17 Jun

Breastfeeding support matters, but it’s not all about the individual

Will breastfeeding, too, one day have its historian-chronicler who tries to unravel the train of events leading to the early 21st century’s failed mass alternative-nutrition child-feeding trials?
– James Akre in the Huffington Post

I recently heard a talk by researcher and breastfeeding advocate Maureen Minchin (and interviewed her for Episode 15 of Sprogcast), in which she discussed exactly this question. Her new book Milk Matters picks up from and expands upon her 1985 book Breastfeeding Matters, a detailed and dense book covering both the political history of breastfeeding in modern times, and specific information on the management of breastfeeding which is useful for both mothers and health professionals alike. In person, her tone is as assertive and her views as uncompromising, as they come across in this book. In 1985, Minchin wrote “Those who conceal information, for the sake of sparing mothers anxiety, are doing greater harm.” She still firmly believes this.

Quoting, with irony, an old Cow & Gate advert, Minchin says that “what you feed them now matters forever.” Her milk hypothesis is that breastmilk is the bridge from the womb to the world, enabling the baby to develop a healthy microbiome, which regulates the immune system and optimises development. Furthermore early nutrition is the single biggest influence on gene expression following birth.

There is plenty of evidence for this, and emerging evidence that exposure to cows’ milk protein actively interferes with gene expression, triggering a trajectory of growth not only for the life of that baby, but if she is a girl, for her children and grandchildren too. More details about this can be found in her presentation here.

Minchin accurately predicted a backlash against honesty about the risks of not breastfeeding, and cites the huge vested interests of the baby milk industry, which has successfully divided mothers for decades, co-opting the phrase “breast is best” to create an aspirational ideal, and undermining breastmilk as the normal infant food for our species.

Why is it so hard to talk about breastfeeding in a positive and helpful way, that doesn’t incite an emotional response? The day after hearing Minchin speak, I was at the Association of Breastfeeding Mothers (ABM) annual conference in Birmingham, listening to speakers who truly understand the challenges of supporting individual mothers, in a social context that is not supportive of breastfeeding. The health, social, and emotional issues are the background noise against which we all work with mothers; but too much of what society knows about breastfeeding comes from a middle class media that categorises women according to the way they feed their baby. As Lactation Consultant Sally Etheridge pointed out at the ABM conference, “just because a mother isn’t breastfeeding, it doesn’t mean she didn’t want to.”

Earlier this year, a report in The Lancet demonstrated that the UK has the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world. Whose responsibility is it to change this? Those whose vested interests lie in women breastfeeding less would have us believe that anyone offering breastfeeding support is a member of the Milk Mafia, with an earnest belief in boosting those numbers bleeding nipple by bleeding nipple. Breastfeeding happens within a complex socio-economic context, and a focus on public health rather than on individuals does not preclude individual support. In fact the goal of most breastfeeding supporters is to help improve individual mothers’ experiences, to support their feeding decisions, and to empower women to make those decisions. According to researcher Heather Trickey at the ABM conference (also on the next episode of Sprogcast), it is not the responsibility of the feeding supporters, or of any individual mother, to improve breastfeeding rates; it is the responsibility of society, of the health services, of government. The only people who gain from pussy-footing around women’s feelings about breastmilk and formula are those who make a profit from exploiting mothers, to the detriment of public health.

[Cross-posted from the Huffington Post]

01 Jun

Book review: The Secrets of Birth, by Kicki Hansard

The Secrets of Birth is a book born out of Kicki Hansard‘s extensive experience of supporting birthing women. This book is intended for pregnant women, and aims to reveal five secrets that will help them during birth and the transition to motherhood.

The five secrets can be sorted into two main themes: the first three tell us that childbirth is a normal physiological process, and the last two that becoming a mother is a major personal transformation. This is useful and interesting information, and Hansard covers important topics including straightforward birth, hormones, skin to skin, and the benefits of a calm, safe environment, very effectively.

