This is so true! Already I’m planning for Livi’s 4th birthday, and she was only born 15 minutes ago. My tiny wee girl who had me up 10 times a night, every night, for almost 2 years straight and I thought I’d never sleep again, is heading to school in September… how is that even possible?!
I was chatting with a colleague recently, a dad who has older boys, and he was waxing lyrical about how quickly it all goes by. He stopped working for a number of years in order to raise his lads, and he took on other people’s kids too, as a childminder. Telling me stories about rushing here there any everywhere to get the shopping in and get them from nursery and do all the things a parent has to do in the 24 hours a day we are given. And yet now, with his lads in their twenties, how quickly that time went by.
I was grateful for the reminder. The days can feel sooooo long that you’re praying for bedtime to come, but at the same time, Liv’s going to school in September, and I know that once we enter that stage of life, it’s just going to fly by. School days, extra curricular activities, play dates, going to friends’ for dinner… whilst the challenges of parenting remain, I have a feeling I’m going to be desperate for the passing of time to slow down.
Friends who have little girls who are 8 now, sending me photos with captions about how big they are and how they wish they’d stop growing.
I’ve experienced many things in life, I’ve had many opportunities before settling down into marriage and babies, but nothing compares to the fragility and joy of how I have felt as a parent. I’ve seen the worst and the best of myself. I’ve had that desperate “stop the world I want to get off!” feeling, and that deep knowing that I would die for my kids if it came to it. Most days I collapse into bed absolutely wrecked, and so thankful the day is done, but then scroll through photos of my babies whilst missing them when they’re asleep.
I don’t think there’s anything that can compare to it. The highs and lows of this extraordinary rollercoaster called parenting. And I guess depending on your own upbringing, expectations, experiences, filters, culture, and so on, each of us will judge ourselves differently, and have different values for what ‘successful’ parenting looks like. And when I miss the mark that I have subconsciously set myself, that’s when I become my most fragile – because I care more deeply about loving my children well than about anything else, and my apparent failures in that area can knock me for six.
BUT! Simply knowing that that is the case, tells me I’m not doing too badly, because my kids are kind, affectionate, brave, clever, creative, silly, cheeky, hilariously funny at times, and they care about other people. They can be proper little monkeys of course, but that’s the universal right of kids, isn’t it!
It’s emotionally draining, and in the early years at least, it’s physically draining too, but oh my goodness, it is SO worth it. I’m reminding myself to not wish the time away, even though it can be difficult, but to savour every precious moment of them needing and wanting me, because I know it’s not going to last forever.
Mama, please just be yourself. Be your best self, for your little ones, but be yourself. And actually, you amazing dads who just want to do your very best for your kids, same goes for you!
It’s just starting to dawn on me that the best way I can be consistent in my parenting, is to actually be me. No parent is perfect, no method is fool proof, no technique is guaranteed, and no particular style has the same effect on every child. So rather than add to the confusion by trying to imitate someone else, or tie yourself in knots trying to stick to a certain way of doing things that isn’t natural to you, why not just parent from the inside out.
You know you, and you know your child(ren) better than any internet parenting guru. Of course there are some helpful ideas and studies available, but they cannot replace your experience, your intuition, and your knowledge of your tiny human.
I have a number of friends who have different ages of kids, and I admire the parenting skills of many of them. I find myself trying to channel my inner *enter name here* and parent my kids like they parent theirs. But I can’t do it consistently, so I feel like I’m confusing my kids more by demonstrating different behaviours myself.
So I’m coming to the conclusion that I shall simply be me. On good days and hard days, on days where I’m oozing affection and days where I feel like I’m losing my mind, I’m going to let my kids see me.
Children become what they see, not what they are told to be. So if I’m trying to be like someone else, who are they imitating? Or worse, will they learn that there’s no value to who they are, and that they too should try to be like some else? If they see me happy, and sad, and tired, and excited etc, so basically just being real, perhaps they will learn that their own feelings are also valid and nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t know, that’s just a thought.
My heart is with a few of my friends who have very little ones and are struggling through various issues. I wish I had formulas, answers, resolutions for their struggles but the honest truth is sometimes you just have to simply keep going… when you’re feeling entirely empty, like, actually completely empty… you just keep going. And you’ll make it through. You will. Those rough nights that feel like they’re going to finish you off… you’ll make it. All of those stages and phases that make you want to hide in a dark room… you’ll survive them. The love you have for your kids is enough. I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but it really is.
