Vinca and Felix

Name: Vinca

Child: Felix, 5

Location: Levenshulme 

Expectations of Motherhood: 

I expected to look at my new baby and feel the most intense love.

I expected life to carry on as it had before. 

I expected to share responsibility with my partner. 

I expected to slot into motherhood easily.

Reality of Motherhood: The sudden wave of love didn’t hit me the first time I held my baby. I felt more of a deep sense of responsibility. The love crept in gradually over a few days, a few weeks. I felt a lot of guilt about what that could mean, until I realised it’s perfectly normal, my expectation was based on glossy celebrity stories and depictions of new mothers on film. Giving birth is a huge physical and emotional process to go through, of course it sometimes takes a little while to settle down. 

I wasn’t too far off with my other expectations, my partner and I, although we disagree on all kinds of things, are compatible in child-rearing – we support each other fully, and it has allowed us to maintain our friendships and ambitions and social lives, whilst having a fun, happy family life. I have a sense of fulfilment, not in a ‘my child is my life’ way, in a much more basic way – I was incredibly broody, now I’ve scratched that itch and we can all move forward with life together. 

Taking your child home for the first time: Felix had an infection and spent his first few days in the neonatal intensive care unit. It wasn’t the start we thought we’d have. After eight days we were given the all clear, and it was amazing! We were so desperate to go home and get on with normal life. We left the hospital and went straight to Tesco to do some shopping – something so ordinary forever changed. I was at university and my partner worked from home, so we had what felt like endless, wonderful time together, marvelling at this tiny person we’d made, and figuring out how our lives would fit together. We were a complete unit, I’ve never felt so secure in any of my relationships as I did in those first months of parenthood.

The best/worst advice: I was in my first year of my degree when I got pregnant. My Mum’s reaction when I told her the news was ‘oh no!’. She must have worried I’d drop out, but I didn’t. I spoke to one of my lecturers and he helped me to have confidence in my abilities and my choice to continue without deferring. I had to effectively do my second year backwards to fit the assignments around giving birth, but I worked hard, and with my partner doing the majority of childcare, I graduated in the standard three years, and got a first. The advice was to trust myself and not let other people determine what being a mother should mean to me and my ambitions. Oh, and my Mum told me every phase is the best bit. She was absolutely right!

The hardest parts of being a mother: I never clicked with the whole baby group thing. I got hung up on how much I hated the idea of making friends solely on the basis of having babies the same age. I couldn’t get passed it. I knew Felix needed to go to groups, so I took him to at least one a week, but it was a struggle. I was so awkward that I didn’t make any mum-friends, and had to wait for my friend-friends to start having babies so I could talk about life as a mother to understanding ears. I isolated myself. It made the first year quite lonely.

The best parts of being a mother: Where do I start? Watching this amazing little person grow and develop and express himself and his personality. There’s a trend for mourning the loss of the baby as a child gets bigger. I don’t feel that at all, I’m filled with excitement and curiosity about each new stage he goes through. He’s currently at the very beginning of learning to read, and I adore every small word he shouts out that he’s read from a sign as we drive around. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for him. This small child is brimming with possibility. 

Has becoming a mother changed you? I’m more considered in my actions than I was pre-Felix. The freedom of life without children has changed, not disappeared, just changed. There’s less spontaneity, more planning. 

Hopes for your family: I hope we support each other to be the happiest and most fulfilled we can be. I hope we have lots of fun, and enjoy each other’s company. I hope Felix has the confidence and determination to do what makes him happy, and that he always knows his parents love him. I hope we have all kinds of adventures together, all the way through our lives.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums: You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for your child. You can still be you. You can take your baby to a festival. You can buy a camper van and travel the world. You can go to parties. You can finish your studies. You can start your own business. You just have to make sure you build your life around the needs of this tiny person.