She goes on to discuss the transformational process of birth, a time when women have “nowhere to hide,” (p72) and a great opportunity for growth. I would have liked to read about this in greater detail, as few books (Naomi Stadlen excepted) seem to focus on this except in the most superficial way.

Hansard obviously has a wealth of experience with women in the birthplace, however this comes across as being a fairly small section of society, since the first chapter discusses at some length the pros and cons of engaging a private obstetrician; and of course the majority of her experience refers to her own clientele, a self-selecting group of people who hired a doula. There are several parts of the book which read like a manifesto about the state of birth in the UK, which may not be generally useful for expectant parents. The language and concepts discussed are more appropriate for birth professionals. One could argue that this subject matter needs to be more widely talked about (but one cannot then argue, for example, that the NCT is “too academic” (p16) in their approach).

I am always wary of birth professionals who appear to set themselves up in opposition to other birth professionals, and some of Hansard’s secrets seem to imply distrust of obstetricians (p12), midwives (p15), hypnobirthing (p38), and even the father as birth partner (p32). While much of the book is based in the author’s experience and personal opinion, there are some well-referenced and useful points, and good signposting to a range of sources. The short section on natural caesarean is one of the book’s highlights. The final chapters consist mostly of birth stories, supporting the various points made earlier in the book.

While The Secrets of Birth is probably not the first book I would offer a pregnant woman, I think it would be a very interesting read for doulas in training, or anyone supporting a birth or a new mother.

[Disclosure: Kicki sent me a review copy of her book – thanks!]

24 May

Date Night

Ten years ago, heavily pregnant, I said goodbye to a regular monthly social group that I knew I wouldn’t be coming back to for a little while. ‘Make sure you get out as a couple as soon as you can,’ was their parting advice. Looking forward to meeting my baby, and anticipating the tired and intense times to come, the advice fell on stony ground.

A few weeks later, my partner’s sister arrived to ‘take me out and make me feel like a girl again.’ I still have no idea what this means, but I let her come with me to the Bumps & Babies group. My first real Date Night with my partner came about when our baby was nearly six months old, and a kind friend from our NCT group babysat while we went out for a meal. We were home by 9.30pm. So out of the habit of lingering over food, and with nothing much to talk about that we couldn’t discuss at home, the whole thing felt like a waste of planning.

We were a tired team of two, rewriting ourselves as a family, moving on from the responsibility-free zone that was our life as a couple. The focus of our relationship was no longer exclusively each other. There were many, many challenges; not least the pressure to go out and ‘be ourselves.’ Our selves were growing into something new, not constantly seeking something lost. When Date Nights were more of a chore to arrange than a treat to enjoy, they added to the challenges.

Having a child undoubtedly changes a relationship, and pressure to get back to ‘normal’ can make it harder to adjust. Time spent together does not have to exclude the baby, especially in those early weeks when newborns will sleep quietly in someone’s arms. Meals out can happen at lunchtime. Couple time may be snatched and precious, but it is the support and consideration that builds a relationship and maintains it through these dramatic changes.

Date Nights still aren’t a very frequent occurrence, and they can still take a reasonable amount of planning (grandparent visits, sleepovers with friends, and so on). But now we can enjoy them on our own terms, the experience is finally worth the effort.

Sprogcast 14 is all about sex and relationships, and we interview agony aunt Dr Petra Boynton about how to maintain and nurture a loving partnership after the birth of a child.

[Cross-posted on Huffington Post]

15 May

Reading Half Marathon

A few years ago, I took it upon myself to start running. This seemed a bit bonkers at the time; I’m not unfit but I’m not young either, and it took a year (including time off for a sprained ankle) to comfortably run 5k. Fast forward to January this year when our local NCT Committee started to talk about fundraising to train Breastfeeding Peer Supporters. We need about £5000 to train a group of 12 women to support local mothers, and when someone suggested running Reading Half Marathon in March, for some reason I thought it seemed like a good idea.