You are enough, just as you are. You are good enough. You are loved by your children – in fact, you are their whole world. Give them the best of yourself each day – which sometimes means you simply survive a day together; everyone ate, drank and has clean bums (you and them!!)
Learn from others, sure! But be yourself, and give yourself some grace.
I heard on the radio today about a new podcast that will be talking about the trauma of childbirth. The ad reminded me that because the minute childbirth is over you immediately have your baby and the new, unrelenting, unforgiving demands of a new-born, as well as whatever else in your life still needs your attention and investment, we can often just ‘crack on’. It got me thinking. That’s so true. For the dads in the labour room too.
One of my first blog posts was about my own experience in becoming a mother, and I was honest in what I said. But I didn’t go into a huge amount of depth.
Both my labours were very difficult, but after each one I had my babies in my arms, and went straight to trying to breastfeed them, whilst someone at the other end was sewing me up. Then it was all about learning this new tiny little person, responding to every cry to work out whether they were hungry, cold, dirty nappy, needed cuddles, skin on skin, and so on.
And then it very quickly became about taking them home and what that would be like.
Then it was all about baby’s weight gain / loss, checking the belly-button, making sure our house was right and safe, talking about all the ‘stuff’ that needs to be talked about by midwives and health visitors. Checking my stitches to make sure they’re healing.
I could continue in this vein, but I want to focus on what I think actually was a traumatic labour experience for me, the second time. Birthing Liv was hard work, and very painful, and lasted a long time but…
Toby’s was a traumatic experience. I talked about it in the immediate aftermath, with family and friends; I’m not shy or particularly private even about this stuff, but I actually think there’s something there that I really need to process.
I was induced with Toby. At 40 years old I was told I could opt for induction on my due date, rather than waiting until 41 or 42 weeks. I was up for that, get him out of me! I was so poorly with flu like symptoms, major conjunctivitis and huge headaches the few days before he was born, I was very ready for him to be out. It was only once I was lying in my hospital bed, all wired up, 1cm dilated, and ready to get going that a consultant came in and happened to mention he didn’t believe it was right to induce at 40 weeks, as it was unnecessary and too early. Well, cheers pal, that’s so helpful right now.
We went ahead, as by that time I was not about to go back home again.
Never mind the length of time it took for the gel hormones to kick in, I did ultimately, around 6am the following morning, start with sudden and extremely sharp, deep and painful contractions. They did all the measurements and scans to check little man was where he should be, and he was. Head down, engaged, and ready to go. I made it very clear that I absolutely wanted an epidural, and was promised would get one, but I was only 3cm dilated so they would wait until I was 7cm.
I don’t remember all the little details or the timeline from that point, but just as they were preparing my epidural, the consultant checked if she could feel his head, and he wasn’t there! She couldn’t find him (internal check). He had disengaged and shifted back up inside my tummy. Suddenly there were about 8 people huddled round the business end of my bed trying to figure out what to do. This lasted about an hour. I was in excruciating pain with every contraction, and had no pain relief at all. My poor husband was in the room during all of this, watching me in pain (again!) and entirely helpless to do anything about it.
When they checked again after that hour, Toby had re-engaged and was on his way out. I asked with desperation for my epidural, but was denied, as it was too late and baby was already trying to get out!
SO MUCH PAIN.
In addition to that, he was apparently lying on his umbilical cord, compressing it and putting himself at risk, so they asked me to turn onto my left side. Well, I tell you with no word of a lie, I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it. So they, and my lovely husband, did it for me, and I have never felt anything like it. There are literally no words to describe the intense agony I felt in that moment, I screamed out so loudly (right in Jon’s ear, literally) that they immediately put me back where I was, I did one huge push, they episiotomied me, shoved some forceps in, dragged him out, and there he was! I heard the sound of, and Jon saw with his own eyes, over a litre of blood pour out of me and into, basically a bin bag, hung across the width of the end of my bed. He nearly fainted. Twice. A naked, blood covered, 8lb gorgeous little man who had my heart. And all of my immune system apparently, because as soon as he was out, the headaches went, the conjunctivitis was gone in less than a day, and no flu symptoms.
