Carla, Bill and Iona

Name: Carla 

Children: Bill aged 2.5 and Iona 11.5 months

Location: Didsbury

Expectations of Motherhood: I thought being a mum would be simpler than it is. My mum had me and my elder brother with a similar age gap to my children and I never remember seeing her struggle or look stressed and she rarely, if ever, lost her temper. She was always lots of fun and seemed to know what to do for best. I wanted to be like that I suppose; carefree and fun but practical too.

Reality of Motherhood: As soon as we decided to have a baby, I was pregnant with Bill straight away. I suppose I was quite shocked by that and there were a catalogue of weird events that happened around the same time, like being burgled, some incredibly snowy weather, our neighbour dying and a new family moving into to what had been a peaceful avenue. For the first time in my life I felt out of control. 

I had had a DVT in my leg in 2007, so this meant I was classed as higher risk and
placed on daily injections and ended up having many more appointments than average. I am not really a good patient and I don't ever take anything stronger than paracetamol, so the whole thing seemed a bit alien and over the top. 

My first pregnancy went smoothly and I continued to work my long days and worked hard up until 2 weeks before Bill was due. Circumstances meant that I returned to work part-time when Bill was 6 months old and my husband and our parents took over care on my working days. 

I was pregnant again by the time Bill was one. It had always been our intention to have a small age gap, but once again I was surprised by the speed of it all. At first I was less nervous than I had been in the early months with Bill, but the stress of my job began to take its toll and by the time I was 5 months pregnant I was suffering. I became very ill with a chest infection and then at about 7 months pregnant with Iona, she turned and cracked my rib. I was already tired being pregnant and looking after a toddler and knew the next few months would be very hard. 

The worst thing about being poorly was not being able to look after Bill in the same way. One of the reasons for having two so quickly was so I would be home with my babies, so that I could enjoy the early years. I wasn't used to being out of action and I just wanted to cry as I felt guilty and terrible for my kids. 

The reality is, that you do lose your temper sometimes, you never feel like you have enough hands or enough time and you will need just to abandon all hope of being clean or tidy for a good few years.

Taking your children home for the first time: Bill was born on his due date in a very
busy St Mary's Hospital. The birth was fairly straight forward, but the aftercare was shockingly poor and I discharged myself and came home. We were in the lift downstairs and Andy (my husband) said, "when are we coming back again?"(in other words, for number two). All I could think was that my stitches were killing me and I wanted a decent brew. 

Even at 8lb 15 Bill looked tiny in the car seat and was all thin and wrinkled. 

When we got home, it suddenly felt very real. We showed Bill around the house as I had read about doing that in a book and it seemed a welcoming thing to do. I was glad to be home. Then I think he mainly cried, and we barely slept all night. The next morning at 9am the midwife appeared and told me off for still being in my pjs!

Luckily, Iona was also born on her due date and she was quick and efficient about it, despite also being just short of 9lb. This time hospital wasn't as crowded or as awful, but I came home the day after as I wanted us to be together as a family. Bill seemed to take it quite well and after feeling really poorly I immediately started to feel a lot better and could finally sleep again (when Iona allowed of course). It was a wonderful feeling to have all four of us sat on the bed together. I felt very lucky.

The best/worst advice: 

Worst: When Iona was losing weight and was looking pretty skinny, I was told by the health visitor not to worry about it as "I wouldn't want her to be big in later life"....
she was 5 months old at the time and had gone from the 91st to the 25th centile! I was furious. 

I was also told that I had done the wrong thing taking my little boy out to socialise all the time and I should have sat him in front of a film and then I wouldn't have to try and take both babies as much. This seemed particularly bonkers as after I had Bill, all the advice
was about getting out of the house with the baby so you don't lose your marbles. 

I have had a lot of poor and conflicting advice from health visitors over the years. I think you are very vulnerable when you are a new mum and a lot of people give you useless advice whilst you are striving to do your best. It can make you start to get very confused.

Best: My GP told me to ignore the health visitors! That was very good advice. But generally I think you have to trust your instincts and do what you think and don't doubt yourself even if you are tired and worn out.






The hardest parts of being a mother: I am not sure what's worst - the worry about not doing the right thing at the right time and the consequences of your actions, or the tiredness which some days can be overwhelming, and not being able to down tools and have a day off.....especially if you have a baby like Iona who flatly refuses to take a bottle.

The best parts of being a mother: Cuddling is a definite highlight, there is no end to small people wanting cuddles in this house. You get a lot back for what you put in. Seeing your babies develop and change is also really exciting and fun, plus seeing Bill and Iona having fun together is brilliant.

Has becoming a mother changed you?: A few years ago, the highlight of my year was going off to the USA for a week to present at international conferences. I loved my job and I always wanted to give it 100%. Now, I just don't feel like that at all. Even when I return to work in a few weeks time, I will be strictly part-time and while I hope to do a good job, I will be glad to be at home where my heart is.



Hopes for your family: We had always wanted three children, but after having Bill I seriously reconsidered and having Iona that definitely finalised my decision. I don't feel like one of those people who is a natural mother and I want to do my best for Bill and Iona. I only have two knees to sit on and they are taken now.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: If you can, get to NCT classes and find yourself some good friends, even before you have your baby. I would not have managed without my friends and I have met other good comrades along the way. Friends with children of a very similar age, who live nearby, cannot be underestimated.

You can share the highlights, low lights, proper advice and later down the line, a few beers as well! They really will get you through the dark days and your babies will have friends for life, which is really lovely.

Emma and Effie

Name: Emma

Child and age: Effie, 7 years 

Location: Prestwich, Manchester

Expectations of motherhood: I was a bit terrified about being a Mum. I had planned my pregnancy, was in a stable relationship and at 28 years old had a secure job and home, but I still felt a bit like I was a kid and I wasn’t sure whether I would be any good at being a parent. My husband Adam and I were friends with a lot of musicians who didn’t seem to have any intention of settling down and having children so it was very much a voyage we were taking on our own. My elder sister down south had recently had her first child and seeing my delighted parents with their grandchild made me realise that if I wanted to be a mum then now would be a good time.

When I became pregnant I had worked in media research for six years, so I took that approach to my impending motherhood and found out absolutely everything I could about pregnancy, babies, parenting groups and childcare. I felt that if I did my research I would be prepared for anything and this was particularly important because whilst my husband and I had lived in Manchester for quite a few years, we had absolutely no family in the north west at all. 

