Sleep

Last night B slept in his own cot from 8pm when I put him to bed, till 5.30am. That's nine and a half hours without waking. I think this must be an all time record for him. I went to sleep around 11.30 which means I had six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I haven't had that much unbroken sleep since he was born, and it feels good. At 5.30am he came into our bed and fell asleep without even asking for mummy milk. He slept till 6.10, had a feed and then slept again until 8am. Let's hope it continues!

Night Weaning

A few weeks ago I decided that I need sleep more than B needs breast milk during the night. The night we started, I explained to him that he is a big boy and he should be sleeping at night and not drinking mummy-milk. I told him that if he needs a drink in the night he can have water, but he won't be allowed mummy-milk until morning. I am constantly surprised at B's comprehension. Because he speaks so little, I often forget that he understands everything I say, so I wasn't ready for his reaction to my explanation - the pout, the quivering bottom lip, the protesting wail.

For the first few nights we had full blown tantrums at 3 am. The water beaker was hurled across the bed. I had to apologise to the neighbours. Gradually the duration of the tantrums lessened until they became nothing but a few seconds' protest before lying down and falling asleep again.
We have always put B down to sleep in his cot and then taken him into bed with us the first time he wakes. Before night weaning he used to come into our bed around 11pm or midnight, and from then on, he would feed several times. Now he usually sleeps in his cot till around 2 or 3am at which time he comes into our bed and falls asleep immediately, sometimes sleeping until 6am - the time that morning officially starts and mummy-milk is allowed. B's internal clock is remarkably accurate. The neighbours say they know when it's five to six because they can hear B crying. He sometimes wakes earlier but can generally be persuaded to fall asleep after a sip of water and a cuddle. We do still get the occasional 3 am tantrum but they are becoming less and less frequent.

I think part of the reason I am blogging again after a long silence is because I'm finally getting enough sleep to be able to string a coherent sentence together.

Snow

We have snow! Not just a few tiny flakes that melt before they have even touched the ground but proper thick snow that scrunches under your feet as you walk. Actually today it has frozen hard but yesterday and Thursday T's school was closed and we built snowmen in the garden and threw snowballs at each other. B was less enthusiastic. He ventured out into the garden looked a little bemused as he watched the large flakes fall from the sky, and then went back inside. This is the first time the boys have seen proper thick snow. Last winter I think we had one snowy day, but by midday it had all melted. It reminds me of winters from my childhood when our narrow lane was filled by snowdrifts so deep that cars were completely covered. All the neighbours used to come out with shovels to dig a way out. Schools were closed and we spent entire days sledging, building snowmen and having snowball fights. I am only sorry that we live in such a flat city and have no hills within walking distance to go sledging.

Wet Nursing

I watched the Channel 4 documentary Other People's Breast Milk last night with great interest. Some of the people on the programme were so inspiring. I felt great admiration for the people who went to such lengths to make sure their children could have the very best start in life and for the women who gave such a precious gift to someone else's child. It made me appreciate how lucky I am to have breast fed my first child for 22 months and to be still be feeding B at 13 months. I am convinced that those 22 months of breast milk contributed to the fact that T won an award last year for his attendance at school. He was only off sick for one day which his teacher said was exceptional for a child in reception year.

I have milk in abundance and I love breast feeding so I've come to the conclusion that wet nursing would be my ideal career. The only time in my life when I can eat whatever I want and not put on weight is when I'm breast feeding, so wet nursing would mean I can continue to enjoy this benefit even when I'm not feeding B any more. And I've always been happier when working in a job that helps people. I'm not sure how women go about embarking on a career as a wet nurse. Do they put an ad in the local paper? Are there wet nurse agencies? Maybe I should set one up myself.

Allotment News

Most of the harvest from the allotment seems to be already over, although I'm really looking forward to the pumpkin meal we're planning to make with our huge pumpkin. The two vegetables that we still have in abundance are chard and perpetual spinach. These are quite similar and it's difficult to come up with varied meals that all the family will eat. The other day I made spinach and feta filo parcels which were delicious, and I recently made a cheese and chard pasta bake. What else can I do with chard and spinach?

We do also have sweetcorn which both the boys love. It's quite funny watching them both chewing the kernels off the cob.