I lost no time in booking my place, otherwise I would certainly have changed my mind. I don’t really enjoy running, I just do it so that I can eat cake. Luckily my son is now in school, and my work is quite flexible, so I was able to fit most of the training into the working week. I looked at various training plans but since I don’t understand words like “fartlek” I just decided to increase my mileage week by week. This turned out to be moderately successful, and three weeks before the race, I ran ten miles on Saturday morning, and actually enjoyed the whole thing (as well as the enormous lunch I ate afterwards).

A few days later, I enjoyed another 5 miles, but then the twinges started in my left leg. I now know I had torn my plantaris – the muscle running down the side of my leg and joining to my foot. This is likely to be because I increased my mileage too rapidly. At the time, I took the decision to stop running, and swim regularly until race day, and accept that I would probably walk some of it.

On the day of the race, I met up with some friends who were there to give support; they went off to wait at the bottom of the first big hill, and I joined the queue for the start. As a slow runner, I was starting near the back, and it took about half an hour for me even to reach the start line. I managed to pace myself well at the beginning, and was so distracted by the crowds and the costumes and all the charity t-shirts around me, that I barely noticed the first couple of miles. Then I came to the hill, and my friends waved and offered me jelly babies (which I refused; I hate jelly babies). Having run up the hill twice already in training, I knew exactly what to expect, and proudly powered up it. By the top I was very glad to know the first drink station was soon approaching.

I continued steadily on through the university, down Kendrick Road, and into town where my boyfriend and son were waiting to cheer me through at 6.5 miles. They then cut across while I ran round Forbury Gardens, and waved again at 7.5 miles. As I ran away from them, I started to feel despondent: I was only half way, and running all that again felt like such a big ask. And then it turned out that there was another huge hill connecting Oxford Road and Tilehurst Road, which came as a horrible shock. The only thing that got me up that hill was knowing I had another friend who had come all the way from Milton Keynes just to cheer me on, waiting at the top of it.

After that it was run-walk all the rest of the way; my head lost the battle before my legs did. Even though I knew there was going to be some walking, I was still disappointed by it. Yesterday I booked my place in next year’s Half, and there are two things I will do differently: train more gradually, and arrange for targeted support from mile 8 onwards. Like a new mother breastfeeding her baby, I know now that the more support I have, the more likely I am to have a positive experience and a satisfying end to my journey.

09 May

Book Review: You’ve Got It In You, by Emma Pickett

You’ve got it in you is a chatty, positive little book packed with very useful information for breastfeeding mothers. In fact it begins with the decision to breastfeed, explaining the importance of gathering your support and doing your research well before the birth of your baby. It then takes a roughly chronological journey through the experience of breastfeeding, starting with the importance of skin to skin and a gentle transition into the world. The contents of the book are so closely aligned to what I would say myself that it’s impossible not to read without nodding constantly, going ‘yes, yes, yes.’ It’s all so very sensible.

Emma Pickett’s friendly (sometimes a little brisk) narrative voice can be heard clearly throughout the book; it might feel like having a kind and experienced breastfeeding counsellor sitting alongside you, giving you both reassurance and information at critical times. I found the switch between “we” and “you” and “they” slightly confusing, and sometimes this gave it a slightly nanny-like tone; but in general the language used is clear and accessible, and this is definitely a book I would offer to a new mother, whether she needed help, or just as a companion.

The detailed signposting in the book could be extremely useful, however the weblink formatting doesn’t really work in print, and of course there is the danger of going out of date. This is where a QR code or some other way of accessing online references would be useful. Reading this academically, I wanted to see more references to support some of the information given, partly so that I could share it myself with confidence. Some pictures might also be helpful, in the section on positioning and attachment.

In addition to good quality information for breastfeeding mothers, the book also includes a handy little chapter for grandparents, information about safer bedsharing, and even details of how to train as a breastfeeding counsellor yourself. This would have been a great book for me as a new mother, but I also recommend it to anyone supporting new families. It’s one of the best books on breastfeeding that I have read.

