Karen Hall | Motherworldly

10 Jan

Book review: You, Me and the Breast

This is a colourfully illustrated book about breastfeeding. Its simple story follows a mum and baby from birth to weaning, and mentions lots of memorable moments, such as snuggling up in bed with daddy, mama milk to comfort and soothe, and those relaxing moments where one’s ever-active infant becomes still for a little while at the breast.

Although it is clearly presented as a children’s book, I was a little confused about who the target audience was. Some of the information: ‘my nipple darkened… and gave off a rich smell’ sounds unnecessarily technical in a book for a small child. The cursive script was too difficult for my competent five year-old to read himself, and he had a lot of questions about the illustrations (‘which one is her hand?’ ‘why has she got birds in her hair?’).

It was nice to see dad included in some of the pictures, although I have reservations about the depiction of him ‘aeroplaning’ puréed food into the baby’s mouth.

On balance, the more books for children that normalise breastfeeding, the better. It would be good to see this widely available in local libraries and schools.

***

To order You, Me and The Breast with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

04 Jan

Book Review: When Your Baby Cries, by Deborah Jackson

You are the still waters – p.57

You get the sense that, when giving the book its subtitle ’10 Rules for soothing fretful babies (and their parents)’ Deborah Jackson’s tongue was firmly in her cheek, as the basic tenet of the book is that there are very few rules, only a handful of general guidelines that each parent will apply in their own way.

The first, and probably most important of these, is to relax. Despite having been given a copy of When Your Baby Cries by a wise friend, towards the end of pregnancy, it took me a long time to master the art of calm. I’m constantly surprised when my feedback as a BFC describes me as calm, and I wish I could harness this within my own family! Motherhood maximises our potential for guilt, anxiety, self-doubt, and sleep-deprived irritability; inner calm can be hard to find.

The ‘rules’ in the book are based around learning about babies, and specifically, learning about your own baby, so that each parent finds their own way to respond. There is an emphasis on understanding and meeting the baby’s needs through love and attention, as opposed to trying to make the baby conform to modern notions of good behaviour. Scattered throughout the text, quotations, statistics and facts about baby care in other cultures illustrate the author’s gentle suggestions and explanations.

As the mother of a colicky baby, I found rule 4 particularly helpful, as this gave me permission not to have to stop him from crying, but simply to be there for him and hold him, and accept that I could not understand why he cried. It was a good lesson that we were both on the same side.

I have some concerns with the suggestions of homeopathy and chinese medicine, both of which are expensive treatments shown to work no better than a placebo. These could only be described as doing no harm (p.81) if there was definitely nothing wrong with the baby; and in that case, it would almost certainly be more effective to turn to one of Jackson’s other suggestions instead.

The section on feeding is clear and factual, but again emphasises the important of comfort over and above food, as illustrated by the study of tube-fed babies (p.21) showing that a full stomach does not always stop the crying.

Deborah Jackson has addressed co-sleeping in her book Three In A Bed. This is condensed into a single chapter in When Your Baby Cries, including safety information, along with many other gentle ways to help your baby sleep.

Other ‘rules’ include carrying baby in a sling, establishing a support network, and not bothering too much about the housework, all of which I fully agree with.

This book is firmly based at the attachment end of the parenting spectrum, but without any smug or judgmental tone. It allows space for parents to find their own style, and to cuddle their babies as much as they want to.

***

To Order When Your Baby Cries with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

29 Dec

The Incompetent Mother

The majority of breastfeeding mothers stop breastfeeding before they are ready, and long before their babies are ready. I will bore you with only one statistic: the World Health Organisation recommends exclusive breastfeeding until the age of six months, but in the UK, fewer than 2% of babies are breastfed for that long, whether exclusively or not.

The knee-jerk response to this is actually not to blame the mothers who stopped before six months, or indeed who never started (although those mothers perceive blame anyway, because feeling guilty is what parents do); but to blame healthcare professionals and volunteers for failing to provide adequate support, to blame employers and economics for forcing women back into a workplace ill-equipped to facilitate breastfeeding; and to blame “society” for disapproving of breastfeeding in public.