Beating the Credit Crunch and getting our Five-a-Day

I have an allotment which I share with three other mums. It’s great because I don’t have the motivation or self discipline to cultivate my own garden, but when there are four of us sharing the work, and our children can run around together, it’s easier to be motivated. Tonight I made a meal entirely from the allotment. We had eggs from our two hens, courgettes, two different kinds of beans and new potatoes. It was all delicious. T’s favourite thing was the runner beans; he loves them and is happy to eat them every day which is just as well as I can’t seem to pick them fast enough. B preferred the potatoes - my little carb-loving baby. Unfortunately the allotment didn’t provide us with any pudding but we did have plums and strawberries from Over Farm which were delicious. We bought them earlier this afternoon at the Taste! Food and Drink Festival .

Growing our own vegetables is amazing. The runner beans are incredible. I pick a bag of them one day, and the next day there are loads more that need to be picked before they get too big and tough. And there are four families picking them! It’s a bit like having a magic bean plant. The perpetual spinach is similar – you pick a couple of leaves off each plant and the next day they have all grown back. Beetroot is a big favourite with both my boys and T can’t wait for the sweetcorn to be ready. I haven’t bought supermarket vegetables for ages and so we’re saving loads of money, and they taste sooo much better.

Happy first birthday

I can’t believe it was a year ago today that I gave birth to B. He has changed so much in the past year and I think it has been quite an achievement for all of us to have got this far. He can now walk, although he still prefers to crawl as he gets around faster on all fours. He doesn’t talk much, at least not understandable words, although I swear he said “More” today when he finished the piece of bread I gave him. He has become a happy, confident, affectionate boy who loves to laugh and to smother me with hugs and kisses. I am so proud of him and I am proud of myself for breastfeeding him for a whole year. I hope I will still be breastfeeding him on his next birthday. Knowing that he loves bananas I made him a banana cake and it went down very well with the whole family including T who is not usually a cake lover. I think I’ll use the same recipe for T’s birthday cake next month.

Happy first birthday to my darling baby boy.

A Bad Word Beginning with F

T came home from school the other day and announced, "Mummy, I know a bad word beginning with F."
Oh well, I thought, I suppose it was inevitable, especially living in an area of social deprivation. We don't swear at home, at least not in English, but I guess it's only a matter of time before he hears swear words from other people.
"Do you want to know what it is?" he continued, "Fat tomato face!"

Lazy Parenting

I have come to the conclusion that a lot of my parenting choices have been made out of laziness rather than anything else.

Why put your baby in his own room when you know it will mean spending the night getting in and out of bed and running from one room to another? Much easier to take the baby into bed with you and then you’ll barely have to wake up when he cries.

Why go out to the shops to buy formula milk, lug it home, spend time heating, cooling, measuring, mixing, sterilising, when you have a superior product on tap?

Why spend time pureeing vegetables and spoon-feeding your baby when you can just put proper food in front of him and he’ll eat it by himself, leaving you free to get on with your own meal?

Why try to get your newborn into a routine; desperately trying to keep him awake when he wants to sleep and trying to get him to sleep when he wants to be awake? It’s much easier to just go with the flow and let him set his own routine.

Why bother trying to potty train your 18-month-old when you know it will involve months of mopping the floor and carrying several changes of clothes whenever you leave the house? If you wait another year it will be much easier and quicker.

Yes, I am a lazy parent and I’m proud of it!

Breastfeeding Awareness Week

Well I couldn’t let last week's Breastfeeding Awareness Week pass without making some comment. I volunteer as a breastfeeding peer supporter for the Gloucestershire Breastfeeding Supporters' Network: http://breastfeedingsupporters.org.uk/

I decided to do this because both my babies would not latch on at first. Luckily I had lots of support and help, and I’m a very stubborn person so it never crossed my mind to give up and use formula milk. But I know that there are lots of mums who don’t get the support, so if they have problems in the early days when they are feeling tired, tearful and overwhelmed by the emotions and responsibilities of having a new baby, they understandably turn to the bottle, saying that their baby refused their milk, or that they couldn’t breastfeed. I find this very sad.

