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.

Lucie and Charlie

Name: Lucie

Child: Charlie, 14 mths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

NEVER GOOGLE YOUR CHILD’S SYMPTOMS. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That Charlie is happy in his own skin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarah and Oliver

Name: Sarah

Child: Oliver, Age 2

Location: Altrincham

Expectations of Motherhood: From a young age I knew one of my ambitions in life was to have a family, and at 25 we decided we wanted to start planning for a baby of our own. I had lots of worries initially about becoming pregnant, mainly due to other horror stories I had heard or been told. How would I cope putting on weight? Will I cope with morning sickness? Will I cry lots? Will I go shopping and leave my baby in a changing room? Will I know what to do??? .....To help with all my worries I insisted my mum bought me a book to help teach me what to do (very naive!).

We were both under the impression that it could take us a couple of months to a year to conceive, mainly due to a few of our friends having difficulties. To our surprise I was pregnant within the first two months of trying and therefore felt very blessed.

It was strange; I didn’t feel any different. I thought I was one of the lucky ones who wouldn’t suffer from morning sickness. How wrong was I! At around 2/3 months I was sick religiously every morning as soon as I woke up, but felt back to normal straight away. That was unless I ate my favourite foods - curry and pizza - but I soon learnt it was best to steer clear of them for the remainder of my pregnancy. After a month or so my morning sickness passed and the rest of my pregnancy was perfect, luckily I had no problems at all and bloomed!



We decided we couldn’t wait for 9 months to find out the sex of our baby, so jumped at the chance to find out during our scan. I had my heart set on having a baby girl, so when we were told we were having a boy I wasn’t sure how to feel. However, seeing him move around during the scan I instantly fell in love and felt so lucky to have such a healthy child.

Reality of motherhood: I couldn’t bring myself to write my ‘birthing plan’, I didn’t know what I wanted or how I would cope with the pain? I decided to leave it for a while and maybe I would have more of an idea nearer the time. The idea of taking lots of drugs made me nervous in case I would embarrass myself, or if they made me sick. Oh, and I hate needles!

Everyone I bumped into advised me that I would be overdue and would need inducing as my bump hadn’t dropped, and I agreed due to the feet constantly digging in to my ribs. So when my waters broke a week early at 6am, I cried with shock... I still hadn’t written my birthing plan, but it turned out that it didn’t matter.

Having the perfect pregnancy was no indication that I was going to have a smooth labour and delivery, to my disappointment. I coped well with the pain using a tens machine (best invention ever!) and gas and air but it became clear after 22 hours of labour and lots of pushing that I needed help to deliver. I was then taken out of my lovely birthing room with a pool and pretty lights, into a very sterile delivery room, full of people! Looking back it makes me cringe thinking about how many people were stood discussing my private parts and what to do to help me, I don’t even like getting undressed in front of my own mother!

At the time I was so tired that I wasn’t too upset when I was advised I needed an episiotomy and Ventouse delivery (although I soon wished I had pushed a lot harder!). Oliver was finally delivered and the first words out of the surgeons mouth was ‘BIG BABY!’, I just remember thinking, 'wow he has massive thighs!'

After a lot of pain and a few hours sleep I bonded instantly with Oliver and felt like I knew what I was doing.. What was I worried about? 

I was lulled into a false sense of security thinking, 'this is easy', but it didn’t last long. After the midwives insisting, ‘breast is best’ I didn’t want to let anyone down and gave it a try. The ward nurses were not much help when I expressed concern that Oliver was feeding for a long time (hours) and still didn’t seem satisfied. I was told, ‘Oh it’s normal’, but after the first weigh in at home, we realised I wasn’t able to give Oliver enough milk and that we needed to bottle feed, which explained the 48hours we'd had with no sleep. I instantly felt anger at the midwives who'd initially brainwashed me into breastfeeding, and the ward nurses that I'd asked for help.