I live with my (now) husband, Lee. We run a design business together. It was a decision we took that means we are less secure financially, but we get to spend time with each other and Felix. We can work around the school day and holidays, he can hang out with us at the office, we can take days off to do fun stuff – it gives us freedom. I adored the early years, teaching him about the world, and nurturing him, and now he’s at school I’m loving the return to having non-Mum time between 9am and 3pm. It’s a journey we’ve been on, and I enjoy each new phase more than the last. He asked me about having a brother the other day – that’s not going to happen, I feel we’ve all developed along the way, and I don’t want to go back to the beginning now, this bit is too good, and I can only see that continuing forever.

Susie, MaryJane and Elizabeth

Name: Sue

Children: MaryJane, 4 and Elizabeth, 6 months

Location: South Manchester

Previous blog entry: http://www.the-mothers.co.uk/2011/10/sue-and-mary-jane.html

Life since the last blog post: Well, there's now another child in the picture! Elizabeth eventually came along after me having two miscarriages and surgery for endometriosis.
We've also moved house. After having our house on the market for two years we ended up moving whilst I was seven months pregnant - I wouldn't recommend it, but I'm so glad we've now done it. I started a lifestyle and events website for vintage enthusiasts residing in Manchester- which I'm now in the process of changing again to adapt to the changing market and to my personal wants and needs.

Motherhood since last being on the blog: Well having two rather than one is much easier in some ways and much harder in others. The easier parts are basically the fact that you've done it before- you can figure stuff out quicker, crying, feeding, teething etc. But the harder parts are now having two little people who both need their own routines and have their own schedules. For example MaryJane is at nursery for 3 hours every term time morning- juggling Elizabeths naps and feeding times around this has become easier but at first it was a stresspoint for me.



Has motherhood changed you?: I think I look at the bigger picture a lot more now rather than the minute details. I'm also extremely sensitive to how, and who with, I spend my time. I was never someone who suffered fools gladly previously, but now I probably much worse and cant bear being somewhere or doing something when I'm just not into it.

Hardest parts of being a mother: When the girls are poorly and when I'm poorly. Unfortunately the first 3 months after Elizabeth was born we were literally either at the local GP's clinc or the hospital every week- with one of us!

Best parts of being a mother: Watching the blossoming relationship between the girls.

What you wish you’d known before having children: How much you can feel like you are missing out on stuff, but actually realising non of it really matters.

Any more advice for mothers and expectant mums: Dont put yourself under unnecessary pressure. I wanted to breastfeed Elizabeth for 6 months, like I had done with Mj, but I ended up rather ill after the birth and I couldn't carry on. I really had to force myself not to feel like a failure. Just remember the main thing is you and baba are happy.

Susie can be found online at her sites www.oldfashionedsusie.com and www.vintagemanchester.com. She's also on Twitter at @oldfashionedsue

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!

Liz and August

Name: Liz

Child: August, 8 months

Location: Manchester

Expectations of Motherhood:
I knew it would be tough, but to be honest I couldn't actually picture myself as a mother so it all seemed a bit delusional. I tried not to think about it too much and just hoped a healthy baby would appear at the end.

Reality of Motherhood:
The first 6 weeks............... horrific! I could not believe nobody had pulled me to one side and warned me about this while I was pregnant.

Obviously the sleep deprivation is a killer, but absolutely nothing prepares you for this. You would never be put in a situation (unless as a form of torture) where you are woken every 2 hours. It was around week 2 that I realised I would not be having more than a 3 hour block of sleep for quite a while! This would be bad enough on its own, but add to it a bruised and battered body, plus learning to breast feed and its even worse!

Now 8 months in...... motherhood is still exhausting but so much fun! 

I feel so privileged to spend everyday with August.

Taking your child home for the first time:
After spending three days in a shared room with 4 other women (one of whom was in labour!) with August screaming the place down and demanding a feed every 30 minutes I was ready to get the hell home! My partner and dad picked us up and it felt like a getaway car. We shoved all my stuff into a bag, grabbed the baby and fled! I was sure they'd made a mistake and if we weren't quick enough they would change their minds and be after us.

As soon as we got home I started cleaning.....I went into hospital on the Monday morning and didn't get home til the Thursday evening, so nothing was how I left it. Two grown men had been living at home while I was away so let's just say standards had slipped a bit!