I also find it sad when mums stop breastfeeding just because they lack confidence in their ability to feed their own baby. I have spoken to lots of mums who worry that they aren’t making enough milk to satisfy their baby. When I ask why they think this, there could be a number of reasons. Perhaps the baby is wanting to feed every hour or more and the mum compares this to her bottle feeding friends who are feeding every four hours. Perhaps the baby is feeding all evening while her friend’s baby is tucked up in bed by 7pm and doesn’t wake for twelve hours. Perhaps her breasts, after the initial engorgement, feel soft and “empty” or she has tried expressing and is getting very little milk out. Perhaps her baby isn’t putting on weight as fast as the charts in the red book suggest he should be. I have even heard of a mum who thought her expressed milk looked watery and concluded that she was producing skimmed milk. Another mum did not even attempt to breastfeed because she was told she was expecting a big baby and she just “knew” she wouldn’t be able to satisfy him

If these mums have the opportunity to talk to other breastfeeding mums they realise that all these things are completely normal, and that if they just listen to their baby and feed whenever he wants then as long as the baby is correctly positioned they will produce sufficient milk. Some mums even choose to bottle feed because then they will be able to measure how many ounces their baby is drinking. If only these mums could just have the confidence to trust their babies and their own bodies. I hope that volunteers like me and initiatives like Breastfeeding Awareness Week can help mums to get that support and find that confidence.

Sleep Training

I came across this poem in a magazine for women writers, and it really struck a chord with me.

Sleep Training by Sian Hughes

This is a life skill, and I will learn

to go back to sleep without crying.

It is normal to find myself alone

at night. It is normal to call out

and for no one to come. I will adjust.

Already I barely acknowledge the sound

of my screaming, night after night.

It is almost like silence to me, almost

like the night itself. I will learn

to close the door, turn aside, and sleep.

This poem reminded me of when T was a baby and, fed up with spending every evening lying next to him in his cotbed until he fell asleep, we decided that controlled crying was the only thing to do. It had been recommended to me by my health visitor and numerous mums at various baby and toddler groups. I think we tried it for two nights but were unable to do it both times. One time I really wanted to do it but my husband gave in and picked up T. The other time I was the one who went to T while my husband wanted to stay "strong". Both times, we both realised that it was something we just couldn't do. All my instincts were screaming out to me that it was wrong, that my baby was crying because he needed me and I had to go to him. After two nights we listened to our instincts and went back to lying in the cotbed every evening. Later we found gentler ways of helping T fall asleep.

Since then I have read quite a lot on the subject and I am so relieved that we followed our instincts. When a baby cries, stress hormones are produced that actually distort the way the brain develops if a carer is not there to soothe the baby and reduce that stress.

If a baby is left to cry himself to sleep he will always associate sleep and bedtime with terror and anxiety. Even when he has learned to fall asleep without crying, he is still falling asleep in a state of terror, he has just learned that it is pointless to try to communicate that terror. T now goes to bed and falls asleep quite happily whereas I know parents who have used controlled crying and now have young children who refuse to go to bed and constantly get out of bed - not surprising since for them sleep is a scary place to go.

The Gloucestershire Floods Project

Bristol University is doing a project about the floods in Gloucestershire in 2007. They are collecting accounts of people's experiences in order to build a record of how the floods affected people living in the area.

http://www.bristol.ac.uk/news/2008/12017945165.html

Here is my contribution to the project:

My Flood Story

My story is unusual. It shows how something positive can sometimes come out of adversity in the strangest of ways.

On July 20th 2007 I was nine months pregnant. I was actually more than nine months pregnant because my baby had been due on July 10th. I had an appointment at the hospital to prepare me for a possible caesarean section. My first child had been born by emergency caesarean four years earlier and I desperately wanted a normal birth this time around, but every day that passed that I didn’t go into labour made that less likely. The plan was that if nothing had happened by Monday 23rd July, the doctor would attempt to break my waters in the hope that it would start my labour. If that failed then I would be whisked away for a caesarean section.

We live in Tredworth, about 20 minutes’ walk from Gloucester Royal Hospital. I went to the appointment with my husband on foot despite the rain - walking is supposed to help to get labour started. We saw the doctor and the midwife. I was examined, weighed and instructed not to eat anything after midnight on Sunday evening. When it was time to go home it was raining so hard that we both agreed it would be unwise to attempt even a twenty minute journey on foot. Our umbrella would have been futile against such a deluge. We called a taxi and when we told the driver our address he said he was glad we didn’t live in Tredworth Road as it was impassable.

I spent the weekend waiting and hoping I would go into labour naturally. The rain continued. On Sunday I heard that the water supply was under threat so I filled the bath, all my saucepans and any other large container I could lay my hands on. Sure enough on Monday morning there was no water in the taps. I switched on the local radio station and heard that, due to the lack of water, no routine operations were being carried out at Gloucester Royal. Worried about what that would mean for my induction, I called the hospital. In the middle of the call the electricity went off and the line went dead. I called again using my mobile and was told to arrive at 8.30 am as arranged.