[Disclosure: Emma sent me a review copy of this book]

22 Apr

Modern Living and Mucky Kids

My reading material lately has been exhorting me to switch off my screens, talk to my child, and get out into the garden a bit more, to get my hands muddy. According to both Mama, and The Microbiome Effect, we are becoming physiologically and psychologically damaged by modern life.

According to Antonella Gambotto-Burke, mothers are damaging their children by existing in a society that doesn’t value motherhood. She longs for a time when children were healthier and happier, but doesn’t pinpoint exactly when that might have been. Recalling my own childhood in the 1970s and 80s, it’s true that I spent more time outdoors, but that might be because we lived in a Cumbrian village, not a Berkshire commuter town. I can also remember my mother working full time as well as running the home, and my father being far less hands-on and involved than my partner is in the home and in co-parenting our child. AGB claims that modern fathers are vanishing from their children’s lives, and an epidemic of divorce is ripping society apart. Again, my parents’ divorce when I was 15 was tough at the time, but the real tragedy would have been the misery of them staying together, especially if they had stayed together for the sake of my brother and me. I am certain that prioritising the children does not necessarily mean preserving the marriage.

Call me a hard-nosed bitch, but I can’t think of a time when children have been a higher priority both socially and within families. Look at the lengths some parents go to, to acquire them. We also have a wealth of knowledge about attachment and brain development, as well as a supportive network of health and social care professionals to help us use this knowledge. I’m not saying it’s adequate; the rate of closure of Children’s Centres is appalling; and there are countering social and financial pressures that keep parents at work more than most of them would probably like. But it is a lot more than my mum had. I wouldn’t say that society is failing mothers more now than at any time in the past; I would say that motherhood has never been a valued role, but to romanticise earlier times seems unhelpful.

Meanwhile in The Microbiome, Toni Harman tells me that now she knows what she does about the human microbiome, she aims to live a microbial life, getting a dog and doing the gardening, and eschewing the anti-bacterial in all its forms, because of the potential long-term effects on our health of a too-clean lifestyle. I discussed this with her for episode 13 of Sprogcast, and again it seems like modern technology is damaging babies, in this case by not seeding the gut with good bacteria at birth. Too many caesarean births and not enough breastfeeding means that the human race is gradually losing its ability to protect itself from disease. Scientists supporting this viewpoint make some strong theoretical arguments, but as yet the evidence simply does not exist. My fear is that a focus on speculation about damage to the microbiome distracts from the big issues around birth and breastfeeding, where we do have plenty of evidence about long term health consequences.

Having said that these books challenged me, I did find some points to agree with, and have tried to cut down on screen time at home. My partner and child indulge me but are less than thrilled about no-screen Sundays. The kid has disappeared off to play outside; I really must get him digitally tagged in some way…

11 Apr

Book Review – Mama: Love, Motherhood and Revolution, by Antonella Gambotto-Burke

Reading Mama is like reading two interleaving books: one collection of vignettes painting a glorious picture of Antonella Gambotto-Burke’s ineffable love for her daughter; and one collection of essays and interviews about parenting in the modern world. There is only the most tenuous connection between the two.

Taking them separately, the vignettes form a profound tribute to love of her family, with whimsical stories of moments when her daughter has made her proud; but also dark tales of her own childhood, displaying a deep resentment of her own emotionally absent parents. The link between the two books, such as it is, is the attempt to explore and understand her own experiences of mothering and being mothered, in the context of the pressures of today’s society. She has learned from her own mother that motherhood has little value in itself, and honestly reports on her realisation of the importance of the slow pace of parenting, that the little things: “kissing, nursing, coddling, caring,” (p60) are really not so little; and yet are perceived by society to be low priorities.