The best/worst advice:
The worst advice was from a breast feeding counsellor who said, 'if it hurts your doing it wrong'. I did everything I was supposed to but it still hurt. A lot! 

I stuck with it and after about a month things fell in to place. I think August and I were just getting used to something that was new to both of us.

The hardest parts of being a mother:
No matter how much help you have or are promised, in reality it all comes down to you. I think it was around the third month I suddenly realised, 'Oh my god I am the one who has to do everything!'

The best parts of being a mother:
The bond I have with August right now. 

I know as she gets older this will be split more equally between her father and I, but while she is still a baby and so dependant on me I'm enjoying the rewards of being the apple of her eye!

Has becoming a mother changed you?
In some ways yes but these could be temporary as it's still the first year. She is my number one and it can be hard to concentrate on much else. The idea of going back to work at some point scares the hell out of me and I'm lucky that I can take my time a bit. I do look back on things I used to worry about and think, 'WOW, you had way too much time to think about things!'

Hopes for your family:
I just want to raise a happy, healthy, and confident little girl and hope that I can be there as much as possible for her.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums?In the first few weeks only surround yourself with people who will be 100% supportive of you. You will most probably be exhausted, depressed, highly strung and extremely emotional, so anyone judgemental need not apply!

Emily and Leo

Name: Emily

Child: Leo, 6

Location: Manchester


Expectations of motherhood: 

Low. I was a student and single and skint and it was a complete shock. I wasn’t keen on babies and didn’t know much about them, apart from the usual screaming, smelly stereotypes. I’d known the father for a while, but we weren’t together and he wanted nothing to do with it. I was absolutely mortified. 

I was and still am pro-choice, but when I was faced with that decision myself, I found I couldn't have an abortion. I spent eight months feeling very scared and angry. Had I known how things were going to turn out, I would have been quite excited, but at the time it all seemed pretty bleak. People kept telling me the baby would be the best thing that ever happened to me, but I thought they were just being kind. I went through a lot during my pregnancy; working long hours, having to fight to save my job, saying goodbye to the people and lifestyle I loved. Despite the weirdness of the situation, through all that, I did begin to feel like my baby and I were a team. I spoke to him when he moved and he became more real to me when I found out he was a boy at 20 weeks. But I couldn’t really see very far past the horror of giving birth, which terrified me. Beyond that, I knew I was signing up to a life very different to anything I’d ever imagined and just hoped it would all work out. 

Reality of Motherhood: 

Overall, a pleasant surprise... 

The birth was atrocious, but that’s what I expected. There was no earth mother idyll for me; I knew it was going to hurt and I knew I wanted every drug I could get. My predictions came true: thirty-odd hours of back-to-back labour, loads of gas and air, two shots of pethidine, an epidural that I had to beg (scream) for, followed by an emergency Caesarean (it turned out after all that, he wasn’t even engaged and never would have come out the conventional way.)

I didn’t get the bolt of love people go on about but I did think my baby looked beautiful – and weirdly familiar. They put him in the crook of my arm in the recovery room and I knew I wanted to protect him no matter what. Happily, one sunny afternoon when things had calmed down a bit, I got the famous rush and it was as good as everyone says. The late nights and bodily fluids take over for a while and you get on with it because you have to.

People say nature makes you forget the pain of labour and I reckon it makes you forget the general chaos of having a small baby too. I sometimes think, ‘it wasn't that bad.' I was very lucky because Leo slept and smiled a lot, but it was hardly a relaxing time. Now, I'll see a bottle of Infacol or get a whiff of a newborn nappy and think ‘Oh God, remember all that...’

I love Leo immensely. I am so pleased that I was miles off the mark when I thought parenthood would be crap. We have great adventures together, he’s endlessly entertaining and loving, friends love spending time with him and that makes me proud. Leo can remedy the worst days with a drawing or a cuddle or a pun. He comes out with wise stuff way beyond his years, but then he’ll still ask me to do a puppet show with his teddies at bedtime. Leo gave me the determination to get stuff done, too: I went back to university and finished my degree, then forged a career. So it is a cliché, but all those people who said he'd be the best thing that ever happened to me weren't wrong. 