I tried to enroll in NCT classes because my sister had made some really supportive friends at hers (who she continued to see post birth), but I didn’t even get a response to my enquiries so I ended up at the free classes provided by my local hospital. These ended up being a bit disappointing; not only did we not manage to ‘click’ with any of the other couples there, but the classes seemed to be mostly about giving birth and not much else. Despite this I was sure that even though I was intending to go back to work full time after six months I would be able to find a few other mums to be friends with.



I knew motherhood wouldn’t be easy. I was having the most fantastic pregnancy where I didn’t suffer from any morning sickness, and I had never felt so healthy, but I knew there would be challenges and so I tried to be pro-active and plan for any eventuality. I have a history of depression so I spoke to my midwife about post-natal depression and how we needed to look out for it, I attended a breast feeding workshop prior to giving birth and I filled out the birth plan in my NHS pregnancy book so my midwife would know exactly what I wanted (this was a great move; my ace midwife talked me out of having pethidine because in my birth plan I had said I absolutely didn’t want it, but then I started to request it in the middle of my labour). My feeling was that it was ok not to know everything, but that you needed to do lots of homework first.

Reality of motherhood: It sounds daft now but I think the thing that shocked me most was that after I had put in all this hard work preparing myself for motherhood and being surrounded by health professionals for nine months, I was pretty much on my own once I left hospital.

I gave birth late on a Sunday evening and didn’t really feel like I knew what was expected of me at the hospital once I became a mum. Not long after I gave birth I passed out in a bathroom, and after being found on the floor I was taken to what I thought was a side room with my husband and daughter (it was in fact another birthing suite). We settled down for the night, only to be woken up in the early hours in order for Effie and I to be moved to the main ward and Adam to be chucked out. Then when I woke early the next morning an imposing ward sister immediately told me how childbirth was miracle of God because the babies didn’t drown in the birth canal. Even as a church goer I was puzzled by this overtly evangelical approach and it just added to the confusion I was feeling.

It kind of went downhill from there. Whilst all the other mums on the ward were assisted with bathing their new babies, my nurse proceeded to bath Effie for me before taking the bath away and leaving me with my naked brand new girl who promptly did a sticky black poo all over the bed sheets. I panicked at the awful mess on the nice white sheets and asked for help cleaning her up; they gave me a small kidney bowl of water and some cotton wool balls. When my mother rang the nurses station to see how I was, all I could say to her was “Get Adam. Now.”




Any confidence I had started to seep away. I was finding it hard to feed Effie for starters. The intimidating nurse told me I should breast feed naked (and she meant me being naked, not the baby) and she told me off when I didn’t heed her advice despite me being on an open ward. Weeks before at my breast feeding workshop I had been assured that no one would leave hospital without having mastered the art of breastfeeding, but after two other nurses (including the lady from the breast feeding workshop) had simultaneously struggled to get Effie to latch properly I was quietly allowed to go home.

When I left hospital I was told a midwife would come and visit me at home that day, but she didn’t arrive until 5:30pm and only came when my Mum told me to ring up and find out where on earth she had got to. At that point I realised that Adam and I were very much in charge of our own destiny and no one outside of our family was going to help us much.

As it panned out I didn’t meet any other mums because I returned to full-time work after six months, and during my maternity leave I couldn’t find a local baby and toddler group that was open to babies under six months. Once I did go back to work Effie was at nursery full-time in a place based at my husband’s workplace, so I didn’t even drop her off or pick her up, and therefore couldn’t meet any mums at nursery either. It sounds obvious now, but I just assumed I’d get some support or help with finding some other parenting groups because the whole looking-after-a-very-small-person-thing was pretty much new territory to me. The reality was that I felt very much on my own and quite isolated and even now I don’t like to ask for help too much when it comes to childcare.

Taking your child home for the first time: Driving Effie home in our tiny lime green Volkswagen seemed the most perilous and reckless act anyone could have ever committed (even if I had read all the Which? magazine safety reports for baby carriers). Thankfully, once I got home I was quickly joined by both sets of grandparents and I was able to tackle important questions with the two matriarchs such as, ‘Do you think I will ever be able to go to the toilet again?’ and ‘Do you think I should have gone upstairs instead of trying to breastfeed in the living room in front of my father-in-law?’.

My mother stayed for a week which was just completely amazing. Her only advice was that we should get into a routine as quickly as possible (just because we would be on our own most of the time) and she spent the rest of the time cooking and cleaning for us. Her continued mantra of routine, routine, routine seemed ridiculous at the time but was probably the reason we stayed sane during those first few months.

Effie lost more weight than she should have due to my dire problems breastfeeding and the midwives visits were infrequent because I looked like I was ok, so I had no one I could talk to about if face to face. I had had it drummed into me right from the start of my pregnancy how very, very important breastfeeding was so I didn’t want to give up even though my baby was failing to gain any weight and each feeding session ended with both Effie and I in tears. Eventually my GP sister got on the phone and told me to get in the car and go and buy some formula. It was absolutely the advice I needed. It was the moment when I started to not only love feeding my baby but also to love being a mum. 



The best/worst advice: I was genuinely worried about giving up breastfeeding. When I told my midwife what I had decided to do she instantly told me that she had never been able to master it (well now you tell me!) but I was still convinced I was going to get dirty looks when out bottle-feeding. That didn’t happen, but I did find myself trying to stop breastfeeding without being given any proper advice on how to do it, something which appalled female friends from my mum’s generation. I had absolutely no idea how you stopped producing milk and the midwife just said to go cold turkey and take ibuprofen, and on no account release any milk to ease the pressure. I didn’t entirely manage this but at the suggestion of a friend of mine, I did end up buying several savoy cabbages so I could pop the leaves down my bra - which were bizarrely wonderful in easing the pain.

It’s stuff like this that makes me incredibly frustrated. Sometimes in order to get an important message across we can end up alienating people and making them feel guilty if they can’t meet those demands. At my birthing class we were told that bottle feeding would not be discussed because, “if you want to do it you just need to read the packet” but when I started bottle feeding I didn’t even know you could get teats with different sized holes because no health professionals felt they could discuss it.

The best advice can be the worst advice, and my advice to friends who have got pregnant has always been, try what’s ‘best’ and if that doesn’t work for you then look at other options, but don’t beat yourself up about what you can or cannot achieve. It applies to a lot of things in life, and parenthood, if nothing else, is all about compromise.

The hardest parts of being a mother: I was told that having a baby is like throwing a hand grenade into your relationship (true) and that the first 18 months are the hardest (also true), but I think that hardest thing is finding your motherhood path. I went back to work full-time for four years and sent Effie to a great nursery, but I remember seeing a photo at a parents’ evening of her using chopsticks at nursery and being completely guilt ridden that I didn’t even know she could do that. My work life balance was pretty rubbish for a long time but my employer has an amazing flexible working scheme which now means I work term-time only so getting home late and missing dinner with her in the week (using chopsticks, obviously) doesn’t matter when I know I’ll spend every day of the holidays with her.

