I was going to do the hypnobirthing courses again. I was going to go to pregnancy yoga every week. I was going to practise my breathing techniques and rope my husband into doing perineal massages again. This time, I wasn’t going to accept the pain relief. I wouldn’t need an epidural and I was going to suffer, worse case scenario, a slight graze. In other words, I was going to get the labour I dreamed about the first time around. My second experience of giving birth would be healing as oppose to traumatising and I would finally be able to resonate with all those positive birth stories I clung to for dear life throughout my first pregnancy.

And then, at 20 weeks, they told me I might need a C-section. Due to the severity of my tear the first time around, I was assured by the doctor that I would suffer the same (or worse) during this labour. As a result, my pelvic floor would be ruined and I would spend the rest of my life reaching for a TENA ladies every time I left the house. At the tender age of 30, this was not something I wanted to here. I already can’t sneeze without pissing myself, I thought. How much worse can it get? As if reading my mind, the doctor told me. ‘You would likely have flatulence issues and not be able to control your bowels very well’. Oh, so a lot worse.

Despite this, I said I would rather try for a vaginal birth and went on my way. At 24 weeks, I was told the same. ‘He’s measuring in the 98th percentile’, the midwife said, ‘so he is going to be a big baby. A C-section might be a good option. Otherwise, they are likely to have to induce you again’.

At the word induction, I felt my whole body seize up. I was immediately transported back to my first labour, contracting every 4 minutes for 72 hours to no avail, only to have my daughter yanked out of me with forceps leaving me with a 3C tear. Immediately, I saw all my hopes and dreams of a more pleasant birth experience this time crumble around me. I saw myself back in the operating theatre, unable to move the lower half of my body, either being cut open one way or tearing open the other. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

I decided to take matters into my own hands and do some more research. Turns out, while a tear is likely, it is not guaranteed just because I had a tear last time. In fact, many women who suffered 3C tears during their first labour went on to have successful vaginal deliveries and either did not experience a tear at all or, if they did, it was not as severe. This gave me some hope. As for the fact he is currently measuring in the 98 percentile… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

My research went some way towards reassuring me, and as of writing this post at least, my plan is to continue to advocate for a vaginal delivery. As for the rest of it… who knows?

When your entire birth plan blows up in your face the first time around, it feels a little futile committing time and energy into writing another. What does not feel futile, however, is making sure I am informed about all of the eventualities.

A problem I was faced with during the delivery of my daughter, was that I had taken my own birth plan as gospel. I treated it less like a plan and more like a rulebook. There was no fluidity or room for things to go off piste. I had a one-track mind and I didn’t want to consider anything outside of what I had dictated to my midwife. But then, life happened. Despite refusing the induction the first time around, when I was told again that it was the best option for my daughter otherwise they could not guarantee her safety, I of course told them to book me in. From that point on everything went, well, excuse the expression… tits up. Nothing went according to plan and I was forced to accept things that I had little-to-no knowledge about. I was desperate. I was in agony. I did what I had to do. Looking back now, my mistake was not that fact that I had planned for an “ideal” birth; it was thinking that this was the only possibility. I didn’t read up on the pros and cons of different types of pain relief. I didn’t understand what an epidural involved. I didn’t know about the different types of induction. I still to this day have no idea what drugs I was given while I was in labour with my daughter. They said ‘do you want-’ and I said ‘- GOD YES’.

Having a birth plan is a beautiful thing. It helps to bring some semblance of control to a situation in which we have little. But what is more important than a birth plan is knowledge. It is knowing what options are out there It is knowing what pain relief would be the best option for you should you need it. It is knowing what a C-section involves and what recovery might look like. It understanding that while your birth plan might be printed and laminated and colour-coded and precise… it can still go off-course.

By the time labour comes around I hope that I will have some sort of a plan. I hope by then I will be more informed about my individual circumstances and have a better understanding of what is going to be the safest and most realistic option for my son and I. I hope I will go into the delivery room with all the knowledge I need (or at least as much as possible) at my finger tips. And I hope that this knowledge will provide me with some comfort should my birth plan go out of the window.

Because, as they say, even the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

As always, thank you so much for reading! The truly appreciate every single one of you. I am so pleased with how this little passion project of mine is growing and I am really chuffed to have you come along for the ride. I’ll be back in your inboxes next week with more musings on motherhood, popular culture and whatever else tickles my pickle. I’ll see you there.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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Happy second birthday. I can’t quite believe you are already two years old. In some ways it only feels like two minutes ago that they placed you on my chest and I looked at you for the very first time. In others, I feel like I have known you for a lifetime. I can’t imagine a world without you in it; a version of me that doesn’t have the privilege of knowing you, of raising you, of loving you.

Most days over these past two years haven’t been extraordinary. In fact, we have lived life at a slower pace than I have ever been used to. I stopped working and have dedicated my days to watching you grow and flourish. Those days have been spent at baby groups, exploring outdoors, in coffee shops and in supermarkets; seemingly mundane activities that you have made magical. Seeing the world through your eyes has brought me so much joy and given me a whole new appreciation of the world around me. With you, even a walk to the local shop has become an adventure.

I am so incredibly proud of the person you are becoming. You are the funniest, bravest, smartest, most compassionate little girl that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You’re also determined, stubborn and strong-willed; traits that I will continue to nurture as you grow. Everyone who meets you instantly falls in love with you. To know you truly is to love you.

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I’m not going to pretend motherhood is easy. While without a doubt the most incredible, these past two years have also been the most challenging of my life. Becoming a mum has fundamentally transformed every aspect of my existence. It was a transformation I was ill-prepared for and yet one that I was forced to face regardless. It called to question everything I thought I knew about myself, stripped me down to my bare bones and left me with no choice but to rebuild. It is a transformation I continue to grappled with even today as I carry on learning and unlearning, stumbling over and getting back up.

The truth is, with you came a new me - a braver, stronger, gentler me. A me that is more selfless, more contemplative and more considerate. A me that has had to learn to be content with internal validation as opposed to reliant on the external. A me that I never thought possible. You have changed my life. And for that, I want to say thank you.

Thank you for teaching me what unconditional love really looks like. Thank you for teaching me patience and resilience. Thank you for teaching me to slow down in a world that too often forces us to speed up. Thank you for being you. I am truly in awe of every part of you. From your courage, to your tenacity, to your gloriously infectious laugh. You have reminded me that there is so much beauty in the mundane; that life really is about finding those little pockets of joy and cherishing them like the world depends on it. Because it does.

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This is the last birthday we will celebrate as a family of three. Next year, your little brother will be by your side as you blow out your candles. As we embark on our next adventure as a family, I want you to know just how grateful I am for these past two years. Being your mum is the greatest honour of my life and, despite all the trials and tribulations of motherhood, I would do it again in every single lifetime to get to see your smiling face beaming up at me every morning.

I love you endlessly and I cannot wait for another year of making the mundane magical by your side.

All my love,

Mum x

I’m not crying, you’re crying!

As always, thank you so much for reading. I will be back in your inboxes new week with more musings on motherhood or whatever else tickles my pickle. Right now, I’m off to eat birthday cake and somehow stay sane while ten toddlers cause chaos in my house. Who doesn’t love a kids birthday party, eh?

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I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

Buy me a coffee

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

We have spent a lot of this month getting outdoors and enjoying what will likely be the last of the sunshine here in the UK. My daughter absolutely loves exploring outside and I find parenting out of the house 1000 times easier that parenting inside the house - win, win for both of us.

I also feel like I have entered the ‘nesting’ phase of pregnancy a little earlier this time around and as a result we have managed to get a lot of projects round the house done. For those of you who don’t know, we live in a very old farmhouse that is in need of a lot of TLC. Unfortunately, TLC usually comes with a hefty price tag and so it is something my husband and I have been chipping away at over the past few years. Anyway, with baby number two arriving very soon, we I thought it was time to get a few big jobs ticked off our to-do list. While the house is currently in a little disarray, we are making huge progress and I am feeling super productive!

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Personally, I have also had a really successful month. I hit a little personal milestone here on Substack - there are now over 200 of us in The Pink Project community which is absolutely incredible. I am so grateful to each and every one of you, and have some really exciting plans for us over the next 6 months.

I also have made it a priority to make time for myself. Look, it’s not my first rodeo. I know that in a couple of months time I am going to be tied to the sofa with a baby hanging off my boob the vast majority of the time. For the first 6 months of my daughter’s life, I was essentially a glorified dairy cow who didn’t have a social life bar going to baby groups and seeing the health visitor. Preempting this again, you better believe I am making the most of my last few months being able to go out without nipple pads, a nursing bra and an ugly sweater that zips up the side. I have been to the gym, out with friends, taken myself on coffee dates, and even just sat doomscrolling on my phone while my husband handles the bedtime routine with our toddler. True bliss.

And it’s not over yet. This weekend we will be celebrating my daughter’s 2nd birthday (there will be a little bonus newsletter going live to commemorate the occasion) and I am so incredibly excited. Last year we have the most wonderful weekend with all our closest family and friends, and this year I have a similarly exciting few days lined up for all of us. I love hosting a good themed party, so I am really in my element with things like this. Not the mention, there is nothing more magical that seeing your little one’s face light all as everyone you love sings ‘happy birthday’ to them. Core memories pending!

Anyway, it’s been a while but today we are back with another monthly ‘Wrapped’ newsletter, where I share all the things worth reading, doing and knowing that I have stumbled across this month (I might have also taken a few bits from July that were too good to ignore!) along with a little bit a shameless self-promotion. As always, let me know things you have been loving/reading/doing etc. this month down in the comments below.

So, without further ado, let’s get into it.

Stuff you might have missed from The Pink Project:

• We started the month with Gift ideas for new mums (that we actually want) because I think I speak on behalf of all of us when I say, please god don’t bring us flowers. We’re already trying to keep one thing alive without throwing a bunch of carnations into the mix.

• I think I might start drinking again is an raw, unfiltered discussion about my relationship with alcohol, why I stopped drinking 5 years ago and why I have been recently contemplating turning back to booze.

• Enough with the “mum aesthetics”. I’m exhausted. was inspired by one of my late night TikTok doomscrolling sessions where I stumbled across the world of the “90s butter mum”. In this article we discuss the problem with these lifestyle archetypes and why, as new mums, we are particularly susceptible to their influence.

Things Worth Reading:

• Maybe I don’t want to be thin. Maybe I just don’t want to want to be thin by Mil Rousseau from Anyway, back to me. In this newsletter, Rousseau discusses her obsession with thinness and how having a child fundamentally altered her relationship with her body. It is a raw, honest, and incredibly relatable read that I would highly recommend you take a look at.

• I’m in trouble on the internet… again… by Jameela Jamil from A Low Desire to Please with Jameela Jamil. As someone who holds a PhD in British history, I know only too well of our abhorrent (not so distant) past. In this article, Jamil addresses these uncomfortable truths head on, while discussing her latest ‘scandal’ that has been constructed across the right-wing tabloid press. Jamil explores the hypocrisies of the right, the wilful ignorance of many of us to ignore our pasts, and the necessity to speak openly about our histories.

• 12 ways I breastfeed my 3.5 year old for “self pleasure” by Jennie is Writing from Jenroswrites. Responding to a podcast clip hosted by two men (obviously) where one claims that beyond a certain point, breastfeeding is done for “self-pleasure” as opposed to the well-being of the child, Jennie discusses 12 ways that breastfeeding her 3.5 year old does in fact bring her pleasure. It is a hilariously honest and open article about the realities of motherhood, the beauty of breastfeeding and our apparent revulsion over the idea that women do anything that makes parenting easier. I highly recommend giving this one a read.

Things Worth Doing:

• Paternity leave in the UK is currently a pathetic 2 weeks. This is not 2 weeks at full-pay, or half pay… but 2 weeks at less than half the national minimum wage. Not only is this incredibly detrimental to women (I was still wearing a nappy 2 weeks postpartum and could barely walk up the stairs), it also does not allow for Dads (or other non-birthing partners) to bond with their child before they have to rush back to work. As a result, our roles within the family continue to be dictated by gender, with men taking on the role of the breadwinner and women the primary caregiver. I’ll be honest, I am terrified for my husband to go back to work this time around. I worry about how I am going to care for a toddler and my newborn baby while trying to recover from labour. Having him at home for longer to provide support and for us to have more quality time as a family of four would be incredible. This is what The Dad Shift are campaigning for.

  ‘We’re campaigning for substantial, affordable and equal leave for both parents in every relationship - same-sex, heterosexual, or adoptive - and for self-employed people.’ dadshift.org.uk

You can add your name to show support for the work that they are doing. You can also donate to the campaign and/or share your own personal story. It is a fight that is well worth being a part of.

• The Dad Shift have also teamed up with the incredible Anna Whitehouse (@mother_pukka) to organise the first ever ‘Parent’s Strike’ here in the UK. The march from Trafalgar Square to Downing Street will take place on August 27th (this coming Thursday) to fight for longer paternity leave and more flexible working for parents. If you are not in London, there are plenty of other strikes happening around the UK on the 27th. You can find the one nearest to you and register your attendance here.

• While I was scrolling through Substack, I came across this note from Alexa Starks sharing information about how to join her upcoming virtual event for working mothers. I don’t know too much about it, but I had a look and the line-up looks fantastic. If you are a working mum and you’re interested, I’d recommend taking a look. You can find more information about the event here.

Things Worth Knowing:

• Lots of great news for women’s health over the past couple of months. Starting with the announcement of two new, non-invasive tests for endometriosis that are currently being trialled across the NHS. The current average wait for a diagnosis in the UK is 9 years so the hope is that these tests would help to reduce that, dramatically improving the lives of countless women currently suffering with no answers.

• It was also revealed last month that for the first time ever, no woman aged 20-24 has died from cervical cancer in England between 2020 and 2024. The HPV vaccination programme has been credited with such an incredible milestone. Without the vaccination, an estimated 23 deaths would have been expected over this time period. Get your vaccinations people!

• Some less positive news, on 3rd August The Independent published an in-depth think-piece on why we are seeing a rise in women suffering with antenatal anxiety. The article claimed that 1 in 8 pregnant women are suffering with anxiety during their pregnancy yet are not receiving adequate support. Honestly, is there any wonder? We are simultaneously bombarded with information from unaccredited sources and ill-informed about our choices and what is happening to our bodies. We are being pushed into births we do not want (and often do not need) to ease an overstretched NHS. We are unsupported and gaslit by medical professionals. The price of childcare forces many of us out of work, leaving families struggling financially. And if we so much as dare to complain we are seen as ungrateful. To be frank, I’m surprised that number isn’t a lot higher.

• I would also like to mention briefly here the trial of Lindsay Clancy currently taking place in the US. I honestly cannot stop thinking about this case and the devastating loss being suffered by this family. It is a truly harrowing example of medical negligence and the devastating consequences that can occur if women aren’t taken seriously when it comes to their health. I only hope that this tragedy sheds light on the necessity to provide women with significantly better postnatal care. If you are struggling with perinatal mental health, the charity Mind have curated an excellent list of useful contacts that can provide you with support. You can find those here. If you are concerned about your partner or someone that you know, they also have some helpful information on how you can provide support, along with helplines and support groups. You can find those here. Please don’t suffer in silence. You are absolutely not alone and, while it can feel incredibly isolating, I promise that you are not alone.

And that’s a wrap for this month! I am hoping to get back into doing these posts on a monthly basis, so if you enjoy these newsletters then you’re in luck. If you don’t enjoy these newsletters, fear not - I’ll still be sharing all my regularly scheduled content. These will just be a spicy little extra for anyone interested.

See you all later this week!

As always, thank you so much for being here. At the start of this month I hit a personal Substack milestone of 200 subscribers and I am absolutely thrilled. I truly appreciate it and love the community that we are building here.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

Buy me a coffee

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

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According to Rachael Martin, beauty director for Grazia, to understand the “butter mum” aesthetic we need look no further than Matilda’s Miss Honey - ‘a mother figure whose defining quality is her warmth’. She bakes cakes using real butter. She is intentional and mindful. She makes freshly baked sourdough and there is always room for a good, hearty pudding after dinner. Her kids love nothing more than getting muddy and they have never so much as caught whiff of an iPad.

Well that all sounds bloody marvellous, sign me up, I thought. I love nothing more than exploring the great outdoors, baking and dopamine dressing. I too am anti-diet culture, don dungarees and over-sized shirts and prefer to spend our days ‘unplugged’. While the parenting style she was presenting was a long way from my experience of growing up in the 90s - which was more Nickelodeon and Lunchables than it was building a bug hotel and eating only homemade, organic produce - I got the gist. My internet time was restricted and contained in the ‘computer room’, there was no such thing as social media, and if my crush wanting to speak to me he had to get past my mother first. It certainly was a simpler time.

