Tamsin and Jude

Name: Tamsin 

Child: Jude, 15 weeks 

Location: Ashton-under-lyne

Expectations of Motherhood: I didn't know what to expect. I thought I'd be very tired, that I'd still want my own me-time on a regular basis, I hoped I'd be calm and collected and a 'perfect' mother, whatever that means. I had definite do's and don'ts: go back to the gym a month after he was born, keep up with my former active social life (what was I thinking), get into a routine early on, all became 'didn't happen'. The don'ts included - use dummies, co-sleep, breastfeed in public, feed formula. These all happened at some point and there were many more!!

Reality of Motherhood: Well, it is very tiring, but so worth it. It can be stressful at times; as this is my first baby almost every rash, cry, weight gain, weight loss and bowel movement has induced anxiety and worry that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and I am responsible for this tiny individual. But I love it so much, I never really understood how much love you could feel for someone. Clichéd, I know. I also never thought babies were that interesting, I thought they came into their own when they got a bit bigger. I was so wrong; I'm astounded and bewitched by how much he changes on a daily basis and how he can stop me in my tracks and forget what I'm doing to watch this new sound or action he's making. Your baby's smile can only be cringingly described as 'heart melting', I've asked other new mum's and they've said the same!!

Taking your child home for the first time: My waters had broken on the 16th Sept (a month before Jude was due) and then no contractions came. I wasn't induced until the 18th sept, which meant he was at risk of infection and so I had to stay in. He didn't have to endure what some early babies and poor families have to go through, but at just under 4 weeks early he was small. But he had to have a canula fitted (for his antibiotics) as his infection markers were too high. He then became jaundiced so he had to have phototherapy for a few days. This was dreadful as he didn't like being under the light and wanted to be held, so my husband would sit up with him for hours with his arm around Jude or his finger in his mouth (before we managed to buy a dummy) to comfort him. 

A week later when we got the all clear (after fears that we'd have to stay because his weight had dropped a little too much and his temperature was slightly low). We were ecstatic to take him home. My husband had decided to ask my sisters and aunt round for our first night home with him, so we weren't completely alone, but none of us really knew what we were doing. We'd forgotten that we were then going to be on our own and look after him! 

After a few days home, the midwife tested him for jaundice again and his levels were high, so we were back in again for a few days. The second time we left was with more trepidation, I kept worrying we'd have to go back in, especially when I had to take him in for blood tests and a urine test (extremely awkward to do, if you're asking) for prolonged jaundice. But despite all the (new) worrying, all was well.

Best advice: You really can't plan, so don't beat yourself up if things don't happen the way you want. 

I'd bought so many items of clothing for a bigger baby (everyone I knew told me I was going to have a big baby). When he was under 6lbs and dropped further down, we had to buy more. I really had wanted to breast feed, but I wasn't producing enough milk, so Jude wasn't gaining weight as he should, I hadn't considered formula at all and felt like a failure when I couldn't solely breastfed, because that's what I'd planned. I'd also planned to have a water birth, but because I was induced on a drip, I couldn't. 

Pregnancy and bringing up a baby is all about going with the flow and taking each day as it comes (so far, for me, anyway). From someone who hates poor punctuality and enjoys being organised, this is something I am still learning to embrace...

Also, bring spare changes of clothes for baby (and you, where possible) wherever you go. I have walked around the Christmas markets with baby sick down my hair and coat for an afternoon last November, Jude remained unsoiled on that occasion, I looked like a scruff!

Worst advice: About labour, so many people (both women and men) wanted to tell me about theirs/their partners horrific labour stories and that I should take all the drugs on offer. Telling a first-time, pregnant women this is not helpful. Baby is going to have to come out, so this 'advice', particularly from men, who haven't actually squeezed out a baby themselves, is not helpful. I had a relatively easy labour (once I was finally induced), but everyone is different, every mother in my NCT group had a different experience. Some would do it again, others wouldn't. You just know that you get your baby at the end, so just keep going! 

The hardest parts of being a mother: I wasn't a particularly chilled individual before having Jude, so I don't think this happens to every mum. But I do worry. Often. Am I doing this right? Is he eating enough? Why doesn't he like tummy time?! Should he be doing this or that by now? It is the most responsibility you will ever have and you just want to do it right. 

