This weeks guest post comes from the amazing Rachel from The Illustrated Teacup. I could really relate to this post and found it so comforting to find another mum who’s gone through a similar experience to me regarding a topic I’m still personally emotional about. I hope it comforts others in the same way…

Being a mum is both unbelievably hard and overwhelmingly amazing all at once. There are moments where you feel like you might go crazy and completely lose your mind, and overs where you can’t quite put into words how much you love that little kid in your arms.
Every single day is a challenge, and every single day you battle with your conscience and the dreaded but always lingering mum guilt.

For me, the biggest guilt came when I decided to stop exclusively breastfeeding at three weeks. I was struggling with the demand of a newborn who wanted to feed every couple of hours including all night long. Along with the lack of sleep, I was sore and in pain from a bad latch, and even when it was corrected it was still difficult. I was also developing anxiety about feeding in public at a rapid rate which made me feel closed off and alone.

But how could I take away the thing that my little boy needed, and everyone says ‘breast is best’? So the mum guilt kicked in. I wanted to stop, but also didn’t all at the same time. I’d cry through every feed, and then more afterwards, beating myself up and making myself more upset. I was missing seeing my son grow up and develop.

Eventually after more mum guilt, I spoke to family, friends and some amazing mum bloggers on Twitter. They helped lift the mum guilt. There is a huge amount of support out there as long as you can show that all you want to do is what is best for you and your family. I talked and messaged, I shared my guilty feelings. And do you know what? I realised that it doesn’t matter how you feed that baby of yours, so long as they are fed and they are happy and healthy.

I’ve since combination fed until 9 weeks, and now Henry is on formula full time because my supply naturally dried up. I feel happy with how the two months went, and how we feed now.

I’m sure I’ll experience the mum guilt again when he hits six months and the BLW vs puree debate hits, but this time around, and for any future babies, I’m going to remind myself that it doesn’t really matter how you do it so long as it’s safe, healthy and right for you and your kid.

Thank you so much to Rachel for such a great post. You can find Rachel here….

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A Mum Track Mind

img_2581-3.jpgYou may or may not have noticed that my usual weekend round up was absent from these shores yesterday – my mum for one was very disappointed not to have her usual Monday morning reminder of activities she’s either been involved in, or had described to her in acute detail on the phone the night before. After a lovely morning spent in Bakewell on Sunday, Carl, Henry & I returned home and when retrieving my 67th punnet of candy floss grapes from the kitchen, life threw a curveball and I hotfooted it out of the door, sans grapes. 

Sometimes life has other ideas and is not respectful of ones compulsion to spend the hours between 8 and midnight typing away. But life is for living, and this is why I started blogging in the first place, as a reminder in the future of our first years living life as parents. So if I miss a blog post once in a while what does it really matter? There’s plenty of time to write about life, but sometimes it has to be just lived.


This week I’m very excited to introduce a second blogging beauty to this corner of the Internet – Aurélie from Bump & Blush – she’s currently doing the 30 days of gratitude challenge which I’ve really being enjoying keeping up with, definitely one to check out! So, since you can read my rambles over here everyday of the week, here’s my second guest #mumguilt post….
My name is Aurélie and I am a mummy to Kai, 16 months and currently 7 months pregnant.My mom guilt is steered towards my unborn child…

There is something about a first pregnancy that is just sort of magical. Everyone is excited, I read all the books about pregnancy and beyond. I spent hours daydreaming of what my little one will look like, 9 months of ups and downs but 9 months to form a special bond. I was filled with an anticipation that will likely remain unmatched for the rest of my life.