My mum arrived from Stroud to look after my son and I set off for the hospital with my husband. With no water and no electricity at home, hospital seemed like the best place to be. When we arrived, I spoke to a doctor who explained to me that she was going to try to break my waters. I was told later that my cervix was still firmly shut, making this a very difficult thing to do. Under normal circumstances, the doctor, having examined me would not have even attempted to break my waters and would have sent me straight for a caesarean section. But these were not normal circumstances and the hospital staff were under instructions not to carry out routine operations including planned caesareans. This meant that if the doctor was unable to break my waters she would have to send me home, which she was unwilling to do. So she persevered and in the end she succeeded.

Still I didn’t go into labour so they put me on a drip to help things along and eventually I started to feel the contractions beginning. It was a long hard labour and even harder as I had to do it all on an empty stomach. They would not give me anything to eat just in case I needed an emergency caesarean as I had done with my son four years before. Eventually after several hours of contractions and two hours of fruitless pushing I had no energy left. I was completely exhausted. A doctor arrived with forceps and my son was finally born at 7.36pm. It was the hardest thing I had ever done but I was so pleased that I had done it without needing a caesarean. My recovery was a lot quicker than it had been with my first son, and after two nights I was able to go home. It was hard living without water just after giving birth and with a newborn baby to look after, but if it had not been for the floods, I would not have had the normal birth that I had so wished for.

Sling Meet

Last week I went on a sling meet. This is where baby-wearing mums can make arrangements, using the website "sling meet", to meet up. They can compare slings, swap baby-wearing advice, try on each others slings and just chat. Unfortunately there were only three mums on our meet - it would have been more fun with a larger group - but it was still good to meet the other two and their tots. It was a great learning experience for me. One of the others pointed out that I was putting my sling on slightly wrong so I have now corrected this and it is more comfortable. She also taught me how to wear B on my back which was great and I could carry him for much longer without him getting heavy. I'm still too nervous to put him on my back unaided (it involves tossing him over my shoulder) but I might have another go at the next local meet which is planned for the end of May.

http://www.slingmeet.co.uk/

Easter

As an atheist I’m always a bit nervous about celebrating festivals such as Christmas and Easter, and especially about explaining them to my children. To me, Easter is about springtime, baby animals and new green leaves on the trees (and of course consuming large amounts of chocolate). But there are always people who tell us to remember the real meaning of Easter, which to them is all about having nails hammered through your hands and then coming back to life. But I was wondering what the meaning of Easter really is so I did a bit of research and I’ve found out that the word Easter comes from the Pagan fertility Goddess Eostre, who also gives her name to the hormone Oestrogen! So it’s a festival of female hormones! Now as a lactating female that’s a festival I can definitely relate to.

But I don’t mind a bit of religion if it encourages people to be kind to each other. If more people lived their lives the way Jesus did, with humility and respect for others, then the world would be a better place. And I think it’s a good thing that T goes to a school where they say prayers and celebrate religious festivals without worrying that they might offend someone. We live in a multicultural area and T’s school reflects that. They celebrate Christmas, Easter, Diwali, Eid and Chinese New Year, and all the children participate in all these festivals. This morning was T’s Easter assembly, and the songs they sang represented all the faces of Easter. There were songs about the Easter bunny, songs about spring flowers, and songs about Jesus rising from the dead. Now I don’t happen to believe that Jesus rose from the dead or that the Easter bunny hides chocolate eggs in the garden, but if it makes T happy to believe both these things then that’s OK by me. And he doesn’t seem too upset by the nails in the hands and the dying bit, in fact it seems to appeal to his four-and-a-half-year-old imagination.

So I would like to wish everyone a happy Easter, whatever that means to you. I will be saying a prayer to the goddess Eostre and eating lots of chocolate.

Bananas

Baby B's favourite food is banana. He can eat a whole banana in one sitting. I break it in half for him and he devours first one half and then the other. If he sees anyone else eating a banana he leans over towards them, opens his mouth and drools. Even T can't resist his longing look and will offer him a piece. I hope his preference for healthy eating will continue but I have a feeling that once he tastes chocolate, banana might be relegated to second place.

