27 Nov

Book Review: Inspired Parenting, by Dorka Herner

Dorka Herner is a Hungarian psychologist and mother of five, and this is her book of reflections on motherhood. Divided into six chapters, such as “Reshaping the patterns that shape us,” it seems to be intended as a tool for learning or developing the reader’s own parenting; however it really is just a series of daily writings, from funny little aphorisms about saying a nursery rhyme and realising it is intended as a tool of mind control; to longer vignettes about her twins getting into a good school. Nothing in the book asks the reader to consider how it relates to them, or to reflect on its meaning. It doesn’t advocate a particular style of parenting, or offer advice on any of the many challenges described – just tells you about them.

Inspired Parenting may offer some insight into someone else’s parenting, and it’s always useful to try to understand how other people live. It’s a pleasant book to dip into now and then.

[Disclosure: I was sent a review copy of Inspired Parenting by the publisher. You can get a copy here, with a 10% discount using the code SPROGCAST at the checkout.]

30 Jan

Book Review: The Breast Book, by Emma Pickett

Emma Pickett is just the person to write a book for confused or anxious or curious teenage girls. She has an abundant and fascinating knowledge of the subject, and a humorous, patient tone with which to impart it. What makes this book particularly special is the deep feminism that comes through on every page: your body is normal, your body is good, your body is your own for you to make decisions about.

The Breast Book covers how breasts grow, what they are for, and why society gives us such confusing messages about them. Illustrated with cartoons, photos, and anecdotes from women of all ages and one transman, it’s very accessible even for the younger reader. And while the younger reader may not take in all of this detail to start with, just owning this book means they have a reliable resource for when they are ready. It even includes sample notes to highlight in order to start a conversation with parents, should it feel too difficult to do this out loud. And parents, note: this book is not a substitute for talking to your daughter, but is an excellent companion.

29 Jan

Review: The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did), by Philippa Perry

Disclosure: I’m a fan of Philippa Perry. I’ve read her other books and I’ve seen her speak a few times. When I saw that she had written a parenting book, I shamelessly pestered for a review copy and an interview for Sprogcast.

The book arrived (and the interview was arranged; aim for the stars, people). It says it is a parenting book for people who don’t buy parenting books, which seems like an unusual marketing strategy. I think what she means by this is that hers is a non-mainstream position, she doesn’t lay down the usual guidelines about how much sleep the baby needs or pussyfoot around with the whole “just do what’s right for you” approach; nor at any point does she list the useful gadgets and best possible wardrobe for the accessory-baby of your dreams.

TBYWYPHR(&YCWBGTYD) starts by looking at how you, the reader, were parented, and by encouraging some reflection on the impact this has had (or could in future have) on your parenting. There are some short exercises to help with this, and a couple of illustrative anecdotes. It’s about noticing your trigger points, being aware of negative self-talk and where that comes from, and avoiding judgement. These sound like straightforward ideas with sound reasoning behind them, until you ask yourself how to put them into practice.

Happily the rest of the book goes on to explore this process, by looking into the world of the child and showing how empathy and compassion can be such powerful tools both on an everyday basis, and in difficult situations. The chapter on pregnancy was of particular interest, as this is the one place where Perry really gets into the socio-cultural context of parenting. There is a lot more to say about the challenges that modern parents face, in a world where expectations of parents are at odds with this approach. And crucially, most parenting books don’t touch on this at all.

Perry uses her own life experiences to demonstrate some of her points, giving examples where she got it right, as well as examples of when she got it wrong but it turned out okay anyway. What I took from this was not that she was a smug perfect mother who always knew the right thing to say, no, but that none of us is perfect and that just because we get it wrong sometimes that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Parenting is, as Perry says, a long game with a high up-front investment in the relationship.

I felt that the book became increasingly practical, and I was particularly grateful for the ten or so pages on parenting teens (perhaps the next book could expand on this). Parents of toddlers would find it useful, especially on days when parenting feels like wading through mud, and not in a good way. Most people reading it will wish that they had read it sooner, so I am strongly recommending it for the expectant parents in your life, alongside a huge helping of support. While it’s never too late to do better, it’s definitely never too early to be more compassionate and understanding.