The thesis of the second book is that this society is broken when it comes to parenthood, in that nobody other than a few select parents actually value or appreciate what parenting is, and how it works. This is supported with reference to literature, and interviews with a number of experts who generally make strong statements about how parents (as a generic group) are getting it wrong. Presumably excluding themselves, they largely see parents as a feckless, economically-driven crowd, so welded to their smartphones that they are unable and unwilling to give their children the proper amount of attention. This dysfunctionality is blamed for a range of social and mental health disorders from autism to AGB’s brother’s suicide. There is much handwringing over examples of parenting that have been witnessed by AGB and her interviewees.

Some of the interviewees unfold coherent and interesting arguments demonstrating the feminist nature of motherhood. Stephanie Coontz extends this to argue for the democratisation of care in general. This was the book that I wanted and expected to read, and I was frustrated by the much less coherent inclusion for example of the slow chapter on slow living, and the absolutely harrowing chapter about IVF. Some of the conversations, however, explore the strange and fallacious idea that the world is an unhealthy place, “toxic to children,” (p100), as if there was a time when all childhood was blissful and perfect. Perhaps this was the 1970s; I’m fairly certain that for most of the existence of humanity, children have had to muddle along with the rest of us, taking greater responsibilities at a younger age, subject to real hardship. When the focus shifts to fatherhood, AGB accuses men of “vanishing” (p178) from their children’s lives, yet when in history have fathers been expected to be more hands-on? Steve Biddulph on p83 claims that the children of hunter-gatherers were smarter; how can he possibly know this? And how are modern children even comparable to those whose life expectance was a fraction of ours? Modern concepts of attachment parenting are a very different thing.

AGB is an intelligent writer, and she has had access to some big names in parenting and child psychology. Her feminism rings loud and clear through this book; this is her manifesto for a society that recognises the contribution of mothers. Without the anecdotal chapters, it would be a very earnest book, making some fairly controversial points. Perhaps controversy is necessary to kick-start this important conversation.

After a final chapter on the nature of marriage and what it means to her (a dogmatic view that only marriage – not cohabiting – can facilitate continuity and commitment), AGB bravely completes the book with a heartbreaking epilogue about the horribly ironic end of her own marriage, which must have broken down even as she was writing about her love for her husband. It is hard to read, after some of her strong words (supported by several of her interviewees) about couples not making enough effort to stay together for the sake of their children, and the contribution of divorce to the dysfunctional disconnectedness of society. One wonders where she can go from here, in her thinking and her writing.

Mama presents some important ideas, though none of them are particularly new. I am frustrated and conflicted by this book, which comes out of a deeply personal self-exploration: AGB’s discovery that motherhood should not, after all, be a lesser status; and her shock that the rest of society has not yet figured this out. Because the state of motherhood does include vulnerability, and sacrifice, and menial work; but that does not mean that it wrecks our lives or that we are lesser people for doing it. In many ways, the motherhood she discovered lives up to her own expectations, but she is able to recognise the strengths that mothers must find to fulfil this role in the face of society’s judgement, and the lack of support from the community:

“At the most vulnerable time of their lives, mothers are repeatedly failed by the community.” (p24)

This disconnected, tech-obsessed world is the one we have, and I would rather read a manifesto for the future than a polemic moan about the state of the present, suffused with nostalgia for a rose-tinted past. This is an interesting, challenging read, which left me with much to reflect on.

[Disclosure: I was sent a free review copy of Mama by the publishers Pinter & Martin]

21 Mar

Media manages to shut Jamie Oliver up over breastfeeding. Nice one.

As soon as Jamie Oliver opened his mouth, it was open season for bashing the breastfeeding supporters once again. To be fair, his choice of words was poor. ‘It’s easy, it’s more convenient, it’s more nutritious, it’s better, it’s free,’ he said. Well, it’s certainly free.

Cue a whole cornucopia of articles arguing the rest of those points, largely from journalists who experienced a variety of difficulties in feeding their own babies, most of whom seem to be using this most inappropriate platform to debrief their feelings of guilt and anger and disappointment.