It’s finding what’s right for you that’s hardest, because everyone does things differently and has different support networks and priorities. I think finding your own pattern is the biggest challenge for most of us.

The best parts of being a mother: It sounds like I’ve moaned a lot when in fact I have never regretted for a second being a mother. I still remember to this day the moment when I looked at my daughter and thought “Oh my God, I never realised how much my mother loves me”. I can’t say I particularly miss the baby years because I mostly love the interaction I have with my child which obviously develops more and more over time. I love sharing stuff with my daughter. We read lots together but I also like to share art, archive telly and music with her too. I refuse to believe that you have to bring your child up on godawful music (there’s a place for Bob the Builder records, but don’t let it dominate your car journeys) and I do feel a little bit proud that my seven year old has a genuine love of Mazzy Star, Ivor Cutler, Richard Hawley and The Dutch Uncles.

The other thing that makes my heart swell with a warm glow is seeing my daughter enjoying spending time with her friends (although this may well change in future years if they all stay out late without telling me). I don’t want to not be needed but I love it that Effie has her own little network now and she has her own interests and priorities. I am hugely aware that in a minute she’ll be all grown up and going to gigs on her own (please not One Direction) and that maybe she won’t want to cuddle me any more so I am making the most of her childhood. It’ll be gone in the blink of an eye, I’m sure of that.

Hopes for your family: Without wishing to sound morbid my hope is that we stay a family for a very long time. A family friend lost her life to a sudden illness a few years ago leaving behind two young children and it is incredibly heartbreaking to think that she is going to miss seeing them grow up and become adults, and they in turn have lost their lovely, kind mother. I think of her a lot and can’t really get my head round how life can be quite so cruel. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing Effie grow up so with that in mind I try and cherish every moment.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Well apart from my mother’s “Routine, Routine, Routine” (it’s hard but it does make life easier in the long run, especially if you don’t have much of a support network.) I’d say just try and find your own path and don’t be too disheartened if you’re finding it hard to do what other people seem to be doing easily. Everyone has different challenges in their lives and no child is the same. On a personal note, I’d also like to add that it’s ok to give your kid a proper telling off, even in public or in front of friends and family. We were quite strict with Effie when she was little (why have a naughty step when you can have a naughty corner? Every shop in town has a corner) and we now have a child who can politely sit through a restaurant meal or a long church service without legging it and doing five laps of the building. I’d love to be her best mate, but I’m her mum and I think it’s important to act like that (sometimes). I think not always being chilled out pays dividends. Although of course, I’d prefer it if you didn’t quote that back to me when she’s a stroppy 16 year old though...

Emma can be found on Twitter as https://twitter.com/Missus_IP

 

Jayne, Ben, Connie, Tim and Poppy

Name: Jayne 

Child: Ben, 12 Connie, 10 Tim, 7 and Poppy, 5

Location: Morley

Expectations of motherhood: I don’t know. I didn’t have any expectations because we kind of fell into having our kids. We’d moved to Morley in early 2000, and at the same time a friend of mine was struggling because her partner had walked out on her. She had a baby daughter and so I spent a lot of time with them, helping out. I loved looking after a baby and thought, ‘I could do this’. So we decided that we wouldn’t ‘try’ to have a baby, but we wouldn’t do anything to avoid it happening.
Reality of motherhood: I had four totally different pregnancies and on the whole enjoyed being pregnant. With each I had totally different experiences - the strangest being that after Ben my feet went up a size and a half! I also had gestational diabetes with Tim, but not with any of the others.

My first experience of labour was quite a funny one. Phil had just come in from a night shift and I’d started with contractions. The hospital insisted on sending an ambulance because our car was in the garage being fixed - it seemed so dramatic. The labour was going quite smoothly, but they wanted to get the contractions coming stronger so they decided to put me on a drip. My strict instructions were that I did NOT want an epidural - I hate needles - but eventually I was begging for one. By this time the contractions were coming thick and fast and so the anaesthetist couldn’t quite manage to get the needle in. I’ve got 7 little scars on my back where he failed to get it in. Eventually it worked, things progressed well and I could finally push. I remember little details like the fact that the Uefa cup was on the TV, but I was so woozy on Gas and Air. I’d alternate the demands of, ‘Water!‘ then ‘I’m going to be sick!‘. It really was a comedy labour. They had to steer Ben out in the end - I was desperate for him to be out! They used a Ventouse and I remember this tiny little midwife securing the cup, but then whilst pulling hard on Ben’s head, she lost suction and she ended up flying across the room. They used Forceps in the end and I had SO many stitches - it felt like it was going on forever.



Connie came two days late. We’d been at a BBQ at Phil’s parents house and I’d tripped over a hose pipe. After the fall everyone I’d insisted I went to the hospital, so I did, but I ended up staying in their till she’d been born. It was discovered that my blood pressure was through the roof, so I wasn’t allowed home because they were worried it was pre-eclampsia. They induced me after I requested it and I gave birth in the most beautiful labour room.

With Tim, because I had diabetes they wanted to induce me on the due day. He came really quick with just gas and air. I remember he had a really big head! In fact he’d never speak to me again if he knew what my first words to him were.

Strangely, Poppy took longer to come, but by the time she came I didn’t even need gas and air. Unfortunately I had a bad experience with a midwife when Poppy was born, and it has stuck with me. I’d been on blood pressure medication in the hospital and it’d ended up affecting Poppy’s blood sugar, but no-one had warned me that this was likely. Immediately Poppy was taken away to the Special Care ward and ended up being tube fed with my breastmilk for three days. I was so upset. I was surrounded with mums with their babies whilst I was on my own. No one had warned me that it might happen and it really affected my whole experience of having Poppy. If I’d have been warned then I think I’d have dealt with it ok. 

When Poppy was 3 or 4 months old my eyes started going funny. I was referred to the eye hospital. It had become dangerous to drive. The day that things became worrying I was putting toys in the toy box and I realised I couldn’t see my hand. I rang my mum in tears. Instead of waiting for the referral which seemed to be taking forever, I went to the emergency eye hospital and was diagnosed with Uveitis. They gave me an injection in my eye and I was put on a very high dose of steroids, and in addition 3 different types of eyedrops. I had to stop breastfeeding immediately because of the steroids.