The best parts of being a mother: I'm well aware that I come across as a walking, talking cliché, but... There seems to be a million little things that make it the best thing, without doubt, that I have ever done. Seeing the pieces of you, mixed with the man you love, is really magical. We still look at him and say to each other "I can't believe he's here and he's ours". 

The satisfaction you get out of a smile or a coo and being the one to soothe him when he's upset, compare to no other feeling I've had. When I feel like I'm at the end of my tether because everything is going wrong, I've not slept and I have baby sick in my hair, I get a little smile from him and I feel alright. Little victories, like finally getting him out the house to go for a walk in the sunshine make me feel like the most triumphant mother in the world! I've always known that I wanted to have children, but until I had him, I never knew how much happiness it would bring to my life. 


Has becoming a mother changed you? I was a complete social butterfly, I loved going out, making plans for travels and gigs. I definitely enjoyed the odd (bottle) of Prosecco. Everyone told me I'd find it so hard not being able to do all the social things I enjoyed. But I wouldn't change a thing, in fact I found it hard going out for a haircut and colour (as I was about a 4 hour round trip without him). Now, my plans revolve around Jude, I have a new social focus... baby sensory, baby yoga and have made new friends via NCT and my lovely (post-baby) friends make plans that will include Jude, too. I'm currently trying to figure out how to bring Jude to a Kings of Leon concert in Hyde park in the summer so I don't have to be without him for a night! I certainly haven't hankered for any Prosecco since Jude's arrival either, how times have changed!

Hopes for your family: I want Jude to be happy, first and foremost, and a good and respectful human being. I come from a diverse family, Indian and Burmese (and Cornish) grandparents, so I would like to teach Jude about his mixed background and take him to these places one day, to learn about where he comes from. I hope we all grow together, we're all learning about what it is to be a family and my husband and I don't always agree on how to do parenting things. We're still learning to compromise and listen to the other's opinion on the matter, but generally, it's making us a closer unit. I hope this continues and Jude grows up with his parents together, in a loving and happy environment. I hope we're lucky enough to give him more siblings, but right now, I'm just going to keep enjoying (and learning from) what each new day (and sleep-broken) night brings.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums? Try not to compare yourself to other mums: how your bump looks against others, how your baby can't lift his head up but your friend's baby did it a month earlier... There are so many things being said to you about how to be the perfect mum and how to raise the happiest baby, but you should just try to be your own version of perfect and happy. I am still trying to digest this advice myself, but it is slowly sneaking in. 

Additional info:

2016 was a tough year for me. At the start of the year my paternal grandfather passed away suddenly, then I was made redundant the day after his funeral. Jude is his 19th great-grandchild. 

He was always asking us when we were going to have a baby as he loved his ever-growing family so much. The week after his funeral I found out I was pregnant after almost 2 years of trying (and on my husband's birthday). My maternal grandmother was then diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died 3 months to-the-day before her first great grandson was born. She managed to knit a lovely outfit for him before she passed away, which was what we took him home in. We had joked that it was far too small for a baby of my husband's and in the end it was just perfect for our little man. The one thing that kept me positive and strong this year was knowing that I would have my little boy with us by October. I don't know why my beloved Nana and Grandpa weren't able to be around to meet Jude, but it was just meant to be.

Becky, Leila and Asher

Name: Becky

Children: Leila, 3 and Asher, 9 months

Location: Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood: When I was pregnant with Leila, I had only the vaguest of expectations, as motherhood was such alien territory. None of my friends had children at that point, so I had no 'blueprint' of what to do/not do or how it would be. I did expect to love my baby intensely and for her to bring huge joy to my life. I adored being pregnant - it was a dreamy, indulgent time and I loved my bump. But towards the end I started to worry that I wouldn't love the baby after all, and I had deep, secret fears about whether I would be a good mother - not of the 'what if my organic purees are not quite the right consistency for baby's delicate digestion?' variety; more like, 'what if I am capital B Bad, like shouldn't have children at all Bad'. These fears haunted me through the last weeks of pregnancy, as I waddled to my due date and beyond, virtually housebound by the big freeze that took hold that winter.