Happy International Women's Day

Today is international women's day but you could be forgiven for not knowing. It doesn't seem to be an important day for most people here in Britain. When I lived in Italy it was completely different and I have to say I miss the celebrations that I used to enjoy there every 8th March. In Italy men give sprigs of mimosa to women - to their wives, girlfriends, work colleagues, customers, any woman they come in contact with on that day. The buses and trams are brightened by the yellow flowers that everyone seems to be holding, and the air is thick with their pungent scent. In the evening the restaurants are empty of men, except for the waiters, as women go out to celebrate with their friends, sisters, mothers and daughters. But perhaps here in Britain there is less need for such a day. Most British women feel able to go out with their friends on any day they please, and most British men are happy to be left at home with the children every once in a while so that their wives can have a night out. But in Italy, especially among older generations, March 8th might be the only night of the year when some women feel they can go out without their husbands, and the only night when some jealous men allow their women a little freedom. So does making a big fuss on international women's day make the Italians more, or less enlightened than the British? I don't know, but it doesn't seem the same without any mimosa.
This year I celebrated IWD at the Trust Centre in Gloucester where there were all sorts of things going on - international cookery demonstrations, crafts, dance lessons, pampering sessions. The event was very well attended and there was a really positive buzz in the air as women of all ages and races gathered together to take part in the various activities. Women from all backgrounds chatted together as they waited for their turn for a massage, or queued for the food. I left my two children in the creche and pampered myself with a manicure and an Indian head massage. And I made a spring flower basket - no mimosa but very pretty all the same.

Spring, the city farm and breastfeeding in public

Yesterday was the first of March and there was a decidedly springlike feel in the air. So much so that I hung my washing out on the line instead of draping it over the radiator, took the foot muff off the pushchair and put on a denim jacket instead of my winter coat. Then I took my children to the city farm, which has just reopened for the summer, to meet some friends and their children. I love the city farm. One of the reasons we bought our house was its proximity to the farm - if you look out of my attic window you can actually see the animals. This year there are some new arrivals on the farm - some donkeys. It felt great to see the farm open again after the long winter, and I am looking forward to visiting on a regular basis and hopefully instilling a love and respect of animals in my children. The farm was busy and there was a feel of optimism in the air as parents watched their children playing happily in the spring sunshine rather than squabbling indoors as they had inevitably been doing during the long winter months. I bought some sausages from the farm shop for tea. I don't eat meat myself but my husband and children do, and when I buy sausages I like to know what is in them. If I buy them from the farm shop I have actually met and stroked what is in them.

After the farm we all went to the nearby park. B was tired and hungry so I sat down on a bench and fed him. A woman came up to me and said how fab it was to see me breastfeeding my baby and how she thought more people should do it. It was such a nice thing for a complete stranger to say and it made me feel very proud.

BLW: The Journey Continues

I went to a restaurant for lunch yesterday and baby B ate:
1 piece of prawn toast
1 piece of naan bread
1 spring roll
1 piece of vegetable tempura
2 slices of cucumber
3 pieces of melon.

He ate so much that I was worried we might have to pay for his meal (it was an eat as much as you like for one price restaurant) but luckily we didn't. His eating has come along amazingly in the past few weeks and there was very little on the floor (although the waiters were looking a little worried at one point).

At home his favourite foods include pizza, potato wedges, dried apricots (soft ones) and samosas which I make from bought filo pastry and a variety of fillings and I bake in the oven. He even eats steak - I think having 6 teeth already is a great advantage.

I have discovered that the best pasta for BLW is lumaconi (giant pasta shells) which I buy from Lidl's. They are big enough for him to to grab in a fist and still have enough outside his hand to get his teeth into.

It is so satisfying to see him devouring my home cooking so enthusiastically. Especially when his older brother picks at his food and eats as little as he can get away with: "Mummy, can I get down and play if I eat three more forkfulls?" I sometimes overhear my husband on the phone proudly telling his friends and family what B has eaten today and it's good to have his support and enthusiasm too.

My True Age

I usually ignore all the random stuff that people forward to me on facebook. Today, however, one of my facebook friends sent me the "True Age Test" and my curiosity got the better of me. The test involves answering some questions about your lifestyle, illnesses in the family etc. I guessed my score would be good as I don't smoke, drink very little and eat a reasonably healthy diet, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my real age is 18! That's less than half my age! And there was me thinking I was too old to have another baby.

Baby Led Weaning Videos

Here are some videos of B enjoying his food and sharing his vegetables with the cat.

BLW and a weekend away.