The Uveitis (inflammation of the Uvea) was caused by an immune system overreaction, but it's not always diagnosed so easily. In hospital I had so many blood tests and scans, and in the end it was discovered that the Strep virus had caused the Uveitis. The treatment is like a low dose of chemotherapy and as a result of the illness I’m on immunosuppressant drugs for the rest of my life. If I’d have left it a couple of days I would have gone totally blind.

Once the Uveitis cleared up I was fine, and I can drive now. I felt so reliant on other people when my eyes were bad and I hated it. Driving at night was impossible for a long long time, so in the Winter months I felt quite trapped. 

From quite early on when we started to have the kids, we’d decided I would stay at home and look after the kids, and Phil would work. It became clear that work for me would be practically impossible because of the age gaps between the kids, as well as childcare costs and the general logistics. Now as poppy gets older, I work in school as a teacher’s assistant and part time admin assistant.

Motherhood did come quite naturally to me, but I did find going from one child to two kids the hardest transition - having a baby and a toddler was really demanding. After having two children the 3rd and 4th just slotted in though - it felt very normal.

Unfortunately having four kids means mountains and mountains of ironing - it’s a nightmare! With regards to trips out we can’t do as as we’d like. We don’t have the money for holidays abroad, so things like that have to be quite low key. My parents have a trailer tent so we all go camping as a big family and it does work really well. With after school clubs like beavers and brownies, I’m constantly juggling and trying to work out a schedule. Logistics wise it’s not possible for all the kids to do all the things they’d like to.

As a foursome they generally get on - more than they fall out anyway. I try to teach them to be nice; people that others want to be around. The big two are really helpful - the little two not quite so much. In fact I’m surprised my door frame is still in one piece, it gets slammed so much.

Taking them home: It’s hard to remember.

A tiny little thing curled up in the car seat. A cot in the bedroom and the moses basket downstairs and pushchairs and car seats littering up everywhere. It took time to work out how to make life easier, we wised up eventually and put a travel cot downstairs which doubled up a a play pen so that I could get stuff done.

I remember watching BBC news 24 at 3 in the morning whilst feeding. When Ben was little and Phil hadn’t gone back to work yet and I was so tired that I was near having hallucinations I’d been feeding so much!

With the rest of them it’s been so nice to introduce the older children to the little ones in the hospital. We’ve been so lucky that they’re really good with new siblings and there’s no jealousy between them.

Best advice/worst advice:

Some of the worst advice that I’ve heard is, ‘Don’t feed them bottles and breast at the same time because they’ll get confused’.

I would breastfeed Connie for 3 hrs solidly and she’d still be hungry. Eventually my mum said, ‘Just go to Asda and get yourself some milk and a bottle’. There is nothing wrong with mixed feeding. There is nothing wrong with bottle feeding! And that night was the best night sleep I’d had in a long long time.

Also, it’s all very well listening to the advice: ‘Don’t worry about cleaning up’ and ‘Sleep when they sleep’ but it is a little trickier to do that when you’ve got a big family.

Hardest parts of being a mother:
When they’re all being horrible and constantly demanding - it’s the low level naughtiness that drives you mad. It grinds you down. You get so fed up of hearing your own voice and telling them off, but you don’t want to just leave them to it because then they think they can get away with it.

Meals out are still pretty hard with the younger two. Tim gets giddy and Poppy is very wilful. She’s got ‘character‘ - she knows what’s right, but doesn’t necessarily choose to do the ‘good‘ thing and so she is hard to deal with sometimes.

Also, if they’re being picked on at school, that’s hard. You just want to protect them, but you can’t fight their battles for them. You have to let them work it out for themselves.

I wish we could take Connie further with gymnastics - she’s amazing - but we don’t have the time or money to devote to it. It is really hard, but we have to be fair and spread activities between four kids.

Loss of identity is hard too. When you have kids you’re no longer called, ‘Jayne‘ - you’re known as ‘Ben’s mum’, ‘Tim’s mums,’ etc. You also have hardly anytime on your own.

I do make time for myself though; the evenings are mine and I’m not working full time yet, so Monday is my day off while all the kids are in school. It’s nice to have no nagging, and a day where there’s no telly. Just reading books, listening to music and doing puzzles. It’s absolute escapism. I love fantasy books, they allow you to get away from real life - there has to be a bit of magic in there somewhere.

At school I played french horn (really well), but it dropped off. Then I heard a couple of years ago about a community orchestra at a local school (for all ages). From there I heard of another orchestra - The West Yorkshire Symphony Orchestra - and thought I’d love to do some more. They told me that if I could keep up I could stay. I was so terrified of doing stuff on my own. I’ve always been that way and it took a lot of courage to do it on my own. I wanted to do it so much though, and although I was not as good as I once was, I was alright and managed to keep up. Since then Ben’s had a go at Clarinet, Connie does flute too and Poppy’s also got a good ear for music, but I don’t want to force them into it just because I like it. They’ve got to find their own ways.

Best parts of being a mother: 

The fun. The random things they come out with. Watching them grow up.

When you’re proud of something and they’re so happy with what they’ve achieved.

Tim’s good at flattery, often saying, ‘You look beautiful mummy’.

I love when they come and sit of my knee and give me a cuddle by surprise.

When they’re all getting on with each other it’s great. When it snowed they were in the garden messing around together and laughing and I thought, I’ve done something right here.

It’s great to get good feedback at school too.

I like it when I like their friends too. When they make nice friends it makes me feel secure that we’ve helped bring up nice people.

The kids are just so different, and it’s so interesting to see the bits of me and Phil in all of them. Ben’s bright but less motivated - just like me. He loves reading too. Connie’s like Phil - bright and motivated. She’ll work and work and work - she’ll be successful. Tim has a little bit of an obsessive nature - video games in particular! Poppy is a real tom boy - she doesn’t want to be a girl.

A teacher who taught me saw my mum recently and asked what I was doing. 

My mum said, “She’s a mum of 4, she’s doing a great job and I’m so proud of her”.
That made me really happy to hear her say that. For something I accidentally fell into, I think it’s going pretty well.

Hopes for your family: To grow up all in one piece. Be happy with what they’re doing and stay friends in the future.

When I first started going out with Phil, I remember going to his parent’s once and seeing all of his siblings (he’s one of 7) coming and going. I loved the happy chaos of Phil’s mum’s life. It was total bedlam, with Phil’s mum in the middle handing out bacon butties and looking after everyone. I remember thinking at the time how wonderful it was. That was what I wanted. His family are such a great example because they never fall out for very long and just sort stuff out quickly and without fuss. I want my family to be like that, to be close and supportive to each other.