It quickly hit us how rough sleep deprivation was, and suffering with low iron and pain it was a hard few days. Why oh why do they not tell you about what happens after delivery in your antenatal classes?

As soon as we started to bottle feed Oliver he seemed a little more content, but we were still convinced that something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t put Oliver down without him screaming, I learnt how to go to the toilet/eat meals/wash-up, all whilst holding a baby. His symptoms got worse towards around two months; he would scream for milk and then scream even louder after an ounce. We spent hours researching his symptoms and ruled out colic, but as soon as I read the symptoms for Reflux, I knew instantly that is what he had. After one tearful Sunday morning for both me and Oliver, I decided enough was enough, and we drove him to A&E. Finally after a few nurses trying to convince us he had colic and it was ‘normal’, a lovely doctor listened and diagnosed silent reflux. Two or three days later on Gaviscon we had our perfect settled baby back!

Now this was sorted and under control we started to build a routine and settled into our family life. Oliver quickly adapted to our strict routine and luckily slept through from 3 months, and more often than not we would have to wake him in a morning.

Our first year after all the initial troubles was amazing, we didn’t have to change our lives too much as Oliver just fitted in around our lives. Again we came back down to the reality of parenthood with a bang when it was time for me to start back at work and Oliver at nursery. The germs hit hard! After 26 years of avoiding tonsillitis, Oliver kindly passed it on to me. As a mother you don’t have time to be ill, so after the third throat infection and numerous blood tests to find out why I was so ill I was signed off work for a week. In between dealing with my illnesses we had a scare with Oliver, who was rushed into hospital as a gland in his neck had got infected and they needed to give him antibiotics quickly through a drip. From this moment on he was poorly every other week for around 3/4 months - the staple part of his diet felt like antibiotics.

Taking your child home for the first time: The 15 minute journey home felt like the scariest drive we had ever been on (even though we probably drove about 10 MPH the whole way back). We avoided every single pot hole and drove the long way round to avoid all the speed bumps. We made it home safely! The walk from the car into our home felt like I’d run a marathon and I instantly broke down in tears as soon as we made it to the front door. Looking back I think these were more tears of relief to be home (and baby blues) rather than the pain.

We made a conscious decision to spend our first couple of nights in the lounge for a number of reasons which now seem a bit more neurotic rather than sensible. We were luckily enough to have my mother who spent the first week with us, cooking, cleaning and offering support. I was therefore able to try and concentrate on looking after my health and catching the odd few hours sleep whilst I knew Oliver was being watched over.

The midwife advised that due to the lack of milk, Oliver was becoming jaundice. We were convinced he was a ‘nice’ colour, looking back at pictures we realise his nice tan wasn’t from spending a week or so in the Maldives. I was unable to go out for his first outing to get some fresh air and sun light and this broke my heart. After being so close to your baby for 9 months and then giving birth, the feeling when you have to let go for an hour or so is the worst in the world initially, but it soon gets easier.



The best advice: Without a doubt this has to be from a colleague at work (mother of three), make sure daytime is noisy/bright and night times are quiet, low lit and no fuss. You hear horror stories of baby’s routines getting mixed up; awake all night and asleep all day. We were determined that this was not going to happen to us, and so we started a routine from day one of being home. Our night time routine was the same each night - bath, bottle in a quiet room with no fussing, then bed. After a while it paid off and to this day we have had no issues with Oliver waking at night and wanting to play.

Also, a health visitor advised me at around 3 months to ensure we put Oliver in bed awake, so he can learn to fall asleep himself. This was hard for a while due to reflux preventing us from laying him down straight after a bottle, and most newborns tend to fall asleep straight after a bottle. By 5 months we were confident that the reflux was under control and that we needed to teach Oliver to go to sleep alone in bed. This involved a tough few weeks of training, sometimes hours stood on the landing in and out of his room, but he quickly grasped the idea and bed times are now fun and easy (well until you have to chase them round the bathroom to get a nappy on).