We went away this weekend to celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. It was great to get away from the city, breathe some clean air and go for country walks. We stayed in the same B&B where we honeymooned 6 years ago, only this time around we had two children with us and therefore the experience was somewhat different.
When T was six months old, a weekend away used to mean taking jars of babyfood with us. And whether at home or away, mealtimes always meant spooning mush into a reluctant baby's mouth while our own dinner went cold. Not any more! At breakfast time B sat in his highchair and munched away on buttered toast along with the rest of the family. We ate out in pubs (much more pleasant places to eat since the smoking ban) and B sat chewing on whatever he could manage from our plates - cucumber, bread, broccoli, carrots, the odd chip. I can honestly say he didn't show dislike for any food. No jars, no spoon feeding, and none of those tedious "train going into the tunnel" games to try to get the baby to open his mouth.
http://www.nibleyhouse.co.uk/

Pancake Day

B was very enthusiastic about his first Shrove Tuesday and his first taste of pancake. Perhaps a little too enthusiastic - he shoveled the food in with such gusto that he made himself sick. T enjoyed the pancakes too and was very impressed with my ability to toss them over in the pan.

After School Play Date

My 4-year-old son, T, invited a friend home from school for tea for the first time the other day. It made me realise how grown up he is becoming. Up to now I have been the one to choose his playmates (mainly the children of my friends) but now he is choosing his own friends. His friend was a lovely boy - polite and well behaved - and they played beautifully together. They dressed up as pirates and played snakes and ladders. T has already told me the name of the next child he wants to invite (a girl this time). T is a popular boy so it looks as if this could be the first of many play dates.

Baby-Led Weaning

The idea behind baby-led weaning is that if you wait until a baby is around six months before introducing solids (as is now recommended) then the baby is capable of feeding himself. He can sit in a high chair and pick up food either with his fingers or in his fist. He can put the food in his mouth, chew it and swallow it. If he is not able to do these things then his digestive system will not be ready for anything except milk. With baby-led weaning the baby is in control of how much he eats. Just as a breastfed baby will take the right amount of milk and will neither under-eat nor over-eat, so a BLW baby will eat the right amount of food, and will leave what he doesn't need (or squish it up and throw it on the floor.)

We started off with baby B on my lap at mealtimes and we let him play with my food. Yesterday we sat him in his highchair for the first time at dinner time. We offered him baguette, cheese and cucumber and he chewed enthusiastically on all three before throwing them on the floor. We are all very much looking forward to tonight's dinner.

Proud Mummy

My baby boy is six months old today. He has two teeth and is almost crawling. He gets himself into the crawling position, moves his knees forward but then he can't figure out how to move his hands without flopping down onto his tummy again. So he wriggles along the floor like a caterpillar, moving his tummy up and down.

One thing that makes me very proud is the fact that, apart from the odd piece of carrot and broccoli in the last few days, I have provided all his nourishment with my own body. For nine months I nourished him inside my womb, and for the past six months I have fed him exclusively on my own milk. And he is so obviously thriving on it.

For me, the logical extension of breastfeeding on demand, is baby-led weaning. Up to now my son has decided how much milk he needs, and now that he is six months old and can sit up unaided, he is able to reach out and pick up a carrot stick or a broccoli floret from my plate, put it in his mouth, chew it and swallow it. (I know he has swallowed some because I have found the evidence in his nappy). So instead of spoon-feeding him with unapetising mush he can now eat most of what the whole family eats. He will decide how much to eat, and if he just wants to squash it between his fingers and throw it on the floor that's OK because most of his nutrients will still come from my milk for a good few months to come.

Parenting with Trust

I was having a conversation recently with some mums at my local breastfeeding support group about our parenting styles. We decided it was difficult to define our styles of parenting. We love the idea of attachment parenting but don't really follow it - we love slings but also love pushing our babies about in a pram, and we sometimes find it easier to do the housework without having a baby attached to us. Should we call it instinctive parenting? But sometimes it's hard to follow our instincts when we've read all the manuals and listened to our friends and family, and everyone seems to have conflicting ideas about feeding, sleeping, weaning etc.

Later it struck me that my parenting style is all about trust, but it is my baby and his instincts I need to trust, not my own. I trust my baby to know when and how much he wants to feed and sleep. If he cries I go to him because I know that he is crying for a reason - he needs something and I have to provide it for him. He isn't crying to be manipulative. I do not want to train him not to cry. I don't try to enforce a routine on him so that he will fit in with my life more easily. I don't want to "get my life back to normal again." My life will never be the same as it was before I became a mum, and that's the way it should be.