Advice for parents: If anyone offers to babysit say, “YES!”

Get time on your own. I recently went away with a bunch of people (through the orchestra) for a week. I didn’t know many of them well at all, but I had an amazing break. I was cut off, there was no signal or Internet and it was heaven. There was no cooking or washing for me to do and I made new friends. I was free to be myself, and nothing was expected of me because no-one really knew me that well. I was taken for who I was and I could be sociable or antisocial. I felt free.

Regarding your child’s style and dress sense, let them do what they want and so that they feel individual. Eg. Currently Poppy’s obsessed with dressing up as various superheros. I think it’s important to pick your battles, so if you’re child wants to go to the supermarket dressed at Spiderman, let them. The small things are quite easy to let go, and for the bigger you issues you’ll have more authority. If they really want to do something (and it’s safe) let them make their own choices.

If you need 10 mins, go and lock yourself in the loo....they may still knock on the door, but you’ll be able to catch your breath.

I like to leave them to it with arguments, so that they resolve it on their own.

Finally, give your children a name that you can lengthen and shorten accordingly for when you tell them off!

Extra info
The illness I suffered from can attack different parts of the body - it is called Uveitis when it’s the Uvea that becomes inflamed. Alternatively the liver can be attacked, which can be considerably more dangerous. Uveitis is the 3rd most common preventable cause of blindness, but is relatively unheard of. This charity works to promote knowledge and understanding about the disease. http://www.Oliviasvision.org

Vickie and Lily-Mae

Name: Vickie 
Child: Lily-Mae, 3

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: I used to be a real party animal; there was a party at ours every Friday and Saturday. If I had money in my pocket I was going to spend it, because even though I really wanted a baby, I’d resigned myself to the fact I wasn’t going to have one.

We had tried for 3 and half years and in that time I’d had two miscarriages. Fertility testing was the next step, and during one of our first appointments at the hospital they said I had to take a pregnancy test before the procedure.

I was late, but that was nothing unusual. I did a test and amazingly it said that I was pregnant. Immediately I was sent for an early scan, which then confirmed that I was 2 to 3 weeks gone. I knew not to get my hopes up, but 2 weeks later we went for another scan, where 6 weeks and 5 days was confirmed.

I imagined family life as this little perfect bubble - with a baby we would be all luvy duvy, with cuddles on the sofa, a house full of harmony, and no stress. I didn’t realise that motherhood was going to be hard work. I only imagined the obvious things like changing nappies, playing, cuddles - those pictures you see in magazines don’t portray a realistic picture.

Reality of motherhood: When I went for the early scan they had thought I had an enlarged bladder so they kept me there for hours, constantly sending me back to the toilet to empty it. The Consultant was called and he discovered that I had a very large ovarian cyst. It was decided that they’d just leave it. It was large, but it was OK to leave.

Then when I was 6 months pregnant, I was rushed to hospital with chest pains. The cyst had grown and was taking up the precious space that baby needed. It was bigger than a brick. At that point I had to make a choice of either removing the cyst and then creating complications for the baby, or leaving it and jeopardising my own health, plus the baby wasn’t growing. The choice I made was to drain it. I was in hospital for 3 days, just in case I went into early labour and during that time a drain was put in my side. They removed two and a half litres of fluid (more than a coke bottle), but after that everything was fine.

Pregnancy had been hard work with really bad morning sickness - every second was horrific. I was massive; gigantic! I couldn’t move. I had swollen ankles and problems with my back, because after the cyst had been drained the baby went through a massive growth spurt. I was told that the baby would about 9lbs (despite the fact I’m quite small). At the end of the pregnancy, after being in labour for 4 days - having constant debates with the staff about whether my waters had gone - Lily-Mae was delivered by emergency c-section on the Sunday after her heart beat had dropped. She was 10b 5.

We were in hospital for 10 days over Christmas, including Christmas day too. 
From the day she was born, and for the duration of the 1st 6 months, motherhood was nothing like I’d expected. One of the main things I remember is really wanting skin to skin, but I didn’t get to hold her for 2 hrs. I found that really difficult. It was nothing like that beautiful mother-daughter first meeting that you imagine. 

We’d wanted this baby for so long, but I was so scared - even the simple things like changing her seemed so daunting. My husband was great though and he took over the care. I was quite poorly and both of us needed antibiotics intravenously, then I got another infection in my womb – a haematoma. In hospital Lily-Mae was amazing though. I thought I had a bit of an easy life because she never cried, she was so quiet in hospital and she slept lots.

In the hospital I felt quite pressured to breast feed, but it just wasn’t working. They tried to get me to express, but I wasn’t having any luck with that either and we weren’t prepared for bottle-feeding because I’d assumed breastfeeding would be second nature. You don’t get warned that there could be initial problems with breastfeeding and the added pressure from midwives doesn’t help when you don’t succeed. You feel upset that you can’t do best for the baby, because ‘the perfect mother breastfeeds’, but what can you do if you can’t breastfeed? It really got to me, and coping with the infections at the same time was really tough.

Taking your child home for the first time:
We had my husband’s step son at home with us for the first week because it was New Year. I couldn’t wait to get home and enjoy the time as just me, Sam and Lily-Mae.

I found that first week very very hard - Luke doesn’t usually live with us, so finding our routine with another guest was difficult. I tried to establish a routine for the 3 of us, but Sam was having to look after his 8 year old son. I felt that I needed my husband’s full attention. It probably is through selfishness, but I wanted him all to myself.

When we got home Lily-Mae started to wake through the night. I didn’t have the help of the midwives and I was very scared - you get used to being told what to do and how you should do things. Those first 6 months were extremely difficult and I’m really sad to look back because I don’t remember an awful lot of it.

Best advice:
Sleep when baby sleeps. 

My husband and I tried alternate nights so that we each got a full night sleep every other night - we were really lucky that his shifts allowed us to do this.

Get some fresh air everyday.

Mother And baby groups are great. I’ve made some amazing friends through having Lily-Mae. My friends don’t really have kids, so meeting other mums who could give me advice and I could chat with was great. We were all on maternity leave at the same time.

Worst advice: Feeding on demand. I found that when bottle feeding this technique ends in screaming fits. Lily-Mae was waking up starving and it was stressing us all out. We ended up feeding every 2/3 hrs and if she didn’t finish it she didn’t finish it.

Regarding breastfeeding - it isn’t best for everyone, so if it doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t make you a bad mother.

