more boring and less spontaneous, but for the most of it I utterly enjoy being Nova’s mummy. All the little things she does every day bring so much joy to me and even though it is hard work at times, once you are a mum you couldn’t imagine your life without them. What I didn’t expect or think about is having to get to know your close ones all over again – your parents and his parents as grandparents, your partner as a dad (or mum). It took some readjusting, but now, 10 months down the line I think we’ve figured it all out.

Hopes for your family: I just want us to be happy. I don’t expect and wouldn’t want perfection, but I’d like Nova to have a secure and happy childhood and watch her grow into a fabulous lady. And I want us all to stick together through thick and thin, for better and for worse. Cause it’ll be worth it!

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums?: Try your best to enjoy every moment you have with your little ones. A friend of mine recently posted this poem, and even though it’s incredibly cheesy it makes a really beautiful point:

“I won’t always cry, mummy, when you leave the room,
and my supermarket tantrums will end too soon.
I won’t always wake, daddy, for cuddles through the night,
& one day you will miss having a chocolate face to wipe.
You won’t always wake to find my foot is kicking you out of bed,or find me sideways on your pillow where you want to lay your head.
You won’t always have to carry me in asleep from the car
or piggyback me down the road when my little legs can’t walk that far.
So cherish every cuddle, remember them all,because one day, mummy, one day I won’t be this small.”

Benedicte and Anne

Name: Benedicte

Child: Anne, 14 months

Location: Manchester 

Expectations of Motherhood: Oddly enough I never really thought about what it would be like to have a baby in our lives. We prepared for Anne’s arrival, but I never really thought about what it would mean to have her around. I guess I had never really been a ‘baby’ person before Anne came along. I didn't know very many kids and didn't really know what they were about. Part of me also consciously resisted forming expectations.

Not having expectations was perhaps a strategy which meant I would be better able to cope with any situation. I just had this image of me as a little old woman visiting my grown-up kids and driving their partners crazy...I hope it will come true one day!

Reality of Motherhood: I completely underestimated the total upheaval involved in welcoming Anne into our lives. The first six months were tough. At first, everything revolves around baby - that’s something I had not anticipated. I liked looking after Anne, but found it hard to accept how much my life had changed; I resented how little freedom I had. 

When I began to let go of my ‘old’ life, it all became much nicer. I also started to feel more confident as a mum. By that point, I felt I knew Anne and I understood her a lot better, we shared a bond, we had a relationship.

Now, she is 14 months, it feels strange to recall these moments and write these sentences. We know each other so much better, we understand each other, we communicate and the love we share feels boundless.

Taking your child home for the first time: I remember the car journey. For some reason it felt like a huge deal to get Anne in her car seat and drive her back home. I was so focused on the car journey (!) - I don’t really remember what happened once we arrived!

The best/worst advice: The best advice was definitely ‘trust your instincts’; it helped me grow as a mum, made me more confident. 

‘Cut yourself some slack’ was another good one...though really hard to put in practice.

Worst advice: A book came highly recommended by one of our friends. It basically advised parents to abide by a strict routine from day 1. I still wonder how that’s even possible. Go with the flow is the best you can do!

The hardest parts of being a mother:
The tiredness is an obvious one, but I think it’s more the sense of commitment and responsibility that I sometimes find awesome (in all the different senses of the word!).



The best parts of being a mother: Getting to know that little person and building a relationship with her. But more than anything, the forceful experience of sheer love, this is truly special.

Has becoming a mother changed you? For me, being a parent is making a lifelong (and beyond) commitment to your child. This commitment is life changing and it impacts on my day-to-day activities, but also impacts on the long-term decisions I make. I like to think I am still the same person (albeit wiser), but a person with an unalienable commitment which informs my entire life.

Hopes for your family: 
First I hope we can all remain in good health. I also hope we are all able to pursue our individual goals whilst staying united.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Being a new mum can be a lonely experience (especially when your family is not around and your friends don’t have kids!) so try and find other expectant/new mums to share your experience with, you’ll make new friends and so will your child.  

Rowena and Maddie

Name: Rowena

Child: Maddie, 4 months

Location: Didsbury, Manchester

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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