The “butter mum” persona was really speaking to me and I saw a lot of my own parenting style in what the TikTok was discussing. And then she went on to share affiliate links to a whole host of things I needed to buy if I truly wanted to call myself a “butter mum”. I looked over at my daughter who was sat munching on a bag of Mini Cheddars while watching Bluey and I cringed. Perhaps the “butter mum” life isn’t for me.

But if I’m not a “butter mum”, what am I?

Well, fear not. It turns out I have plenty more options to choose from. All of which have their own affiliate links and discount codes.

I could be a “granola mum” and adopt an entirely natural, eco-friendly lifestyle; avoiding anything processed and using my leftover vegetable peel to make compost for our very own smallholding. Or if that doesn’t float my boat, perhaps a “gummy bear mum”. Known for their gentle, relaxed approach to parenting, the “gummy bear mum” always has the cupboard stocked full of sweet treats and is the first to offer her children a slice of cake after dinner. Or maybe even a… you get the picture.

Once upon a time, I would have been the perfect, target audience for content like this. (The “clean girl” aesthetic had me in an absolute chokehold back in the day). Back then I was still lapping up the latest trends, trying to perfect the latest TikTok dance routine and hopelessly falling for every Influencer marketing ploy out there. But I’m a mum now. Whether I am a “clean girl” or a “coastal grandma” seems entirely trivial - I have more important things to consider.

However, after a quick search on TikTok and Instagram I soon learned that no one is safe from the social media aesthetics, not even us mums. I might be past the latest TikTok craze, but my FYP has yet to get the memo.

Just a quick search on TikTok and you are greeted by a plethora of content on how to be a “butter mum”, many with hundreds of thousands of views. From my own experience, it is really easy to get sucked into this content. It is romantic and warm. It presents a idealised version of motherhood that I think many of us are desperate to attain.

And that is where the problem lies. As mums - especially new mums - I think we are particularly vulnerable to content such as this. It offers us a template on how to achieve a version of motherhood so many of us aspire to. It provides us with a sense of community and, crucially, a clear identity in a period of life where ours has become shrouded in nappies and muslin cloths. However, in reality, it is selling us a lie.

Because motherhood does not look like a Pinterest board. Sure, it can do for brief, curated moments in the day, but the vast majority of the time, parenting is not an aesthetic endeavour. It is messy and frustrating and wonderful and chaotic. When we see our favourite influencer promoting a particular “type” of motherhood, all this teaches us is that if we cannot achieve this then we are somehow failing as a mum. It teaches us to compare ourselves to each other, subconsciously judging those who might fall into a different “aesthetic”. It exploits us during a period of our lives that, for many of us, already comes with an identity crisis. Masquerading as solace, all that is really been offered here is a one-way ticket to guilt, shame and disillusionment.

Not only is this lie potentially damaging to our mental wellbeing, it is also not doing much for our bank accounts either. Because these aesthetics are not just about the way that we parent. They are also about the way we dress, the way our children dress, the toys we buy, the food we can afford to make for our children.

The “cool mum”, for example, sports oversized button-down white shirts, wide-leg jeans, and clean, white trainers. The “tuscan mum’s” kids wouldn’t be seen dead in a Peppa Pig top - rather they don perfectly polished, colour-coordinated attire (100% cotton, of course). And a “gummy bear mum” never had an empty fridge.

I am sure it is far easier to fully embrace these archetypes when you’re raising your child in a dual-income, middle-class household, compared to a single parent, with no support system, struggling to make ends meet. Whimsy is a hell of a lot more attainable when you live in a farmhouse in the country without any financial concerns, compared to a flat a council estate when you’re working all hours god sends simply to put food on the table. The emphasis on slow-living that goes hand-in-hand with the “butter mum” aesthetic, for example, is only attainable if you can afford to slow down. And, let’s be honest, a huge number of us can’t.

Similarly, the “clean mum” aesthetic that relies on organised routines and a neutral home environment does not come cheap. It takes a lot of money to make sure all your child’s toys are in-keeping with your beige decor. And it takes a lot more privilege to be able to establish an organised routine that you are able to adhere to consistently.

I say all this from a hugely privileged position myself. I do, in fact, live in a farmhouse in the country. While we do not live a lavish lifestyle, we also do not have to worry about finances. That being said, these parental archetypes are still near impossible to achieve on a daily basis.

And that’s just the point. Sure, one day I could be considered a “butter mum” but (as all mums know), life comes at you fast. No sooner have I leant into the “cool mum” aesthetic, has my daughter thrown a temper tantrum in the super market and I am the least “cool” woman to ever exist.

Being a parent is a constant evolution. It involves learning and unlearning daily. What works one day might not work the next and, as parents, we are forced to be adaptable. Trying to shoehorn ourselves into the current trending persona is simply setting yourself up to fail. Because in reality, we all contain multitudes.

And while that might not get you many likes on TikTok, it is real.

As always, thank you so much for reading. I will be back in your inboxes new week with more musings on motherhood or whatever else tickles my pickle. Make sure you are subscribed so you don’t miss a post.

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I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

Buy me a coffee

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

I did, however, have a very toxic relationship with alcohol when I did drink. I have struggled with my mental health from a young age and while I never considered alcohol as a be a coping mechanism, I also never considered it as something that was having a detrimental effect on my state of mind. In my mind I suffered with my mental health and sometimes I drank alcohol. Those two things were unrelated. After all, I had battled anxiety and depression since long before I tried my first Jägerbomb.

That was until I left university. My first year out of university was tumultuous to say the least. I was living on my own in an unfamiliar city, was struggling financially and didn’t have the support system around me that I had spent the last 3 years building. I struggled a lot with the transition and after a particularly traumatic incident found myself at rock bottom. I needed to go home.

Instead, I spent a year desperately trying to connect with people, hoping that someone would see me enough to recognise the cry for help. This involved a lot of going out drinking. It was the only way I knew how to make friends. I wanted people to like me and, in my mind at least, the way to do that was to be ‘the fun one’. Despite living in my overdraft and running on empty, I never declined a social invitation and I was always the first to suggest we ordered a round of shots. My alcohol intake was rising, my mental health was plummeting, and for the first time I noticed that there might be a correlation.

Again, it wasn’t that I felt I needed alcohol to survive. I wasn’t drinking at home or having withdrawal symptoms. But I did feel that I needed alcohol to make friends. If I didn’t drink, no one was going to want to go out with me.

After about a year of this, I came home. It was, without a doubt, the best decision that I made. Despite leaving what I am sure had the potential to be a very promising career, the version of me that existed at that time could no longer handle it.

It would be another 2 years until I stopped drinking.

When I first returned home, I thought all my problems would be fixed. Unfortunately, this was not the case and things were about to get a whole lot worse before they got better.

During this period of my time, I met my now-husband. When I first met his friends and family I was under the same impression that I was when I lived away - these people are only going to like me if I drink. My biggest fear was being the ‘boring’ one, of missing a night out or being the only one to not be down for a shot of Sambuca. I was convinced that if I wasn’t the life and soul of every event, he was sure to leave me for someone who was. And so I drank.

It was like playing Russian Roulette every time I went out. How would I respond to the alcohol this time? Would I be the fun, outgoing one? Or would my anxiety and depression rear it’s ugly head? Usually, it was the latter. It had got to the point where the consequences of my drinking was not only impacting me. They were impacting the people I loved most. My mum would sit up waiting for the call. My husband would be on tenterhooks, dreading the moment we got home and he was left to deal with the ramifications of our night out.

I decided it was time to stop drinking. After a particularly bad night, I went cold turkey. I couldn’t face hurting the people I loved and I decided I was better off being the ‘boring’ one than feeling the way alcohol was making me feel.

This was 5 years ago.

It was the best decision of my life.

Without it, I am not sure I would by married to my husband. I do not think I would have had my daughter. I don’t think I would have made it through my PhD.

Along with stopping drinking, I continued to go to therapy. I went every week for 7 years. It changed my life. Over time, I developed healthy coping mechanism to look after my mental health. I faced my past head-on and went through the gruelling journey of learning and unlearning. It was sometimes messy, often painful and always powerful.

I realised that in order to make friends, I didn’t need to be anything other than my authentic self. I didn’t need alcohol. I didn’t need to have the most scandalous story. I didn’t need to be the loudest person in the room. The people that mattered were going to hear me either way. I began to build sincere friendships. Friendships that were not built on a facade but rather on authenticity and truth. When my anxiety and depression creeped in, I felt well-equipped to manage it and had garnered a support system that made sure I was never alone.

I had my hen-do sober. Got married sober. Grieved my Dad sober. I have been to bottomless brunch, nights out and festivals. I sing karaoke and I am always the first on the dance floor. I have lived an incredibly full and fun life without alcohol.

But I do sometimes miss it.

Not because I feel I need it. But because I genuinely enjoyed a glass of wine. I liked a cocktail on holiday and I was a sucker for a cold cider in a beer garden on a summer day.

5 years on and I am confident in myself that my relationship with alcohol would never return to what it was. I am happy and self-assured without a shot of vodka. I care a hell of a lot less if people like me and understand that in trying to make it so, I pushed a lot of people away.

Sometimes I think about what it might be like if I started drinking again. I am currently pregnant and hope to breastfeed my son for as long as I am able, so it is not something that would happen anytime soon. But I do consider it. What would it be like to order a glass of wine with my dinner? Could I have a gin and tonic with the girls or grab a beer at the local pub after our Sunday afternoon walks? Before I stopped drinking, my husband and I loved nothing more than enjoying a bottle of red alongside a nice cheese board. My mum and I would have a Prosecco with dinner when we went on a spa day and I was always able to join in with the Christmas toast. Alcohol did bring with it a lot of lovely, bonding moments that I sometimes crave. The truth is, a diet coke just doesn’t quite cut it.

My life looks very different to what it did 5 years ago. Nights out are a thing of the past and the thought of parenting hungover is enough to turn anyone to sobriety. My mental health is the best it has ever been and I have no desire to go out and get wasted. So would it really be the worse thing in the world to have a drink again? Probably not. After all, I stopped drinking for a reason; to get on top of my mental health. I have done that. My sobriety has served its purpose. I have worked bloody hard for a bloody long time to get to where I am today. Maybe I deserve a drink to celebrate?

But it is that hard work that keeps me on the fence. I live a wonderful life without alcohol and all of the best moments of my life have not included it. So, what’s the point? Whether you have a toxic relationship with alcohol or not, I think we can all agree that it isn’t exactly good for our health. And honestly, is it really worth the risk?

Honestly, I don’t know if I will ever drink again. Whenever I have toyed with the idea in the past I have decided it’s not worth it. I kind of get a kick out of being the sober one now. Whereas before I was embarrass to tell people I didn’t drink, now it makes me proud. I consider 5 years without alcohol to be one hell of an achievement, so why not push for 10? And if you’re going to do 10, is there any point in starting again anyway?

True to form, I am very likely overthinking it and it is not a dilemma I am sad to have. Once upon a time, I was unsure I was ever going to get to a point where I knew confidently I would be able to drink again without it impacting my mental health. Never mind a point where I knew that regardless of whether I drank or not I would continue to have a life full of love, joy and beautiful relationships. I know whatever decision I make, there is a 24 year old version of me out there somewhere that is incredibly proud of the version of me that writes this today.

Cheers to her.

As always, thank you so much for reading. I will be back in your inboxes new week with more musings on motherhood, personal essays or whatever else tickles my pickle.

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I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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While getting gifts for baby is lovely, sometimes a thoughtful gift for mum is a way to help us feel seen during a period where it is so easy to feel invisible. So, I thought that today I would share with you a little gift guide for anyone in the market for a gift for a new mum or new mum to be in their life. (cough cough, my husband).

Disclaimer: I have shared a few links to bits and pieces I like. I am not sponsored in anyway, I am just making life as easy as possible for my husband.

£25 and under.

• A voucher to her favourite coffee shop. You can never have enough coffee shop vouchers. For the first few months, I pretty much solely ventured to my local coffee shop for a drink and a slice of cake. This little ritual became the highlight of my day in the early postpartum period. Knowing that I was getting a freebie was an added bonus.

• Sweet treats from your local bakery. One of my favourite gifts I received in the postpartum period was a box of cupcakes from our local bakery. I genuinely think I might have cried when I took the first bite! (Postpartum hormones are wild, okay?). Now whenever I go into that bakery I always think of those precious early days with my daughter; eating cake, breastfeeding and watching comfort shows.

• Homemade meals and treats they can chuck in the freezer. When I asked my fellow mum friends what gift they would most like to receive in the early postpartum period, this was hands down the one that came up most. With the best will in the world, there are only so many hours in a day, and the last thing you want to do after giving birth is stand over a stove cooking dinner. Packaging up some freezer-friendly meals and treats is not only incredibly thoughtful, but it also doesn’t have to break the bank. A spag bol, a lasagne or (as one of my Substack friends suggested) cookie dough balls, are super simple to prepare and will mean to absolute world.

• A cute water bottle. If she is breastfeeding, I can pretty much guarantee she is dehydrated. And, let’s be honest, nothing makes us girls more inclined to drink more water than a cute personalised water bottle. My top tips would be to look for one that will be easy to drink from one handed (preferably with a straw). I am obsessed with this one from Regatta.

  

• A bag of good quality coffee (decaf if they’re breastfeeding). In the early postpartum days, the thought of that first coffee is a morning is what got me through the long, sleepless nights. Nothing felt more indulgent! If they have a favourite coffee shop, pop in a see if they stock their coffee beans. And remember to go for the decaf option if they’re breastfeeding.

• A trendy photo frame. She is going to take a lot of photographs over the next few years and so I am sure that a cute photo frame would be put to good use. I am a huge Oliver Bonas fan and think this one in particular is super cute!

  

• A photo album. Along similar lines, a slip-in photo album would also make a great gift for a new mum. My daughter is two and we have just filled our fifth!

• A thoughtful book you know she’ll love (bonus points if you add a little note explaining why you chose it for her). When she is sat nap-trapped or cluster feeding for hours on end, she will definitely appreciate a good book. Plus, a thoughtful little note explaining why you think she will love it will help her to feel seen - especially important in this season when it is so easy to lose yourself. I genuinely think there is no gift more meaningful than a thoughtfully selected book.

£25-£50.

• A good quality pair of pyjamas. For the first month after giving birth, my version of getting dressed was changing out of my ‘night time pyjamas’ into my ‘day time pyjamas’. And trust me, when you’re sweaty and leaking from every orifice, the more options you have the better. Treating her to a pair of good quality pyjamas that she wouldn’t normally buy herself is a definite win. Chelsea Peers do some really cute patterns, like these! They also do maternity pyjamas if you are buying for a pregnant mummy.

  

• A nice, cosy blanket. Everyone should have a good quality, cosy blanket. Anything that helps a new mum feel more relaxed and provides an easy way for them to give themselves a bit of well-deserved TLC is an absolute winner.

• A Sofa Buddy. A great gift for new parents - both mums and dads! There is nothing worse than being nap-trapped and realising your phone is over on the other side of the room. A Sofa Buddy would have been a super handy way to make sure I had everything on hand before bunkering down to do nap time.

• A food hamper made up of all her favourite snacks. You might have noticed a recurring theme throughout this gift guide… food. Honestly, you cannot go wrong with food. Those first few weeks after returning home with my daughter. was really struggling mentally and food was one of my primary sources of joy. It helped me feel like I was looking after myself and showing my body the love it deserved. Plus, when you don’t have the capacity to go to the supermarket, knowing you have a selection of snacks on hand is a huge comfort.

• A fancy toiletries bag. Who doesn’t love a cute toiletries bag? Trust me, she is going to have a lot of new toiletries. From nipple shields, to sanitary towels, to lanolin, a decent sized toiletries bag would come in super handy. Bonus points if it is trendy like this one from Damson Madder.

  

• Apple AirTag. Perhaps an unusual choice, but something that would have come in very handy during those early days (scrap that, it would still come in handy now!). As a new mum, you have a million and one things to remember and I can guarantee you that where you put your keys will not be one of those things. These would have been an absolute lifesaver and saved a lot of last minute stresses before leaving the house.

£50-£100.

• A voucher to their favourite restaurant. Want to treat them to some food and time for themselves? A voucher to their favourite restaurant is an absolute winner. Whether they go on a date night, a mates date, or even take the little one along, it gives them a great excuse to get dressed up (or at least get changed out of their pyjamas) and treat themselves without splashing the cash.