Hardest part of being a mother:
When Lily-Mae was 6 months old I was rushed back into hospital with stomach pains.
Doctors discovered that had an ovarian tumour which had grown in the pocket of the cyst. There were massive complications in surgery and the tumour ruptured, leading to me being in surgery for 7 hours. I’d had no idea I was ill, putting any pains down to the c-section and having a big baby.

I left hospital after the operation, seemingly well, only to be told by doctors that the biopsy they’d taken on the operating table had confirmed that that the tumour had spread. I had to have my whole ovary removed in the end. In this 2nd operation they carried out open surgery rather than keyhole and they found another tumour. After that I was given the all clear (although I am still under Oncology because I do have fibromas on my other ovary).

After all that has happened I think I’m very lucky to be here. I am thankful for being healthy and well. Now I’m over the surgery I’m OK, but I struggle with the fact that I’ve forgotten that first year (though I don’t want to feel sorry for myself). I didn’t want Lily-Mae to know I was poorly and had to keep upbeat all the time, so that’s probably why I found it such a chore. 

Another difficult thing to deal with as a mother is when they're ill. It’s impossible to be rational - you don’t get told how scary it will be. You constantly checking they’re OK, listening out for their breathing in the night, but in reality they’re a lot tougher than they look. Weaning was hard work for me and potty training too, but it could have been made harder by the timing and the illness. 

Best parts of being a mother: Everything.

Unconditional love - she thinks her mummy can do no wrong. I’ve never felt that love before in my life, where you love that person no matter what they do.

I love the way you know what they’re thinking and you learn to read their moods. You find out what they need just from looking at them. You become their translator and understand everything that they're trying to say.

I love having the responsibility and feeling like an adult. She’s made me grow up and act like an adult. I enjoy cooking for her and we have lots of fun together. You never know what the next day will bring. We do lots of colouring together, painting, reading, playing with playdoh, watching movies and having cuddles - just having lots of fun! I love that she’s suddenly become really girlie and her own character with her own favourite interests that we can share, like doing hair and nails.

We’re best friends. She’s so happy and I feel responsible for that. I must be doing something right because she’s so happy and healthy.

One of the best moments of my life was being told I’d had a little girl - I thought I was having a boy because a consultant had told me he thought it was a boy.

Has being a mother changed you?: It’s made me organised.

When you’re looking out for someone else you forget about yourself. The things that were important before are no longer important. It’s all about Lily-Mae now and how she’ll fit in to everything.

Hopes for your family: I want her to stay happy. That she’ll be who she wants to be, I hope that she’ll never be afraid to talk to me and she’ll tell me whatever is on her mind. I might not like what she has to say, but I’ll always be here.

Advice to new and expecting mums:
Let your child guide what you do in the day, so if they don’t want to stay in go to where they want to. We get out everyday - even if it’s just to walk down the road. It gives you a break from the same four walls.

Take help if you need it (and take as much help as you can get). It doesn’t make you any less of a mother to accept help. I wanted Lily-Mae to know who her mum was, I wanted to do everything perfectly - being super-mum - but it didn’t work. You need to realise what’s important and that is spending time with your child. There’s so much that I can’t remember from the first 6 months and it upsets me. I feel like I spent too much time trying to be perfect. Having a messy house doesn’t matter, having an occasional takeaway, having a day in your PJ's and leaving the pots in the sink - none of it matters.



On coming homing it became more apparent that there was a real push from ‘society’ to do things the perfect way. Everyone seems to strive to be the ‘perfect’ mum. Over time though, I discovered that a happy mum makes a happy child. I wanted to be a perfect housewife with the perfect house - a wife and mother who looks amazing and cooks brilliant food - but it just isn’t possible. I don’t think you should listen to anyone else who tells you what to do, you know best even if you doubt yourself on occasions. 

For everything I’ve been through, Lily-Mae is so worth it - I see her as my angel. I believe things happen for a reason. If it wasn’t for the scans the doctors would never have seen the tumour and then who knows where I'd have been. She’s saved me in a sense and so I idolise her. I’m so grateful for what she’s done for me.  I wouldn't change a thing about motherhood - my little lady is my world!

Joanna, Pablo, Nico and Lola

Name: Joanna 

Children: Pablo (3), Nico & Lola (6 months) 

Location: Levenshulme, Manchester 

Expectations of Motherhood: I guess I expected to be more of an "earth mother" type. I thought I would want to stay at home with my children until they were at least two like my sister did. My mum was a stay at home mum until I was about 11. I also kind of expected to be more soppy about my children, as I am quite a sentimental person. And I thought I'd be the sort to make my own baby food and breastfeed as long as possible. 

Reality of Motherhood: Pablo, my eldest son was a very colicky baby and wanted to be breastfed every two hours around the clock. Apparently this is normal, but that doesn't stop it from being intolerable! Especially, given that poor Pabs used to scream the whole time he was awake for the first four months of his life. He was a very light sleeper and I had to walk up and down jiggling him for at least 20 minutes after each feed to get him to sleep. Then I'd put him down and he'd wake up and I'd have to start the whole thing again. Even co-sleeping did not work. He would lie next to me and scream in my ear! He wanted to be in my arms and he wanted me to stand and pace the floor, preferably whilst listening to white noise CDs at full volume! My husband and I would fall asleep listening to the sound of Arctic winds sweeping across the icy tundra, only to be awoken one hour later. I was getting a couple of hours of sleep a night and the adage "sleep when he sleeps" used to send me into paroxysms of rage. "But he doesn't sleep!" I ranted to anyone who would listen. Daytime naps lasted maybe 20 minutes, and I had to walk him round the park in the pushchair to get him to drop off each time. Then he would wake up at the slightest noise and I would have to be on hand to jiggle the pram and get him to sleep again. There was no way I was going to be able to nap when he did. 

I was dying to stop breastfeeding but he refused to take a bottle until one day when he was seven months, I gave him fruit juice in a bottle and he liked the new flavour so much that he took to the bottle. That gave me a bit more freedom. I know breastfeeding is very beneficial to babies but the reality for mums can be a life of 24/7 slavery. At times I felt like my baby was deliberately torturing me. I wasn't depressed, but I was very angry that this whole burden was foisted on me and only me, and nobody could give me a break. Sleep deprivation made me extremely short-tempered and I would phone my mum to complain or cry down the phone. She's had it really tough, dealing with me dealing with motherhood! 