The typical argument goes something like this:

He’s a man. How dare he stand up for women?
It’s not even true. How dare he say that breastfeeding is a good thing? Lots of women can’t do it. I couldn’t do it.
Breastfeeding support is all about pressuring you to continue. All my friends said so too.

This argument is generally concluded with either “I actually fed my baby for 18 months but don’t beat yourself up if you can’t;” or “I gave my baby formula and she’s fine and I’m fine so shut up.”

And this is how journalists manage to perpetuate the social and cultural difficulty of breastfeeding. I have no problem with them reminding us that breastfeeding can be hard; this is supported by experience and by evidence. The sadly now-discontinued Infant Feeding Survey showed in 2010 the drop-off rate from around 80% to around 55% of mothers breastfeeding their babies by six weeks, and 34% at six months (none of this is exclusive breastfeeding, just a baby getting any breastmilk at all). The 2005 survey showed that 90% of the mothers who stopped by six weeks, had planned to breastfeed for longer. This is the statistic that we should be shouting about, because this represents all that guilt and anger and disappointment.

We need to stop setting up straw man arguments like the Smug Self-Righteous Lactivist, and ask why councils are closing down breastfeeding support services run by highly-trained breastfeeding counsellors and attended by huge numbers of mothers. To take one example, 17% of all new mothers attended the Hampshire drop-ins, and 98% of them would recommend the service to others. This doesn’t speak of pushy, pressurising, “well-meaning” (translation: “ineffectual”) supporters who spout about “breast is best” and insist you carry on no matter what.

Generally speaking, breastfeeding counsellors are trained to listen and support women (and sometimes men); to give them a safe space to figure out what they want to do and how they want to do it; and to share information to help with that decision making. Breastfeeding counsellors don’t use words like “easy” and “convenient,” mainly because their experience is of working every single day with women who are not finding it easy or convenient. Nor do they use such phrases as “breast is best,” since they are well aware that parents tend not to make feeding decisions on the basis of evidence about nutrition. No, parents make decisions on the basis of what’s happening to them at the time. Telling a struggling mother to continue doing something that is making her miserable, because it is best for her child, is contrary to the philosophies and the training of all the UK breastfeeding support organisations.

Yes, Jamie oversimplified breastfeeding in his statement on the radio, but that was a droplet compared with the oversimplification of the state of breastfeeding that followed, media-wide. Well done for enabling a backlash that prevented someone speaking out for supporting women.

17 Mar

Book Review: The Psychology of Babies, by Lynne Murray

Lynne Murray is a Professor of Developmental Psychology at Reading University, and this is her second book. Her first book, The Social Baby, is an essential tool for most antenatal teachers, and really useful for parents too. The Psychology of Babies is a very detailed text on psychological development from birth to the age of 2, richly illustrated with photographed sequences showing interactions between babies and their parents.

Subtitled “How relationships support development,” the central focus is on how sensitive parenting supports a range of developments in the areas of social understanding and co-operation, attachment, self-regulation and control, and cognitive development. The book provides an academic level of information and is extremely well-referenced. It would certainly be useful to anyone studying child development or working with families and children. It may well also be interesting to parents, however there are more accessible texts such as What Every Parent Needs To Know, which I would be inclined to suggest as an alternative.

As a general read, I found it a bit heavy, and would be more likely to dip into particular sessions. In some places the photographs are too small for any useful detail to come across, although they are all captioned with explanations.

The chapter on self-regulation covers infant sleep, however there is a real contradiction in the way Murray writes about attachment, promoting sensitive parenting (see pages 74 and 78, for example), and the advice to discourage reliance on the parent when it comes to bedtime; and she fails to address the “ethical questions of whether it is acceptable to leave babies to cry for any length of time” (p164), in any meaningful way. It’s clear that despite her comments in the Independent interview linked above, she subscribes to the notion that babies shouldn’t rely on their parents to settle at night.

