01 Mar

Comfort Milk

In the last few days we have been hearing news of a shortage of Cow & Gate Comfort Milk and Aptamil Comfort Milk. Danone, the owner of both brands, is reported to have run out of an important ingredient, maize starch, which is a corn-based thickener.

Parents use Comfort Milk for babies who are colicky, have wind, or are prone to possetting (bringing up a little milk after feeds). These are also symptoms of lactose intolerance, as described on this NHS website.

Comfort Milk, according to their website, is “Specially developed with reduced lactose to assist with the dietary management of colic and constipation, keeping your baby more comfortable and giving you a helping hand when it comes to maintaining your little one’s health.” If your baby is constipated, it would be advisable to talk to your GP or Health Visitor.

Packets of Comfort Milk are currently going on eBay for huge sums, to parents desperate to give their baby their usual milk. If your baby usually has a Comfort Milk, and you are unable to get hold of it, you can give any other suitable formula milk instead; switching brands will not harm your baby. All infant formula is made to a set government standard, within very narrow guidelines, and therefore all brands have the same nutritional content. If your baby is under six months, it is important to give milk that is suitable for newborns. Follow-on milk can be used for babies over six months, but is nutritionally unnecessary, and you can continue giving first milk if you wish.

First Steps Nutrition has a good document about different types of milk.

NHS has a step-by-step guide to making up a bottle of formula safely and hygienically.

If you are worried about your baby, you can talk to an NCT Breastfeeding Counsellor on 0300 330 0700

Lots of supportive information about bottlefeeding can be found on our sister website.

25 Feb

What I’m Really Thinking

I’ve always assumed The Guardian’s What I’m Really Thinking column is meant to be a caricature, not something to be offended by. I know that last week’s anonymous piece by ‘The Child-Free Friend’ is not meant to represent the views of all childless people, and I admit that ten years ago I could have written it myself. I can quite smugly tell you that now I’m no longer childless, I finally have some empathy with parents, but that’s not to say that I speak fluently the language of child, that I find all babies beautiful, or that I ever want to change a nappy [unpaid!] again. I’m sure I’m not the only parent in the world who doesn’t really notice other people’s children until they make an annoying noise. That’s why I’m a doula, not a childminder; doulas care for mothers.

The writer is of the opinion that since parenthood is self-inflicted, parents deserve exactly zero amount of sympathy, even from a friend who claims to “care about you and your life,” when they express sadness at missing pre-parenthood freedoms. How can she possibly complain about the relentless demands of parenting, when this is what she signed up for? I’m sure you don’t have to offer to babysit for a night, to try to imagine that however much you love your child, there are always going to be times when you long guiltily for a night out that doesn’t take months of planning, an uninterrupted lie-in, or even just five minutes when nobody is asking anything of you. These are the things parents aren’t allowed to say, and because we aren’t allowed to say it, it comes as a shock to many new parents, to find that the child has no off-switch, our leisure time can no longer be filled by going to the gym or watching a Lord of the Rings triple bill, and the money drain never stops. So she didn’t sign up for it, exactly. A huge amount of doula work and breastfeeding support is about helping when reality doesn’t meet expectations.

As for your friend thinking that your life choices are less sincere, enduring or fulfilling, I had to laugh at how a paragraph about feeling judged could be so judgemental. This is why I knew that the writer didn’t stand for all childless people, because choosing to be childless is just one of many lifestyle choices, and most of us tend to think that the things we choose are better than the things other people choose. And most lifestyles are not simple binary choices.

It’s just as hard for parents to hold on to their non-parent friends as the other way around. It’s hard to have a conversation when part of your brain is permanently allocated to childcare, especially when you’re aware that the person you’re chatting with doesn’t like your snot-encrusted marmalade-fingered darling, is bored by their latest achievements, and just doesn’t get how your priorities are different now. And we’re tired. All the time. Like when you’re jetlagged or you’ve been working hard to meet a deadline or you’ve run a marathon, and those are lifestyle choices too, and you would expect some understanding.