31 Dec

A trilogy of book reviews

These are the last three books I have read in 2017, a very satisfying year when it comes to reading. I am not sure how I have managed to find the time, but hope that a less crazy 2018 might mean even more reading time!

A Midwife’s Story – Penny Armstrong & Sheryl Feldman

In this memoir of midwifery among the Amish community, Penny Armstrong reflects on her growth and development as a midwife. It’s fascinating to see her confidence in straightforward birth in a home environment increase through experience. She is well-placed to make the comparison with hospital birth in the 1970s, and it is horrifying to note how little has changed. The vignettes of Amish life are also charming, and this is a well-written memoir – certainly the best story of midwifery I’ve read, thanks to writer Sheryl Feldman’s well-judged turn of phrase. I found it utterly absorbing.

[Disclosure: Pinter & Martin sent me a free review copy of this book; you can get a 10% discount on your copy if you use the offer code SPROGCAST at checkout on their website.]

How To Have A Baby – Natalie Meddings

How To Have A Baby is a doula in a book. It’s nearly a big enough book to fit in an actual doula, and crammed with wisdom (just the “big necessaries,” writes Natalie Meddings) sourced from her own experience and the stories of many mothers. Meddings’ tone, like the ideal doula, is firm but gentle, calm and encouraging.

The book takes the expectant mother through the usual route of pregnancy and planning, into labour, birth and the unexpected, and out the other side to feeding and newborn days. Descriptions are clear and “tips and tricks” are shared helpfully at every stage. Meddings is pragmatic and honest. Birth is discussed in terms of an involuntary bodily function, and how to create the optimal conditions for this to happen. Induction is presented as “a ticket on the intervention rollercoaster” (p116) which is an interesting choice of words, however the pages explaining induction are practical and compassionate, giving a clear idea of what happens and what can help.

This book is an excellent resource for birth planning. Meddings is very concerned with consent and human rights, both of which she covers very clearly; and this is her real strength. I much prefer these well-referenced and forthright pages, to the liberal sprinkling of homeopathy etc alongside the useful coping suggestions.

You are waiting to hear what I think of the breastfeeding information, so I won’t keep you in any more suspense. With contributions from Maddie McMahon, the importance of early feeding and skin to skin is discussed, and Meddings describes the newborn feeding reflexes and how to support the baby to self-attach. It is a little surprising when she goes on to describe a rather prescriptive way to hold the baby, which does not support those reflexes so well, given her let-nature-take-its-course-and-things-will-work approach to other aspects of birth and parenting. And sound the klaxon for “breastfeeding granola,” which looks delicious but should correctly be termed “granola,” given that breastfeeding experience is not generally influenced by the consumption of roasted oats and nuts and so on.

Matters are redeemed by the rest of the new-baby/new-mother section, referencing such respected authors as Naomi Stadlen and Deborah Jackson, and with plenty of exhortations to eat cake.

I think this book is jam-packed with stuff that would be useful during labour and birth, and it would set up a new mother nicely for those early days and beyond. Practically speaking, the book is probably a bit too chunky to carry around with you and make notes in, as Meddings suggests in the beginning; in fact I think it would work brilliantly as a loose-leaf binder (or perhaps an app), so the reader can pull out relevant sections as needed (which would facilitate reading whilst feeding). Some websites and numbers are given to access support but there could be a lot more of this. On the whole a very highly recommended book for practitioners and parents-to-be alike.

[Disclosure: Natalie sent me a free copy of her book to review – thank you!]

Eleven Hours – Pamela Erens

The last book I finished reading this year was perfect to follow these two, and I think I may even have bought it myself. In Eleven Hours, Lore is in labour, cared for by Franckline who is also in the early stages of pregnancy. As Lore’s contractions come and go, we learn both women’s sad stories: Franckline’s lost babies, and Lore’s lost love. Franckline’s midwifery is full of empathy and kindness, but this is starkly framed by the harsh restrictions and requirements of hospital policy, and the insensitive words and actions of her colleagues.