Reality of Motherhood: Thank goodness, when she arrived Leila swept away my fears in an instant. I will always be grateful to her for that. The moment she appeared, pink and bendy and cross, my first words were gasped with amazement and relief: 'oh I DO love you, I do love you, I love you'. She totally delivered on the intense love/huge joy front. However, those first weeks were a massive shock. Not in the sense that I wasn't expecting it to be hard work - veteran parents are determined during your first pregnancy to drum into you that It Will Be Hard. But the reality of round-the-clock breastfeeding (three hours from the start of the first feed to the start of the next- the START! And the feed takes 90 minutes!), the grizzly newborn nights, and the mystery of what could possibly be wrong with the baby when she cried, proved to be very tough. More than that, the sheer weight of emotion I felt knocked me sideways and upside down. I remember one evening, listening to a CD of gentle 'baby music' a friend had made, holding Leila in front of me and just bawling onto her fat sleeping face.

When Asher came along almost three years later, the newborn phase felt like a breeze by comparison. The culture shock had already taken place, I suppose. This was charted territory now. I just revelled in his newborn squishiness and crazy ways. I wished I could go back and experience the first time again, with the hindsight of the second time, the knowledge that the madness will not last forever, and also, woman: nothing will happen to the baby if you leave it sleeping in the basket in the corner while you have a nap, drink a cup of tea or go to the loo.

Taking your children home for the first time: My labour with Leila was long, slow and slightly complicated, in the way it seems many first labours are: I was induced, had to have a syntocin drip to speed things up, lost some blood and went to theatre because of a retained placenta. I stayed in hospital for a couple of nights. By the time we were able to take her home, I felt, physically and emotionally, like I'd been hit by a train. We did the typical anxious, slow drive home, all the while feeling like we were bound to be pulled over by the Baby Police, as clearly we were not grown up enough to be left in charge of an actual human being.



The first few days were a blur. I was exhausted beyond anything I'd known before, anaemic and spaced out. Sometimes I didn't know if I was awake or asleep; I couldn't concentrate on the television, let alone a magazine or a book. I felt like a zombie, and was in bed for several days.

When Asher was born, the experience was totally different. The labour was 4.5 hours from start to finish, and he was born quickly and smoothly in the birthing pool. It was, strange as it sounds, the best experience of my life. The three of us chilled out in the birth centre for a few hours, I scoffed a family bag of jelly babies, and we were home before 5pm. I felt on top of the world, full of energy even, and ate fish and chips with the family before heading to bed for the first of many, many nights of madness.

Of course, the main difference bringing Asher home was that there was an older sibling there to meet him. Leila cradled his head in her tiny toddler's hands and smiled a pleased smile. 'Isn't he wonderful' she said. As time went on she would swing between this sentiment, fierce, slightly aggressive love, and irritation with her little brother ('I want him OFF your nipple' she said a few days later, swiping his head backwards with her hand).

The best advice: I bumped into a male colleague at the shops when I was heavily pregnant with Leila. He has a particular straightforward, deadpan way of talking. No beating around the bush. He said to me, without drama, as I glowed with excitement and optimism: 'It'll be like a bomb's gone off, love. It's brilliant. But it's like a bloody bomb's gone off'. Not so much advice, more a simple truth which I have found oddly comforting since.

The worst: Enjoy every minute. What, every minute? Every single one? Even the ones with the crying (mine) and the screaming (theirs) and the 3am whining? That's just setting yourself up for feeling like a failure.



The hardest parts of being a mother: There are plenty of parts I find hard! It can feel like you crash from one transition to the next; just when you get the hang of one phase (weaning, potty training, tantrums), another kicks in. When you have two, the logistics of managing the very different demands that each age and child presents are pretty mind-boggling. Meanwhile each new phase is so consuming that every bump in the road feels like the hardest phase you've been through. So right now, managing the behaviour of a 3 year old coupled with the physical demands of a 9 month old, feels like the hardest thing. But I'm well aware that in years to come I'll look back on these as the glory days which, really, they are. The time before life got complicated.

Toddlers are their own special brand of challenging. Hilarious, captivating, psychotic and adorable. With Leila I have found Three more demanding than Two. It can be so hard to keep my cool at times, as she pushes with all her might against every boundary. And I am so desperate to be the calm, consistent parent I think she deserves, that the effort of disciplining in the 'right' way is exhausting.