Motherhood is pretty complex, and many non-parents seem to perceive it only at a very superficial level. We’re all childless before we have kids, we’ve all stood in your shoes. Now why don’t you try and stand in mine?

04 Feb

Evidence is overrated!

As a confirmed skeptic, my title is deliberately provocative, but reflects the tail-chasing propensity I have to apply skepticism to skepticism. I absolutely have to be evidence-based in my work, and I’ve completed a BA module in understanding and using research, but I still worry that I’m as guilty as the next person of cherry-picking it to suit my own views.

When it comes to birth and parenting, the quality of evidence available is not great. Much of the subject matter is undefined or too complex to boil down to a testable hypothesis, and RCTs on babies are ethically difficult. On top of that, parents being such a super marketing demographic, there are an awful lot of vested interests.

Most people working in this area are emotionally invested in some way, and not all the organisations supporting parents have a rigorous reflective practice and supervision structure, allowing them to debrief to the extent that they don’t carry any value judgement at all into their work.

This muddies our use of evidence.
There is some research on how hard it is to adopt new learning, when prior knowledge is deeply embedded. Hence out of date practices and misinformation propagated through on the job learning. If new evidence is not a good fit with what we already ‘know’, it is difficult to re-align oneself. We see this with adherents to scientifically implausible theories for example within alternative therapies, where belief is very much stronger than evidence.

There is also research [pdf] suggesting that GPs often base their breastfeeding advice on their own experience or that of their partners. In fact this rule applies to most people: if it worked for you, you may well suggest it to someone else, especially since the urge to problem-solve may be overwhelming. One GP spoke to me at length about something that she called “yeast mastitis.” A yeast infection of the breast (thrush) and mastitis are two entirely separate conditions, with different (but sometimes related) causes and different treatments. This is fairly basic stuff.

Parents are certainly titled to evidence-based information, and there are some good sources such as NHS and NCT websites; but this should include information about the limitations of the evidence, and where professionals supporting parents are unsure, untrained, or inexperienced, they should be clear about their boundaries and limitations. More damage is done by the supportive making up of answers than by handing over a reputable helpline number.

Evidence can be used as a stick to beat parents with (perfect example: “breast is best”), and then on the other hand it really is overrated as a decision-making factor compared with pressing lifestyle issues and social influences. Science journalist Linda Geddes, a busy parent of two who knows the evidence behind exclusive breastfeeding to six months, still chooses formula milk for her four month old when it is more convenient to do so. She weighs the risk, according to the evidence, but also in the balance are the fact that her two children are “simultaneously clamouring for their dinner and I don’t have time to sit and breastfeed.”

This is not a value judgement, but an excellent illustration of the way evidence is balanced and sometimes negated by parents’ lifestyle and needs, when making decisions. For me, it’s the evidence about sending a six month old to daycare that makes uncomfortable reading.

Working with parents is about providing evidenced information and decision making tools and confidence in themselves as parents. Evidence does not make something right or wrong when it comes to parenting, and we absolutely cannot use it either to dictate or to judge what parents do.

22 Jan

Let Someone Catch Hold Of You

Relly is a writer, speaker and web content person. She lives in the Home Counties with her husband and their two small sons. As a result she thrives on country air and can be guaranteed to stand on Lego at least once a day.

I have a good life. I have a nice house which I rent. I have a good husband who I have been with for over ten years and 8.5 of them as a married couple. I have two amazing little boys who have both enthralled us and worn us to a nub for the last 6.5 years. I have a good brain that writes cool stuff for people, sometimes even for money.

I also have depression. I’ve had that longer than anything, around 17 years now, like the manky old sweatshirt that ends up in the back of your drawers – even though you’re sure you chucked it out last century.

I have seen depression described as a black dog, and a great comic book illustrating it as such, but for me a dog would be a comfort compared to depression. Depression, to me, is a dead weight that you must lug around from room to room, job to job, relationship to relationship. It feeds on you and your inner fears about yourself.

