Inventors and retailers: take note

My phone is jammed with texts from a colleague, due to give birth in the next two weeks. "Did you buy a dummy? What brand?" "Does swaddling really work?" "What brand of nappies, what size and how many do you use a day?". Evidently she's in the middle of a last-minute buying frenzy and is hoping I can shed some light on the many dilemmas facing her. I do my best to give helpful replies, although some of our exchanges highlight the difference between pre and post baby worlds. "Get a plastic laundry bin and put it by the changing table for accidents", I text her, to which she replies, evidently thinking of her tidy and well-organised life at present, "I think I'll just put dirty clothes straight in the washing machine." I have to smile. "In the middle of the night?" I text back and she has to admit that maybe I have a point.

So, a few notes for inventors and retailers about some things they really need to sort out: and these are just the things I've noticed so far. God knows how many more are coming our way...

Retailers:

• Since every single baby book tells you that you need vests (or bodysuits as they seem to be called nowadays) as part of your basic clothing for a baby, it might be an idea to stock them? (that's especially for you, flagship Mothercare on Oxford Street in London!)
• Why is it blue (the same exact shade of blue too) for boys and ooh, every other colour for girls? I've no objection to the pink and blue divide as such but I thought orange, green, yellow etc were for both? Apparently not. 'Neutral' = beige and white. I don't especially want my child to look like a mushroom. Also, I want two children so in buying for the first one, I was fairly keen to buy clothes that might be for either - otherwise I'm might be buying a whole new set for a girl one day... ah, I see why the retailers like this. But it's pretty boring to wear just one colour. It's a bit like those sci-fi films where people wear different colour jumpsuits according to their rank etc. I'd be bored rigid if someone said well you're a woman, therefore you will be wearing yellow, and only yellow, for your whole life. And in this exact shade, too.

Inventors:

• Changing tables: never take your eyes or hands off the baby as they might roll off the edge! Fair enough, so either a) make the sides higher so they can be lifted up like the side of a cot and keep the baby safe or b) add a safety harness? Oddly I've seen changing mats with a safety harness which just implies the baby will roll off the table taking the mat with them - unless it is secretly a parachute?
• Changing tables part two: if they had wheels (with brakes like prams) they could be moved about more easily - e.g. into the bathroom for bath time. Yes, I know some come with a bath built in but I don't really want water all over the nursery floor... that's why my bathroom has tiles.
• Why do the majority of pram features (and many other baby items) require two hands to operate? I have a baby taking up at least one arm and hand. One-handed for everything, please.
• Why do Pampers perform better than all other brands of disposable nappies? I'm not sponsored by them, honest. I bought 6 brands before our baby was born, including two eco-friendly ones which I rather hoped would be the winners. Pampers won hands down for non-bulkiness (some of the brands reminded me of really old fashioned sanitary towels for bulkiness) and small numbers of leaks. Talking to other parents most seemed to agree. I used to work for a large retailer and industrial espionage and copying was rife. How come no other brand is able to copy whatever it is Pampers are doing? 

In praise of fathers: we need some new attitudes, books and policies

How do single parents manage? This was the question that occurred to me and every other (partnered) mother I know very soon after giving birth. Having our partners there for physical support, having someone else to hold the baby, make meals, change nappies/clothes/bedlinen etc was as nothing compared with having someone there to turn to and ask 'Am I doing this right?' and 'What do you think we should do?' Even if they didn't have an answer, being able to ask the question still helps. My husband was wonderful at the birth and brilliant afterwards. All the dads I know (friends, NCT group, etc) are also great - involved, positive, in love with their babies (classic question: "Why is our baby so beautiful when all the other ones in this hospital are so ugly?" - umm, because you're his daddy?!).

