Lucie and Charlie

Name: Lucie

Child: Charlie, 14 mths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

NEVER GOOGLE YOUR CHILD’S SYMPTOMS. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That Charlie is happy in his own skin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jane and Benjamin

Name: Jane
Child: Benjamin, 2
Location: Didsbury, Manchester

Expectations of motherhood: I was 33 when I got pregnant and we'd been married for 10 years by the time Benjamin was born. We'd lived a life, I'd had a career of sorts and we were ready for a family.

I'd never really wanted children, I suppose partly because I suspected I wouldn't be able to have any and partly because I could never imagine myself holding a baby; my baby in my arms. Then my brother and his wife got pregnant and Matthew my husband suggested we try, so we did and five months later I was pregnant. It was a massive shock to both of us but we were ecstatic.

I felt quite rough during the first trimester. No sickness but just a dreadful exhaustion. I'd go to work then come home and go straight to bed. I had a grim sense of foreboding about what was to come and was very protective of the growing life inside me.

When I was 16 weeks some routine blood tests came back which showed I had a genetic blood disorder, we were sent for further tests and genetic counselling and told that there was a one in four chance of the baby dying at birth. I knew then that the rest of the pregnancy would be a battle. 

By this time I'd started to attend pregnancy yoga classes which were fantastic at calming me down - looking back I was tremendously anxious about the health of my baby.

I was monitored very closely by the hospital which was in some ways comforting, but it did nothing to reduce my stress levels. I read all the NICE guidelines on my condition and took great joy in annoying the Doctors by quoting these guidelines to them when they tried to push me to do things (that were beyond the scope of the guidelines). The Doctors would say terrifying things about the high risk of Benjamin dying, but in hindsight I suspect they were said just to get me to toe the line. I was firm that I knew what was best for us both and I was right.

I eventually agreed to be induced at 38 weeks. I'd been incredibly private and protective of my pregnancy and not even my family knew the full extent of the problems I was dealing with or that I was going into hospital. I didn't need the stress of them all fretting and pacing hospital corridors.

Here is an edited version of something a wrote after the birth:

I was induced on the Wednesday morning, the midwives said they'd probably need a few goes at getting it going but true to form I proved them wrong. On the Wednesday night I stood up and my waters broke. I was on a busy but excellent antenatal ward, but lucky enough to have my own room. The midwives on duty were brilliant and monitored me closely. The delivery unit was full to bursting so they kept me there until 10am on Thursday with gas and air to keep me company.

Matthew arrived just as they were transferring me, he was pale and terrified. The next 24 hours are (thankfully) something of a blur. I was closely monitored and not allowed to get off the bed to move around which made the pain harder to deal with. I managed on gas and air until about 4pm and I asked for pethadine. 

At around 7pm I relented and asked for an epidural. The next four hours were a special form of hell. During that time four anaesthetists tried to get the needle in, my vertebrae are close together and there wasn't much room for the needle. I spent four hours in real agony while they poked at my spine with needles and at around 11.30pm they finally got it in and I could rest. By this time I knew something wasn't right but no one would listen to me.

At around 4am Friday I was fully dilated and was asked to push, this seemed to go on for hours and at times there were five or six worried faces at the bottom of the bed. His heart rate and mine kept dropping and they kept doing blood tests and looking concerned. Sometime around 7.30am they suggested we go to theatre and try forceps. So they wheeled us off.

Forceps were tried but he just got firmly wedged, it turned out he was back to back and probably never would have come out naturally. Why they didn't know this I'll never know.

I was prepped for a Caesarian section, by this point I would have agreed to anything just to get him out safely. He was pushed back up the birth canal and removed via the sunroof (and not the cat flap). It's a strange and unnatural feeling having a baby pushed back up having spend hours pushing him down.
He was born at 9.15am, 8lbs 15oz of gorgeousness. He was silent but, "It's a boy!" went around the theatre and Matthew and I turned to each other and said, "We've got a Benjamin". We didn't know what we were having but were delighted with what we've got. It took him a few minutes to pipe up but it was a lethargic cry. Matthew cut the cord and he was brought over to be admired. I loved him instantly but it felt like part of a really strange dream.