But, I’ve never actually given that experience much mental or emotional attention because there’s not really been the opportunity! And over 2 years on, I’ve ‘got over it’, haven’t I?
I’m not sure actually, because when I think about it, I try to be quite matter of fact, but actually what happened to my body that day was brutal. Labour was 3.5 hours, he was born at 9.23am. It was the worst 3.5 hours of my life, that resulted in the best little man I could have ever dreamed of.
But then, when you think about all the awful situations where mums go through labour (or even before they get the chance to) and then something unthinkable happens, and they don’t even get their baby to take home. I can’t even begin to imagine that. When I try my brain actually shuts down and prevents me from going there. For anyone who has been through that, I am so so sorry. You have my sincerest and deepest sympathy, and so much respect that you have managed to carry on in life.
I got my boy. Healthy, happy, not too much drama once he was out (just some weight loss and trouble latching, so we went to bottle feeding after 4 months and all was well). So does that mean the trauma my body went though doesn’t count, because the result was so positive? Does it mean I just need to ignore it and not give it any time?
To be honest I don’t even know how to process it, but I’m a person who believes in the genuine influence of emotions, the reality of hormones, and the fragility of mental health. So I do want to give it some attention. I’ll let you know how I get on once I find my way.
Much love to you all, as you’re walking your own parenting journeys. It’s not easy, and it’s good to share.
Most of my posts so far have been to help other parents know they are not alone in the struggles that comes with parenting. So by nature they may have appeared a bit negative! Battles and exhaustion and isolation and frustration and sometimes even rage! And all those things are true, and are a part of our daily lives as parents!
But at the same time my heart is so full. I need my kids to go to nursery, but I miss them when they’re there. They frustrate the living daylights out of me every single bedtime as they make putting PJs on and cleaning their teeth take FOREVER, but when they’re asleep I watch them on the monitor or scroll through photos of them.
I love my two little people with every fibre of my being. There is no way to articulate what they mean to me, what I would do for them, and what I will willingly give to see them grow healthily and happily, to the best of my ability.
I’m also a very blessed woman, who has a husband who is a present, engaged, affectionate (but not a pushover) dad, and who is kind and loving towards me. I wouldn’t want a different man to be my husband, nor to be the father of my children. I know that he’s one in a million.
And when there are those hard moments through our days, when the tantrums strike or the sleep deprivation sucks the life out of me, if I turn my attention to the fact that my heart is still full, even if it’s weary, I remind myself that I can do this. These people are my purpose in life, they are my vision, my mission, my reason.
Whatever your journey, your family structure, your context, you can do it. You will find a way though, and I pray you have a full heart too.
It never even occurred to me that our circle of friends would be so impacted by having children, but I guess it didn’t help that we had kids immediately in the aftermath of the National Lockdown and Covid-19 pandemic and relationships were already changing. Wasn’t THAT a blast!
Working out how to adjust relationships to ‘online only’ for those couple of years was something else, with some real successes, and some sad losses, but it did open a door to having at least some kind of communication with loved ones we couldn’t see in the flesh. It became so normal at the time, it continues to be an option for people who can’t see people face to face, for whatever reason. Being a parent to very dependant little ones is one of those reasons. Being a parent to older kids with a packed activities calendar is another!
It is funny how when you have children your old circle of single / child-free friends seems to fade away, and you find yourself connecting (if you’re lucky) with other people who have children, and that’s great because they get it! They understand the manic nature of life – being late for things, turning up with sick / beans / playdough / chocolate prints on your clothes, having to cancel last minute because someone got poorly (nursery germs, man!) But at the same time it also sucks because between your busy life, and their busy life, when do you actually ever get to have a face to face conversation?!
Perhaps that’s another reason I’m doing this; blogging. I get to have a bit of a conversation (one sided though it is!) with people who I hope are like-minded, in as much as you’re going through or have been through, this similar life adjustment!
Going from a peer-saturated lifestyle with no restrictions, to a young family lifestyle following a global pandemic is a heck of a culture shock, and it can take some serious getting used to. And it seems to me that there’s now a loneliness pandemic. The never ending social media presence where there’s a shallower level of ‘connection’, a bombardment of news, information, advertising and social expectation (not to mention the bullying, hate, lack of accountability and so on), plus the incessant need to display ones life with all the filters that make us and our lives look flawless… it’s just not helpful to us normal people living normal lives. We all want to be seen, known and loved for who we really are, not the shiny online version we feel under pressure to be. Even (especially!) exhausted mamas.