When my first son was born I had post-natal depression. I went to the doctor, practically dragged by my husband, two weeks after the birth and told him I was upset because our sink wasn’t working properly. The house was a mess after the baby. I was still heavy with milk and the midwife said I could get something to help with my sore skin. He listened to all this, with his head cocked to one side, and let me trail off to silence after I was done telling the carpet under my gaze all about my material concerns.

I looked up briefly. He asked me if I had bonded with my baby. I looked at the 7lb bundle sleeping jerkily in his carseat, fourteen days into our lifelong relationship. I was convinced I was not good for him. I was convinced I wasn’t even adequate. My husband was the most stressed I’d ever seen him. My body was an uncontrollable, lurching, leaking disaster after an emergency caesarean. My baby was uncomfortable drinking my milk, drinking formula, drinking reflux formula.
“No.” I said in a shaky whisper. “I want to give him away. I am not a good mother.”

I had fed my baby, rocked his crib for hours, researched ways to help him with his reflux, dressed him, changed him. But I hated holding him. If I picked him up he puked on me. Every time. So, I stopped. I sat at an arm’s length distance to him for around 72 hours. I tried to imagine telling everyone that I was giving him up for adoption – my husband, my parents, my inlaws. I realised that was not going to work. I started to plan running away but I had nowhere to go, and I was still so, so tired from the birth and everything after.

Then I stared at wall for three hours straight and wondered about suicide. I didn’t really feel suicidal but it did seem like a solution that meant both my husband and my baby were off the hook. These two people that I was not actually worthy of, who were being severely hindered by me. My husband made a doctor’s appointment for me during my three hours of quiet contemplation (I’m sure I was meant to have been napping really). I agreed to go because my husband asked me.

Two weeks later, I got offered a talking therapy session with a local counselor. I was really not into this at all but I went because, well, because the look in my husband’s eyes when he looked at me was breaking my heart. I attended a 35 minute ‘introductory’ session. The chap was very miffed that I’d brought my 4 week old newborn (who I was still part-breastfeeding), listened to me talk for a bit, asked if I was sleeping well (I remember my husband and I looked at each other for a moment with a look of despair – we had a four-week old baby, who was the only person getting any sleep round here!), and then declared I was not depressed – just ‘a bit of a worrier’ and I’d feel better when the baby slept.

We left the session. I cried a bit in the car park. I then refused to see anyone else for four months. I pretty much holed myself up in my house, bar trips outside to get nappies and milk if we ran out, and started running headlong into getting back into work of some sort. Our baby went to a childminder two afternoons a week so I could do baby-free chores and tasks, which was actually great for him and me, and this kept me buoyant (or at least in denial) for another couple of months. I was taking care of this baby. At some point, everyone would realise I wasn’t a good mother and then I’d be okay.

Except of course, inevitably, I did fall in love with him. He was my baby. We bonded. And then I was terrified. Terrified that people would realise I was inadequate. That I couldn’t face rhyme time at the library or making purees. That I hated NCT groups and mummy dates and baby swimming. My favourite days were the ones I’d pack him in his buggy and we’d take a train ride somewhere and I’d walk round parks and shops having to talk to no-one, save asking to use the baby change facilities. I could soak up human contact and conversation without having to be properly social. No-one would know I was an inadequate mother if I didn’t spend time with any other mothers.

That’s what depression does. It takes something that should be joyous and challenging and full of discoveries, and turns it into a time of loneliness, fear and a desperate feeling of not being good enough. Of shredding every last ounce of self-esteem and self-respect. It turns you into your worst enemy. It feeds off your inner self doubt.

Eventually, I cracked. I was so tired and so withdrawn and so miserable that when baby turned five months old, I cried for a week solid. My husband had to stay off work just to get me to eat, sleep and wash – and, of course, the baby needed the same things. I would be asleep from 3am-3pm, and then on the sofa as a burrito of misery, wrapped in my duvet and eating a single yoghurt, watching cbeebies and hating all the happy mothers and children.