These factors do play a part, particularly where the people supporting mothers in the early days with their newborn babies fail to help, and put the blame on the mother by telling her she will never feed, because her breasts are too small, her nipples are the wrong shape, she hasn’t got enough milk, etc etc. A mum I’ve been supporting, despite having such copious milk that she was able to hand-express it prior to giving birth, was then told that she couldn’t feed because she had inverted nipples. One wonders why she had never noticed this before. A few days later another midwife advised her that that was rubbish; in fact her child doesn’t latch on because she has a tongue-tie. But what a great way to make the mum feel responsible for not being able to feed her baby, just because the original midwife couldn’t find a way to help her.

But there are deeper reasons, higher barriers, which are much harder to tackle, not least of which is the guilt that makes open discussion so difficult. But most mothers are not responsible for the difficulties they encounter in breastfeeding, and therefore it is inappropriate for them to feel guilt. Anger, sadness, and more anger, and perhaps acceptance that they can’t change what has happened, but not guilt.

“Guilt is only appropriate when, with full knowledge and free consent, you deliberately chose something detrimental to your baby for some trivial selfish reason.” – Maureen Minchin

The very existence of artificial milk undermines mothers’ belief in their own abilities to feed their babies. The fact that we believe we must have our babies weighed and checked regularly erodes our confidence, and allows an opening for doubts to creep in, widened by the conviction that artificial milk will cure all ills: it will make your baby sleep [research does not show this]; it will help your baby gain weight [so will effective breastfeeding]; it will resolve lactose intolerance [just plain nonsense; what do these people think the sugar in cows’ milk is?].

Added to this is the assumption at policy-making level that there is a widespread need for artificial milk, which at its worst has prevented – in America – publicity about recalls of faulty products. Apparently it is better to maintain the status quo, avoid panicking parents, than to tell people the truth about the nature of the food they are giving to their babies. Surely they have a right to know?

Meanwhile the subtle negatives about breastfeeding appear in literature from supposedly pro-breastfeeding books (What To Expect When You’re Breastfeeding… And What If You Can’t?), to apparently supportive retailers (Boots’ nipple cream advert offers the information that the worst thing about breastfeeding is the inevitable sore nipples, therefore all mothers must need to buy their cream, which cures it. Wrong. No cream will cure pain that is caused by incorrect positioning of the baby at the breast; but correcting the positioning will); to – of course – the babyfood manufacturers (Aptimil follow-on milk, for “when you decide to move on from breastfeeding” – as apparently we all should do before one year, when a child can drink unmodified cows’ milk). The prevailing mythology is that a breastfeeding mother needs to eat more (500 calories extra per day is normally quoted), implying that breastfeeding takes something out of you.

The pressure to get our babies into routines that are usually incompatible with breastfeeding, which works best when the infant is fed on cue in the early weeks; added to the insistence that mothers need to be separated from their babies for their own sanity, and the idea that fathers and grandmothers can best bond with the new baby by being involved in feeding, makes a recipe for inherent difficulties. Routines, separation, and messing with the milk supply by expressing milk or giving the odd bottle of artificial milk are all contributory factors in mastitis and in perceived or actual loss of milk supply.

Finally, the pervasive images of bottlefeeding make that the normal way that people expect babies to be fed. The Richard Scarry book that I bought for Bernard, having enjoyed it myself as a child, shows one newborn being bottle-fed on her (rabbit) mother’s lap in hospital, and one naughty wakeful child being bottle-fed by her (doggy) father, to get her back to sleep. Meanwhile, how are breasts portrayed by the media in general? As sexual objects belonging to men.

Each of these points deserves far more than a paragraph in a blogpost (perhaps one day I will find the right PhD opportunity!), but surely even this brief outline of the huge barriers to making breastfeeding normal demonstrates one of the most important things I have learned over the last few months: that mothers themselves are the last people to blame for low breastfeeding rates.

Originally posted elsewhere on 15th May 2008

07 Dec

Nursing In Public

We often spend time in an antenatal class discussing the perceived horrors of ‘getting them out’ in public places. With varying degrees of support from partners, other family members, and complete strangers, I can see why it is such a huge barrier, adding to the breastfeeding-related anxiety for mums-to-be.

Recently I asked a group ‘who are the first people you are likely to breastfeed in front of?’ and the answers that came back were: your partner, the midwives, your close family. One dad objected strongly: that’s not true, he said. You don’t have to do it in front of any of those people. He was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of any kind of ‘public’ feeding.