Despite this enthusiasm, parenting books are spectacularly patronising to fathers. It's all about the mother and any advice given (to the mother about the father) is along the lines of "He may not be that into the pregnancy but give him a chance, he'll come round eventually. Meanwhile, don't mention it too much." The books aimed at men are worse. The bottom line here is "Rotten luck, mate, she's only gone and got pregnant. Well you'll just have to deal with it now... but here's how to still get your beers and nights out with the lads." The only halfway-decent tone I've come across was in two books - How to Be a Great Dad by Ian Bruce and The New Father by Armin Brott which are very much more positive. But just two against many... perhaps a few more to tip the balance wouldn't hurt.. and a few less of the negative books?

I know not all fathers are great, but the ones I have met so far amongst my friends and at the NCT class we attended have been full of effort and commitment, and perhaps, just perhaps, if the literature were not so woman-focused while being so patronising and off-putting to men, some of the less keen fathers might be won over. The NCT classes that we attended was the first time I saw the men given a positive role to play and they seemed to enjoy the experience and learn from one another - not just practical things but a sense of excitement and anticipation. Even in that class, though, one session (led by a different teacher) suddenly reversed that. The session leader insisted that the first hour after birth should be skin to skin contact between mother and baby alone. I asked what about the fathers and she very sternly said that the fathers would just have to wait their turn, that it was essential for breastfeeding that the skin to skin was between mother and child only. I mentally filed this under 'rubbish'. Sure enough, my son was born by C-section and my husband was the one to hold him for over an hour before I had any skin-to-skin contact at all. He breastfed just fine. A change in attitude is badly needed.

I mentioned this alienation of fathers to my friend, due at a similar time to me, just before I gave birth. She had just given birth and her response was - if you think the books are patronising, wait till you give birth, when men are considered entirely irrelevant! Sadly she was proven right. I was induced and it took four days before my son was born. Every night, I had to stay in the hospital while my husband was sent home. Every day my contractions started - and then stopped as he went home. In the NCT classes we attended the importance of oxytocin was stressed - the 'love hormone' key to getting labour going and keeping it going - and how it was very much boosted by having a loved one nearby. Alone in a hospital, awaiting my first baby, no wonder the love hormone deserted me every night as my husband was chucked out. The ruling is that men cannot stay on the wards for the sake of privacy. But there are curtains round every bed and the men are allowed to stay all day - my husband and I sat opposite a woman who had very strong contractions for hours and hours before she was taken up to the labour ward proper - we kept our curtains closed, as did she - what's the difference at night?

Might be time for a rethink on policies in hospitals, perhaps offering women the choice - a ward where men stay over or one where it is women-only. I would happily have tolerated other husbands being around if I could have kept mine by my side. And maybe, if he had stayed, the induction process would not have taken four days...

Smiling in the Dark

All the baby books agree - at nighttime, when feeding your baby, don't get them all excited by interacting with them. Keep the lights low, keep talking and eye contact to a minimum. In this way the baby will get the message that daytime is fun whereas nighttime is well, a bit dull and they'd be better off sleeping through it.

I agree with this. The middle of the night is not the time to be showing off the new mobile/squeaky toy, or dancing about to music. I've stuck to the advice. My son is coming up for seven weeks old now and I'm impressed that he can really tell the difference between night and day. In the daytime he will feed and then get all alert - smiling, cooing, thrashing arms and legs about and gazing at anything interesting (although my black and white dressing gown often seems as interesting as my face, which is a bit disheartening, my moisturiser is evidently not doing it's job...). At night, though, he will feed and then drift off back to sleep, for an average total of about 12 hours (I, of course, only get my sleep in the three- or four-hour blocks between feeds but still...).

But the last few nights, although he has continued to stay sleepy and relaxed, he has begun to smile at me when I take him into the next room for a feed. A huge, beaming, happy smile. The first night I responded (it's very hard not to smile back at a smiling baby), although I was a bit tentative, thinking he might take this as a signal to wake up fully. But he didn't. His body clock is better than I gave him credit for.

So now, as my reward for getting up for nighttime feeds, we smile in the dark.