Lore arrives in the maternity ward alone, with a five page birth plan. Franckline is the only one to read and respect this, and does her best to steer things back towards Lore’s wishes, even as events keep on sliding off track. The labour progresses slowly, and then takes an unpredictable turn. Gripping fiction, and a great way to wrap up Meddings and Armstrong, and 2017.

16 Nov

Book Review: Trust Your Body Trust Your Baby, by Rosie Newman

Rosie Newman’s book aims to inspire confidence and trust in a mother’s own instincts, through pregnancy and birth, feeding and mothering. It is a book for women who need help with the paradigm shift of becoming a new parent. One of the things that really comes across is the value of surrounding oneself with like-minded, positive people. Newman is well-read and draws extensively on the literature of attachment parenting and straightforward birth.

Trust Your Body Trust Your Baby is sensibly structured with a logical progression, starting with a practical chapter on preparation for the baby’s arrival. The birth chapter gives an interesting history of obstetrics, an explanation of the role of hormones, and a valiant attempt to convey the reality of labour.

The following chapters cover life after birth: establishing breastfeeding, sleep, attachment, and the emotional and psychological adjustment. All of this is extremely good stuff that I would recommend to new parents; it is well-referenced and although it comes from a firm base in attachment parenting, and includes a great deal of Newman’s own experience, it is written with empathy and compassion for both the mother and the baby.

The last chapter is on elimination communication, and might make some new parents wonder if this really is the book for them, or whether it is too far from the mainstream. My clients tend to think The Baby Whisperer is a “a bit of a hippie,” so I’m conscious of wanting books like this to be accessible. Of course there is a huge part of me that really doesn’t want to pull any punches, too.

I was writing this review at a very quiet breastfeeding drop-in. Two mothers came in and we were talking about the conflict between trusting your instincts as a mother, and coping with the pressures of modern life, lack of sleep, lack of support, and the weight of expectations that babies should behave in a certain way by a certain age (both babies were 3 months old and not behaving in a certain way at all). So I gave one of them the book; may it help her find her way.

[Disclosure: I received a free review copy of this book from the publishers. You can get your own copy here, and a 10% discount using the code SPROGCAST at the checkout].

22 Feb

Book Review: The Gentle Discipline Book, by Sarah Ockwell-Smith

The Gentle Discipline Book is a book for parents, based firmly in attachment theory and gentle parenting practices, just as you would expect from an author who has very much made this her specialism.

Ockwell-Smith defines discipline as a supportive teaching process, and devotes a chapter to critique of discipline in its more widely-understood sense, i.e. punishment and reward. She supports this approach very thoroughly with a good chapter on neuroscience, and logical explanations of the developmental reasons for various behavioural issues in young children.

The book then goes on to look at a range of problems, from sulking to swearing, with helpful strategies for dealing with them. This is a widely applicable, useful read for all parents, and for anyone involved in educating parents and parents-to-be about raising children with empathy and kindness.

I also found that Ockwell-Smith gives a helpful perspective on parenting, recommending the 70/30 rule: “trying to be the best parent you can be 70% of the time and not worrying too much about the other 30%” (p238) As the mother of an occasionally difficult (but generally delightful) ten year old, I found this very affirming.

In this book, Ockwell-Smith offers an updated and less US-centric take on Sears’ Discipline Book, and I would recommend it unreservedly.

[Disclaimer: I was provided with a free review copy of this book]

17 Feb

Fed Is Best misses the big picture

There is a growing movement of vociferous breastfeeding skeptics, more organised and insidious than the usual lone voices of disappointed, angry, grieving women whose breastfeeding experience was not what they had hoped for. I have ignored it for long enough, but they now seem to be everywhere I look, and their words are dangerous and damaging.

As is so often the case, this “backlash” arises from one sad incident that happened to one articulate and privileged woman whose baby failed to thrive in circumstances where, if I understand it correctly, no baby could have thrived. I will refrain on commenting on a situation about which I know very little, as any well-trained and mother-centred breastfeeding supporter should. But this movement has easily, inevitably snowballed, gathering followers from that huge group of women who have been failed by society at a most vulnerable time.