There is a very interesting section on supporting babies to settle into childcare settings, which could be useful and reassuring for parents in this situation. This includes discussion of research into the effects of childcare on social and emotional development, and the importance of high quality care.

The section covering the introduction of solid foods is disappointing, with its limited focus on spoon feeding, starting from five months, and nothing on developmental signs of being ready for solids, which arguably would fit the remit of this book.

The final part that I want to mention is the pages covering TV and books in relation to cognitive development. This is something that could be usefully and effectively shared with parents, particularly in light of the huge force of commercialism pressuring parents to buy Stuff to entertain and educate their children.

I enjoyed leafing through this book, and will take some ideas into my work, but it would not be the first book that I recommended for new parents to read.

17 Mar

If only someone had told me…

In the first few weeks and months of parenthood, new mothers and fathers very often comment on the range of knowledge they were missing, and skills they didn’t have, to cope with this new experience. If they paid for antenatal classes, at least they have someone to blame for the gaping mismatch between expectation and reality; but the majority of new parents do very little formal preparation, and unsurprisingly say the same sort of things.

To misquote Tolstoy, “each new family is new in its own way.” This presents a challenge when it comes to helping a couple to prepare for parenthood. Living in the midst of extended family, as they might have done 100 years earlier, the whims and wiles of the newborn baby would have been somewhat less mysterious; or at least the family elders could have helped to unravel some of those mysteries. New mothers might have found themselves less isolated. New fathers might have had more clearly-defined roles. And there would have been none of this pesky research into attachment and brain development, less pressure to have it all, and not so much of an expectation to be the perfect parent.

“I wish someone had told me that cluster feeding is normal… that formula isn’t evil… what ‘broken sleep’ really means…” they say, or write, with the authority of the first fully enlightened human being to have studied this matter. Emerging from the newborn fug into the crystal clarity of a new mum or dad who is finally getting a bit of sleep, the simmering resentments about the truly unexpected turns in their road, and the vast range of surprises that society simply forgot to mention, become pronouncements upon The Things I Have Learned, From Which You Too Must Benefit.

As an antenatal educator, I am often advised of the many ways in which I failed to prepare people for what it’s really like to have a baby, and find yourself relentlessly on call to a tyrannical but adored bundle of cute, who speaks no language that you know, and for whose health and well-being you are entirely responsible.

And I know I would have mentioned cluster feeding, and can think of any number of reasons why they might not have really taken it on board: were they focused on the impending birth to the extent that this was too abstract to be meaningful? Did they think this would never happen to them? Was it one small forgotten detail, many weeks ago now, lost in the fog? Is it actually possible to convey the real intensity of early breastfeeding, with the language we have at our disposal?

I also know I didn’t say that that formula was evil. In fact I may well have given examples of making a positive decision to use it. I explained about milk supply and responsive parenting and feeding cues, but I don’t believe that formula is evil, so why would I have said it? Is it perhaps that they expected me to say that, and didn’t really listen to what I actually said? Or did someone else say it, and they misremember it as being me?

As for sleep: well, some babies sleep, and some babies don’t sleep, and your interpretation of broken might be different from mine. The challenge is to drill down through platitudes and unrealistic expectations, without frightening the living daylights out of people who can’t predict what’s coming their way. In a society where people with some medical or scientific authority still insist, in the face of the evidence, that babies “should” sleep in a certain way, it’s not surprising that the sporadic and uncontrollable nature of newborn sleep should be hard for parents to manage.

I call for people to carry on being this honest about their experiences as new parents, but not to assume their experience is universal, nor to blame the people offering information and support for the fact that parenthood is not, in every way, as you expected. Join your voice to ours in increasing the support available. Ask the government not to cut funding to essential services such as Children’s Centres and breastfeeding support groups. And don’t be part of the problem by telling other parents-to-be what to do: every new family is new in its own way.