A Mother Was Born

I had two miscarriages before I had my baby son in September 2011. I'm grateful they were early (only 5 weeks both times) as I know friends who have suffered the absolute agony of much much later miscarriages. I don't know how they bore it. Mine still make tears come to my eyes. I read a news piece which said that women who had miscarriages had a higher rate of heart problems, which the scientists still seemed a bit confused by. I wasn't. The minute I read that I thought yes, that's because they were literally broken hearted. Sometimes the emotional response outweighs the logical one.

When my husband and I started trying for a baby, I got pregnant the very first time, lost it and then it took a whole year (almost exactly to the month) to get pregnant again. Just as I was about to arrange tests etc. to see what was wrong I got pregnant for the second time and lost it again, which felt like a real slap round the face: not only had I lost a baby again, at the same time of year and after the same duration but it had taken a whole year to get pregnant again - what if this just kept happening and the years slipped away?

I went to the GP but the NHS regards anything less than 3 miscarriages in a row as perfectly normal. I suppose this is comforting as you feel your chances are still good but it also made me feel a bit like I just had to wait for a third miscarriage to happen so I could get some help... not the best feeling. My GP said (I think she meant well) that I should try and 'relax' - this was not the most helpful advice!

So these are a few things that did help me, in case they help anyone else: in no particular order -

• Plan to Get Pregnant by Zita West, a straightforward book which looks at every aspect of getting pregnant and gives helpful advice.
• Acupuncture with a lovely acupuncturist, Justyna Gorska at Neal's Yard Therapy Rooms, Covent Garden. I went to her and said just try to help me relax (I had a stressful house renovation going), never mind about getting pregnant right now. I needed to feel I was doing something and not just waiting for a third miscarriage to happen. She did some amazing things - I thought I had a pretty regular period but she got it to 29 days exactly, even changed recurring dreams so they became gentler versions of themselves and one day stuck a needle in a 'heart' point (I never ask what she's doing, she told me afterwards) and I burst into tears instantly and lay there sobbing with huge grief for a few minutes. I'd never had acupuncture before but heartily recommend it. Later, when I did get pregnant, she did a lot of treatments to support the pregnancy which I found very morally supportive.
• Allowing myself to imagine a life without being able to have children - would we go for IVF? Adopt? Would we just accept the situation and enjoy a child-free life? I think this helped because if you imagine 'the worst' actually it's not such a terrible future as when you don't allow yourself to imagine it at all. It frees you up.
• Having different people to express emotions to. I had a great friend who also had issues getting pregnant and discussing it with her was wonderful because she totally understood the emotions without having to spell them out. Equally, though, another friend was trying for a baby (and had one very quickly and successfully) and with her I talked about having babies, without discussing my issues - just the excitement of trying and what it would be like, names, clothes, toys etc. Later she told me she had felt a little guilty for having a baby so easily when I was still trying, but only ever talking to her about the exciting possibility of children (and not the difficulties) was truly helpful because it made me feel I really would have babies one day.
• And finally I have to mention... the fertility chair. I think a lot of offices have them but no-one admits to it because it sounds silly. I used to work for a major retailer with four thousand employees just at Head Office and we had one there - six women in quick succession got pregnant sitting in it. Our boss got to the point where he said no more women were to sit in it ever again. I don't know if it went on to work for the men... But my new (much smaller) company also had such a chair. The first woman in it had twins. Her maternity cover replacement got pregnant and when she left we all joked about the chair and it sat empty for a while. I eventually took it (not with the deliberate intention of getting pregnant from it) - and got pregnant (and kept it) within a month after a year and a half of trying. When I tell this story to people they often admit there is such a chair in their office too. Got to be worth a second thought...

It might seem odd to start a blog about being a mother with my miscarriages. But on the first day of my son's life I wept because he was so lovely and I suddenly saw what the two lost babies might have been like. I recently read a poem in How Mothers Love (by Naomi Stadlen). It was written by Alice Meynell, who lost her baby at birth. She went on to have eight more children but it took her ten years to write about the first one:

But oh, ten years ago, in vain,

A mother, a mother was born.