During my first pregnancy, I always knew how far I was and could tell you exactly the size of the baby…Oh this week, it’s an avocado. For this pregnancy, things are noticeably different. It’s not necessarily a “bad” type of different, just different…a lot different.
Now that I’m more than 30 weeks pregnant, I feel more uncomfortable and tired but to be real honest with you, before I forgot I was pregnant half the time with baby number two. The only time I really remember is when I got sharp pains after getting up. I just did not have time to sit around and just think about being pregnant. My days are so busy, I work from home and if I am not working I am running after my toddler praying he does not break the house! One thing is sure this second pregnancy is flying compared to the first one.
I do feel guilty sometimes because I feel I did not have time to enjoy this pregnancy, I did not really bond with you, nothing is really prepared for you, if you’re a boy, you will get the hand-me-downs from your big brother, if you are a girl, the shopping spree will start as soon as you will be born.
I know a lot of first time mums worried about loving as much their second child as their first. I understand the worry as you give everything to your little one but I know I have so much love to give and really can’t wait to be a family of four! I can’t wait for you to be in my arms, to see you smile and to play with your big brother.
Thank you so much to Aurélie for sharing her #mumguilt story, I really enjoyed reading! You can find more of Aurélie here:
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If you’d like to share your #mumguilt woes please get in touch, I’d love to hear from you!

3 Little Buttons

img_4078.jpgAs if I haven’t rambled on enough about sleep lately, I’m about to do it again. I thought I’d begin with a warning so I’ve only wasted you the time it’s taken to read this paragraph, rather than the whole sorry lot.

To the few that are still here – Hi Mum *waves*- I’ve come to accept that sleep deprivation is just part and parcel of motherhood, delivered along with mumguilt, worry and financial ruin when the stork delivers a lovely little newborn. However, there are probably some ways I could help myself in the sleep department:

  1. Not staying up ’til midnight blogging while half watching Coronation Street. When Henry was a newborn and I still remembered what it was like to have a full nights slumber, his longest chunk of sleep was, and still is from 7 to between 11 and 12. I used to sleep during that time too, so at least I was almost guaranteed something. Now I’m rarely in bed before midnight and often up more often than I was then. Pesky teeth.
  2. I could try to break the ‘feeding to sleep’ habit. I’m told a baby who self   settles is a baby who sleeps through the night. But breaking said habit will involve tears, tears aren’t my fave and I have no idea how to do this without tears. Answers on a postcard. Plus when you’re up several times in the night it’s nice to have something on hand chest to calm things down quickly.
  3. I could stop browsing *insert shop here* online or looking at blogs / Twitter / Instagram / Coronation Streer spoilers while attempting to feed back to sleep when he wakes in the night. Before I know what’s going on Henry’s fast asleep and still in my arms. I’m wired from the blue light and could’ve spent the last 30 minutes asleep myself. Although sometimes I need the blue light to keep myself awake. You win some, you lose some.
  4. I could take my mum up on her multiple offers to have Henry overnight once in a while. What can I say? I’m a clingy mum and I can’t bear to be away from him.

Even as I type the above, none are particularly appealing. I’m tired, but I like my evenings, I like blogging, I like a cuddle in the night and sometimes I find some great blogs. And there’s always coffee…


I wasn’t sure whether to share this story as it’s a story about poo and I didn’t want to lower the tone around here. Then I remembered I’d already admitted to rubbing vomit into my jeans so I think the tasteful and sophisticated ship has sailed, along with my dignity when I was in labour.

Just to set the scene, the proof is in the pudding nappy that we’re making headway with weaning as things are solid. Things are looking human. The other morning I dragged my weary self out of bed and took Henry downstairs, where we began our usual pre-breakfast routine of playing on the rug – albeit playing in the loosest sense of the word as what actually happens is that I lie next to Henry trying to keep him occupied enough by his toys that he forgets how much he likes to bomb off into the kitchen thus gaining me a little more time spent horizontal.

A few minutes in and it was clear that some toiletting had occurred. I promptly dealt with it before resuming my prior position. A couple of minutes later and Henry was making his way into the other room so I stood up to retrieve him. And that’s when I saw it. A smear of poo across the very pale coloured rug. It then dawned on me how it must’ve got there. Clearly a piece of poo had unbeknownst to me escaped the nappy, landed on the rug, and I’d laid in it. I’D LAID IN POO and embedded it into the rug. What a FANTASTIC start to the day.

I’ll leave it there but let me tell you, what can’t be cleaned with WaterWipes probably isn’t’ worth cleaning.


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