I tried taking Pablo to a cranial osteopath, I tried taking him to a specialist, thinking he had reflux, but nothing seemed to help. Then when he was 4 months he smiled and was happy for a bit of the time he was awake. That was a breakthrough. He still wanted to be held and entertained constantly but at least it was possible to make him happy! I did think motherhood would be a bit more of a doss; that I might be able to do some nice home cooking while my baby napped. In reality, I constantly had to hold and entertain him or work to keep him asleep, so there was no blissful period of watching daytime TV and meeting friends for coffee. Just drudgery! Suffice to say when Pabs was nine months old I was very glad to have the chance to go back to work. I'd been a language teacher previously, but I never fancied combining teaching with motherhood. I knew I'd end up using all my patience for other people's kids and have none left for my own! My husband had started a business about 18 months previously and was struggling with the admin side of things, so I started helping him two days a week, which went up to three days when Pablo was 19 months and four days when he was two, as the business grew. 

I probably sound like I don't even like my child, but I really really do! My love for my children is like a fact of life, it's just there, hardwired, like having brown hair (well mostly brown!) It doesn't make me weepy and sentimental but when I cuddle them I often get a rush straight to my heart. It's physical, I can actually feel it. I really like Pablo too, which is not the same as loving him. I enjoy his sense of humour, and his imagination. He is also very affectionate, and passionate and a bit of a charmer. Even when he was about eight months old he used to give me these fierce hugs, where he'd press his little face into mine so hard that it hurt! As I get to know Nico and Lola, I like them more and more too. I'm dying to know what's going on in their little heads! 

I found out I was having twins at my 12 week scan. Before then I'd noticed my bump was bigger than first time round, and I'd been joking that I was going to have triplets, little thinking that a multiple birth could really happen to me! Of course I was shocked, though not as much as my husband, Guille, whose reaction was "Oh Gooood this is the end of our lives!" I was very worried about how I'd cope, especially if I got two babies as colicky as Pablo. I felt a sense of impending doom for most of my pregnancy and I forced myself to get stuff done (potty-training Pablo, buying our first house) because I couldn't face the thought of doing it later with twins in tow. When I was about 30 weeks pregnant I received a magazine from TAMBA (Twins and Multiple Births Association) which had loads of photos of cute twins and next to each picture how many weeks they were born at: Kira and Kyle 35 weeks, Jordan and Dane, 34 weeks, Mia and Megan 32 weeks - Aargh! I realised my babies were statistically very likely to be born prematurely (i.e. in a couple of weeks' time) and I still didn't have a double buggy or any tiny baby clothes (they were likely to be titchy too). So I rushed around buying everything which was fortunate because they were born shortly afterwards at 34 weeks. 

Taking your children home for the first time: I had Pablo at home, so there was no coming home from the hospital. I just hit the ground and kept on running. My labour was very quick, 6 1/2 hours from start to finish. I was talking to my contractions going, "Come on pain, do your stuff, open me up and let Pablo into the world!" It was like leaning into the wind. I'd wanted to have pain relief, but because it was all so quick, I didn't get the chance.

It was 11pm on boxing day when I went into labour. Everyone tells you to just chillax and carry on as you were until the pain gets too much, so I just kept on watching Peep Show, then tried to go to bed, though of course I couldn't sleep. Then at about two in the morning I woke Guille up and told him he should start inflating the birthing pool. He spent ages pumping the thing up and filling it, which was no easy matter as the water tank wasn't large enough to provide sufficient hot water, so he had to run a hose from the electric shower and boil the kettle and numerous saucepan. We'd had a dress rehearsal, so we were prepared for all that. The only thing was, once it was full, he realised he hadn't put the liner in, which meant it wasn't hygienic enough to use, so he had to pump all the water out and start again! Cue some choice swearwords in Spanish! Meanwhile I was on all fours on the bathroom floor, groaning.

By the time he had refilled the pool, it was about 5am and the midwife had arrived. "Don't worry, you probably won't have baby till about lunchtime tomorrow!" she breezed as she started to examine me. 
"Can I have some gas and air?" I pleaded. 
"Maybe later," she said, "You're doing so well with your breathing!" 
With me in agony, she took my blood pressure, felt the baby's position, and lastly had a look to see how dilated I was. "Oh, I think you're about to have this baby!" she said brightly. Hmm that's what I thought! "Do you want to go down to the pool?" 
I did, so she nipped out to get her equipment, but while she was gone I got this overwhelming urge.
"I'm pushing!" I roared to Guille who was still twiddling with the birthing pool downstairs. "Get her to come back!"

Despite underestimating how far on I was, she was a very nice midwife and helped me decide when to push so as not to tear. I got on all fours and roared and thrutched, it was all very primal. Guille was pretty awed. Then Pablo was born onto the bed, looking like some kind of purple grub, but strong as hell, pushing himself along. Guille remembers feeling bad for him, thinking, "When are they going to pick him up?" He was there for seconds all alone, before he was scooped up for the skin-to-skin with me. The second midwife arrived after an hour or so (there are meant to be two of them at a home birth, one for you and one for the baby, but me and Pabs were a bit too quick off the mark.) 

After they left it was a bit weird, living in this twilight world of constant waking. He was jaundiced so I had to feed him every two hours (timed from the beginning not the end of the last feed) and midwives came to visit every couple of days to check on us. One of them made me feel awful for giving him a dummy "A breastfed baby doesn't need a dummy, you're stopping him from feeding and getting the fluids he needs." I ended up bawling my eyes out that I wasn't doing right by my baby. Although things didn't go entirely according to plan, I would definitely count Pablo's birth as a good experience. I felt in control of my body and of the whole process. 

The twins' birth was the polar opposite. Twin births are considered high risk, so it's not possible to have a home birth. I suppose you could if you were very radical and got in a private midwife, but if someone tells me my baby could be in danger, I'm not going to argue. Nevertheless, I was keen to have as natural a birth as possible, and as both babies were head down, that seemed reasonably likely. 

The labour was horrid because the contractions came so close together right from the start. They were about three minutes apart from the beginning and rapidly escalated to a state of constant agony. Meanwhile instead of crawling around and responding to the pain, I was laid on my back and strapped to a monitor while various doctors and midwives desperately tried to find a trace of Lola's heartbeat. They brought in a portable ultrasound machine and scanned me, only to find that one of my good little head down babies had migrated into a transverse position. Naughty Lola! Then they checked how I was progressing and this weird male nurse who looked like Lurch gave me an unwholesome grin and told me I was fully dilated. This precipitated a frenzy of activity. "OK mum, we need to take you to the delivery suite, we might need to do a C-Section or we might have to deliver twin 1 vaginally and twin 2 by C-section." They all call you mum, which is incredibly annoying, (I am not your mother OK?!) but seems to be NHS policy. I was raced through corridors on my wheeled bed and was just about compos mentis enough to let them know that, no thanks, I really didn't want scars in two places and could they please just get both babies out by C section if possible, ta.