With that potential for loneliness already very real, the changing of friendships that come with becoming parents in a post-pandemic online world can be another massive contributor to feeling alone, unknown, unfulfilled, and isolated. This isn’t just true for mums, but for dads too.
I know for me, when I do get to have real connection time with a friend, it does me the world of good. It’s rare. Finding a time that works for everyone is tough, and requires serious intention and planning! But it’s so worth the effort. Whether it’s in person (which I love) or on a video call, or by sending texts, it’s so vital for us as parents (it’s also true for everyone who isn’t a parent too!) to have people we can be real with. That’s what friendship means to me now.
We all need to be seen, known and loved.
If anyone out there is an exhausted parent who wants to reach out for connection, feel free to get in touch! I’ll gladly chat with anyone who wants to vent, connect, reach for some validation or understanding. Online friendships can be really helpful when in person ones seem just out of reach.
Can we talk about the pressure on parents today to do it ‘right’?
My mum and I have had lots of conversations around the culture of parenting when they were raising me (the 1980’s) and the very different culture(s) of parenting today. She has explained that in those days, before the internet, before blogs, before parenting “methods”, before any kind of wider social interaction outside of one’s own family or circle of local friends, you pretty much raised your kids the way you were raised. You didn’t really know there might be other ways to do it.
There were no studies into children’s development, or understanding of sleep regressions, or an awareness of neurodiversity, or research into the everything we can now look into today; my parents’ generation did the best they could with what they had. And my parents, at least, did a bloody good job! (Thanks mum and dad, I feel your pain now!)
As the following generations have grown, and advancements have been made in various fields, we’re now a quarter of the way through the 21st Century and the world is a very different place.
Now, I am a person who wants to get it right. Everything. I don’t need to BE right, I just need to know that things I do in life, I’m doing them right. I really dislike the idea of upsetting anyone, or displeasing people. It’s just my nature.
So when it comes to raising my little ones in a world saturated with differing and sometimes opposing advice on pretty much every aspect of parenting; sleep schedules, cry-it-out, contact napping, feeding schedules, wake windows, breast vs bottle, co-sleeping / not co-sleeping, gentle parenting, authoritarian parenting, permissive parenting, screen time, nutrition, exercise, body image, post-natal depression, career / stay at home mum, school / home school, political correctness, and the ever changing terrifying world of social media’s impact on children, the pressure is on! And the fear of damaging your children by the choices you make as a parent can be a really heavy weight to carry.
I guess I have mixed feelings about the accessibility of all this information today. Sure it’s helpful to see what works for others, or what science has discovered about babies brains and so on. But, it can also make you feel inept and incapable when you are bombarded by all the millions of things you could and apparently should be doing. I’ve found that if I let it, (and I have let it on many occasions) it overshadows all the things you are actually doing really really well! And let’s be honest, we’re all much better at knocking ourselves than celebrating ourselves aren’t we!
I’m going to practice right now. I am a good mum. Go on, you try it!
Yea, that felt weird. A bit awkward leaving that sitting there, but I will!
Jon and I have learned that for a lot of the practical stuff, (the sleep, the feeding, the routines, the personal choices made for the family) after MUCH googling, it’s actually a simple case of trial and error. We’ve learned what works for us, and what doesn’t, but that cacophony of this is the best way can be deafening and overwhelming.
Everyone is different. You are different to me. Your kids are different to mine. Your husband / wife / partner or single-parenting experience (I salute you!) is different to mine. That’s why this blog is not parenting advice, it’s simply an expression of my own experiences. joys, and struggles, to help other parents know they’re not the only ones feeling it!
You’ll read so many things about how you should be parenting, but you know you, you know your situation, and you know your little one(s). Trust yourself.
I would just say this: You are a warrior, you are strong enough, you are not alone.