• Personalised jewellery. I absolutely love a personalised piece of jewellery and you can pick up lots of high-quality stuff for a reasonable price. A personal favourite of mine is this multi-signature name necklace from Abbott Lyon. I treated myself to one after the birth of my daughter and have not taken it off in two years. (Possibly against advice) I shower in it, sleep in it, sweat it in… everything! And it still looks as good as the day I got it.

  

• A cosy dressing gown. Another common theme for this gift guide has been indulgence, and what is more indulgent that a nice, cosy dressing gown? It is one of those things that everyone wants but very few people are going out and buying themselves. Especially not a fancy one, like this one from The White Company.

  

• Some good quality hand soap. I know, I know, this one sounds super boring. But let me tell you, she is going to be washing her hands a lot in those early postpartum days - whether it is from nappy changing or simply worrying about everything being sterilised! A good, quality hydrating hand soap like this one from Aesop would make a great option.

• A digital photo frame. We recently invested in a digital photo frame and I absolutely love it. Since having my daughter I dread to think of the sheer number of pictures I have taken. While I do love getting them developed and displaying them around the house, unfortunately there is a limit to the amount of wall space we have in our home. A digital photo frame has made it so I can display all my favourite photos in one place. A great gift for any new mum!

£100+.

• A nice spa day. 9 hours of lounging by a pool, sipping coffee and going into various steam rooms that I am sure are doing something good for me even though I am not quite sure what… pure bliss. There is nothing I enjoy more in the world than a good spa day. Except for maybe a spa day that I have not had to pay for. While on the pricier side, a spa day is hands-down the greatest gift you can give to a new mum. If it is a little out of budget, lots of spas also so twilight sessions which tend to be more affordable. Just make sure they have plenty of time to redeem it. For me, a spa day was pretty much off the cards for a year (until my daughter was no longer breastfeeding) so it is worth keeping that in mind.

• This Neom Wellbeing Destress-Wind Down Bundle. Do I love Neom? Yes. I am ever going to spend that much money on bubble bath for myself? Absolutely not. This screams indulgence. It is the ultimate self-care gift. And I promise you that any new mum would greatly appreciate it. If she is not a fan of Neom, fear not. There are so many great beauty and self-care hampers for new mums on the market that would suit whatever your price range.

  

• A subscription to a meal delivery service. Just like gifting home cooked meals that can be chucked in the freezer, a subscription to a meal delivery service like Guosto or HelloFresh would make their life so much easy in those first few weeks postpartum. We’ve used Guosto for a while now and can’t fault it. There is a great selection of super easy meals - even my two year old is a fan!

• Some good quality bedding. While this might be one she saves until after the night sweats, boob leakage and days of wearing a nappy, I can guarantee that some high quality bedding would go down a treat. Seriously, how cute is this Rhubarb collection from Piglet in Bed? (They also do matching towels if you wanted to really splash the cash).

  

• A postpartum MOT. Something that I wish I would have done after giving birth to my daughter was get a postpartum MOT to get my pelvic floor, abdominal wall and general recovery and healing checked out. At the time though, it seemed like a frivolous waste of money. Two years on and I realise that that was far from the case and I really would have benefitted from prioritising my own physical health. All of my friends who had one highly recommended it (and don’t piss themselves every time they leave the house like a certain someone…). Give them the gift of continence this postpartum period.

• A Velvetiser. Okay, hear me out, but this might be the most perfect gift for a new mum who has given birth in the winter months. Indulgent, a little bit fancy and something that she is probably not going to go out and buy for herself. Picture the scene. You’re sipping a fancy hot chocolate with a good book, the Christmas lights are twinkling, and your little one is having a nap. Pure bliss.

• A book subscription. Speaking of a good book, my final suggestion is a subscription to a book subscription service. I received one of these for Christmas a few years back from Rare Bird Books (you can find it here) and I absolutely loved it. I got to read so many different titles I wouldn’t have otherwise picked up, and I got excited every time I received a delivery. Plus, with this one there was also an option to join an online book club - a nice added bonus if she is struggling to get out and about but looking for something for her.

  

  So, there you have it. My gift guide for all the new mums out there! I hope you (my husband) found this useful and have taken copious notes throughout. You won’t regret it.

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  If you have made it to the end, thank you so much! This post is a little different to my usual newsletters, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read it. I’ll be back in your inboxes next week with more musings on motherhood, popular culture and whatever else tickles my pickle. I’ll see you there.

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  I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

  Buy me a coffee

  
  I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

  Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

It is a belief that I myself have never subscribed to. Rather than keeping our salaries to ourselves, I firmly believe that having open and honest conversations about what we earn help to prevent people from being taken advantage of and force companies to acknowledge pay discrepancies that they might otherwise be getting away with.

In the spirit of sharing, I thought I would tell you guys my current salary. I work 15 plus hour days and I am on call 24/7. I don’t get weekends and I don’t get a dinner break. I spend most of the day on my feet and when I am not attending baby groups, cleaning nappies, cooking dinner, or cleaning the house, I am organising things behind the scenes. I am in the business of making sure my family life runs like a well-oiled machine. All the doctor’s appointments are booked, we don’t miss a birthday. I know what size shoes we all wear and what signs to watch out for to prevent a temper tantrum. I risk assess everywhere we go and I am constantly on high alert.

I am a SAHM and I earn nothing.

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All my adult life I have had my own money. I have never been what you might call a high-earner - unfortunately academia and high-earnings are not something that go hand in hand. However, I have always been able to provide for myself. I have paid my rent on time, put a little bit aside every month for a rainy day and still had money left over to treat myself to a new set of nails or an iced-coffee. It has been a long time since I have been financially reliant on another person and it is the first time I have been financially reliant on someone who is not my parent. I am now, of course, financially reliant on my husband.

It is a decision that we did not take lightly and one that we made together. We both agreed that we were in a fortunate enough position where we could survive on one salary. We also both agreed that we would rather our daughter be taken care of by one of us than be sent to nursery. At the time, my husband had a more secure job that paid him a higher salary than what I was earning. It therefore made sense that it would be me that stayed at home. While there was a certain element of the decision being made for me - not by my husband, but by a culture that does not adequately support working parents - it is also a decision now that I would not take back. When I think about not being with my daughter every day, it breaks my heart. These past two years have been a joy and a privilege and I only hope that I am able to do the same for my future son.

But, I’ll be totally honest, when I look at my bank account a little bit of doubt sets in. When I hear that a friend has got a promotion and will be earning more money, I get hit with a pang of guilt, jealousy and fear. When I see my friends going abroad on hen-dos, or getting their hair done, or even buying themselves a new outfit, I miss the old version of me that had my own income. A version of me that didn’t have to ask someone else for money if I wanted a new dress. A version of me that was financially independent.

While I still have my own savings, the thought of whittling them away on seemingly trivial things like clothes or makeup makes me cringe. So I quite simply just don’t buy them. I no longer have my hair and nails done. I don’t buy new clothes or frivolously treat myself to a fancy coffee. I don’t book spa days or buy that fancy, over-priced candle just because it reminds me of a trip I took when I was a teenager. I don’t do these things anymore because I do not see the money that my husband earns as my money. Asking him to pay for the weekly food shop or clothes for our daughter feels somewhat acceptable to me. Asking him to pay for my latest facial feels, well… a bit like a piss take .

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I can’t ask my husband to pay for that, can I?

I recently read a great article by Marina Mofford from The Nap Trap that got me thinking about this question.

In the article, Marina articulates my feelings regarding finances and beings a SAHM so accurately it was as if she had been dwelling inside my brain for the last 7 months. As Marina writes: ‘Buying groceries or diapers still feels like doing my job. Buying something just for me feels like asking for a favor’.

But why?

My husband and I both understood what we were signing up for when I became a SAHM. We both agreed that the money he earned at work was “our” money. He has never once made me feel like I can’t have something or made me feel guilty for asking for money. So why I am so resistant to ask for money to buy myself a new pair of jeans? Why is walking around with jeans that are definitely worn at the crotch, risking flashing my fellow soft play frequenters every time I squat down, less embarrassing than saying I need twenty quid?

Despite knowing how hard I work every day. Despite knowing how exhausted I am. Despite knowing how much we would have to pay for someone to do what I am doing for our daughter all week. Despite all this, I still feel shame that I am not bringing home a wage. I still feel like I lack value.

I have written about how becoming a SAHM has made me address my own internalised misogyny before. To quote a previous article of mine, Am I a bad feminist for becoming a SAHM:

Driven by this narrow and individualistic understanding of feminism, the thought of a man providing for me while I stayed at home and looked after my children made me feel sick to my stomach. Not because it was something I thought would be unfulfilling, but because I thought it would leave me in my partner’s debt. I thought he would be doing me a favour while I dossed around bringing nothing to the table (apart from, of course, his dinner which I had loving prepared while he was at work).

In this article, I go on to discuss how becoming a SAHM fundamentally altered my perspective and how ‘it feels less like my husband is doing me a favour and more like we are working as a team, both supporting and providing for our family in different but equally vital ways’.

So, again, why do I feel like he is doing me a favour if I buy myself something nice? If I see us as working as a team, why can I not ask my teammate for some backup? Clearly, despite knowing first-hand how tough being a SAHM (having worked a range of different jobs, I maintain that it is the hardest I have ever done) and how much value it brings, there is still a part of me that is not able to fully appreciate that value.

And I think that this is an issue that goes beyond myself. I think that as a society we have become conditioned to consider the work of SAHMs (and other unpaid labour such as caring giving) as lacking value.

In an article published by UN Women back in 2025 entitled What is unpaid care work and how does it power the economy?  it was revealed that every day, women around the world do 16 billion hours of unpaid care work. If this work was given a monetary value, it would exceed 40 per cent of GDP in some countries. Yet, in-spite of its central role in building and sustaining communities (and economies), it is rarely ever considered in statistics or given the credit it deserves. It is, of course, usually women who are bearing the brunt of unpaid labour.

However, in not valuing work such as being a SAHM, we are hurting men as well. Referring again the the UN Women article, across countries, 85 per cent of fathers say they want to be more involved in their children’s lives. But the stigma surrounding taking a pay cut, toxic masculinity in workplace cultures and abhorrent paternity leave policies, make it a hell of a lot harder.

We all remember how just a few weeks back during the World Cup, Jeremy Doku was heavily criticised for leaving Belgium's World Cup camp to be with his wife while she gaves birth to their first child.

What sort of message is that sending to young men? As a matter of fact, what sort of message is that sending to young people in general?

That parenthood lacks value.

That unless you are achieving success outside of the home, it simply doesn’t count.

That your value is based on your salary.

Marina ends her article with the following quote:

Buy yourself something nice, mama. You deserve it, and not because you need to earn it.

And you know what, she is absolutely right. While I am not going to start spending our money frivolously (we certainly don’t have enough for that), I am going to stop feeling guilty for buying things that are for me. If I want to go for a meal with the girls every so often, then I should be able to do that without the shame attached to spending some of what my husband earns. If I want to buy myself a new pair of jeans (God knows I need to), once again I should be able to do that without the shame attached to spending some of what my husband earns.

Because sure, I didn’t earn that money. But my god, did I work for it.

As always, thank you so much for being here. I truly appreciate it and love the community that we are building here.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

Buy me a coffee

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

It is a sound that radiates a pure, unmediated honesty so many of us have long since lost to shame. She is not phased that her laugh isn’t gentle or contained. She doesn’t care that it is loud and a little brash. She has not yet been told there is any reason to be embarrassed. And I hope she never is. I hope she always laughs with such authenticity as this, because honestly it is something there just isn’t enough of in this world.

I wondered for a while where she picked up her cackle. Perhaps it was just something unique to her; not a learnt behaviour but something intrinsic and primal.

And then I found something funny.

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Not the sort of funny where you just exhale air our of your nose, but really laugh-out-loud funny. Out of me came a dirty, loud cackle.

I caught myself for a second. I heard my daughter. It was the first time I had ever thought about my own laugh and I realised that she had likely picked up her cackle from me. My laugh is not delicate and cutesy. It is not gentle or contained. It is loud, it is brash and it is authentic. I was filled with pride. One of the things I find most endearing about my daughter, that makes everyone who meets her smile, is something she has learnt from me. She has seen her mum laugh unapologetically and loudly. She watches me cackle with joy and she has started to emulate it.

My daughter also has a terrible temper. She huffs and she puffs and she is prone to the odd tantrum. She doesn’t have a lot of patience when things go wrong, and her exacerbated sighs when I don’t get Bluey on as quickly as she would like would not sound out of place coming from a fully grown adult after a rough day at the office.

Last week I was trying to get into the house. Our front door has been playing up and opening it is proving more than a little but frustrating. After a few failed attempts, I got into a strop. I was huffing and puffing, effing and jeffing, and generally throwing my weight around like a child… like my child. I realised in that moment that my daughter’s lack of patience, her temper and her ability to go from 0 to 100 in a mere matter of seconds might also be learnt behaviour. After spotting it once, I began to notice it more and more. Minor inconveniences would get me in a rage and I definitely sigh more than the average person.

I decided that it was probably time I addressed this, along with some other less desirable traits that I want to avoid my daughter trying to emulate. My irrational responses to minor hassles, my intolerance, my tendency to view the cup as half empty; these are all things that I have always known about myself but never felt the need to address. Not until I saw them in my toddler.

There are so many beautiful things about myself that my daughter is mirroring back to me - her excitement, her passion, her wit, her love for books and nature and people. Many of these things are parts of me that I have long since forgotten about, or undervalued, or simply never really noticed.

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But there is a lot of ugly things about myself that I am also beginning to notice as my daughter looks to me more and more for guidances on how to be. It has made me a lot more aware of both the wonderful and the less wonderful aspects of my personality and is giving me to opportunity to nurture the former and challenge the latter.

I don’t expect my daughter to be a perfect person, just as I do not expect myself to be a perfect person. At the end of the day, I am a human being with emotions and it is important than my daughter is witness to that. I don’t want her growing up thinking that anger, or sadness, or frustration, are emotions that need to be ignored. I firmly believe that it is of the upmost importance that children appreciate that their parents have feelings to and are not these infallible punching bags that perch upon a pedestal (all while trying to mask the inevitable fissures). However, I also want her to grow up with healthy and appropriate coping mechanisms. I am not going to become a patient person overnight. I am not suddenly going to become a relentless optimist. But simply knowing that I am this little girls yardstick to which she is basing her own relationship to the world around her is inspiring me to become better.

As always, thank you so much for reading. I will be back in your inboxes new week with more musings on motherhood or whatever else tickles my pickle.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

Buy me a coffee

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

I was told a lot of things about myself when I was younger -

‘You’re so clever.’

‘You’re such a good girl'.’

‘You’re so mature.’

Throw-away statements that I internalised and came to understand as crucial components of my personality. While not necessary bad traits, I find myself from a very young age being forced into a box that I believed I had to stay in for my entire life. If not, who was I? If I wasn’t the clever one, if I wasn’t a “good girl”, if I wasn’t mature, who even was I? Until relatively recently, if I ever acted counter to any of these traits I was forced to confront a serious identity crisis, which usually left me riddled with crippling shame and guilt.

As an adult, I have had to acknowledge the reality that we are all multi-faceted people. We all make mistakes, we all contain multitudes and - crucially - we are all capable of more than we ever thought possible. Both for better and for worse.

Luckily, this is a tale of a time when it has been for the better; when doing something “out of character” brought with it pride, joy and freedom.

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If it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to me.

One thing I heard a lot of growing up was ‘if it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to Jamie’. This did not refer to good things. This referred to things like accidents and illnesses. When I tore the ligaments in my ankle on a ski trip, it didn’t come a surprise to the adults in my life. After all, if it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to Jamie. When I got blood poisoning for the third time from a ill-fitting pair of shoes, it was met with a similar response. If it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to Jamie.

It is perhaps no surprise then that, even as an adult, I see danger in everything. I never learned how to ride a bike for fear of falling off and dying. I never had a bunk bed for, you guessed it, fear of falling off and dying. And I never learned how to drive a car.

When I turned seventeen, my mum got me lessons for my birthday. I was absolutely petrified. I wasn’t the sort of person who could drive a car. I saw danger - quite literally - at every turn, and I quit after my fifth lesson. I decided then that I was just never going to drive. I resided myself to a lifetime of being a passenger princess. When I decided that I wanted to move to a city, the need to learn how to drive became even less. It’s not like I’d be driving here anyway, so really I just saved money by not buying a car, I told myself as I got an Uber to work. I missed out on a lot during this period of my life because I couldn’t drive, but the thought of it made me feel physically sick. After all, if it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to me.