But if the WHO guidelines recommend exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months, an inability to leave the house must have a serious impact on the new mother’s life.

That doesn’t mean you have to be completely brazen and bare all, on a bench outside the town hall, the very first time you do it, hence my question. By the time you are ready to go out for long enough that you are likely to have to feed your baby, the chances are that other people will have seen you do it already. But here are a few ideas to consider, that might make it a less daunting prospect:

Baby Steps
Consider making your first outing to somewhere you know will be safe, non-judgemental, and with lots of other mums and babies. At NCT Bumps and Babies you will meet mums with babies of all ages, and a whole variety of different feeding experiences behind them. Or find a local breastfeeding support group. Or if you did antenatal classes and have a group of friends, organise a coffee morning at someone’s house. If the wallpaper is different, you might feel less isolated.
Getting Them Out
If you’ve been schlepping about at home wearing just a nightie for the first week or so, you might not have thought about the impact of wearing or not wearing the right clothing.
There are countless beautiful and expensive nursing tops available, with mysterious openings and clever tucks and folds. All you really need is a loose shirt, perhaps two layers (vest and t-shirt works well), that you can pull up; and the one essential piece of kit is a nursing bra, ideally the sort with a drop-down cup. You pull the top layer up, the bottom layer down, drop the cup and attach the baby, who then covers up most of the exposed flesh.
Things to avoid: bras that are not designed for this kind of easy access, tight tops, dresses, lots of buttons.
Cover Up
I am by no means saying that a nursing mother needs to cover herself as though ashamed of what she is doing, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, you could use a light scarf or a muslin square to disguise the fact that you are breastfeeding. I am skeptical about ‘nursing aprons’ and other devices that are designed to be worn while breastfeeding, because they don’t make the process any less discreet.
Safe Places
Get to know the places you know you can go, where you will feel safe and comfortable. Large stores often have a baby feeding area; smaller stores might have a changing room with a plastic chair next to the nappy bin. Coffee shops are a haven for mums, especially during the working week; just don’t sit in the window!
Your Rights
In England, the Equality Act 2010. specifically prohibits discrimination against breastfeeding mothers. Nobody can ask you to leave a public place on the grounds that you are breastfeeding.

This is another one of those concepts that is difficult to get your head around before you baby comes along; and then after a few days of focusing on breastfeeding, may well seem like much less of an issue. But don’t forget that there is a lot of support available from other mums and from groups where mums and babies meet; you don’t have to be stuck in the house.

01 Dec

Book Review: How Not To F*** Them Up, by Oliver James

I read They F*** You Up: How to Survive Family Life about five years ago, enjoyed it very much, and widely recommended it. The follow-up, How Not To F*** Them Up, was sitting on my shelf for nearly a year, and eventually I picked it up and started to read.

Half way through the introduction, I started to skip bits; and then I began to flick through using the ‘Practical Top Tips’ Index; and then I just leafed through the rest. I will not be widely recommending this book.

James claims that ‘solid scientific research’ (p5) divides mothers into three types, and goes on to write unpleasant caricatures of each type. I know which type he would consider me to be, but that does not make me find his descriptions of the other two types any less offensive. We have the selfish, stressed-out Organiser, the martyred earth-mother Hugger, and the dithering, overstretched Fleximum.

James exhorts the reader not to skip to ‘her’ section but to read the whole book exactly as presented, in order to gain a full understanding of herself through reading about the others. This overbearing paternalistic tone persists throughout the book, and may be one of the reasons why I did precisely the opposite.

When James writes about under-threes, I find that he is spot on. His section on the needs of (and myths about) toddlers is clearly evidence-based, and he is relatively open about the harm caused by controlled crying, as well as the pointlessness of the naughty step at that age. However almost every statement he makes about mothers is a patronising generalisation. The case studies are written in a deeply judgmental tone, giving the impression that, whichever camp we are in, we mothers haven’t got a hope of getting it right.

Of course the first section I skipped to was the three pages on breastfeeding, in which James repeats a lot of over-technical information about positioning, attributing it to respected midwife Chloe Fisher. He dismisses Health Visitors as breastfeeding supporters, and then falls into the well-established pitfall of the untrained breastfeeding supporter himself, by basing his advice entirely on his own experience. He repeatedly states that colic is caused by not draining the breast properly. There is no research that conclusively establishes the cause of colic, and advice to ‘drain’ the breast can be very confusing.