This is a group of parents who are so upset that breastfeeding did not work for them, that they would prefer it not to work for anybody. Rather than campaign for better support and a more breastfeeding-friendly society, they present breastfeeding as an unnecessary choice, that mothers would be better off without. As with much of the anti-breastfeeding literature, we see the people who offer breastfeeding support portrayed as cruel, evangelical bullies and the well-evidenced disadvantages of formula milk downplayed.

In the past decade, I have written this again and again: we do not need to divide mothers and babies into the false categories of Breastfeeding and Formula Feeding. The first rule of infant feeding is to feed the baby, but “fed” is only best if “not fed” is the only alternative. And with better knowledge about breastfeeding and a more supportive environment, not fed should not happen. A woman with the confidence to trust her own instincts does not restrict feeds just because she has been told her baby’s stomach capacity is small; a well-informed woman who wishes to breastfeed understands that frequent feeding is what builds up a milk supply, and the delightful contents of every nappy can reassure her that this is happening; an educated health professional can support her with this knowledge.

Those key elements, maternal instinct and good information, slip through the cracks. And why do they slip through the cracks? Because in western society we believe, in the face of the evidence, that breastfeeding does not work. And why do we believe that it does not work? Because the voices of anger and disappointment are louder than the voices of women who just got on with it because it was no big deal.

There is no money in breastfeeding that works, unless you count the savings made in better overall health outcomes (and families who don’t have to shell out for formula): if anyone was really counting that, the governments of the western world would be investing in breastfeeding support and promoting a society that is truly supportive of breastfeeding mothers. Instead we have one where vitamins are marketed to them in case their milk isn’t good enough. One where lanolin cream is advertised for when their nipples hurt, as if this were inevitable. One where babies are expected not to inconvenience their mothers by requiring to be fed and to be held. One where qualified doctors can flatly deny science and continue to speak with the authority granted by their white coat.

It is a scientific fallacy to believe that cows milk, modified in a factory and dried into a powder, is better for human babies simply because it is sometimes more readily available. And it is a fallacy of privilege to believe that it is always readily available. It is not uncommon even in the UK for parents using formula not to follow the guidelines when making it up: too much powder (to make the baby grow), too little powder (to make the pack last longer), or water that is not hot enough to kill the bacteria (because it’s inconvenient, or they just don’t know, or they haven’t got a kettle). An 800 g tub of a popular formula costs £12.99 and would last roughly ten days for a newborn and five days at six months, if you feed according to the instructions on the side of the pack. Babies need breastmilk or a suitable formula until they are a year old. Breastfeeding support is free at the point of access. So tell me which of these is the choice of the privileged family?

Perhaps it is only the affluent and educated who can afford the privilege of lashing out at the passionate but inadequately funded network of people who could have helped them, and of missing the big picture of what is wrong in a world that let them down so badly.

08 Feb

Book review: Pride & Joy, A Guide for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans Parents – by Sarah & Rachel Hagger-Holt

2017-02-07-18-30-37 This is the most perfectly-titled book I have ever come across, a fact which became increasingly evident as I read it – in one sitting – and found it to be so warm and upbeat, a book that is truly full of pride and joy.

Pride And Joy would be useful and interesting for LGBT parents; those considering becoming parents or even wondering if they ever can become parents; children of LGBT parents and other extended family members, and anyone working in a support role including health professionals, antenatal teachers and others. It is packed with anecdotes and quotes from that same wide-ranging group, so that it gives the reader a rich narrative, coherently exploring the broad experiences in the LGBT world. Each chapter ends with some points to consider, with signposting to useful resources, making it practical as well as very readable.