When I moved back to my small town, I dabbled with the idea of starting lessons again. However, I lived very close to a train station and my mum was willing to act as my taxi service, so the idea soon went out the window. I continued letting people chauffeur me around for years. I just wasn’t a person who could drive. I didn’t have the common sense, I wasn’t very street smart, I didn’t need to drive because someone would just do it for me… all things I had been told growing up that I clung to for dear life during this period.

I met my now-husband shortly after moving back home and I quickly moved into his house in a small village. No train station in sight and only one (very unreliable) bus that headed to the closest town. Still, I resisted. I relied on favours from family and friends, but slowly the realisation was beginning to hit me… I was going to have to learn how to drive.

A reality check.

I passed my test the first time. I was a good driver. The first time I went out driving, I went with my mum. I stalled the car outside of a hospital. I panicked as I saw the queue of cars behind me getting longer and longer. I got out of the car in the middle of the road and made mum drive the rest of the way.

It all came flooding back. If it’s going to happen to anyone, it’s going to happen to me. I decided I would never drive again.

And then I had my daughter.

At first, I continued relying on other people but I was finding that now not only was I missing out on things, my daughter was to. We couldn’t go to baby groups if my father-in-law was working. I could only have playdates that were round at my house unless my mum was off work and could take me. I couldn’t go to doctors appointments or visit the hospital unless my husband took a day off work. Honestly, I felt pretty useless. More than that, I felt like a burden. I was embarrassed.

I knew then that it was time. I had to start driving. So what if I wasn’t the sort of person who drives a car? I was going to have to be, because my daughter needed me to be; I needed me to be.

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“I’m driving, just like Mummy”.

I went out for a few practise runs with my husband, but was putting off going out on my own. Until one day I just did it. I don’t know why or what changed - maybe it was the simple fact I couldn’t sit in the house any longer - but I got in the car and I drove my daughter and I to a baby group. And then I did it again, and again.

One day, as we were playing at home, my daughter started to mimic driving a car. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied ‘I’m driving, just like Mummy’. I was filled with so much pride that I had been able to achieve that; the my daughter had witnessed me achieving something that meant so much to me.

She won’t remember the version of me that didn’t drive. She will only know a mum who can take her to school and her swimming lessons; who can drive herself to the gym or out with her friends without relying on someone else. Something that has been such an important part of my identity for so long, is not how the most important person in my life will see me. And that is incredibly powerful.

Breaking the cycle.

The truth is, sometimes bad things happen to me. But you know what, sometimes bloody incredible things happen to me as well. It’s not some inherent part of my personality; it’s just simply the fact that I am human. As humans, we are all capable of being many different things. I can be incredibly intelligent. I can also be very daft. I can be a ‘good girl’, but I have also made a lot of mistakes in my time. We are not define by one singular personality trait. We are all multitudes.

Reflecting on this has made me a lot more aware of how I am raising my daughter. Simple things like changing ‘you’re naughty’ to ‘that was a naughty thing to do’ or ‘you’re clumsy’ to ‘don’t worry, we all make mistakes’, could make all the difference.

As for me, starting driving has had me questioning what else I might be capable of doing that I never thought possible. It has opened up so many doors for me, not only getting myself out and about, but also how I think about myself. I am able to achieve things I thought I would never be able to do. And I hope that in watching her mum grow and continue to try new things - even things that aren’t “her thing” - will teach my daughter that she is too.

As always, thank you so much for being here. I truly appreciate it and love the community that we are building here.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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Here are my current rankings and thoughts on everything I have read so far this year. Of course, it goes without saying that these are just my opinions. If you loved a book that I didn’t, that’s great! Art is subjective.

Anyway, let’s get into it.

2.5 star reads.

Private Rites by Julia Armfield - 2.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Private Rites follows the story of three sisters who, in spite of their tenuous relationships, are forced to reunite after the death of their abusive father. What plays out takes place in a near-future world constantly on the brink of drowning. It explores familial relationships, queerness and climate breakdown in a unique and thought-provoking style.

I went into this book with high expectations after seeing a lot of positive reviews over on BookTok. Unfortunately though, it was not for me. Armfield has a really beautiful writing style - something that caught my eye when I read her previous work, Our Wives Under the Sea - however, the story just didn’t work for me. I found it difficult to follow and I struggled to connect with any of the characters. Don’t get me wrong, I am not the sort of person who needs to “like” the people that I am reading about, but I do want to feel something, and in that sense this one just fell a bit short for me. I stuck with it, hoping that the ending would bring it some sort of redemption, but sadly this was not the case. While it wasn’t for me, I have heard a lot of really positive reviews so if it is on the TBR I would be really interested to hear your thoughts.

Piglet by Lottie Hazel - 2.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: After her fiancé admits to an earth-shattering betrayal just two weeks before their wedding, Pippa’s (Piglet) life starts to unravel as she becomes more and more fixated on food. The book explores themes of female rage, betrayal and the symbolic relationship between food and womanhood.

Just as with Private Rites, this one fell a little flat for me. On paper, it is my exact type of book. An unhinged, female protagonist, gluttonous descriptions of food, explorations of the relationship between food and womanhood… but it just didn’t quite work. The story felt a little half-baked (excuse the food pun) and I was left feeling a little unconvinced by the whole thing. I am also not a reader who needs an ending that wraps everything up in a bow; I am more than happy to be left with unanswered questions. However, in not answering the only question that was driving this plot, I felt like I had been a little cheated. Overall, while I didn’t necessarily dislike this book, I also didn’t feel much of anything else towards it.

Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind by Molly McGhee - 2.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind follows the story of a young man who, finding himself in dire straits, lands a job working for a secret government program. His role is to enter the dreams of white-collar workings and rid them of trauma in order to make them more productive at work the next day. The book explores the devastating consequences of late-stage capitalism in a satirical, yet extremely harrowing, manner.

I had never heard of this book before picking it up, but the premise had me absolutely hooked. I thought it was such a clever concept and I really enjoyed McGhee’s writing style. Again though, the story line fell a little flat for me and I felt that some of the key themes were sacrificed as I moved through the book. The ending felt a little bit convoluted and I think it would have benefitted from a little less going on. That being said, I found the concept really interesting and thought-provoking and it was definitely a unique read.

3 star reads.

MILF: Motherhood, Identity, Love and F*ckery by Paloma Faith - 3 stars.

Brief Synopsis: MILF is a candid, unflinching memoir that explores motherhood and all that goes with it. It explores topics such as IVF, mental health, parental relationships and the often invisible, always undervalued load that women carry.

My first non-fiction book of the year, I enjoyed Faith’s candid and unfiltered portrayal of motherhood. As a mother myself, it was an incredibly relatable and laugh-out-loud funny read. However, there were parts that I wish Faith would have delved into a little deeper. As someone who writes about her experiences with PPD, labour and motherhood very open and honestly, I found myself urging Faith to peel back just another layer. That being said, it is a brave presentation of the realities of motherhood that I think could be incredibly cathartic for new mums and mums-to-be.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo - 3 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Ninth House follows the story of Galaxy Stern, an unlikely freshman at Yale who has been tasked with monitoring the institutions secret societies. Her job is to use her ability of see ghosts to prevent these societies magic from getting out of hand. However, along the way her task gets derailed when she is forced to face her past trauma following the death of a girl on campus. It covers themes of misogyny, power and class, sprinkled with a generous helping of dark academia.

I actually started my year with Ninth House after picking it up at a local book swap. I am not a fantasy girly, but I am a dark academia girly so thought I would give it a go. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised. I enjoyed the characters and the general premise and found the story easy to follow (something I can struggle with when it comes to fantasy). The book touched on interesting themes and I found Bardugo’s writing style approachable and easy to digest. That being said, I often found the dialogue very cringy and a little juvenile. Although I generally enjoyed the read, I am not in a rush to pick up the next instalment of the series.

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3.5 star reads.

The Midnight Feast by Lucy Foley - 3.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: This one will be very brief as I don’t want to give anything away. All I will say is that The Midnight Feast is a fast-paced thriller told across multiple different timelines and perspectives. Set at a luxury wellness retreat that has stirred up a lot of controversy amongst locals, the story tells a gripping tale of murder, folklore and a hell of a lot of dark secrets.

I read this while I was away on holiday after picking it up at the library, and it was the perfect beach read. Fast-paced, gripping, full of twists and turns and generally just a fun, enjoyable read. I say “fun”, it is a murder mystery and it does cover some dark topics but it does so in an approachable way that doesn’t feel too heavy. The setting was timely and its exploration of class, wellness culture and community was witty and scathing. At times, however, I did find some of the writing a bit contrived and felt the characters were quite one-dimensional. That being said, while not my usual sort of read, I would absolutely read another of Foley’s work again if I find myself in a reading slump.

Murder at the Black Cat Café by Seishi Yokomizo - 3.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: After catching a monk digging behind the Black Cat Café, a police uncovers the faceless body of a woman buried alongside a dead black cat. What follows is a gripping tale of love, deceit and jealousy all set amongst the backdrop of postwar Japan. The version of this that I read also included another story entitled Why Did the Well Wheel Creak?, a similarly gripping tale which chronicles the downfall of a wealthy family in rural Japan.

Another murder mystery up next, this time from the late Japanese author Seishi Yokomizo. I had never read Yokomizo’s work before, but it was available to borrow from the library and I have recently been trying to make more of an effort to pick up translated works from international authors. I went into this with no expectations, and I really enjoyed it. The book includes two short stories, both of which are clever, fast-paced murder mysteries that keep you hooked from beginning to end. I particularly enjoyed Why Did the Well Wheel Creak?, which was told entirely through newspaper clippings and letters. I think the only downfall for me was that I was left wanting more from both novellas. I know, I know, they are meant to be short stories, but I felt that the characters and storylines were worthy of further exploration. That being said, I really enjoyed Yokomizo’s writing style and would definitely pick up more of his work.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - 3.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Never Let Me Go follows the life of Kathy, a state-sanctioned clone raised at a secluded boarding school called Hailsham alongside her peers. These clones, referred to as “students” have one simple destiny in life; to donate their vital organs until they eventually “complete”. This dystopian novel addresses themes of loss, memory and what it means to be human.

Based on the premise (and the incredible reviews), I was convinced this was going to be a 5 star read. However, it just missed the mark for me when it came to execution and I did feel as though the ending fell a little flat for me. That being said, it was still an incredibly moving book that continues to haunt me to this day. The story was harrowing and well-written, while the characters are so beautifully crafted it is hard not to feel an emotional connection to them. I thought the premise was incredibly interesting and was desperate to unravel what was going on. It was my first Ishiguro book and certainly was not going to be my last. I was a big fan of the writing style and keen to delve into more of his work.

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4 star reads.

Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid - 4 stars.

Brief Synopsis: While considered a historical fiction, Atmosphere is (as is says on the tin!) a love story. Written through multiple timelines, the novel follows the life of Joan Goodwin; an astronomy professor who becomes one of NASA’s first female astronauts in the 1980s. The book covers a lot of themes, including sexism, sexuality, familial relationships and what we are willing to sacrifice to achieve our ambitions.

Despite hearing a lot of really positive things, I had been putting this book off for a long time for fear it would not live up to the hype. Turns out, I should not have been concerned. I have read a few Jenkins Reid books in my time and enjoyed all of them. Atmosphere was no exception. It was a beautiful, heartfelt story of queer love, with a host of well-developed characters that stay with you long after the last page. As always, Jenkins Reid’s writing style was easily digestible, while still packing a punch. I am not a big crier when it comes to books, but this one did make me well up a little! While it has not stolen to top spot when it comes to Jenkins Reid’s work (that goes to Daisy Jones and the Six which did have me sobbing) it might have snagged itself second place.

Lost Souls Meet under a Full Moon by Mizuki Tsujimura - 4 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Lost Souls Meet under a Full Moon tells the story of a teenage “go-between” whose job is to arrange meetings between the living and the deceased, and his clients. The reunions follow strict rules that must be abided by at all costs. This magical realism novel explores grief, love, loneliness, regret and so many other beautiful, heart-wrenching themes.

This was my second book by Mizuki Tsujimura and I loved it. I will say, after Lonely Castle in the Mirror I was slightly disappointed with the ending - which is probably why I gave this one a 4 star - but only because I adored that book so much (review down below!). It is heartbreaking, thought-provoking and has stayed with me ever since reading it. The explorations of grief, relationships in all their different forms and ultimately what it means to be human, were so beautifully touching. I will definitely be picking up the second instalment to this series, How to Hold Someone in Your Heart, and would highly recommend giving it a read.

There are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak - 4 stars.

Brief Synopsis: There Are Rivers in the Sky is an epic story, seamlessly weaving together the lives of three different characters across different time periods and continents. Their fates become intertwined through heartbreak, passion, harrowing circumstances and the ancient Epic of Gilgamesh.The book explores themes of memory, nature human connection and asks us the important question… who owns the past?

This one was a bit of a slow-burner for me and when I first started it I wasn’t sure I was going to finish it, never mind give it such a high-rating. However, I suddenly found myself absolutely hooked by the characters. The way Shafak seamlessly flicks between continents and time periods is so beautifully done and I found myself in absolute awe of the sheer amount of research that must have gone into a novel of this scope. I found the plot absolutely fascinating and, after being confronted with my own ignorance on the topics it explores, was left wanting to know more. If you’re a fellow history lover in particular, I would really recommend giving this a go. It raises some really interesting questions about who owns the past - a timely and important discussion currently going on within the discipline.

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro - 4 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Another harrowing dystopian novel from Ishiguro, Klara and the Sun tells the story of Klara, an Artificial Friend who has been purchased for a chronically ill, genetically modified teenager. The book tenderly addresses themes of personhood, technology, consciousness and grief in a unique and thought-provoking manner.

Potentially an unpopular opinion, but I preferred Klara and the Sun to Never Let Me Go. Both have a similar (beautiful) writing style and both keep you hooked by gradually teasing bits of information that leave you desperately wanting to know more, but the storyline of Klara and the Sun felt better executed and the ending left me a lot more satisfied (if heartbroken). I absolutely fell in love with Klara’s character and felt for her so deeply throughout the entire book. The human characters as also incredibly well-written and while certainly not all likeable, they are incredibly empathetically written and I found their complexities to be a really honest depiction of what it means to be human. If you have read Never Let Me Go and liked the writing style but felt a little bit disappointed, I would seriously recommend trying Klara and the Sun.

4.5 star reads.

Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier - 4.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Written in the form of a flashback, Rebecca retroactively tells the story of a young woman who marries a wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter. Upon moving to his extravagant Cornish estate, she finds herself being haunted by the memory of her husband’s deceased wife, Rebecca.

I really had no idea what to expect when I went into this book. I have never read any Du Maurier before and, despite hearing good things, was a little bit daunted to give this one a go. I happened to stumble across it in the library one day, so decided it was time to see what all the fuss was about. I need not have been daunted. Despite being a long book, it was incredibly accessible and had me gripped from the start. While the plot is slow, the tension was palpable throughout and my heart was in my mouth for most of the book. The only reason it didn’t quite hit the 5 star ranking for me, was the fact that I was constantly waiting for that little bit more. While I do think that the unrelieved tension is half the beauty of the book, it left me feel like I had an itch I just couldn’t quite scratch. The ending also felt a little rushed, despite being a great twist that I was not expecting.

Educated by Tara Westover - 4.5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: In this raw, eye-opening memoir, Westover recounts her childhood and young adult life during which she had to contend with her family’s extremist, isolationist religious belief. Her journey from rural Idaho to a PhD program at the University of Cambridge sheds light on religion, familial ties, and what it means to be “educated”.

My second memoir of the year, this would not have been a book I’d have picked up had it not being for BookTok. Alas, everyone was raving about it and I got severe FOMO. I am really glad I gave this a go. It was equal parts heartbreaking and inspiring. It threw me headfirst into a world I am entirely unfamiliar with and I found myself desperately rooting for Westover throughout. Despite knowing the incredible things she has gone on to achieve, my heart was in my mouth at points as I read about the challenges she faced. It is a raw, unfiltered memoir that sheds light on the realities of religious extremism in an accessible yet poignant way.

5 star reads.

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado - 5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Told through distinctive, thematic vignettes, In the Dream House explores Machado’s experiences in an abusive, same-sex relationship. The memoir honestly and brutally documents the psychological manipulation she endured, while addressing the widespread ignorance that surrounds domestic violence in queer relationships.

I had very high expectations for this book, which usually ends up with me being disappointed. However, that was not the case this time. In the Dream House is probably the best memoir I have ever read - certainly the most unique. Machado’s writing style was so creative and so incredibly moving that I found myself absolutely hooked. Not only was I impacted as a reader, but also as a writer. Machado’s work has without a doubt encouraged me to approach my writing more creatively and unapologetically, providing evidence that thinking outside of the box can produce some of the most gripping and thought-provoking pieces of work.

Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura - 5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Lonely Castle in the Mirror follows the story of Kokoro, a junior high student who refuses to attend due to bullying. One day, while in her bedroom, Kokoro finds that her mirror is glowing. Stepping through the mirror she is transported to a magical castle where she meets six other teens. While in the castle, they are tasked by the elusive Wolf Queen to find a hidden wishing key. But there are rules that must be followed, otherwise the teens may face terrible consequences. The book addresses themes of friendship, loneliness, bullying and grief in a unique and beautiful story.

I wasn’t expecting to love this book half as much as I did, but when I tell you it altered my brain chemistry, I am not exaggerating. It fundamentally changed me as a reader, making me more thoughtful and contemplative in my approach to consuming literature. It is the most beautifully, heartbreaking story with a twist at the end that will stay with you for a long time after reading. I felt so much empathy for the characters and could visualise their world so clearly in my mind, that it was almost as if I too had been transported to the Lonely Castle in the Mirror. I would highly recommend giving this book a read - just be prepared to have your heartbroken in ways you never even imagined.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver - 5 stars.

Brief Synopsis: Demon Copperhead is a reimagining of Charles Dickens's David Copperfield set in modern-day Appalachia. It follows the life of Damon Fields (“Demon Copperhead”) - an orphaned boy born into poverty. We follow Demon as he navigates child labour, foster care, and an opioid crisis. It addresses themes of class, community, addiction and resilience.

Without a doubt, one of the best books I have ever read. I have never felt more emotionally connected to a set fictional characters before. Kingsolver’s exploration of class, poverty and relationships was absolutely exquisite and I felt everything that happened so deeply and viscerally. Despite being a long book, the pacing meant there was never a dull moment. Every sentence felt intentional and I was hooked from the very first page. This is a book that has stayed with me since reading it and I would recommend to absolutely anyone. An absolutely flawless piece of literature that I wish I could read over and over again.

If you have made it to the end, thank you so much for indulging me and allowing me to do something different with my little corner of the internet. While I plan of sticking with the motherhood content, expect the odd rogue newsletter sprinkled in there ever so often. I like to keep you on your toes!

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I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

Want more from The Pink Project? I got you.

‘Wow, you’re brave’ or ‘Good luck’.

Travelling with a little one gets a lot of stick and, honestly, I get it. It can be bloody hard work. But does that really mean we have to wave goodbye to those relaxing, all-inclusive holidays by the beach? Can we no longer enjoyed a cultured city break simply because we have become parents?

My daughter is just under 2 and so far we have been on 4 abroad adventures. I thought I would share with you some of the tips and tricks I have picked up along the way.

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If you’re travelling with a 6 month old.

Difficulty level: 2/10.

The first time we went abroad with my daughter, she was only 6 months old. If it would have been my choice, we would not have been travelling with her at such a young age. I was absolutely terrified. Alas, I had my PhD viva in the Netherlands that could not be delayed much longer so - against my better judgement - we boarded a flight and jetted off to Amsterdam. While doing your PhD viva over a year after submission and 6 months postpartum is not something I would necessary recommend, the trip itself was honestly a breeze. My daughter was still at an age where she would nap in the pram and we didn’t have to worry about solid foods. She got hungry? I whacked out a boob. Granted, she still wasn’t sleeping very well at night, but that was the case regardless of whether or not we were abroad or at home.

Coming from a small village, I was a little bit apprehensive about taking my daughter around a hectic city. However, at this point she was still not on the move so she was more than happy to sit in her pushchair and take in the sights. The people were incredibly accommodating and the whole trip was incredibly enjoyable.

So, some top tips for travelling with a 6 month old.

Speak with your accommodation directly to ensure they have all the necessary amenities in advance.

Before booking our accommodation, we made sure that we had spoken to them to ask about the amenities. This ensured we could continue practising safe-sleeping while away without any last minute panics. It also meant we knew what we needed to pack and what we didn’t, saving us a lot of space for the sheer number of outfits I decided to pack for our daughter. It also helped that the accommodation we chose is somewhere that I have stayed numerous times before. Being able to visualise where we were going to be staying really helped to curb my anxiety and saved a lot of stress upon arrival.

If you are weaning your baby, keep things super simple.

We had just started weaning our daughter when we went to the Netherlands and I was incredibly anxious about it. I thought that going away would undo all the progress we had made and she would really resist eating solids upon our return. Honestly, I had no need to be! We stocked up on plenty of pouches and age-appropriate snacks and then popped into the local supermarket for things like avocado and banana so we could continue to try baby-led weaning. Breastmilk was still my daughter’s primary source of calories, so if we struggles to find appropriate foods it wasn’t the end of the world. She tried a few new things while we were away and it didn’t impact her at all upon our return.

Get a few new toys and books for the plane.

Crinkle books, busy boards, sensory flash cards… anything light that can easily fit into your hand luggage. Honestly, we didn’t really need to entertain her much on the flight with it only being an hour (on the way there she napped for most of it), but they came in handy throughout the trip.

Pack for every weather (and for the occasional poonami).

Dutch weather is pretty similar to here in the UK - you never really know what you’re going to get. We made sure we had a couple of options just incase it was unseasonable hot/cold. We also made sure we had packed plenty of spares. I have found this has got better as my daughter has got older - now it is more food spills and mud - but at six months we still had to odd poonami and you do not want to get caught short.

Don’t worry too much about finding activities that will entertain them.

Honestly, at this age, they are just happy to be included. Everything is sensory and exciting when you’re a six month old and, if not, no worries! You nap 3 times a day anyway! Don’t stress too much about what you’re doing. As long as your baby is with you and loved, they’ll be fine.

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If you’re travelling with a 1 year old.

Difficulty level: 4/10.

When my daughter was 1 year old, we decided the take another trip. This time we did a long weekend in Copenhagen. At this point, while yet to fully master walking independently, my daughter wanted to be up and about. Sitting in the pushchair was no longer going to cut it. This made things a little more challenging that our previous trip and we did have to make sure that we had scheduled in more activities that would keep her occupied. Despite being another busy city, Copenhagen was perfect for this. There were plenty of child-friendly activities and everyone was incredibly helpful. We stayed in a central location to ensure we didn’t have to travel in and out of the city centre everyday and, once again, spoke to the hotel in advance to ensure that they had all the necessary amenities. While a longer flight than Amsterdam, it was still only a couple of hours and so once we had bribed her with some snacks, read a few books and given her a nap, we had arrived. Again, it was a really enjoyable trip and a place that I would really recommend visiting with little ones if you still want the cultural city vibes while being able to entertain your child.

Some of the top tips I picked up on this trip were:

Stay as centrally as possible.

Unlike the Netherlands, we had never been to Copenhagen before and did not fancy experimenting with public transport with a one-year old. We therefore decided to book our accommodation as centrally as possible, meaning everything was in walking distance. No waiting for a bus or sussing out foreign train timetables. Just up and out!

Research child-friendly activities.

While at 6-months our daughter was pretty happy to just tag along for the ride, at a year, this was no longer the case. Sure, she enjoyed exploring the odd museum and sampling tasty pastries, but she also wanted to be up and about. We therefore researched different child-friendly activities to do while we were over there. Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting you spend every day at a soft play - after all, it is your holiday as well. But your one-year old might also not want to be sat in a bar, people watching and sipping on an Aperol Spritz. It’s all about balance.

Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to see and do everything.

Things take longer with a one-year old. Getting them ready, leaving the hotel, eating breakfast… life is just a little slower. Unfortunately, this might mean having to sacrifice a few things on your to-do list. Prioritising the things you definitely want to do and then having a list of “bonus” activities is a great way to make sure you’re being realistic while still getting as much as possible from your holiday.

If you’re travelling with an 18 month old.

Difficultly level: 5/10

At 18 months, it was back to the Netherlands for my friend’s PhD viva. This time we decided to take the ferry rather than flying which my husband and I both really enjoyed. Not only did it mean we spent very little time stuck in a car or a plane, but it also meant that we were not as restricted with what we could pack. This was incredibly helpful as we were able to take outfits for different eventualities without having to worry. We also made sure we were stocked up with plenty of nappies and snacks that before we had to ration. By this point my daughter was walking independently and so most of the trip was spent risk-assessing every location we went to and so it was really helpful to be back in a place that I was very familiar with. That being said, it was still exhausting both mentally and physically. My daughter also demanded more of our attention this time around, and got bored a lot more easily than on our previous trips. As we were travelling for a PhD viva, it wasn’t exactly a trip full of child-friendly activities and so my husband and I did have to split up at numerous points to ensure we weren’t missing out on the celebrations but our daughter was still entertained. That being said, at this point we were having to do this at home and so we were very much used to running around after her and trying to keep her occupied. The trip was still wonderful and we were all able to enjoy ourselves both together and separately. Trying a new form of travel was daunting, but it paid off, and I would definitely be keen to try the ferry again for future trips.

Take plenty of activities to keep them entertained.

I'm sorry to say that the crinkle books and sensory cards are not going to cut it anymore. If you want to be able to sit through a meal in relative peace, you’re going to need a few more tricks up your sleeve. We try our best to avoid screen time when we are out and about and so decided to buy a few new toys for my daughter prior to going away. That way she was engaging with new stuff she has never played with before, meaning they kept her occupied for long and we could drink our coffee while it was still hot.

Play to your strengths.

Call me crazy, but I like a good soft play. I also love a good kids disco and I am more than happy to sit telling our daughter stories. My husband, on the other hand, is a lot more rough and tumble. He loves nothing more than chasing our daughter around, spending all day going up and down slides and generally just acting like a big kid. Things don’t also have to be 50/50. Play to your strengths and what you find the most enjoyable - remember, you’re a team!

If you’re travelling with a 2 year old.

Difficulty level: 7/10.

Our most recent holiday was a 10-night all-inclusive trip to Greece. Our longest flight to date, and a very different pace to our other trips, I was a little nervous. Plus, being pregnant, my energy stores are pretty low and I was well-aware that this trip was going to require a lot of energy. That being said, it was the most fun trip we have had so far. Sure, it was exhausting and infuriating and very different to what pre-baby Jamie would have expected from an all-inclusive trip to Greece, but it was incredible. Seeing my daughter learn new skills, try new things and meet new people was absolutely priceless. We had the most wonderful time as a family and I would do it again in a heartbeat. (Maybe just give me until next year to recover).

Manage your expectations and plan activities accordingly.

Pre-baby, my husband and I would have been jetting off on all sorts of excursions. However, with a 2-year old, this just didn’t seem realistic. We looked into a few trips, none of which were pushchair friendly, and my husband did not fancy carrying my daughter around Greek ruins in 30+ degree heat for 6 hours. As a result, we resided ourselves to the fact we were going to spend our time at the hotel. We paid a little more to make sure we were in a hotel with plenty of amenities and put no expectations on our days. We got done whatever we got done. Some days that meant I got to go to yoga, some days it meant we skipped dinner for a longer nap. Leaning into the chaos and going with the flow really helped us all enjoy our holiday more.

Package holidays are your best friend.

Our hotel was less than 15 minutes away from the airport. We hopped off the plane and straight onto an air-conditioned coach which dropped us off right outside the hotel. 10 nights later, it came and picked us up and dropped us back off at the airport. We didn’t have to worry about transfers, about calling a taxi, about a long journey from the airport… all of that had been sorted for us. Once we got on that flight, all we had to worry about was enjoying our time with our daughter.

Remember that it is their holiday too.

It’s okay if they stay up a little later or have an ice-cream everyday. They’re on holiday! Adjusting your routine a little and allowing things that you normally wouldn’t will help you all have a more relaxing and enjoyable time.

If you’re travelling with your child.

My main piece of advice for anyone travelling with a child, no matter what age, is enjoy it. They are only little for a really short amount of time. Yes, it is exhausting and stressful at times, but try your best to enjoy and appreciate these moments. On each trip, we had the most magical time and our little girl came back with more confidence. With my husband working full-time, we rearely get any quality family time and so every trip was such a special opportunity to make memories we will cherish forever.

As always, thanks so much for reading! It is great to be back posting more regularly. Thank you for all your lovely messages regarding my health and my second pregnancy - I really appreciate it. If you haven’t already, please do consider subscribing.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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Well - according to social media at least - it turns out the answer is very different.

A quick TikTok search of #boymum and you are greeted with a plethora of content on parenting boys; some wholesome and informative, others bordering on the incestuous. Mums exhibiting a strange, somewhat concerning “first girlfriend” dynamic between themselves and their sons, excusing bad behaviour and treating their sons more like emotional partners as opposed to their children. Don’t get me wrong, the love that I have for my daughter - and I am sure I will have for my son - is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It is the purest, most unconditional love and I consider myself so incredibly blessed every day that I get to have this in my life. I also know (hope) that one day my daughter is going to grow up. She is going to move out, get a job, have romantic partners, go on adventures. Perhaps she will have children of her own. She might live abroad. She might not come home for Christmas. Sure, that breaks my heart a little a lot. But it will also be a sign to me that I have done my job. And I hope that my son does the same. I hope that he grows up independent and capable. I hope that if he wants to pursue a romantic relationships in the future, he is a respectful, emotionally mature partner. I hope that, for both my children, the relationship that have with me is one that teaches them about love and security. I will not be jealous of the lives they lead away from me; rather, I will celebrate them.

Parenting in The Patriarchy

In order to be able to achieve this, to have done my “job” well, I understand there are some things I am going to have to do differently. The lives of my daughter and son will inevitably both be exposed to and experience the patriarchy. How it impacts them, however, will be very different. My daughter is more likely to face institutional barriers because of her gender. She is more likely to be a victim of systematic violence and, if she dare to speak out about it, be subjected to victim-blaming and scrutiny. She will likely face hurdles in the workplace due to her gender and, whether or not has decides to have children, is likely to bear the brunt of domestic labour, emotional labour and unpaid care. My son, on the other hand, will probably not face the same challenges in the workplace. If he wants to go for a run at night, he will likely do so without fear. He won’t have to keep his keys in between his knuckles as he walks home from a night out, or learn that shouting “fire” is the most effective way to get someone to pay attention. He will, however, have to contend with the so-called “toughness mandate” which may mean he feels unable to speak up if he is suffering with his mental health. He might avoid speaking to a doctor out of fear of being considered a “pussy”. He is more likely to fall victim to performative masculinity and be marginalised in child-rearing and other experiences that might challenge his manhood.

As a parent, I want to ensure that I do everything in my power to protect my children from these realities. I want to teach my daughter self-confidence and boundaries. I want to demonstrate to her that women are capable of anything men are and that she does not have to remain in a situation that makes her uncomfortable for fear of seeming impolite. I want to teach her to be loud and outspoken, to follow her dreams, while remaining a kind and compassion person. I want to teach my son that he is not only allowed to feel his feelings, but actually that that is a healthy and essential part of life. I want to demonstrate to him loving, empathetic and equal relationships in which both genders are seen and respected. I want him to be confident enough to advocate for women while also being authentically true to himself, regardless of whether or not that threatens his “manhood”.

But I worry that rather than helping to raise more empathetic, kind men and more confident and self-assured women, the current “boy/girl mum” stereotype is having the opposite effect. In a study published on the parenting website, Netmums, back in 2010, 90% of the mothers that were interviewed admitted to treating their children differently depending on their gender. It also revealed that mothers were twice as likely to be more critical of their daughters than their sons, letting the latter “get away” because, well… boys will be boys, right?

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The Hidden Cost of Being a “Boy Mum”

Beyond the potential toxicity that comes with differentiating between the “boy mum” and the “girl mum”, it is also bloody expensive. Little did I know that being a “boy/girl mum” was not just how you decided to parent your children, it was also how you dressed. I have seen countless TikTok’s of mothers asking their followers to guess if they were a “boy mum” or a “girl mum” based on their aesthetic. Not to mention those that offer a step-by-step guide to transforming your own style in order to fit in with your new identity.

Not only do I not have the money, time or energy to devote to reinventing myself now that I am having a boy, but this is not my first rodeo. I know how much becoming a mother is a fundamentally transformative experience. For over a year after having my daughter I faced a serious identity crisis. I didn’t know who I was apart from “a mum”. In fact, if I am being totally honest it is still something that I am struggling with now. Sure, being handed a step-by-step guide - discount codes included, of course - to become a new version of myself would have been incredibly appealing in those early postpartum days. But it wouldn’t have been me. It would, like some much of the other motherhood content on social media, have cost me at best a lot of money, at worst my sanity.