There is so much help and advice out there for mums, but not a huge amount specific to dads. Men can feel just as isolated, apprehensive, uncertain and out of their depth as dads as we can often feel as mums! We spend 9 months carrying, experiencing, feeling, bonding with that little baby before it makes an appearance, dads don’t have that privilege and their experience of becoming a father is an entirely different journey. I sent my beloved husband a little list of questions, discussion points perhaps, to bring a dad’s perspective.
1. Did you want to be a dad, and how did it feel when you became one?
Yes, but I think it was always a future feeling. Not immediately, not now, not even when the birth happened. And then all at once… I think the enormity of fatherhood dawned on me over time. It’s a growing up experience and a progressive letting go and reassessing what’s important and what’s not.
2. What has been the most significant challenge for you in parenting?
Taking on a 24/7 job where there’s little people needs that need accounting for all the time. Yes, it’s “shift” work to a degree, but you’re always aware that when you have ‘time off’ to do something, someone else is picking up the work.
3. What has surprised you in a positive way, the most?
That there were new and unexpected ways that I’d grow in – ways I didn’t think I would or could. Finding that the kids push buttons empowers me to practice the balance between patience, discipline and letting them be kids.
4. How much would you say becoming a dad has affected you as a person, in terms of capacity for other things in life, such as social, work, and mental wellbeing?
Capacity thoughts change in a whole different way. It’s not about do I have time to do the stuff I used to do anymore – it’s more a case of stretching things out. You’re forced to think in months for your availability and booking things in. Spontaneity is rare.
Personally speaking, mental health improved for me when I stopped fighting what I needed to let go of and what I thought was important to for me to do and to have regularly. You need to have the power to set boundaries or you’ll tire out. And a tired dad is a grumpy dad.
I’m self-employed so I have the benefit of being able to help out with and spend time with the kids when work is in a lull state.
5. What are the top 3 things you wish you had known before bringing a baby home?
1. Really thinking about how much of my life would be required (pro tip: all of it).
2. That I’d become a foundation stone for another person to grow from. I set the floor in terms of expectations and they will look to me for how to act and shape the beginning of their principles and character.
3. That no. 2 won’t fully happen until they’re at least 3 years old and I’d be ignored almost entirely until then…!
Bonus no. 4. That sleep would become scarce and difficult to get/fit in… For a while!
6. What would you say to anyone about to become a new father?
It’s a marathon, not a race. Keep hold of who you are but be ready to have some things float away. You’ll need to be ready to ‘evolve’ into your fatherhood. It’s hard and you won’t always get it right – sometimes it’ll make you unreasonably cross. Just like you’ll need the kids to do, clean up your mess, forgive yourself and say sorry when you have to.
Parents often feel incapable, unworthy, guilty, and therefore can feel like they are being judged for every and any decision they make, or don’t make.
Different and sometimes opposing ‘parenting styles’ and methods are everywhere, and ‘guaranteed’ formulas for sleeping, feeding, nursing, optimal one on one play time, nursery or no nursery, discipline, boundaries… the list goes on and on.
Some parents have help and support from family members. Some parents have no one. Some parents have interfering and unwelcome ‘help’, while others are crying out for just half an hour away from their kids.
Everyone’s story is different. No two families are the same. No wonder we can feel so alone. And yet, when I’ve opened up to other mums in a moment of ‘I have nothing left’, I’ve found some solidarity.
Vulnerability and honesty about what we’re experiencing is so important. We become seen. Our feelings are valid.
The reality of parenting came as a shock to me. I had spent my whole adult life longing to be a mum, to have a family. It didn’t happen for me until my late 30s. Married in 2020, first baby born June 2021 when I was 39. I had dreamt and imagined what it would be like. I desperately wanted to experience pregnancy, and childbirth. I wanted it all! I had friends who had had kids, and I’d seen that it was tough. I knew there would be a lot of sleepless nights. I knew breastfeeding might not be straightforward. I was ready for it!
The elation that came with that positive pregnancy test was indescribable; it was literally ALL I had ever wanted.
I felt so sick for 3 months straight, and was utterly exhausted.
Second trimester was better, and seeing the bump develop and ultimately feeling her moving about was magical!
Third trimester I WAS HEAVY. Back pain, hip pain, couldn’t sleep on my tummy anymore (devastated!) Still utterly exhausted.