My husband took me back to the doctors. This time they skipped the talking therapy preliminaries and prescribed an anti-depressant. It had some interesting side-effects – like yawning every three minutes, for five days – but it started to work. I began to come back to a more normal timetable, and a more stable mood. When I stopped crying, I realised that I was still as tired as the day after I’d given birth even though my baby was now a pretty good sleeper. I could barely lift my son in his car seat now. I went back to the doctors.

I had some blood work done and was told to call for the results in a week. The next day I had a message from my surgery, asking me to make an appointment urgently. I attended evening surgery. My thyroid had all but given up, probably in pregnancy, and I needed to take a thryoxine replacement immediately. For me, this was the last piece in the puzzle. The thryoxine and the anti-depressants worked together and I finally felt human again. Still vulnerable, still full of self-doubt – once you begin the self-sabotage of the depressive mindset it does not shake off easily – but getting better.

This story doesn’t have a ‘happy’ ending because, well, depression is a condition that has a habit of turning up and wrecking the kitchen at a party. But I made it through that time. Most people I met, not that I actively sought many out, would not have thought ‘that is a depressed person’ because if I was out of the door, I was able to wear my happy face that day.

And that’s still how it is today. Even if I’m feeling terrible, I personally can usually wear my happy face for a day or two – for important events, like my own wedding day(the year before my wedding I was heaving around the dead weight of undiagnosed depression) . The thing is, I pay for it later on. I usually get physically sick with an infection or virus, that forces me to stay inside and take up the duvet burrito position again. Sometimes I tumble down a metaphorical deep dark stairwell head first into misery.

Mostly I end up self-sabotaging – which is a bit like self-harming but instead involves somehow contriving to bring down your standard of work/output/creativity etc to somewhere around the murky mire depression would have you believe it exists. When I have days like this I am very conscientious not to charge my clients for work, which means I am both poorer than I should be and also sometimes miss deadlines. When I finally worked this out, therapy suddenly seemed both encouraging and financially cheaper than the alternatives.

I have recently started psychoanlaytical and cognitive behaviourial combined therapies to tackle the issues I have hanging over me from depression and its aspects as a mental illness. I describe myself as a broken doll to my boys, and they understand – at least a little – that Mummy is sometimes sick and that can make her not very happy.

If you are/ or think you might be depressed, or know someone that is, it does get better, mostly, for at least a while – and then you might slip and you have to haul yourself up again. You think you’re alone but so many of us are struggling and existing and improving and slipping and improving again. Screw up all your courage and put out your hand for help. Let someone catch hold of you.

Relly’s original post can be found here.

Get support:
Samaritans
NCT Information Sheet: Postnatal Depression
NCT Shared Experiences Helpline
Facebook: Berkshire Postnatal Support Group
House of Light Postnatal Depression Help

15 Jan

Book Review: Bumpology, by Linda Geddes

Bumpology is an attractive and accessible book with a very clear and logical layout, which compensates for the lack of an index. It is as easy to dip into as it is to read from cover to cover; I know because I did both.

This is a marvellously comprehensive collection of research evidence and occasional comment upon the lack of research evidence, for all the advice and received wisdom relating to pregnancy, birth and early parenthood. As Geddes says, the science is out there, but it often takes some digging to find it.

Geddes looks at the big issues such as place of birth, breastfeeding, and all those things you’re told you can’t eat during pregnancy; as well as bringing in some colourful sections on how the growing baby develops in the womb, what senses function from birth, and the role of newborn reflexes. This in itself is a useful part of learning to empathise with the baby, and might influence parenting choices.

I am used to reading far more dogmatic books (from all over the birth and parenting spectrum), so this measured tone is very refreshing. Research in this area on the whole appears to be very thin, often studies are very small or based on the behaviour of lab animals. The book does not offer many definitive answers, but its general message is not to take advice for granted, since much of what we are told from the moment we even start to think about having a baby has no basis in fact. This very important point was made by Octavia Wiseman in a recent Midirs article (July/August 2012:p22), pointing out that much health advice is risk-averse, undermining parental choice, and that “explaining to women the limitation of our evidence base is the first step to take when asking them to make ‘informed’ choices.”