One thing that came across to me was that LGBT families have more common factors than differences with non-LGBT families. The authors treat extended and complex family situations as largely positive, acknowledging that blended families are now the norm for many people in western society, whatever the sexual orientation or gender identity of the parents. Many issues relating to pregnancy, birth, new parenthood, and growing up are not unique to LGBT families, however the fact that much of the support offered in these situations comes from the straight community reminds us of the importance of being open and inclusive when supporting parents. This book is well positioned to increase knowledge and understanding, and I hope it will be very widely read.

[Disclaimer: I was sent a free copy by the publisher. You can buy your own copy from their website, and use the code SPROGCAST at the checkout for a 10% discount]

04 Feb

Welcome to The Motherland

New guidance from the British Medical Association recommends a change of language, from “expectant mother” to “pregnant person,” in order to recognise trans parents who may not identify as women. I confess that this is very confusing for me, and my confusion arises from how, then, we should define motherhood. There is also a conflict between my inclination to accept whatever terms people want to use for themselves, but also to value motherhood in a way that does not easily allow me to erase the “womanness” of it.

Please don’t imagine that my point of reference for motherhood is limited to floating around in a cloud of organic breastfeeding loveliness. In fact, I think that might be the core of the dilemma: this question of whether to use the word “mother” is just terribly reductionist, as though motherhood can be only one thing.

Motherhood emerges in so many different forms, perhaps uniquely for every single person who has – but there’s the problem – has what? Given birth? Some mothers adopt. Parented? Are women who miscarry or suffer stillbirth not mothers? The literature is at pains to emphasise that they are. Does that mean that women whose pregnancies end in abortion are also mothers? Some of them might feel that way; it was certainly the start of the journey into motherhood for me.

Clearly there is not one single event that turns a person into a mother. Motherhood is more like a place you go to, where you experience new things, which you may have expected or not, and which you may enjoy or not, and which change you, but do not turn you into a specific and new type of person. As with travelling, those experiences will affect you to some extent, but will be assimilated into your existing self.

A close friend tells me that she always knew she wanted to be a mother, by which she means give birth to and raise children, yet a decade in she still feels that this isn’t the real her, these boys aren’t really hers (this existential angst must necessarily co-exist with doing the laundry and preparing packed lunches). On the other hand, I never particularly yearned for motherhood (and I overheard my own mother, when I was six months pregnant, remarking “Karen was never very maternal.”) And yet I simply could not be the person I am now, and do the most fulfilling work I have ever done, without it.

It seems acceptable for other people to identify me as a mother, but I would prefer them to understand that I am not solely – or even mostly – that, while still being that to my very core. Yet having argued that neither being pregnant, nor being a parent, are intrinsic to motherhood, I think we could explore the possibility of having a term that isn’t gendered, to represent having travelled to this place, should it be necessary to reveal that element of one’s identity.

What of fathers, who now are expected to take on more of the nurturing role traditionally associated with motherhood? Up to 50 weeks of parental leave can now be shared in the UK, so dads can take on the majority of the parenting from very early in a child’s life (and technically a man can “father” a child without even knowing about it, so how can fatherhood then be part of his identity?). Perhaps the word “mother” is only differentiated by being the one who is expected to do the majority of the housework, whether he or she works outside the home or not.

[Cross-posted from Huffington Post]

02 Oct

Book Review: Baby-Led Parenting, by Gill Rapley & Tracey Murkett

From start to finish, this book is thoroughly useful. I loved its measured tone and empowering language, and its clear explanations of how babies’ behaviour has evolved to meet their basic survival needs.

It is clearly divided into chapters along the main themes of meeting baby, feeding, sleep etc: those crucial subjects for a new parent. Particular highlights include p65 on the father’s role during a babymoon period, the excellent baby-centred advice around bottle feeding, and the long list of suggestions to soothe a crying baby.

Throughout, and especially in the chapter on communication, Rapley & Murkett encourage new parents to develop empathy with the baby’s point of view, as well as reassuring them that responding promptly and positively to a newborn’s needs will foster independence, security, and a strong bond between parent and child.

If I had to come up with a criticism, it would be that a glossier, more colourful book, might have wider appeal with new parents. But this really is a positive book full of well-evidenced, practical information, from authors who are well-respected authorities in their field.