I’m not going to say being a single parent is perfect or ideal: it is hard on your own, but because it’s just been us two from day one, it’s all both of us have ever known. I am also incredibly lucky to have a lot of practical and emotional support from friends and family and I am extremely grateful for that. I love being Leo’s mum and I am so happy he came along when he did. 

Taking your child home for the first time: 

I stayed in hospital for a week, overhearing the other women on the ward begging to go home and thinking they were mad. OK, the food was abysmal, but who wouldn't want to be able to buzz the nurses for more morphine or help changing nappies? Then I realised it was because they had partners waiting for them and were actually excited about what lay ahead. 

I’d moved in with Mum in the late stages of my pregnancy. After she’d driven us home (really slowly), I put Leo down in the car seat in the middle of the living room floor. He looked out of place. I stared at him, wondering what the hell I would do with him when he woke. Not long after that, he did and I didn’t get a second to worry about how I’d cope again. 

The Best / Worst Advice:  

On one of those early, blurry days, the crying was relentless. I kept forgetting to eat, my Caesarean wound was hurting, I had greasy hair and I really needed a shower. I remember sitting on the loo sobbing with Leo strapped to me in a sling because I didn't think I could put him down while he was crying. It was exactly how I’d imagined motherhood was going to be and I didn’t like it one bit. 

I rang Mum on her lunch break and wept. She said, “If he has a clean nappy and you know he’s not hungry, just try putting him down and seeing if he'll go to sleep.” I took her advice and a few minutes later, he did. Obviously, if he cried for longer than ten minutes (which he did during the colic stage), I picked him up and comforted him, but nine times out of ten, he was crying because he was overtired and just fell asleep. I do realise this isn’t the case with all babies and apparently it’s quite controversial, but it worked for us. 

Mum and the health visitor meant well when they told me to go to mother and baby groups, but as a young, single parent, they didn’t turn out to be the best environment for me. There’s definitely a silent air of competitiveness in that scene. Who’s the earthiest? Whose baby will get a tooth first? Who will get back into her old jeans first? Who has the fanciest pram? Also, having just had a baby, the last things I wanted to talk about were baby poo, baby clothes, baby wee, baby sleep patterns, baby accessories, babies, babies, babies, hubbies and babies. I found the whole thing more intimidating than supportive, but I realise that was probably because of my circumstances. 

Since babyhood, the best advice I’ve received is just to give your child a lot of love, be as open and honest with them as is age appropriate and praise them loads when they’re good. 

I didn’t read any manuals. Even if you haven’t got a clue, instinct kicks in. They’re humans, so they’re all different. You’ll figure out what works for yours. 

The hardest parts of being a mother: 

For me, breastfeeding. There was this natural thing that was going to give my baby the best start in life and I couldn’t bloody do it. What a start. I didn’t get the skin-to-skin contact I’d requested after the Caesarean and when I put him on my breast in the recovery room, he just ignored it. A few hours later, the ward staff told me he was hungry, he’d have to eat and I should try him with a bottle. I asked them if it would jeopardise my plans to breastfeed and they said it wouldn’t. I was shattered and worried so I agreed and that was a big mistake. Bottles give babies milk instantly, but they have to work for a bit to get it from the breast. After that first bottle, he would pull away from the breast screaming because no milk came out straight away. He just wouldn’t do it. Breasts only produce milk when they’re stimulated, so I was running low on supplies and in a bit of a Catch 22. Instead of resting when Leo slept, I tortured myself with the breast pump. They’re vicious machines; growling and dragging your nipple unfeasibly far down a clear plastic tube. I’d be plugged into the mains for an hour, exhausted, all for a pathetic trickle. I never quite mastered it and ended up doing half-and-half. I got daggers at the mother and baby groups when I took out a bottle and felt guilty, but I’d been through a heck of a lot and I know I did my best, so I wish I’d have gone easier on myself. 

God, the loneliness gets you in the evenings when you’re on your own. You want someone to summarise the day with, talk about your child’s achievements, put the bins out, muck in with the washing up, maybe pour you a glass of wine and give you a massage (or whatever it is partners do.) I’ve learnt that the best thing to do is to go to bed and wake up in the morning to the best company, even if he does think my bed is a bouncy castle. 