It is lovely that the text is scattered with anecdotes about the author’s personal experience, but for the most part this book is about facts not feelings. It largely ignores ‘soft’ aspects such as how parents feel about risk, and how mothers experience birth and early motherhood. Statistical comparisons of different aspects of birth look at outcomes and define those in terms of health of the baby and mother, taking little account of how women feel during and after the experience. For example lying down or being mobile during labour may make no difference to the outcome in statistical terms, but different women may experience these scenarios as more or less positive. Lying down in a room full of medical staff may feel disempowering; a woman being made to walk around may feel bullied. Working with parents both antenatally and postnatally, I know that scientific evidence may not always be the most important factor when making decisions. A good example of this would be the decision to share a bed with your baby: whether, according to various studies, this increases the risk of cot death; or whether it increases your child’s self-esteem, are less likely to influence the decision to bedshare than the fact that it might just be easier not to have to get up in the night. This does not, of course, detract from the fact that parents can and should be made aware of the evidence in order to make an informed decision; and to be fair, Geddes does not set out to explore the qualitative aspects of parenthood, but to present the facts and figures, and bust the myths: a very worthwhile mission.

I would recommend Bumpology to anyone expecting a baby, but I think it is also essential reading for anyone working with parents, antenatally or postnatally. It is so important for us to get our facts right, to counter the myths and enable parents to be confident in their decision making. Very few of the books I’ve seen are so robustly evidence-based, and an awful lot of people working with parents will repeat advice without giving any critical thought either to the evidence behind it, or the effect it might have in an individual situation.

Bumpology Blog
Sense About Science
Linda Geddes on Radio 4’s Today Programme with Belinda Phipps, CEO of NCT

14 Dec

Book Review: Feed Yourself, Feed Your Family

Feed Yourself Feed Your Family is an attractive La Leche League book packed with information and useful tips. The chapters are ordered chronologically, covering pregnancy, new parenthood/breastfeeding, starting solids, and feeding a family. Each chapter includes a selection of recipes considered appropriate for that particular chapter of your life.

I was concerned that a chapter on eating for breastfeeding would fall into the trap of implying that breastfeeding is demanding if you don’t eat special food, but in fact the book explicitly states that this is not the case (however it does mention the need for 350 extra calories, which is not supported by evidence). This section is brimming with suggestions for food you can eat with one hand, and food you can get other people to cook for you. I especially liked the comment that “you are passing on your culture through your milk,” (p68) and have quoted that in antenatal classes and see the parents nodding.

The book has a slightly american tone, although it’s clear that much of it has been ‘translated’ into British English. Some of the food standards given are american, though this doesn’t detract from the clear, factual approach. My biggest concern with the book was the amount of salt added to almost every recipe, some of which included salt in the cooking, again before tasting, and then a garnish of bacon. The Starting Solids section could have had more emphasis on baby-led weaning, good finger foods, and how to work family meals that baby can eat too.

I didn’t think I could review a recipe book without trying out some of the recipes, so we tried five of them last week. Here’s how it went:

Monday
The Slow Cooker Split Pea Soup (p182) was very convenient for such a busy day; all the ingredients went into the slow cooker at lunchtime, and it just smelled more and more delicious over the course of the afternoon. Recipe books for me are inspiration rather than instruction, so most things get altered in some way. I added pancetta to this vegetarian recipe, to make it more acceptable to my partner and son, both of whom like veggie food but are sometimes a bit tentative when it comes to pulses. The soup went down an absolute treat, and there was enough left for lunch next day. Both of them said they would like me to make it again.

Tuesday
Tortilla Pie with Black Beans (p48) was another hit. This was tasty and cheesy, though it was a mistake for me to plan it for swimming night when I had one hour to cook and eat before rushing out to teach. This vegetarian dish slipped through the net no problem, though it was suggested that we could try it with chicken as well.