Meanwhile, poor Guille was given a gown to put on, then he made a quick film on his iphone of him saying "So, this is it, ready for the birth, let's go and meet our twins!" Then when he emerged, everyone had disappeared! He found the theatre where I was, but he wasn't allowed in because it was an emergency C section, and they had to give me a general anaesthetic. I just remember there being about twelve people in the room. A doctor was trying to explain the implications of this document I had to sign, but I was in so much pain I said "It's OK, just give me the pen!" I had a carbon copy to keep and when I read it weeks later I realised I'd basically given them carte blanche to get my babies out by whatever means necessary: C-section, forceps, ventouse or any combination of the above. Under the circumstances I feel very fortunate that it went so well.

The anaesthetist warned me he would have to put pressure on my windpipe to stop me regurgitating the pizza I'd innocently troughed just a few hours previously, and I woke up hours later, shivering so much my teeth chattered and incredibly thirsty. I went into labour at about 8.00pm and the babies were delivered just after midnight. Lola weighed 4lb 4 and Nico 3lb 14. They were carted straight off to the neonatal unit, but I was informed that they were both doing well. Unlike Pablo, I didn't get to see them till the following afternoon. It was nice on the maternity ward. I've never been in such a female dominated environment, (a sorocracy!), but they do try to squeeze you out as soon as they can see you're OK. I was told five days, but after three they were already asking if I felt ready to leave. Having your babies cared for by specialist nurses for the first three weeks of their lives has a lot of advantages. eg. you can actually get some sleep and recover from the birth, instead of plunging headlong into the hideous world of sleepless nights. Visiting them, helping with tube feeds, changing their nappies, all feels like a privilege instead of a chore. I was planning to try breastfeeding them , because I thought it was only fair after Pablo had bagged himself so much boob, so I was expressing every couple of hours. They have a pumping room for this purpose, which makes you feel distinctly bovine, but you do meet lots of other friendly cows in there, and a kind of blitz-spirit reigns. It would make a great Radio 4 play. In any case, we found out that our twins were quite lucky to be born at 34 weeks, and they made very good progress. Only two weeks after they were born we moved house, which was pretty hellish, but at least we didn't have any screaming babies to deal with on removal day as they were still in hospital. 

The neonatal staff were incredibly lovely and it turned out to be a very positive experience for us. Before we brought the twins home, I roomed in with them for a night, which turned into a nightmarish breastfeeding marathon as they took it in turns to feed for two minutes before falling asleep and waking hungry five minutes later, and this throughout the whole night. It took me right back to the darkest days with Pablo, a place I was really not willing to revisit, so after that I decided to bottle-feed them a combination of expressed milk and formula. I kept it up for about two months, but my milk supply dwindled and the health visitors were acting like I was a saint, so I thought, I don't need to be that good! And promptly gave up. 

Motherhood this time round has been a very different experience and mainly because of my mother-in-law, who serendipitously retired the week the twins were born, packed up and shipped in to our new house. She's been here ever since. She has made it bearable, helping with the sleepless nights and generally giving the babies and Pablo lots of love and attention, as well as doing plenty of cooking and housework. She is great and we get on very well most of the time. She's Spanish, from Madrid and doesn't speak any English, but I am fluent in Spanish because I lived in Barcelona with my husband for a couple of years, so we can communicate just fine. It's also great that Pablo has picked up a lot more Spanish with her around, and he surprises us every day with new phrases, many of which make him sound like a granny! He'll do stuff like hold up one of Lola's new outfits and go (in Spanish) "Aw isn't this gorgeous! And look, it's got trousers as well!" 

There are moments of tension sometimes, mainly because I can be such a cow when I get no sleep. I try to be assertive and explain our way of doing things, and she tries to go along with our choices about how to bring the children up. The main thing is that there is a lot of goodwill on each side. My Mum also comes over several times a week to help out and my Dad has helped us so much in our new house, building a ramp for our enormous buggy, repressurising the boiler and all kinds of other tasks that we have no idea how to do. If we didn't have so much help from our parents we would have to get an au pair and spend a fortune on handymen, which obviously we couldn't afford.

The best/worst advice: The best advice is use your instincts, accept all help offered, and don't beat yourself up about not being perfect.

The worst advice is to do with making a month's food in advance and freezing it, and similar over-organised stuff.

The hardest parts of being a mother: Dealing with toddler tantrums and resistance to every step of daily routine, whilst simultaneously dealing with two babies with colic or teething, after a sleepless night which I know will be followed by another sleepless night. Feeling rage that my children could be so mean to me as to never let me have any sleep. Losing my temper with people I love, seeing my husband lose his temper. Never having any time for myself or quality time with my husband.

The best parts of being a mother: Making babies giggle with their cute little gurgly laughs, kissing their lovely baby skin, watching the twins start to take notice of each other, seeing my children's personalities develop. Enjoying toddler humour:" Harry Pottermus", "Grandad's a dustbin!" Enduring toddler love including bisses which are bitey kisses (and quite disgusting!) Seeing my husband being a lovely dad. Sharing a look with each other when one of the kids does something cute. Reading to Pablo and discovering some fantastic kids' stories, such as the Dr Seuss one about the pale green pants with nobody inside 'em!

Has becoming a mother changed you: I am the same person. I just have a lot more responsibilities than I ever thought possible, and I've had to become more organised and have routines whereas I've always preferred to do things randomly. I am more irascible, but I always had that in me. It just comes to the fore more because I have more triggers.

Hopes for your family: I have so many hopes for us. It's not just about being happy, you know! First up, I want everyone sleeping through the night by the end of 2013. 

I hope the kids will get on well like I do with my sisters, that they will appreciate each other's personalities and rarely fight. I want them to speak fluent Spanish and appreciate their Spanish roots and culture, I want them to survive the teenage years unscathed and unbullied. I'd like them to be more financially savvy than me. I'd like them to learn to play musical instruments. I want them to be hardworking but funny and creative. And I want them to be able to talk to us about stuff that's bothering them. So, not much to ask then!

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: It's easy to feel guilty all the time, because there's always something you could be doing better, but it's OK to be just good enough to get by, and sometimes being just good enough requires actual heroism, for which you can give yourself a little pat on the back. When you are not good enough, get over it and get on with it. You are only human after all.


Get a dustbuster, and a tumble dryer and a dishwasher. Get a cleaner if you can afford it. Cut the corners you need to cut to remain sane. 


(Lola's first roll captured during the shoot)