This book lacks empathy with the subjects of the case studies and with mothers in general. The useful and accurate information about the needs of babies and toddlers can be found in They F*** You Up. As far as mothers are concerned, though, I would recommend that we all stop reading at page 5, where he states that ‘mothers rarely find anything as helpful as talking with each other;’ and go out and find a Bumps & Babies group or an NCT Early Days course instead.

22 Nov

Book Review: Testing Treatments

Testing Treatments by Imogen Evans, Hazel Thornton, Iain Chalmers & Paul Glasziou asks the crucial question, how can we ensure that medical research effectively meets the needs of patients? It is a crucial question because all over the world, resources are wasted on poor quality research, research that only meets the needs of drug companies, and on unproven, disproven, or unnecessary treatment.

The authors state that medical research is ‘everybody’s business’ (p.114) and suggest that if patients, doctors and researchers worked as a team, the testing of treatments could be more effective, precise and useful. The BMJ famously bans the phrase ‘more research is needed,’ and Evans et al, who comment ‘do less… but focus the research on the needs of patients’ (p114) clearly agree.

A useful complement to Ben Goldacre’s Bad Science and Simon Singh’s Trick or Treatment, Testing Treatments clearly lays out the principles of robust research, defining what makes a fair test, and explaining the importance of setting a study within the context of existing research. In itself, these principles do not sound particularly challenging, but the authors go on to show how the waters are muddied by vested interests, patient pester power, paternalistic clinicians, and inexcusable poor practice.

Finally, they set out a strong blueprint for a better future, asking for patients to be treated as equal partners, both as individuals requiring treatment, and as groups participating in research.

The manifesto is laudable, but for this to work, people need to read this book and get on board; and not just other academics. There is an obvious effort to make the style of the book accessible to the wider public, and indeed it is, as I read it in two days despite the company of a bored five year old. I found the slight dumbing-down of some of the terminology (words like ‘menstrual’ and ‘cardiac’ explained in parentheses) slightly patronising; and the over-simplified diagrams lacked much meaning. Boxed quotations are scattered over almost every pages, which breaks up the flow of the text without adding very much in terms of content. However the chapters are very clearly laid out and richly illustrated with anecdotes and examples. It was impressive that the entire chapter on statistics managed to avoid using the word ‘statistics.’

I would definitely recommend this book to my colleagues and to some of my more sciencey friends, but this is why I feel that it will mainly preach to the converted. Those paternalistic GPs who are certain of their infallibility, those focus groups desperate to prolong precious life, those politicians in the pockets of big pharma: they should be forced to read it!

I took away from Testing Treatments, a much enhanced understanding of the arguments against routine screening, and an appreciation of the need for greater regulation and better-informed consent for treatment outside the context of clinical trials. I enjoyed reading what could potentially have been a heavy-going book, but was in fact, as Ben Goldacre says in the foreword, ‘interesting and clever.’ (p.xii)

***

To order Testing Treatments with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

18 Nov

Book Review: Saggy Boobs & Other Breastfeeding Myths, by Val Finigan

Saggy Boobs & Other Breastfeeding Myths is a fabulous little book! It may be a light read, but it is certainly not light on evidence-based information.

Dispelling breastfeeding myths is one of my main aims in antenatal classes, and the myths appear to be limitless: babies get the runs when you eat curry, champagne gives them hiccups, you end up with boobs like spaniels’ ears, and of course you’re at the beck and call of a miniature tyrant who never learns to sleep, if you breastfeed.

I love the clear, factual answers, especially the response to ‘modern formula milks are as good as breastmilk,’ (p.20) which I might memorise:

Even though modern milks are considerably better than old-fashioned milks they do not replicate breastmilk. They contain no antibodies to fight infections, no living cells, no enzymes and no hormones. They contain higher levels of aluminium, manganese, cadmium, lead and iron than breastmilk. They have significantly higher levels of protein than breastmilk, and the proteins and fats are fundamentally different from those found in breastmilk.
The constituents of formula do not change feed-to-feed, day-to-day like breastmilk and are not species specific. All we can say about formula milk is that it is successful at making babies grow well.

Each page includes the most amazing embroidered illustrations by Lou Gardiner, and the whole book is so unique, accessible and appealing that I think it should be standard issue for expectant mothers. The author and publishers may be interested to know that there is one at every Baby Cafe Local in Hertfordshire.