Wednesday
We were less enthusiastic about the Chicken & Sugar Snap Pea Saute, which seemed like an odd combination of nice things that didn’t really go together. It was also quite tricky to figure out what would go with this, as it didn’t lend itself well to pasta or rice, so ended up being served with chips.

Thursday
The plan was to make Froelich Family Rice (p137), however on reviewing the recipe at 5pm on Thursday I realised that it involved over an hour of cooking just to produce minced beef with rice. So I’m afraid I cheated completely, got out a packet of rice with vegetables, and cooked up the beef with some herbs, mushrooms and tomatoes, and mixed it all together. The end result was much the same, and they just stopped short of licking the bowl clean.

Friday
I try to include fish in our diet every week, despite not really liking it much myself, so on Friday I made the Fish Chowder (p229), using white fish instead of salmon which I cannot stand. This was the added-saltiest of all the recipes I tried, with salt added twice in the cooking as well as a stock cube and a bacon garnish. This seriously undermined the promise that the book is giving the reader “a blueprint for a lifetime of healthy meals” (p8). As I had forgotten to get the bacon out of the freezer, this was a moot point. My partner and son enjoyed the chowder, though my son as usual when bread is available did mostly eat the bread. I tolerated it and felt virtuous.

I would recommend this book because every chapter there has sensible information and guidance, including practical ideas for cooking while your baby or toddler is around. I would not go out and buy it just for the recipes.

*****
To order Feed Yourself Feed Your Family with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

10 Dec

Running 10k

I can’t do it.
I’ve never done it before.
It will hurt.
My mum couldn’t do it.
It will be really time-consuming.
It’s tiring.
I’m not sure my body’s up to it.
I don’t know how to do it.
I don’t want to do it in public.
I have to do it all, my partner can’t do it for me.
It might be better to drive.

Oh well, I’ll give it a go. But I won’t beat myself up if I can’t do it.

The British 10k, 14th July 2013

05 Dec

Book Review: Vaginal Birth After Caesarean

Vaginal Birth After Caesarean: The VBAC Handbook, by Helen Churchill and Wendy Savage, is a neat little book absolutely packed with useful information for mothers considering a VBAC, and those supporting them.

It is worth reading just for its forthright introduction explaining exactly why the authors choose not to adopt the tentative and controlling jargon often used by health professionals. The careful use of language in the book is in itself empowering.

Reading this book, I learned that 70-80% of VBACs are successful; that the risk of VBAC is lower than the risk of a planned Caesarean; and that the reasons commonly given not to “try” to have a VBAC do not appear to be evidenced across the board. Even the section dealing with higher risk groups shows that in most cases a VBAC can be possible.

The second part of the book includes several VBAC stories, not all of which were successful; however the stories demonstrate and affirm the wide range of experience even within this segment of birth and labour.

This is a useful and succinct guide, and I highly recommend it.

*****
To order aginal Birth After Caesarean with a 25% discount, just follow the link and use the discount code KH25 at the checkout.

30 Nov

Twins: Leo & Isla’s Birth Story

Sharon is a mother of three and an NCT Breastfeeding Counsellor

Imagine our surprise when the sonographer pointed out, ‘Here is the heartbeat, oh, and here is the other heartbeat!’ and there began our very different birth experience. We were already parents to Rosa, now 6 years old, and were looking forward to being parents again. However, this was to be an altogether more complicated event!

We were very keen to have a home delivery with Rosa, and carefully researched the best birth pools on the market. I wanted as natural a delivery as possible. I laboured for the most part at home, but delivered in hospital due to her heartbeat going too high at the last minute. Back home the next day, no complications.

I naively thought we might be able to gun for a similar scenario this time round, but to my surprise, twins were considered ‘high risk’ and I would be strongly advised to deliver in hospital, probably by induction by 37 weeks, and in any case, in theatre. Not what I was hoping for at all. I knew all the risks associated with inductions and managed deliveries (continuous monitoring, more risk of interventions and C-sections) and wanted to do my best to avoid them!