Ultimately, the problem seems to be that “boy/girl mum” has both become less an authentic representation of motherhood and instead a social media aesthetic that demands we spend money we don’t have on things we don’t need in order to artificially shove themselves into a box we simply we never made to fit. Just like the coastal Grandma and the clean girl, the “boy/girl mum” is yet another way that capitalism has dug its claws into motherhood.

20/20 vision

I can’t see into the future. I do not yet know what it is like to have a boy. I do know that I am only human. A human that has been raised in a patriarchal society and, despite her best efforts, still has a hell of a lot of unlearning to do. I go into raising my son with the best intentions, but I am in no way trying to shame those mothers that have recognised they are parenting differently. For all I know, it might be essential. I might be being naive to the differences between boys and girls and be in for a very rude awakening. If that is the case, I will eat my words.

However, the more I see of the “boy/girl mum” aesthetics, the more concerned I am for the future generation we are raising. Particularly when one considers the rise of the “manosphere” and the potential impact this is having on millions of boys and young men. I want both my children to be held accountable for their actions, to be given the same opportunities and the same boundaries. Judging and scolding my daughter, while praising and making allowances for my son is not raising either of them to be the compassionate, strong, determined, empathetic people I want them to become. It is teaching them that boys and girls should be treated differently. As they grow up, this all to easily translates to men and women should be treated differently.

What I do know for sure though is that I will love my son with all my being. He, just like my daughter, will bring me more joy that I ever imagined possible. And for that, I can’t wait.

As always, thanks so much for reading! You might have noticed that I have not been posting as regularly recently. Unfortunately this pregnancy is kicking me in the ass and so I am struggling to stick to weekly updates. I will, however, be back as soon as I can with more musings on motherhood, personal essays and whatever else tickles my pickle. Thank you so much for sticking around - it means the world!

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I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, a like, a comment, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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The way I am preparing to become a mum to my second child is worlds apart from the way I prepared the first time around.

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Because the reality is, pregnant women do not need to be pushed the latest must-have gadget or sold a check list of ‘essentials’ that will likely never see the light of day. What pregnant women need is to have the means to be able to build strong support systems that will be there for them when the baby arrives. They need to be equipped with strategies to help them protect their mental and physical health in the postpartum period. They need to be given time to rest, to nurture their relationships and to be informed about their own body and choices throughout the fourth trimester and beyond.

We might know what we can and can’t eat throughout pregnancy and which bottles promise to cause the least nipple confusion, but we are not being provided with adequate information to prepare ourselves for the realities of the postpartum period. And boy do those realities hit you like a train. I have been very open here on Substack about my struggles with PPD, and trust me when I tell you that during this period the last thing on my mind was whether or not my daughter was in the cutest onesie at playgroup.

For the first 6 months of my daughter’s life, I was pretty much in existing in survival mode and as a result I really missed out on a lot of the joys that come with being a new mum. My experiences of early motherhood are a blur, and when I scroll through pictures of this time I don’t get filled with joy, but instead a deep sadness. Rather than looking at myself, I feel like I am being faced with a stranger; one that stole the newborn phase from me. I feel immense guilt for not being as mentally present for my daughter as I wish I could have been. I didn’t give myself chance to soak up those wonderful, fleeting moments enough. My mind was always somewhere else, constantly worrying that the realities of my motherhood looked very different to the versions I had been sold before becoming a mum.

But at least the colour of her nursery was the perfect shade of cream… right?

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The sad truth is, I don’t think I am alone in this. And I don’t think that we, as new mums, are to blame. I think we are being set up to fail. By doctors, by medical professionals, by our employers, by influencers, by our family and friends. I think we are being conditioned to, from the moment we get pregnant, prioritise our future baby at the expense of our own mental and physical health. Our own wellbeing becomes secondary to ensuring that everything is going to be “perfect” for baby’s arrival. Spoiler alert: there is no such thing as perfect. And someone else’s ‘must-have’ guide might be your ‘wish I’d have never bothered with this’, charity shop donation.

So, fully equipped with the beauty of hindsight, here is how I am preparing for motherhood differently the second time around, or ‘Things I wish I’d have done when I was pregnant with my first baby’.

Continuing to take my medication at the usual dosage.

As I have regularly discussed here on Substack, I am on Sertraline. I have taken Sertraline now for over ten years. I take 100mg everyday and have found it to be incredibly helpful in supporting my mental health. When I fell pregnant, I went to see a doctor and asked whether or not it was safe for me to continue taking it. I was informed that Sertraline was considered as safe to use and came with no known contraindications. That being said, the doctor also told me that it would be better for me to cut down my dose with the vision of maybe coming off of it entirely once my baby was born. I took my doctors advice, and overnight went from 100mg to 50mg. I eventually dropped this to 25mg - against the advice of my close family who noticed before I did that my mental health was beginning to suffer.

Following the birth of my daughter, as previously mentioned, I suffered with PPD. I quickly increased my Sertraline dosage back up to 100mg and have remained on that dosage since. I don’t known whether continuing with my regular dosage of Sertraline would have helped prevent PPD. Perhaps, given my disposition, it was an inevitable regardless. However, the thought of dropping it again during this pregnancy filled me with dread. So, after speaking with my doctor and my midwife, I made the informed decision to continue taking my medication at the usual dosage throughout this pregnancy.

While I know that this is not something that is possible for everyone and there are some medications that are not safe during pregnancy, it is well worth speaking to your doctor. I can really understand the temptation to cut out all medication during pregnancy (or limiting it as much as possible), but it is also super important that you protect your own health and wellbeing. A medical professional will be able to advise and provide recommendations to ensure that you are able to stay healthy while also looking after your little one.

Reaching out to mental health professionals before I give birth.

I have been very open with both my midwife and doctor about my struggles with PPD following the birth of my daughter, and also my fears that this might be something that strikes again with my second baby. I have therefore preemptively reached out to mental health professionals specifically trained to deal with perinatal mental illness. While I hope that I am not going to need their services, it was important to me that I was on their radar and ensuring that I had support in place should the need arise.

The first time around this was absolutely not something I would have considered. In fact, I actually stopped seeing my therapist of 7 years just months before I gave birth! Admitting that I needed support felt like admitting failure. It felt like I was telling the world that I was not cut out to be a mother. In reality, this couldn’t be further from the truth. In putting in place these support systems and talking to professionals prior to giving birth, I feel like I am giving myself the best possible chance to have a smoother postpartum experience - something that will not only benefit me and my unborn baby, but also my daughter and family.

Resting whenever I get the opportunity.

During my first pregnancy, I barely let myself rest for a second. The to-do list was just too long, my social calendar was just too full, housework was just too important. This time round? You better believe I am taking a nap at every possible opportunity. Whether it is the fact that I am now running around after a toddler, or simply that I have learnt over the past 2 years that most things can wait, I find myself prioritising rest above pretty much everything else. Sure, I am still socialising and getting in my exercise. I still do some minimal housework while my daughter is napping and I still doomscroll past my bed time (I’m only human, guys), but for the most part if my daughter is sleeping then so am I.

Being pregnant is exhausting. Your body is growing a literal human being! I think if there is anytime that you deserve to put your feet up, it’s now. And trust me, once that baby is here you’ll wish you’d have soaked up all those quiet, peaceful moments. I promise, the hoovering can wait. Have a nap.

Talking openly about my concerns with my husband, my family, my friends and my midwife.

In case you hadn’t realised from reading this newsletter, I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations. However, throughout my first pregnancy, I felt a lot of shame in openly up to those around me about how I was actually feeling. Suggesting I was anything other than excited and immensely grateful felt like blasphemy, and I didn’t want to be seen as falling at the first hurdle of motherhood. Funnily enough, keeping these concerns to myself didn’t do anything in helping me tackle them. They simply grew and grew until they became too all-consuming to conceal. By that point I was deep in the newborn trenches, frantically treading water, while everyone around me looked on completely oblivious to my struggle.

This time round, I have not sugar-coating my worries and concerns. I have been honest and open with everyone around me about how I am feeling and - crucially - actually accepted their support when they have offered it. This has not only helped me to overcome my anxieties more effectively, but it has also helped me build more authentic and open relationships with those around me.

Working on a realistic and compassionate birth plan.

Before giving birth to my daughter, I had read all the books, attended all the seminars, read all the positive birth stories. I had practised hypnobirthing techniques, been to pregnancy yoga and chugged so much raspberry leaf tea I am pretty sure I was keeping Holland and Barrett in business. I had a plan. An optimistic plan. An idealistic plan. One that did not consider that anything was going to deviate from that plan. So, when it did, I found myself very unprepared. I had not read up on the different pain reliefs, I didn’t know about the various induction techniques and I had never even considered the prospect of an epidural.

Now, I am all for an optimistic birth plan. I think it is important to go into labour with a positive mindset. However, there is a caveat. Just as it is important to be positive, my first experience taught me that it is important to be realistic. Every birth is different. Every body is different. And what works for someone else might not work for you. This time round, therefore, I am making sure I am well-informed about all of my options. I am seeking reliable information on different types of pain relief and requesting my own birth notes to understand my previous experience. I still have a ‘plan A’, but I also have an equally informed ‘plan B’ and ‘plan C’.

Ensuring I have adequate support systems in place to help me care for myself, my toddler and my newborn before the baby arrives.

What all of this preparation comes down to is making sure that I have appropriate and trustworthy support systems in place before my newborn arrives. Being realistic about my capabilities and my boundaries has been absolutely vital this time around. If I took anything away from my first experience of having a child, it is that it really does take a village. But, unfortunately, that village isn’t just going to miraculously appear one day. It is something that takes time to build. It takes honest and open communication - both with others and with yourself - and it takes bravery to admit that you would rather than have to do this on your own.

Of course, I am not saying I am not going to go out and buy my next baby a load of new clothes they will probably never wear. I am also almost definitely going to buy myself a cute, new labour outfit even though I know it is only going to get covered in blood and other bodily excrements before swiftly finding its way to the bin. However, for all those mums-to-be out there, I hope this newsletter serves as a reminder that your baby could have the newest pram, the best sensory toys, every Instagram-worthy outfit under the sun. But, speaking from experience, nothing will be as valuable as a happy, healthy, supported mum.

As always, thanks so much for reading! I’ll be back in your inboxes at the same time next week with more musings on motherhood, pop culture and pretty much whatever else floats my boat.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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Let’s be honest, being pregnant sucks. I know, I know, some women love being pregnant and I am genuinely really happy for them and not jealous at all… but a hell of a lot of the women I have spoken to have a bloody rough time with it. I am not saying I’m not grateful. I truly count my blessings every day and know that many people are not as fortunate as we have been. That being said, my gratitude does not make the unrelenting nausea any more manageable. It doesn’t miraculously remove my acne, or make my back any less sore, or make me not throw up multiple times a day.

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All in all, this last 3 months have been pretty brutal.

Don’t worry though, this isn’t just going to be me moaning about the first trimester for the entire newsletter. I’ll save that for my husband. Instead, I thought I’d share some advice for getting through, and my top tips of how to help someone else who might be struggling through the trenches. My qualifications? I’ve just got through my second third trimester, both of which have been defined by daily vomiting, fatigue, nausea, and just about every other symptom that you might associate with pregnancy. As you can imagine, I’ve been a joy to be around both times.

So, first up is some advice for anyone out there who is going through it right now.

1. You don’t have to suffer in silence.

About 9 weeks into my first pregnancy I took myself to see a doctor. The sickness had gotten unbearable and my mental health was taking a serious hit. Not to mention, I was covered in painful acne that was not helping my already very low moods. His response? Yeah, some women do struggle during pregnancy.

I left with with no prescription, no advice, nothing. Just the feeling that I was somehow “failing” at being a mother before I had even started due to not being able to handle the first trimester.

I am here to tell you now, you do not have to suffer in silence. Yes, some women do struggle in pregnancy. Some women are hospitalised, some sail through it with next to no symptoms. Whichever category you find yourself sat in is no fault of your own. You are not weak. You are not failing. And you deserve support. There are plenty of pregnancy-safe medications out there that can help to manage your symptoms. There also exist mental health midwives, perinatal mental health charities and people willing and able to support you. Don’t let yourself be fobbed off. You deserve a lot better than that.

2. Eat what you can, when you can.

Listen, I get it, I wanted to be one of these pregnant women that only ate nutritious, home-made meals, and got my 5-a-day, and never touched a takeout, but unfortunately the world had other plans. If you’re feeling nauseous and being sick, anything you can get in you that will stay down is a win.

Whether that be plain toast, pasta, biscuits, or a massive slab of chocolate cake, just do the best you can. From my own experience, I’d recommend eating little and often. Try and make sure you always have some sort of snack on hand just to avoid getting too hungry. And if you find you can’t keep anything down or the sickness gets too much, see point 1.

3. Ask for help.

Unfortunately, people aren’t mind readers and most people are so snowed under with what is going on in their own lives that they simply forget to check in. They’re not bad people - they’re just human! As much as it pains me to say this, if you need help you’ve got to ask for it. There is absolutely no shame in getting some support at any point in life, never mind when you’re literally growing a whole-ass human being inside of you.

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4. Fresh air works wonders.

I know, I know, I am eye-rolling at myself even as a write this. But honestly, getting out the house has genuinely being a lifesaver during this first trimester. Particularly with a toddler running around! Even just wandering round my garden and getting a bit of fresh air has done the world of good. Not only has it being a good distraction from the massive pile of pots I have been avoiding for the past 2 days, it’s also helped to relieve the feelings of nausea - even if only briefly.

5. (Unfortunately) so does a bit of gentle movement.

Another annoying top tip for you. Hearing that exercise is going to help you feel better when you’re currently feeling like death warmed up is the last thing anyone wants to hear. But, this is a no-BS guide and (at least from my experience), trying to keep as active as possible has really helped. I’m not saying go out and start training for a marathon, but just a steady walk to the shop can make the world of difference. I have actually got into swimming while pregnant with my second baby and I am really enjoying it. I’m obviously not diving into the pool and going hell for leather, but just a bit of steady movement (and half an hour to clear my head) has been great for my physical and mental health.

6. Housework can wait…

As can decorating the nursery, starting a new project, even growing your Substack! These things will all still be there waiting for you when you’re feeling better. For now, get as much rest as you can. Before falling pregnant with this baby I was using my daughter’s nap times to write articles, plan content and generally be as productive as possible. Now, I use it to have a sleep. Sure, my Substack growth has slowed down a little. And sure, my house is definitely not as tidy as it should be. But that nap time is absolutely crucial to ensuring I am able to give myself and my daughter what we both need. Everything else can wait.

Now it’s time for just a little advice for those trying to support someone in the first trimester.

1. Let’s get this one out of the way straight off the bat (I can’t believe I’m having to write this but, from my experience, people need the reminder), don’t say that it’s ’a bit soon to be telling people’.

A lot of women decide not to share their pregnancy until after the first trimester. It is a vulnerable and scary time, and therefore many decide to keep it between themselves and their partner until after they have had their first scan. However, some women decide to tell people. I, for one, needed as much support as possible during this period, not to mention the fact that didn’t want people thinking I was just being a mardy hermit for 3 months! This doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how vulnerable the early stages of pregnancy are. Trust me, I like many other women barely think of anything else for 3 months.

We’re checking the tissue paper every time we wipe, we’re obsessively overthinking every new sensation in our body, we’re googling miscarriage statistics late at night when we can’t sleep for fear we’re going to roll into our backs. WE KNOW. But we have chosen to share this news regardless. What we need at this time is support. We don’t need you adding to our already crippling anxiety.

2. Don’t take things too personally.

A cancelled brunch date? A blunt response to so, what’s for tea tonight babe? An ignored text? I promise you, it’s not personal. For many women in the midst of the first trimester, getting out of bed is a win, never mind anything else. I’m not saying being in the first trimester excuses rude, crappy behaviour, but I have certainly noticed myself being more short and snappy with those closest to me. I’m nauseous, exhausted and no longer fit into my only decent pair of jeans.

While protecting your own sanity and mental health, if you can keep showing up for that person in spite of them being a little bit more difficult, I am sure it will be incredibly appreciated. Just acknowledging what they’re going through and letting them know they’re doing a good job can go a really long way.

3. If you can’t lighten the load in away way at all, do it!

Again, if you’re own mental health will allow for it and you can offer help in any way at all, do it! Offering to pick up bits from the supermarket during your weekly shop, or running the hoover round the living room when you come to visit, honestly means the absolute world. If they already have a little one, offering to sit with them for an hour while they have a nap - literally anything that gives them a chance to rest!