***

To order Saggy Boobs & Other Breastfeeding Myths with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

10 Nov

Book Review AND Giveaway: How Mothers Love (and how relationships are born) – Naomi Stadlen

I am a huge fan of Naomi Stadlen’s first book, What Mothers Do: Especially When it Looks Like Nothing, which I first read when my son was around six months old, and then again five years later when I had just completed my doula training. So I have been looking forward to getting my hands on her second book, How Mothers Love; and as soon as I did, I set about creating some space (ignoring the rest of my family!) so that I could read it.

This is a wise and compassionate book, with a pondering gentle tone and a very Plain English style. In its quest to describe and explain how mothers and babies relate to each other, and to examine the implications of this for the development of relationships in later life, the book provides another wealth of anecdotal colour that would sit alongside a more sciencey tome such as Sue Gerhardt’s Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes a Baby’s Brain.

I read this book holding a pencil with which to annotate moments of epiphany and insightful remarks I would like to quote later. I have underlined something on nearly every page, as I repeatedly recognise something from my own experience or from talking with other mothers, including the idea of mothers as fellow travellers, the dread of disapproval, the feeling that motherhood is undervalued and misunderstood in wider society.

This last point led me to wonder if non-parents could even begin to understand this book, or grasp why it is so important. Stadlen describes herself, beautifully, as being ‘steeped’ in the conversation of mothers, and her frame of reference is highly accessible to me, being similarly steeped. But when trying to convey some of these concepts to non-parents (or even to parents for whom motherhood is not an important subject), I feel like I am speaking a different language. This is why Stadlen has to make up wonderful words to describe something like making ‘heartroom’ for our babies; and why she frequently laments that our language simply has no words for so many of the deeply significant but less tangible things that mothers do.

I had never previously considered the impact of Freud’s work on parenting (perhaps I should give my psychology degree back!) but it was interesting to add him to the pile of ‘experts’ undermining mothers’ instincts across the years. Equally, while I am well aware of the dichotomy in fashionable parenting styles, I had never thought of it in terms of Spartan versus Athenian, a description which really elucidates the fundamental differences between the two philosophies, and the resulting conflict in how mothers think and the ways in which they relate to each other.

For me the book throws up the stark contrast with one group of mothers (and fathers) who do not feature quite so strongly; that is, the expectant ones (and I quite understand why this is). In antenatal sessions, parents-to-be refer to ‘the baby’ as ‘it,’ and their expectations are often that a Spartan approach to parenting will work very well for them. The dawning of realisation that their baby is a person deserving of respect and warmth must be a huge epiphany for many first time parents, and I find it frustrating to have confidence that this almost always happens, but not to be able to convince them of that in the antenatal period.

How Mothers Love enlarges on the themes of What Mothers Do, and introduces new ones, going on to look at how the supply of love expands (like breastmilk, as one of the women in my own antenatal group once said), to meet the needs of the next child, and the next; and how being a mother changes one’s relationships with the other members of the family.

Towards the end there are suggestions about how mothers could co-operate to have their work recognised and valued more widely; but I feel that short-term financial interests will always work against this optimistic manifesto. As a Breastfeeding Counsellor, the work I do is a drop in the ocean. A book like this can make waves where I cannot. Reading this helped to reaffirm my approach to my paid work; but more importantly, to my unpaid work as a mother.

***

Naomi Stadlen’s publisher, Piatkus, has very kindly offered two copies of How Mothers Love as a giveaway to two readers of the Double Helping Doulas blog. I have never had a giveaway before, and I’m torn between holding an actual competition, or offering the books to the first two commenters. I have no idea if anyone even reads this thing, so to increase the number of comments, just let me know you’re there and you’re interested, and I’ll pick names out of a hat on Tuesday 15th November.

03 Nov

Book Review: Complementary Feeding: Nutrition, Culture and Politics, by Gabrielle Palmer

Palmer’s ‘The Politics of Breastfeeding’ was a hugely influential book for me as a breastfeeding counsellor, opening up a far wider picture of the subject than I had ever seen before. ‘Complementary Feeding’ has done the same thing with the subject of introducing solid food and feeding infants and young children on food other than milk.