Luckily, I am quite an assertive person so at the many of my antenatal appointments at Royal Berkshire Hospital (monthly scans from 20 weeks for twins!) I clearly set out my concerns to the various consultants and managed to agree to a compromise. Intermittent monitoring and stretch and sweeps to start off with instead of going straight to a routine induction.

Unbelievably, I got to 39 weeks (albeit sporting a giant tummy and unable to move much beyond a slow shuffle) before I finally agreed to be induced. The stretch and sweep hadn’t worked, and the risk of placenta failure after 38 weeks in twin births goes up drastically, so on Monday 15th October I began the induction process at 3pm. My mother was at home looking after my daughter and my husband Jon stayed with me as we waited for the progesterone pessary to take effect.

Nothing much happened initially, so Jon went home that evening and I stayed overnight, contractions not really getting going until later that evening. By the morning, they were much stronger and more regular, and very painful. Unfortunately, despite all this, I remained at 2 cms dilated, so by Tuesday afternoon, it was agreed that my waters would be broken. This really got things underway, and contractions came hard and fast. They were much more painful than I remember with Rosa, but I coped well with gas and air and good old fashioned breathing techniques.

The hospital were careful to remember my wishes and I was able to labour in private with one midwife and my husband, and only have intermittent monitoring of the babies heartbeats. That way, I was able to remain more mobile and hopefully speed labour up a bit.

The last shift change of staff meant that by some strange coincidence, the midwife who delivered our first daughter was with me for the second stage of labour. I reached 10cms and was swiftly taken into theatre for delivery. They tried to put in a spinal block in case I needed forceps assistance or a C-Section to deliver the second twin, but as they tried to put one in, our first twin decided he could wait no longer, and popped his head out!

All I remember at this point was chaos as staff ran around waiting for him to come and decisions were made about what to do if there was a problem with our second twin. Leo Jacob was born at precisely midnight Wednesday 17th October weighing a whopping 7lb 3oz. All was well and he was promptly placed on my chest for some skin-to-skin, before being handed to a very proud Daddy.

Now for twin two! She had been breech during the last few months of my pregnancy, and showed no sign of shifting her position, despite the extra room Leo left for her after his birth, so I ended up delivering her bottom first, much to the surprise of the theatre staff, still only using gas and air! Strangely enough, I felt very much in control at this point which helped me push her out in a rather rapid manner! Isla Estelle was born at 12:15, 6lb 3oz and a little traumatised by her delivery. She was whisked off for some oxygen and got suctioned as she had swallowed a lot of blood. However, she was fine within 5 minutes and went for cuddles with Daddy whilst I was stitched up. I got off rather lightly, I think,with a minor second degree tear.

We were elated by their arrival and were able to stay in a single room to begin to enjoy our babies. Isla took to breastfeeding immediately but Leo wasn’t so interested, and by the middle of the next day, I realised he had quite a pronounced tongue-tie. This meant that he had trouble latching on, and as a result, I had to express my colostrum (a major feat that took an hour for just 1ml!) in order for him to get some sustinence. He was getting dehydrated so the hospital staff were worried enough to keep us in longer, until they were satisfied that he was taking enough.

We finally left hospital in Friday 19th October, with a referral to get Leo’s tongue-tie snipped at a later date.

Looking back, I feel proud that I managed to stand firm and get as close to the birth experience that I wanted. All too often, twins seem to equal unnecessary complications. I am convinced that my positive experience has been beneficial in helping me bond with them, and also succeed in getting breastfeeding established under difficult circumstances. As it stands, it transpired that Isla also had a tongue-tie so both babies had them snipped by an independent lactation consultant at two weeks old and are now doing well. In fact, both are looking very bonny and the frequent feeds have done wonders for my waistline!

Despite the constant feeding, changing what feels like hundreds of nappies and lack of sleep, they really are the most precious gift and memories of painful contractions and hospital drama are fast fading as we look forward to our first Christmas as a family of five!