Reality of motherhood: On arrival Benjamin was beautiful and just wanted to be cuddled, he was lethargic and didn't really want to feed. He wasn't interested in the breast, there was no milk to be had and the midwives were too busy to help, so he ended up being bottle fed. 

He was being closely monitored by the paediatric team who discovered what they thought might be the signs of a worrying and rare hormone imbalance, they insisted we stay in until a full diagnosis could be made. I was moved from a busy ward to a side room and we fell into a routine of daily tests and consultations on Benjamin's health. I was almost at breaking point.

Until they knew what was wrong with him he was subjected to oral doses of saline solution which made him throw up and made his symptoms appear worse to the medical staff. The worst moment was a stress test which was so traumatic neither Matthew nor I can speak of it without crying. I would physically fight anyone who wanted to do that to my child again.

After a week of tests and trauma we were allowed home. He was clear of any health problems and there was no need to worry. We were incredibly relieved but angry at what we'd all been put through.

Taking your child home for the first time: I think all parents have the same experience. You bundle your baby up in their car seat and drive home at 4mph, that was about the same for us.

I think for Matthew and I we'd spent a week thinking Benjamin was gravely ill and he'd been through enough in his first seven days, so we were perhaps more protective of him than we needed to be. But once declared fit we were almost bundled off the ward, so at 7pm in a cold November evening we went home at 4mph.

I was exhausted and Matthew had only really seen him during visiting hours so he took over. Benjamin settled in and we settled into a routine. I did days, Matthew did nights. I say routine but he fed on demand, which turned out to be about every three hours and things just fit in around that.

Benjamin was always really laid back. He slept through at 6 weeks and he'd sleep for 12 hours a night. The trade off was he'd only cat nap for 10 minutes a day which was tiring. He was jolly and smiley and loved to cuddle. We adored him.

We've always followed his lead, he seems to indicate when he's ready for the next step, like stopping the bottle and having a sippy cup or moving to his own room. I think us not forcing him to conform to expected ideas in terms of development has made him more relaxed. Why force a child who isn't ready to do something just because a book or a health visitor says so. It's worked for us and he's happier for it.

Due to the stress during pregnancy, the traumatic birth and his first stressful week I was eventually diagnosed with PTSD. Looking back I certainly spent his first 18 months in a high state of anxiety and had frequent flashbacks to some of the more distressing moments. I don't think he was affected by it but I was definitely more protective of him around others, especially medical people.

The best/worst advice: The worst advice I was given was "sleep when your baby sleeps". Who does that? In over two years I've maybe managed it 3 times if I've been ill and it's really only in the past year or so he's napped during the day.

If your baby goes to sleep then it's a quick tidy, clean, cook something, grab a shower, have a drink, eat something. It's never put your feet up and nod off. If you do manage it then well done but I've not met a mum yet that did.

The best advice was "try baby led weaning". One of the first things we did when I was pregnant was buy a food processor for mushing everything up, but really who has the time? My sister in law suggested we try it, what a revelation. If your child is snatching real food off your plate and eating it why are you mashing food for him? 

All we did was stop salting food and cut down on the spice a bit. I think we probably did eat more pasta with pesto that first year, but that stuff is like cat nip for kids. He's a really unfussy eater these days and will try anything. He loves fish and his favourite is smoked trout pâté. Why limit your childs' palate to fish fingers, such a shame when there are such culinary delights to be had.

The hardest part of being a mother: No one tells you that you'll be ill all the time. When I went back to work and he went to nursery I was solidly ill for about 5 months because he'd just rub his germs on me. I was exhausted and struggling cope with undiagnosed PTSD.

I've had a bit of a catalogue of misfortune since he arrived, which culminated in spinal surgery in February (long story short, I had an accident in November 2012 which left me at risk of paralysis). Matthew has been outstanding and looked after us both. He's an amazing man and it hasn't been easy or him.