 Nits are a horrible business. Big decisions are tricky, as is the anxiety.

Being the sole wage earner is a lot of pressure. Nursery lulls you into a false sense of security with its long opening hours. When they start school, you’ve got 13 weeks a year of holidays, 3pm finishes, assemblies, plays, inset days, sports days and massive guilt to contend with. But you know, it might be trite but all of it is worth it.

 The best parts of being a mother:

There’s a lot of ephemeral pain, theories, processes and paraphernalia involved in having a baby. It can be chaotic and slightly traumatic, even if it all goes well. When all that’s over and you’ve chucked out the last nappy sack and the safety gates and the buggy, it’s just you, a really interesting person and their toys. That’s when things start to get exciting. I didn’t dislike having a baby, but I loved the magic of Leo learning to talk, draw and trying to understand the world. Other notable good parts include: smiles (especially the first one when all you've been getting before that are dirty looks), contagious chuckles, massive fat thighs (theirs not yours), general pride, getting back into stuff you'd forgotten like metamorphosis, swings, space, dinosaurs, trick-or-treating, wobbly teeth and Father Christmas. Also bedtime stories, colouring in, nonsensical chats and crap jokes, copious hugs, bonkers drawings, endearingly misspelt cards and cute mispronunciations.  (“Please may I have something from the offending machine?”) Finally, feeling a part of a bold team and having loads of regular laughs. A rubbish day is quickly picked up when I go to collect Leo from after school club. I can be walking along a grotty street getting battered by the wind and rain, but if I’m holding his hand and listening to him telling me about his day, it’s a joyous stroll.

Hopes for your family:

Everyone says it but all you want is for them to be happy. I hope Leo will always be as confident as he is right now and that the teenage years will pass without too much drama. Before he grows up and buggers off, I hope I can afford to buy us a house. If it had a garden, a trampoline and maybe even a treehouse, that would be perfect. I'd also like to go on a magnificent adventure with Leo somewhere far, far away but I think that might be pushing it a bit.

What advice would you offer to new and expectant mums:  

Pessimism pays! If your pregnancy is unplanned and you think that having a baby is going to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you might be in for a pleasant surprise.

 Don't bother with a birth plan – you're only setting yourself up for disappointment. It is going to hurt and if it’s your first one, it’s probably going to take ages. Gas and air is good stuff.

If you really want to breastfeed, insist on skin-to-skin contact as soon as possible after the birth. Don't be tempted to give your baby a bottle in the first few days, even if you’re off your face on morphine and you’re told it’s hungry. Your real milk doesn’t even turn up until day four or five and until then, nature makes sure colostrum does the job. If you are knackered and in pain and you’ve reached the end of your tether and you do end up giving them a bottle, don’t beat yourself up about it.

 Talk to your baby from an early age – they take in more than you realise and will shock you with what they pick up.

Don’t buy CDs of kids singing nursery rhymes (unless you want to send yourself under.) Listen to whatever music you’ve always listened to and they’ll grow up loving it (or at least having an opinion on it.)



A Nitty Gritty nit comb, tea tree oil, gallons of conditioner and lashings of patience will serve you well when the head lice move in.

 Make videos: that funny squeaky noise they make when they come out, the dance they do when they’re eighteen months old – they’re all just phases.

Read to your child every evening, unless you’ve had a long day out and it’s a late night, or you’re in a tent with a wind-up torch.

If you’re on your own, Gingerbread (http://www.gingerbread.org.uk) offer brilliant advice and support. Also, I’d have been lost without my Homestart volunteer (http://www.home-start.org.uk) and the wonderful SureStart Centre and services (which have very sadly been drastically cut by the Government, but do still exist in some areas)

(https://www.gov.uk/find-sure-start-childrens-centre.) Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. Babyhood is surreal and chaotic, but it passes and calms. Your child keeps you focussed, amused and strong. Always.

Don't forget your non-parent friends. Don’t forget yourself.

And tell your child just how much you love them, every single day.

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)