By comparison, babies can seem like a doddle. That is, until they try to finish you with the not sleeping. Asher is and has been a very easy baby on many fronts, but not when it comes to sleep. At the height of his reign of terror (between 3-6 months) I really felt at times like sleep deprivation would break me. Some nights still drive me to tears. I read threads on Mumsnet from mothers perplexed that their four month old has 'stopped' sleeping through. They've what now? STOPPED? My 9 month old never started.

The best parts of being a mother: Basically, everything apart from the hard parts is the best part.

Seeing their personalities develop is the best. I love that Leila is so different from me (fiery, loud, outgoing, a performer) yet we get on so well. She is genuinely hilarious, and not just because she does funny little-kid things like stopping in front of the mini bottles of wine in Asda and saying 'mummy! Lots of special wine for children!'. And even at nine months old, I can already see that Asher is totally different from Leila (cuddly, chilled, an explorer). Seeing them together, laughing like loons at one another, is the best. Being a family is the best. 

Holding, cuddling and stroking them is the best. There must be some mummy-catnip in those babies. I wonder if one day they'll ban me from fiddling with their hair, running my fingers up the nobbles of their spines, squeezing their cheeks between my thumb and forefinger, and curling them back up into a foetal position to crush them gently in my lap. Maybe they'll still let me do it when their work friends aren't in the room.

Every day, a handful of moments are the best, happiest moments you've ever experienced. A friend who was in throes of new motherhood emailed just after Leila was born, and said 'even the hardest days have their magic moments', and that is the wonder of having kids. Though one moment I can be driven to tears of frustration, the next I'm sitting there thinking 'yes. This is it'. The happiness can just surge up through my body and threaten to burst out of my throat at any given moment. 

Has becoming a mother changed you? I'm somebody whose mind is rarely at rest. I'm forever mulling over the past or fretting about the future. Having Leila and Asher, I can be completely in the moment. And I'm more at ease. I know that if I never achieve anything else in my life - and I do intend and fervently hope to achieve other things - I have had them, and that is enough. There's a peace about that.

Also, the body-surging happiness I described above is something I thought I wouldn't experience again when my youngest sister died, several years before Leila was born. Having the children opened my heart to the possibility, and the reality, of utter joy.

Hopes for your family: I want them to be safe, happy and well. That's what it boils down to. It seems so little, yet so much, to ask.

I hope that they (and any future sibling/s) gain as much from each other as I have from my brother and two sisters, and form as close a bond.

I don't expect them to never experience sadness, but I hope they never experience traumatic loss. 

I hope they love and are loved. The right sort of love.

I hope they like their parents as they get older. And that they outlive us.

I hope we have another child. I'm not done, as I told my partner (somewhat alarmingly, I imagine) minutes after Asher was born.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: Don't be smug. You may have the magical sleeping baby, the perfect eater, the most well-adjusted sweet-natured sociable kid there is. But if you are smug about it, it WILL bite you on the bum. If not next week, then next year or when the child is a teenager, or when you have your second child. (Or at least, you can be smug - all parents are - but don't do it out loud).

Understand that babies' sleep does not progress in a linear fashion. If your baby sleeps through at 8 weeks (as Leila did), don't be disheartened when her/his sleep goes haywire later on. This will continue through at least the first year. But equally, if your baby still hasn't slept through by nine months (Asher....), know that one day, he/she - and you - will get a full night's sleep. I least I hope we will. WON'T WE? Also remember that the baby books which tell you that 'most babies' sleep through at two months, or that yours 'should' be, wouldn't be bestsellers if this was actually true.

Make 'mum friends' (and/or dad friends, of course). I found playgrounds excruciating for many months, and found the idea of approaching other parents frankly horrifying, but once I bit the bullet and started talking to people, I made friends who have been a great support and, more importantly, a good laugh. It's invaluable to spend time with people who are in the same magic, manic, sick-sodden boat. I have discovered, too, that most people feel the same - i.e. that they are a socially inept, repellant buffoon, and that all the other mums are confident and popular. 

Enjoy every minute. Ha.