Then at 41 weeks and after 2 sweeps I went into 28 hours of labour with no pain relief until hour 23. Not because I’m brave, but because my birthing notes were not very clear and gave the impression I didn’t want an epidural. Gas and air made me sick. 2 pethidine injections had no effect. I felt like my entire lower back and bowel were going to explode out of my backside… NOT the area of my body I was expecting to feel the pain! After 23 hours an epidural came to the rescue, and I was like a new woman. But then, because I couldn’t feel anything down below, when it was time to push I couldn’t push hard enough! Believe me, I gave it everything I had, but after being awake for 36 hours and in indescribable pain for 23 of them, the everything that I had simply wasn’t enough.
My baby girl was born 5 hours later by forceps, after an episiotomy and an internal tear, and losing over a litre of blood, which my husband watched the medical staff sweep up off the floor below the bed…!
The day we brought our bundle of gorgeousness home, we fell into bed that night and I didn’t even make it onto my pillow properly before being out for the count.
Then. Out of nowhere there was the most terrifyingly loud and piercing screaming sound which had me bolt upright in less than a second! She was hungry. I fed her. She fell asleep, so I put her in her little next to me cot, and lay back down. She cried. And cried. And cried. I sat up, still exhausted from the whole birth experience – and let’s be honest – 9 months of pregnancy, and tried to cradle my tiny, fragile baby back to sleep sitting up in bed. I stayed like that all night, not knowing what else to do.
And that’s when I realised I had no idea what to expect, what to do, or how to even be a parent. And I also realised that there was now going to be zero let up… every moment of every day and every night was now dedicated to the care of this tiny person.
It’s like nothing else I’d ever done.
The midwives said to me just before I left the hospital “see you in a couple of years for the next one” I laughed in their faces and swore blind I was NEVER doing that again.
8 months later I was pregnant – by choice – with number 2.
Three and a half years later we have a very sassy 3 and a half year old girl, and a very sweet and kind 2 year old boy. (Labour with him was actually worse, it was only 3 and a half hours long but I’d never felt pain like it, again had no pain relief, had another episiotomy, was delivered with forceps, and lost even more blood than the first time!)
We are stopping there!
My experience is just my experience. Some women have had to endure so much more than I did, and for others labour was a joyous walk in the park.
But all of this to say, I thought I knew what to expect. I did not.
Early newborn days, developmental leaps, regressions, illnesses, weaning, the commencement of meltdowns. Every new thing was googled googled googled!
But guess what? Read enough articles and you get conflicting advice, varying levels of helpfulness, and blog posts telling you that it worked for them so it will work for you.
Parenting is trial and error. Every new mum and / or dad is doing every single element of parenting for the first time. There really is no manual for a newborn. Or, as we are discovering now, there isn’t really one for toddlers or preschoolers either!
Whatever your story, know that while your experiences are your own, you are not alone in the feelings that accompany them. You are enough, and your little ones think the world of you.
They say that a woman’s hormones don’t settle back to ‘normal’ for 2 years after having a baby. I can attest to the truth of this! My youngest turned 2 in November 2024, and I have been kept sane by a low dose of sertraline since soon after he was born. But that’s not the focus of this post… this is: have you ever found that your emotional state is often related to the emotional state of your kids?
Seriously. Today I feel quite happy, motivated, at peace. Yesterday I was grumpy, unmotivated and feeling just a bit low. The difference? Yesterday the kids were a nightmare to get ready for nursery. They were argumentative, avoidant of the necessary hygiene routines to be ready to actually leave the house, and generally very difficult. Today, nice as pie! Grrr. And did me and dad do anything differently today? Nope.
Since becoming a parent I have so much more respect for the powerful role of hormones in our lives! Before having kids and experiencing the crazy rollercoaster that it is I had very little understanding or compassion for parents who appeared to be struggling. I knew it was hard, and I knew they would be tired, but OH MY GOODNESS until you walk it, you cannot possibly comprehend the intensity and the relentlessness of it all!
And for me, talking about it really really helps!
Having a little (or massive!) vent to another parent is so cathartic. It really is.
Children are hard work!
One child is hard!
Two children are hard!
Three children are super hard, and I have no intention of living that experience!
Anyway back to the point. I don’t have a solution for it, but I do wonder if I’m the only mum out there who is grumpy when her kids are grumpy, and happy when her kids are happy?! What even is that?! Answers on a postcard!
have kids they said... 