If you’re looking for more advice, I’d highly recommend checking out Tommy’s. They are a pregnancy and baby charity that do absolutely incredible things, and have shared their own advice on getting through the first trimester here.

As always, thanks so much for reading! I’ll be back in your inboxes at the same time next week with more musings on motherhood, pop culture and pretty much whatever else floats my boat.

I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

I am so incredibly grateful your generosity and contributions. Every time I receive a coffee, just know that I am at home with my daughter doing a little happy dance.

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For those of you who aren’t familiar, Claire’s Accessories first arrived on the British high street back in the 1990s with the slogan “Fun Lives Here”, and was an absolute tween girl’s haven. Whether you wanted your ears pierced, some obnoxiously bright coloured butterfly clips, or cheap, glittery makeup that likely had no business being put on anyone’s face, it was the place to go. I have so many fond memories of going to shop their with my mum at the end of the six-weeks holidays. I would stock up on fancy new hair accessories ready for the new school year and maybe, if I was really lucky, get treated to a much sought-after Claire’s surprise goody bag. After rummaging through all of the bags and feeling out which I thought was full of the best gifts, I would open my new gear excitedly. Even thinking about this now fills me with pure joy. From nail polish, the bracelets, the cute key rings - it was all girly, garish and fun.

These memories take me back to a simpler time, when self-expression was allowed to be silly, whimsical and a little bit messy. Before I was forced to embark on a 6-step skincare routine and before I had ever heard of the ‘clean-girl aesthetic’, I was sporting crackle effect nails and stick on body jewels. I had flowers in my hair and my bag was customised with colourful badges that now I am sure would be considered as being millennial cringe.

This simpler time is one that I yearn for. It is also one that I fear my own daughter will never experience.

As Savin writes:

‘Things are hitting differently for the generation of girls coming up behind us, and we urgently need to pay attention to that. Instead of experimenting with haphazardly smeared electric blue Barry M eyeshadow, tween girls today have been raised in a world of eight-step skincare tutorials with no margin for error. Retinol should not be in a primary school-aged child’s vocabulary, but it is – and it’s on some of their Christmas wishlists too. The British Association for Dermatologists was even forced to issue a warning against it, explaining luxury products seen on social media could cause damage to young skin.’

Jennifer Savin.

In short, it feels like girlhood has become a hell of a lot more serious. As a result, tween girls are finding themselves being more drawn to the likes of Drunk Elephant than Claire’s Accessories.

If “Fun Lives” at Claire’s, where’s is it going to go now?

Of course, social media has a lot to answer for here. Apps like Instagram and TikTok have curated a version of girlhood that is no longer allows for judgement-free expression, but rather pushes high-end beauty products, cult-like make-up brands and crippling self-consciousness. It has taken the frivolity out of youth, and instead prescribes pre-teen girls with a cookie-cutter version of what girlhood should look like. Girls growing up today have had their relationship with play well and truly severed and it genuinely makes me fearful for my daughter’s own future.

This might sound a little dramatic, but here me out. Data released back in 2024 for the WHO Regional Office for Europe revealed that:

‘More than 1 in 10 adolescents (11%) showed signs of problematic social media behaviour, struggling to control their use and experiencing negative consequences. Girls reported higher levels of problematic social media use than boys (13% vs 9%)’.

WHO Regional Office for Europe

The same study also claimed that this ‘problematic’ behaviour was not dissimilar patterns of behaviour characterised by addiction-like symptoms. Many adolescents are therefore struggling to control their usage of social media and are facing negative consequences in daily life due to excessive use.

Some of these negative consequences, of course, include mental health challenges. In a study in the American Psychological Association, Tori DeAngelis explores the mental health outcomes of teenagers’ excessive use of social media. The study revealed that a massive 41% of teens with the highest social media usage rated their own mental health as poor or very poor.

And honestly, I’m not surprised. When every other post is ramming a new must-have beauty product down our throats, it is hard enough as an adult to resist the temptation to cave and make yet another unnecessary purchase simply to “fit-in”, never mind the impact this must be having on children.

Rather than teaching tweens that girlhood is a time for experimentation and fun, social media is teaching them that they are not good enough. It is shoehorning them into a mould that many are simply not meant to fit.

And the death of Claire’s Accessories is a product of this.

The closure of Claire’s Accessories really does feel like the final nail in the coffin for, as Savin puts it, a low-stakes girlhood. I only hope that as my daughter grows up she is able to find avenues of self-expression that allow for her to ‘delight in frippery’ and sheer, unabashed joy. I hope she is able to look beyond the sterile, curated version of what it means to be a girl/woman that social media will no doubt ram down her throat. And I hope that, as her mother, I can set a good example for her by embracing whimsy and play in my own life. I want her to see her mum having fun and wearing things that fill her heart with joy. I want her to see colour and confidence and the beauty of difference. I want her to see that can be whoever she wants to be.

That being said, I’m going to find my butterfly clips and fancy earrings.

Cover image: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/fashion/a12094491/claires-accessories-closing-bankruptcy/

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After a lot of deliberation, however, I decided that I would bite the bullet and uninstall the app. Immediately I felt like some sort of superior being. Despite still posting regularly on Instagram, using Facebook as my own personal scrapbook and oversharing my every thought here on Substack, I felt like I had transcended the shallow realm of social media. Instead, I was mysterious, I was a free-thinker, I was maybe even a little bit sexy?

Back at University I met a boy in one of my seminars. He was smart, confident, maybe even a little bit cocky… just my type. Anyway, I did what any self-respecting woman does in a situation like this one. I tried to stalk him on social media. It turns out that he didn’t have it. No Instagram account, no Twitter, not even an old Facebook account that has clearly being lying dormant for the best part of a decade. I had zilch to go on. And this only made him sexier. Whereas the majority of my cohort documented their every move on social media, he remained elusive and this intrigue made him all the more attractive. Anyway, after trying to make a move for months (making subtle eye contacting and then quickly looking away) I decided I had to shoot my shot. With a little a lot of dutch courage, I asked him out and on date.

It turned out he has a girlfriend.

‘God!’ I thought to myself. ‘This is why people should have social media’

You’ll be pleased to know I did eventually recover from the embarrassment (and the hangover).

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Anyway, I somehow thought that in deleting TikTok I was emulating his ‘cool’ and ‘sexy’ vibe. I thought it would reveal to me new hobbies and interests, that I would have all this free time to read and generally better myself. Maybe I would finally read one of the cloth-bound classics that are sat on my bookshelf and I have never picked up. Or maybe I could learn a language, or an instrument… or write my first book.

I was willing to give anything a go really, just as long as it was demonstrating that I was above the menial frivolities of social media.

In reality, it demonstrated to me the opposite.

I was, in fact, not “above” anything. I was right there with everyone else, desperately relying on an app to tell me what should like, what I should eat, who I should be…

It revealed to me that in the 8 years that I had been on the app, it had become a crutch. And boy did I miss that crutch. I found myself hobbling around aimlessly; suddenly blessed with all of this free time that I just didn’t know what to do with. Rather than avoiding my phone, I still found myself resorting to the usual default scrolling. Instead of TikTok I was looking through Instagram reels, simply replacing one mindless past time with another - only now I was 2 weeks behind everyone else.

After my short dalliance with being “off TikTok”, I hit redownload. I immediately felt like a weight had been lifted. As if I was finally able to scratch an itch that I hadn’t been able to reach. I pushed down my feelings of shame and justified my return to the app as me simply wanting to be up to date with the latest pop culture and news. I am a writer after all.

The truth is though, I thought redownloading TikTok would fill the void, but in reality it has only made it more obvious. My reliance on external validation, my inability to sit with my own thoughts, my childish FOMO.

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I share a lot less on social media now than I used to during my University years (I know, I know. It’s hard to believe when I quite literally share my bowel movements here on Substack… just trust me) and my relationship with social media is certainly healthier than it once was. I now use it less as a platform to flaunt my own achievements (although, of course, I still do that… I’m only human) and more as a way just to pass the time. It has become my default form of entertainment with these little, 2-minute videos becoming my new comfort show. I will be too tired to continue reading my book, but have more than enough energy to scroll through videos for another hour. I find myself reaching for my phone as soon as I open my eyes, scrolling over breakfast, while I have a wee, while I’m in the bath…

And that is not something I want my daughter to see. When I am with her I make an active effort to not be on my phone, but this has only made my obsession more apparent. Whenever she goes down for a nap or I get 10 minutes alone, it is TikTok I turn to. And that makes me a little bit sad.

I wish I had a more motivational ending to this newsletter. Usually by the time I bring something to Substack there is a clear ‘beginning, middle and end’, but unfortunately that is not the case today. I still find myself mindlessly scrolling through TikTok and, honestly, I am not sure if I am going to attempt to come off the app entirely again. Since my return, however, I have found that I am more aware of my time scrolling. Just like I have “screen-time limits” for my daughter, I too have had to put in place a strict TikTok curfew. I might not kick and scream like my daughter does when I turn off Bluey, but trust me… I get where she is coming from.

Just another 10 minutes, mum!

I am also trying to be a bit more mindful of the content I consume. I have recently started following more artists, writers and book lovers that share content that I feel I am actively engaging with as opposed to numbly watching while The Office plays in the background. I am trying to curate a feed that I find uplifting, interesting and engaging as opposed to one that leads me to question my every life choice. Wait, should I get botox? Am I too late to get botox? What the hell are strawberry legs? Someone help for the love of God.

My break away revealed to me the extent of my dependence on the app and is forcing me to look in the mirror and question why a nearly 30 year old woman is having such a hard time staying off an app that, if I am being honest, adds (or at least formerly added) very little value to my life. It has forced me to acknowledge the void and seek out something more meaningful to fill it.

What that is I am not sure yet.

But it sure as hell won’t look like me sat watching yet another mukbang creator demolish 12 Crumbl Cookies while sitting in their car.

Looking for something to do other than doomscrolling on TikTok? Don’t worry, I’ve got you.

On the plus side, we had our 12 week scan and our little one is growing beautifully and has a strong heartbeat which is a huge relief. I have also been trying to focus more this month on finding the ‘glimmers’ - small, somewhat-mundane moments that bring us a sense of joy. When you’re going through a tough time it is so easy to live your life in autopilot and miss out on these moments. So, this month I have been making a conscious effort to capture them and savour them. And boy, have there been a lot of glimmers! Like I said, the weather has been lovely here, so simple things like being able to get outside with my daughter, walking to the local shop in just a t-shirt, eating alfresco, have brought me so much joy. I’ve started swimming again and I am slowly trying to get back into some light exercise, both of which are doing wonders for my mood. And I’ve also, finally, got myself out of my reading slump with yet another wonderful book by Mizuki Tsujimura, who is slowly becoming one of my favourite authors. Her work is so profound and life-affirming and her stories stay with me long after closing the book.

Anyway, enough about me. it’s time for another edition of our Wrapped series. Here are your April recommendations, hand-picked by yours truly.

As always, we’re starting with a few things you might have missed over here at The Pink Project this month.

• We started this month off with my ‘Reflections on being a SAHM’. It has officially been 4 months since I quit my job to become a SAHM and the journey has been anything but easy. With every wonderful moment, there has been an equally challenging one. In this article, I discuss the parts of being a SAHM that I am loving, and the parts I am finding more difficult. It is open and honest and serves as a reminder that two things can be true at once.

• Next up was, ‘Will going back bleach blonde fix all my problems?’. In this newsletter, I explore identity, performance and “losing” myself in the postpartum period. We discuss the fine line between taking care of yourself and getting caught up in the dreaded “Hot Girl Hamster Wheel” - one my younger self regularly found herself grappling with.

• Surprise, surprise, I’m talking about feeling sick again! In ‘On nausea, PPD and deciding to have a second baby’, I open up about the decision to have another baby despite having a challenging first pregnancy and labour. I discuss my hopes, fears and reflections on this season of life as I begin my journey to becoming a mum of two.

• A personal favourite of the month, we have my ‘“Unhinged” advice for new mums’. Get ready for some harsh truths and some serious TMI with this one. This is everything I wish I’d have been told before I became a Mum. For any mums-to-be or new mums out there, I hope you find it helpful. For anyone well into their motherhood journey, I hope it helps you feel a little more seen and reminds you that your experiences are entirely valid - yes, even the ones that aren’t Insta-worthy.

Self-promotion out of the way, let’s get into your ‘Things Worth Reading, Things Worth Doing, Things Worth Knowing’.

Things Worth Reading.

• First up for this month’s ‘Things Worth Reading’, we are actually heading over to Cosmopolitan for a wonderfully nostalgic and equally depressing tale of the death of low-stakes girlhood. With the shutting down of Claire’s Accessories, Jennifer Savin explores how girlhood is changing and how the age of ‘unbridled, judgement-free, silly joy’ is being replaced with a ‘watched, measured and monetised’ version of girlhood. As a fellow Claire’s Accessories veteran and mother to a young daughter, ‘Claire’s Accessories is gone forever - and with it the era of low-stakes girlhood’ really hit home and is well-worth a read.

• For my next recommendation of the month, we’re back here on Substack for ‘I Fucking Love Being A Mum’ by Sorry I Didn’t Text you Back with Big Little Feelings. Oh my god, did this newsletter come to me at the right time! It perfectly encapsulates the multitudes of motherhood and served as an important reminder that just because something is hard, that doesn’t mean it’s not wonderful.

• My final recommendation of the month is ‘Some Parts of Motherhood Were Never Meant to be Equal’ by Hilary Simon for Have It All-ish. Since having my daughter I have felt a constant, underlying resentment for my husband. Not because he isn’t an incredible father, not because he isn’t an incredible husband, but because his experience of becoming a parent has felt entirely different to mine. Hilary encapsulates these feelings so eloquently and concisely and reminds us of the fundamental transformation women undergo when they become mothers. A particularly powerful quote, just incase you still weren’t tempted to give this one a read:

  ‘The weight I carry, the permanence of this change, the self that didn’t fully come back, that’s not a failure of self-care or a symptom of doing too much. It’s the most honest thing about motherhood that we keep trying to soften enough to share, even though it isn’t.

  It’s not comfortable. It’s not equal. And it was never supposed to be.’

  Some Parts of Motherhood Were Never Meant to be Equal’ by Hilary Simon for Have It All-ish.

Things Worth Doing.

• Okay, okay, I know I said the shameless self-promotion was out of the way but that might not have been entirely true. This month I was actually a guest on my first ever podcast - My Coach with Charlotte Lane! I honestly had so much fun recording this and loved chatting with Charlotte about my experiences with body image, self-love and motherhood. If you have a spare half an hour or just fancy listening to something while you’re doing your housework, I would be so grateful if you’d give it a listen. It is a new podcast and Charlotte is still finding her feet so go and show her some support.

• Last month I shared that Peanut, a social media app for designed for mothers to connect and share their experiences, had teamed up with Tommee Tippee UK to petition for the inclusion of ‘matrescence’ in the dictionary. If you’re a mother, then you know the fundamentally transformative experience that is motherhood. Our body transforms, our brain is completely rewired, our relationship with ourselves and others is irreversibly changed. And yet, there is no word in the dictionary to describe this life-altering experience. Including ‘matrescence’ in the dictionary would be a monumental step in validating women’s experiences, allowing them to better understand themselves in this new season of life, and hopefully encouraging greater empathy and compassion to those experiencing it. It is not to late to sign the petition if you haven’t already! You can do so here.

Things Worth Knowing.

• Starting this month’s things worth knowing with a devastating, but unfortunately not surprising, revelation. The UK has the highest maternal death rate in 20 years, women’s health campaign Louise Thompson shared across her social media platforms, with nearly half of maternity units in England been rated substandard on safety in inspections. This is something we have discussed before here at The Pink Project when exploring the real reason why we are seeing a rise in C-sections. On top of the increased risk for mothers, infant mortality has also started to rise again after years of decline. As a pregnant woman, these figures terrify me.

  The statistics become all the more harrowing when we consider the experiences of Black women and the maternal care that they are receiving. Black women are up to 4 times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. Asian women are 2 times more likely to die. These are honestly horrifying statistic that hammer home the abhorrent lack of research into WOC’s health.

  Louise shared the following video on her Instagram of a speech given in Parliament by Bell Ribeiro-Addy during the debate regarding the recent petition calling for the government to appoint a Maternity Commissioner. The speech is, as Louise describes, both ‘powerful’ and ‘unapologetic’, and I would highly recommend you have a listen.

  If you don’t follow Louise already, I would highly recommend you do so. She uses her platforms to shed light on perinatal illness, women’s health more broadly and the often unspoken realities of motherhood.