The title itself raises the huge issue of what we call this process, which many people refer to as ‘weaning.’ As Palmer explains, this is in fact the term for cutting down on milk, which may well be a consequence of introducing solid food, but is not, in fact, the same thing. This confusion of the terms leads to parents and healthcare professionals having a drive to reduce a baby’s milk intake long before he or she is developmentally ready to do so.

I particularly enjoyed the book because it reinforced my own approach to talking about the introduction of solids, with the focus being on education and exploration rather than on filling the child up with non-nutritious cereal-based or pureed foods to the exclusion of milk. She even pinched my throwaway remark that food is a great, cheap educational toy that comes in lots of lovely colours and textures, and can be played with at the table while the rest of the family gets on with their meal!

The book starts with an overview of the inequalities in global food entitlement, a subject I had not considered before, but which became highly topical this morning when research comparing the average English diet with diets in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, suggested that if they all stopped eating deep fried Mars Bars, they would, amazingly, live longer. Of course, the research does not say this at all, but identifies food entitlement inequalities in less affluent populations in the UK, but that does not make such a good headline.

It goes on to look in greater detail at the evolution of the human diet, and cultural variations, as well as innate factors such as the drive for nutrient-dense food (hence the preference for salty, sweet and fatty foods), and the inbuilt appetite control mechanism that allows baby-led complementary feeding to become the natural progression from baby-led breastfeeding. I learned some interesting facts about human consumption of animal milk (most humans do not produce the necessary enzyme to digest milk, beyond infancy, but northern Europeans have evolved to do so), and was interested, but (I admit) slightly revolted by the discussion of feeding insects and molluscs to small children. My cultural prejudices are pretty well embedded!

Finally, Palmer suggests some processes for change, including an examination of the language used around feeding children; and compares the effects of wartime rationing with a frankly disempowering US initiative to provide poorer families with food but not with information about nutrition or food preparation.

For me, one of the most important conclusions of the book is that malnutrition exists in affluent cultures as well as in the developing world, because parents are driven to cut back on milk and give commercial or home-made processed foods to their children, often before the children are ready to move on to a solid diet. Also, that spinach is not particularly good for children; as Palmer writes, how wise they are to refuse it!

This book was a free copy kindly sent by Pinter & Martin publishers, and can be obtained from them here.

29 Oct

Book Review: What Mothers Do, by Naomi Stadlen

Naomi Stadlen has collated the views of new mothers from hundreds of interviews and conversations. From the women’s words she has defined numerous of the almost-intangible things that mothers do on a daily (and nightly) basis, even though it looks and feels like they are ‘only’ looking after their babies.

She points out that mothering is a unique experience, in allowing us to focus on how badly we are doing, simply because there seems to be no language to describe succinctly all the things we do well.

Some of the things that mothers do are defined as being ‘instantly interruptible;’ comforting; being responsible; coping with tiredness; figuring out what babies want; loving their baby; redefining their own identity; redefining their other relationships, particularly with their partner and with their own mother; and supporting other mothers.

The collection of insights opens one’s eyes both to the huge accomplishments of everyday mothering, and to the subtle pressures and unexpected challenges we encounter. It is so easy for a new mother to feel that she achieves nothing, until we take account of the thousand interruptions and her instant, unconditional availability for her child.

This book along with something on human babies’ normal emotional and psychological development, such as What Every Parent Needs To Know by Margot Sunderland or Why Love Matters by Sue Gerhardt, should be required reading (though perhaps in digested form!) for any new mothers, to give perspective and positive encouragement.

The value of this book for a postnatal doula is in helping her to step outside her own frame of reference and consider the huge variety of maternal experience. Every mother carries the emotional payload of her own birth and postnatal experience, and of course this informs our work with other women; but this book broadens one’s focus and understanding.

I originally read the book when my son was around six months old, and of course my perspective has been changed both by my own experience and by the stories told by the mothers I work with. I feel more removed from the subject matter now, and find it moving to be reminded of the importance of celebrating what seems like little achievements, and of the context in which we become mothers in our culture.

I particularly appreciated the description of how mothers learn about their babies: not from books or gurus, but from their own baby. Stadlen states that ‘Uncertainty is a good starting point for a mother’ (p45) because that is precisely what enables her to learn.

This reassures me that uncertainty is also a good starting point for a doula, and that our role is very much about listening to the stories, pointing out the achievements, and celebrating motherhood.