I worry sometimes that we have been a little too strict with routine as Oliver does show quite strong OCD tendencies. He cannot stand to have any dirt on himself or clothing and loves to clean! If we don’t clean his hands quick enough when he requests, there can be tears. He has become that fussy he has even got out of the bath due to a floating piece of fluff. A lot of time lately has been spent trying to teach him that you can get messy and still be okay (lots of finger painting).

Another (sorry I have a few), is to go to an antenatal class. I had a great support group from the ladies I met during my classes, and two years on we still meet regularly with and without our babies. Speaking to other mums helps you quickly learn that what you are going through is normal and that they are going through the same thing.

Worst advice: Books... no book can tell you how your child should act, what times they want milk and how you should feel. My first worries about not knowing what to do were the same things all mothers-to-be feel, but as soon as you hold your baby you know instantly what to do. You quickly learn what each cry or moan means and how to deal with it best.

Breastfeeding – Don't be forced into something you are not comfortable doing, of course it has its benefits but if it makes your life hell you need to decide if that’s how you want to spend the first 5/6 months.

The hardest parts of being a mother: This has to be the feeling of when your child is upset or hurt. The instinct you instantly have to protect them from anything is astonishing; the first few tears you share with them, but then soon you learn they need your reassurance and love rather than a blubbing wreck. I think because I’m so strong around Oliver now I cry at the slightest thing when he’s not around, usually One born or Eastenders.

When Oliver first started walking/running I used to hover round his every move to be there if he fell. I’ve now realised that I won’t always be there to protect him and therefore he needs to learn how to deal with different situations himself. If he falls over now and isn’t hurt, he quickly gets up, wipes himself down and carries on.

The best parts of being a mother: Above all the love you feel for them and seeing how they feel for you. Our family now is so close and we all rely on each other for everything. One of the best feelings is becoming a family - just the 3 of us. Everything feels complete now. Life before Oliver was amazing, but with Oliver it’s even better. I cannot describe how proud we feel watching our child as he grows and develops; it has also been great for us seeing the world from his tiny eyes. Watching the joy on his face when he masters how to do something or sees something or someone he loves.

I always knew I would be a good mother, but I don’t think I knew just how much I would love just hanging out with him. He has turned into my best friend and never fails to brighten my day with his smiles, hugs and sloppy kisses. Everyday he does something new that shocks us or makes us giggle. Sometimes we just look at each other and smile and say, ‘he’s amazing isn’t he?’ still unsure how we both made such a social, loving, kind and funny young man.

Has becoming a mother changed you: I’m sure everyone will answer yes to this, it has to.... it’s a massive lifestyle change, going from spending all your free time in the pub, to staying home and worrying about someone other than yourself. I used to live for the weekend to go out with our friends, but now I can’t wait to get into my PJ's and snuggle on the sofa, or play football in the park.

Hopes for your family: My main hope is that we all stay healthy and happy and carrying on enjoying life. We are quite relaxed about the future at the moment, and are on a bit of an adventure. Every day is so different and with us being in the ‘terrible’ two’s stage we are never bored (although it’s not been too terrible so far, touch wood). We would like to have a sibling for Oliver, but want to enjoy our time with him until he’s ready to share our love. One of my main hopes is that we always have a strong bond and we continue to be best friends.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Trust your own instincts, don’t put any extra pressure on yourself by reading books or worrying about what they should and shouldn’t being doing. Your child will grow in their own time with your support and nurturing.

Having a child is going into the unknown for most families and that is part of the fun, you will find your own way and find what works for you. You may have bad days when you question everything and everyone, but it’s more rewarding than you will ever imagine. The love you feel for them is boundless.

Little tips - buy a practical changing bag; buy a coat with a hood (umbrellas and prams don’t mix); buy Annabel Karmel’s book for weaning; always take spare clothes on trips out; oh and get used to mess.

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.