I think in Benjamin's little life it's been most hard for me to watch him grow and change while I've been stuck on the sofa in a codeine haze. I miss running round the park with him, picking him up and swinging him round, bathing him and putting him to bed. I miss being the proper hands on mum I once was. I hope that he's too young to remember this time and that I won't always be like this.

The best part of being a mother: This is such a hard question because I love everything about him and being a mum. But...

Motherhood is a joy. Benjamin is an amazing little chap. He's bright, charming, sensitive and so loving and caring. The best thing is he's so bloody funny. He's got a really great sense of humour which I think will be an asset to him.

I love spending time with him. He's independent enough to be able to entertain himself for hours but we love doing jigsaws, playing with his train sets, reading book after book, after book. Obviously I wish I could do more with him but it is what it is.

I love it when it's just the two of us and we snuggle under a blanket and watch In the Night Garden together and read. He loves Hairy Maclary and laughs his socks off when I make all the dog and cat noises. I'm really uninhibited when I'm with him which I love as I'm not as confident as I used to be.

I am really enjoying him at the moment, he's a real character and he's made giant leaps with this speech recently. I love chatting away to him about the world and what he can see in it. His love for choo-choo trains, cars and doggies. I love how he lists his favourite people and counts as he goes up the stairs. Each day is a new discovery and an exciting lesson in the world around him.

Honestly, there is no feeling more wonderful to me than being given an enormous cuddle and a snotty kiss by Benjamin.

Hopes for your family: For Benjamin, I hope he grows up to be his own man, not to run with the pack but to stand firm in his own convictions. I want him to be happy in whatever he does. If he carries on being funny, kind and considerate then I'll be pleased with that.

I'd love him to have great taste in music, early indications are good with early preferences for The Wonder Stuff and The Charlatans. I played lots of Faith No More and Rage Against the Machine when I was pregnant and he likes to dance to them too, though we are more selective with the swearier songs.

Matthew takes him to toddler football and I suspect he harbours dreams of him holding the FA Cup aloft in glorious triumph.

My hopes for me and Matthew are that we come out of this run of my bad luck soon and that I can return to a more normal life. Its been bloody hard work for him and stressful too. He's a brilliant husband and father. I know how lucky we are to have him.

Long term I don't know what I hope for, I'm currently off sick from my job in the NHS. I don't know when I'll be fit to return to work, if ever. Large parts of my life are effectively on hold.

We did want to have another baby but we think that is probably not possible now which is a shame. We are so lucky to have Benjamin, he is a blessing and worth every minute of pain and anxiety we went through to get him.

Every time I think of Benjamin my heart fills so completely with love for him, it's an amazing feeling. I hope one day he'll have a baby and realise just how much we adore him. I hope that life doesn't stamp all over him and his dreams.

Advice for new and expectant mothers: Firstly get yourself to pregnancy yoga, it was brilliant at keeping me calm during the birth and I still use some techniques now if I need to calm things down a bit.

Look after your back. You only get one spine, mine is effectively ruined now. Be kind to your body.

Other mums can be awful, so find ones you actually like. I went to an awful, cliquey playgroup for six horrible months because I thought I should. They went out of their way to make me feel excluded, I found another play group who are wonderful. Shop around and find groups you like.

Do it your own way, you know yourself and your child best, don't bow to pressure from other people if you think it's the wrong thing to do.

We've tried to be true to ourselves and be pretty laid back parents, encouraging in all the right places, cracking down on anything dodgy like not sharing, throwing his food, biting etc.

We said from the moment he started walking that someone wouldn't always be there to pick him up later in in life, so now if he falls he picks himself up, if he hurts himself then we will be there for him.

For a time it was hard to watch him fall and we had to sit on our hands, but stoic little chap that he is, most of the time he picks himself up, dusts himself down and he's off running. Lots of people tell us "look, he's fallen down" thinking we've not seen it, but we have. They probably think we're terrible but he's not hurt, he's fine. He knows how to solve his problems and that we'll be there if he gets stuck. Isn't that what every parent wants for their child.

Jane can be found on Twitter at @hodgepodgedays and her blog is http://hodgepodgeandsplodge.wordpress.com