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• Some more positive news from the UK, it is now official that no woman in England or Wales can be prosecuted for an abortion anymore. With increased funding being donated to anti-abortion organisations threatening women’s rights to bodily autonomy, the law has come at an incredibly important time and serves as an reminder that abortion is healthcare, not a criminal offence.

And that’s a wrap for this month! As always, thank you so much for your support. If you haven’t already, please do consider subscribing.

I have also set up a Buy Me A Coffee page. I love writing and want to ensure it is accessible to everyone for as long as possible. Buying me a coffee will help to support this goal and allow me to continue to build this wonderful community.

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I’ll be back in your inboxes tomorrow 5PM BST with another edition of The Pink Project. We’ll be chatting all about why I have redownloaded TikTok and coming to terms with my toxic(?) relationship with social media. See you then!

Alas, I did not know these things. However, as it is no longer my first rodeo, I thought I would share some advice to any new mums and soon-to-be mums out there.

WARNING: This is not the sort of advice that you’re likely to see on Instagram. We’re not going to be talking about sensory flash cards or low-stimulation TV shows. I am talking what to do when you’re peeing yourself every time you sneeze and how to deal with the (inevitable?) identity crisis that follows becoming a mother.

With that, let’s get into it.

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If there is one piece of advice I wish I had been given before I became a mum then it is this. I don’t care if you have to hound your doctor every day for a month, you do not have to put up with…

1. Feeling like crap 99% of the time. Sure, your hormones fluctuate after having a baby, but that does not mean that we should be fobbing off symptoms of postpartum depression as simply being “normal” parts of the postpartum period. It was far too long and I was ignored by far too many health professionals before I got any kind of support for this and, honestly, it is something I still struggle with nearly 2 years later.

2. Pissing yourself whenever you leave the house. No, it’s not normal. No, you don’t have to wait until you shit yourself before you can get support (this is what I was told my the doctor). No, you don’t have to live with it. In hindsight, I wish I would have paid and gone for a private pelvic floor assessment following giving birth. Alas, I did not and still pee myself on the regular. Please learn from my mistakes.

3. Anything else that is concerning you. You have just given birth. There is so much going on in your body that is likely to come as a shock. If you are worried or have any questions, ask. Even if it is a simple case of ‘yeah, that is completely normal. It should clear up in a few weeks’, you deserve to be informed about your body.

If you have the option available to you, get yourself a therapist. (This is actually advice I would give to anyone - whether you’re a new mum or not!). I worked with a therapist for 5+ years prior to becoming a mother, and it remains one of the most important and transformative things I ever did. If it was something that was still accessible for me, I would absolutely have continued with this journey. Having a baby is a fundamental upheaval of everything you know. Every single part of your life looks different overnight and even though there are many parts of that that are wonderful, like any transition, it does not come without some teething issues. Having someone to talk to that is not my partner, my friends or family, would have been (and would still be) invaluable in helping me navigate this unchartered territory while retaining some sort of sense of self.

Invest is a waterproof mattress cover. My god, the night sweats. Why did no one tell me about the night sweats? Not only was I leaking enough milk over night to sustain a small village, I was also dripping with sweat all the time. When I tell you, it was pouring out of places I didn’t even know had sweat glands. We started with good intentions. We changed the bedding daily, donning the bed with fresh linen every morning. This lasted about a week. After that, I pretty much stewed in my own filth until either my husband or I mustered the energy to put a load of washing in. As a result our mattress - once an aesthetic shade of off-white - is now a questionable yellow shade. Are we going to buy a new one? Absolutely not. Am I repulsed every time I change the bedding. Absolutely.

Delete social media. Or at the very least mute certain words and phrases! When I tell you, social media was without a doubt the primary cause of my anxieties as a new mum. I would sit in the middle of the night while breastfeeding, doomscrolling through horror story after horror story, sending myself spiralling. I would wake my husband up, sobbing hysterically over some random TikTok comment, unable to rationalise with myself as a result of sheer exhaustion. Long after my daughter had fallen to sleep, I would still be meticulously researching, falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, too overwhelmed to claw myself back up. I can promise you now, nothing you are seeing on social media in the middle of the night is going to be helpful. On the contrary, it is likely to just cause more stress and upset.

If you really must keep social media (I get it - I am not sure I will be able to practice what I preach with baby number two!), at least mute particular words and phrases or even block particular content creators if you find what they are posting to be triggering in any way. The postpartum period is a vulnerable time and the last thing you need is anything that is going to add unnecessary stress to your plate.

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While you’re at it, delete any apps that have you tracking nap times, feed times, wake windows etc. Okay, now this one might be controversial. I know some mums have used these apps and found them to be an absolute god send. However, that was certainly not my experience. The issue that I found is that every baby is different and while an app might be able to give you some semblance of control, you are dealing with a living, breathing human being who is (like everyone) subject to change. My daughter, for example, was a big eater. Honestly, for the first 6 months of her life I don’t know why I bothered putting my boob away. She was feeding far more frequently that the apps suggested and, as a result, had shorter nap times. Despite trying desperately to establish a routine, every day was different, and I very much had to roll with the punches. Trying to track everything just added unnecessary stress and made me feel like I was failing when, in reality, I was responding to my own instincts and my daughters needs.

Tell more people to fuck off. (I told you these would be unhinged). You can just shoved a baby out of your vagina. If you haven’t, you have just undergone major abdominal surgery to bring a baby into this world. Either way, your body has been through a hell of a lot. The last thing you need is the world and its wife rocking up 2 days later with yet another bouquet of flowers wanting a cup of tea and biscuits. For some reason, once you have given birth everyone thinks they have a right to come round and meet the baby. Everyone wants cuddles and pictures. People who you haven’t heard from for years will pop out of the woodwork expecting a visit. Oh, come on. We’re family. Well I’m sorry Auntie Ethel, but I am currently walking around like I have shit myself, am wearing a nappy and have milk leaking from my boobs 90% of the time. You have every right to tell people no. This is your first time meeting your baby as well. Everyone else can wait.

While we’re telling people to fuck off. Everyone will have advice for you, whether you asked for it or not. No matter what you do you’ll be doing something wrong according to someone. While I am sure that a lot of the advice is well intentioned, you do not have to take it all on board. You are perfectly capable of making your own decisions and trusting your own instincts.

Some other advice from a few of the lovely Substack community.

What would you add to the list?

As a result, when I found out I was pregnant for the second time I was excited, but I was also pretty terrified.

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“Don’t worry, it’ll be different next time,” people tell me, reassuringly.

I smile and nod, trying not to throw up as I tentatively nibble on my ginger biscuit. The nausea, mood swings, acne and fatigue are telling a different story. While I listen to people tell me stories about how easy their second labour was, how much of a better sleeper their second baby was, how they didn’t suffer from the same levels of anxiety when compared to their first, I hopefully hang onto their every word.

My god, I hope you’re right.

But the truth is, it might not be different. It might be exactly the same. I might have done this before, but I am still the same person. I still have anxiety. I am still inclined to depressive episodes. My next labour might not be straight forward. It might be bloody awful again. Our next baby might not be a sleeper. I might be up all night with my boob whacked out, resenting my husband for sleeping soundly all over again.

Honestly, I don’t know what the next 6 months of my pregnancy have in store for me. I don’t know how my labour will go or the temperament of my baby. It might be different, people are right. It might also be worse.

Which begs the question…

Do I really want another baby?

As an only child, I always knew that I wanted to give my child a sibling. While there were many perks to being an only child, it was also pretty lonely. Even in adulthood, I feel like I am missing out by not having a sibling; someone to go on day trips with, someone to call when I need to have a rant; a shoulder to cry on. This feeling was only exacerbated after I lost my dad. As I followed his coffin into the crematorium, I had never felt more alone. More like I needed someone there by my side who understood. I wanted to be able to give my child that.

After my first pregnancy and labour, however, there was a time where I really wasn’t sure whether or not I had it in me to do it all again. I remember crying in the hospital following a particularly intense contraction, not because of the pain, but because I genuinely thought I would never put myself through such an ordeal ever again. I would never be able to give my daughter a sibling.

It the midst of PPD, these fears didn’t subside. While I wanted to have another baby one day, I just didn’t think I was capable.

Things began to change at around the 6 month mark. Don’t get me wrong, I still thought that being a parent was tough (I still think that now!), but it was almost like a fog had been lifted. I started to be more present; to genuinely enjoy my time with my daughter rather than living in a state of constant fear and anxiety. I had got to grips with breastfeeding, I had conquered the baby groups, I had built a village of loving and supportive friends. I was doing it.

Better than that, I was loving it.

While I was still a way off actually wanting to be pregnant again, it was back on the cards, and by the time my daughter turned one I felt capable and ready for baby number two. We held off for a while, giving my body a little more time to recover and enjoying more time as a family of three, and then at 18 months postpartum we decided that it was time to start trying. The thought of our family growing still made me feel scared, but it also made me feel excited. I was ready.

We have been incredibly blessed when it comes to conceiving - something I am eternally grateful for - and within the month I was pregnant.

The first trimester (take two)…

Despite people’s promises, so far it has not being different this time. To put it bluntly, I currently feel like crap. And as anyone who looks after little people know all too well, there is nothing worse than trying to parent when you feel like crap. I also feel pretty anxious. While I have maybe eased up slightly, I still find myself obsessively googling at 3AM when I can’t sleep, or contemplating calling my midwife at any minor inconvenience. (Sertraline is good, but it’s not that good.)

And yet, I am still absolutely certain in our decision to grow our family.

Because, while there are some things I hope are different this second time around, there are many things that I hope are exactly the same.

If this experience is anything like my first of motherhood, I will love this baby more than anything in the entire world. They will bring me more happiness, love and fulfilment than I ever imagined possible. My life will be twice as messy, chaotic and wonderful as it is now. Sure, there was a lot of horrible parts of my pregnancy and the postpartum period. But there were also a lot of magical ones. And now, as my 19 month old toddles towards me, arms open wide, saying ‘cuddle mummy’, I realise that those magical ones (in my personal experience) far outweigh the challenges.

Deciding to have another baby meant telling myself that I am okay with doing all of that again; that all of the joy and love that comes from having a child makes it all worth it. Sure, I am scared. I am no longer blessed with the ignorance of my past self, but I am blessed with a knowledge of how good things get.

And it is that that is carrying me through as I embark of this next adventure with my husband and daughter by my side.

The picture was not only a cruel reminder to get off of my phone and hang the washing out, it was also a reminder of the person that I used to be.

The person I used to be before I became a mum.

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The truth is, that person was incredibly vain. I succumb to every new TikTok aesthetic and spent well above my means trying to maintain the way I looked. My bleach-blonde hair became an inextricable part of my identity. I didn’t know who I was without it. I was stuck on the “hot-girl hamster wheel” and I had no idea how to get off. That is until I had my daughter. Since I became a mum, things that were once essential parts of my routine seem trivial.

And at first it was freeing. I felt like I was sticking my middle figure up to the beauty standards I had adhered to religiously my whole life. But then I considered why I had abandoned them. And the reason was clear. Since becoming a mum I have been telling myself one thing…

As I contemplated sliding back into my hairdressers DMs, I realised… I don’t recognise myself anymore. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see Jamie. Instead, I see a shell of my former self; her tailored trousers and blazers shoved to the back of the wardrobe, her manicured nails bitten and bleeding, her signature red lipstick festering away in a drawer somewhere. Standing in from of me is a women I barely know. She wears jeans most days, and a sweatshirt that could pretty much crawl itself to the washing machine. She barely wears any makeup. Not because she feels confident in her own skin, but because quite frankly she can’t be arsed. And her hair - her formerly cherished, platinum blonde hair - is thrown up in a messy bun.

When I saw that photo of my old self. And I really envied her. I rolled my eyes with resentment. Sure, you have perfectly plucked eyebrows and go to the gym and wash your hair and moisturise and whatever else you do… but you don’t know what it’s like. I don’t have time to take care of myself like that.

It was then that I caught myself.

I don’t have time to take care of myself like that.

Turns out I haven’t been avoiding these things because I don’t care about them. Of course I want to feel good. Rather, I have been shoving them right down to the bottom of the to-do list, watching them sink further and further down as other things took priority. What I have been (not so) subliminally telling myself is that I don’t matter. Sure, I have disguised it as some sort of moral imperative - I don’t need to spend money on my appearance now, I am more important things I worry about. Besides, I’m not that shallow - silently judging other women who could muster up to energy to take care of themselves, but in reality I have just lost myself.

And it’s about time I found myself again.

Great, so how am I supposed to do that?

Whenever I think about someone finding themselves, I am transported straight back to my teenage self watching enviously as the ‘gap yah’ kids shared their aesthetic instagram shots while I stared at a blank wall at Warwick University writing a 2000 word essay of 18th century peasants. It’s not even like I want to pet an elephant anyway… eurgh…'omg, looks amazing hun xoxo’.

While it might be tempting to get on ASOS, order some questionable harem pants and book a flight to Thailand, as a pregnant, toddler mum that is not really on the cards. Instead, I decided to pluck my eyebrows.

I genuinely don’t remember the last time I plucked my eyebrows. Possibly just before I got married two years ago. I whacked out the 10X magnification mirror - always and humbling experience - and started plucking. It was a mammoth task, but one that left me feeling a little better. I looked at my new, freshly plucked eyebrows and felt good. The following day I put a little eyebrow gel in them, and ever a little spot of highlight under the brow bone.

I realise this all sounds quite shallow. I know very well that the way that I look is the least interesting thing about me. I also know that in neglecting my appearance, I have been sending myself a very clear message: YOU DON’T MATTER.

And that is not going to fly anymore.

Because I do matter. We all matter. It is so easy when you become a mother to push yourself right down to the bottom of your to-do list and focus all of your attention on your child. If I have an extra 2 hours or a bit of extra money one month, spending it on a new outfit feels selfish. Dropping £50 on a new outfit for my daughter, however, no problem! While my daughter walks around in stylish outfits, her hair washed, her nails trimmed, I walk around like I have never seen a hair brush. And I am not alone. So many of us are so focused on taking care of our children that we forget to take care of ourselves. And in the process we teach ourselves that our needs don’t matter; that as long as everyone else is okay, that is enough.

A few questions I am asking myself…

As I embark of this journey to getting back to myself, I am keeping a few questions at the forefront of my mind. These questions are inspired by a wonderful post I read by Erin | Mother and Matriarch, who shared her own advice on what to do When You Don’t Recognise This Version of You.

1. What are some things that you used to do for yourself that helped you feel more like you? Whether this be something simple like plucking my eyebrows or wearing perfume, or bigger things like spa days or city breaks, thinking about the small ways I showed up for myself everyday has been incredibly useful in helping me identity some areas that might need work.

2. How can I begin bringing some of these things back into my daily life? When you’re out of the habit, even the small tasks can feel massive. So setting myself smaller goals each day is helping to make this more manageable.

3. Are you doing it because you want to, or because you think you have to? This part, for me, is crucial. I read an excellent article from Close Enough to Burn - RVD entitled ‘The Hot Mom Hamster Wheel’. According to Rachel, here’s how it works…

   ‘The mutation works like this: postpartum, the beauty routines feel medicinal. You’ve been through something enormous—physically, emotionally, existentially—and re-entering your body and your routines feels less like vanity and more like recovery.

   But the baseline shifts. What started as restoration calcifies into obligation. The treat becomes the floor. And suddenly you’re not doing these things to feel good, you’re doing them to avoid feeling bad.’

   Close Enough to Burn - RVD

And oh my god does that resonate. I don’t want to feel obliged to adopt a particular beauty routine. I have spent long enough doing that. I don’t want to get botox and I’m not all that bothered about having my nails done. I do, however, want to leave the house with washed hair. I do want to wear ironed clothes that I love and feel confident in, I do want to play around with new makeup and have fun with my appearance again. I want to start taking care of myself again. But I want to ensure it is to help me feel good, as oppose to avoid feeling bad. After all, I am so much more than what I look like.

So, is it time to book that hair appointment?

The reality is, I am probably not going to get my hair bleached again. To be honest, I think I actually prefer this colour on me. But it is definitely time to start prioritising myself again; to start allowing myself to feel good in my own skin. Because, while I have spend the last 19 months fobbing these things off as frivolous, feebly attempting to convince myself that I am simple “above” caring about my appearance now, I am slowly coming to the realisation that they are actually pretty essential. Wearing clothes you feel good in, having fun and experimenting with makeup, curling your hair ‘just because’, they’re all things that were crucial parts of who I once was. And since becoming a mum, I have really neglected those parts of me.

So, what I am really trying to say is, if you catch me looking really good next time you see me, don’t be alarmed.

Your girl has just finally remembered that she matters.