It is now commonly accepted that ideally mother and baby should be able to have skin to skin contact immediately following the birth…

Dr Natasha Bijlani, a consultant psychiatrist at Priory Hospital Roehampton with a specialist interest in women’s mental health issues and pregnancy-related mood disorders, has put together information and advice on how to…

Today it is commonly assumed that a woman’s partner will take on the role of her birth partner. However this is a relatively modern expectation which only dates back to the 1970s/80s…

Here are some top tips to help when preparing for birth during the later stages of your pregnancy

As soon as women announce they are pregnant, they are bombarded with information. From well-meaning friends, relatives and people in the supermarket to a plethora of books…

So, are your bags packed?

Forget what your due date is, a baby is considered full term at 37 weeks and so midwives recommend you have….

During the school holidays my usual Mum & Baby Yoga courses are suspended so that I can spend time with my own children. I wanted to do a one off session in the park to bring as many mums together as possible and…

When our mums’ generation gave birth, it was standard practice for them to spend the following ten days in hospital, recuperating. Their bundles of joy would be brought to them for feeding, but otherwise…

Can toddlers sense pregnancy hormones? If mine can, he’s pretty darn pissed about it. This is my irrational “mumsnet” thought of the day as I collapse in a nauseous, exhausted, emotional heap after a fairly horrific few hours of parenting.

With my first pregnancy I avoided alcohol, blue cheese and unpasteurised cheese, pâté, cured meat, runny eggs, rare steak and caffeine — all the really good stuff. Oh and ibuprofen, which I think also counts as the good stuff now I’m in my thirties and don’t get out as much as I used to.

Ok, I’ve done it. I know I shouldn’t say it but I have. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. It feels wrong but now I’ve done it, it feels so right. Don’t judge me but… I’ve bought some bloody maternity jeans.

Morning sickness has ramped up a gear and I feel like I’m perpetually on that pirate ship ride at a travelling fairground. The one where you stop for a moment at the top and think you’re going to be OK, before you face another bilious plunge that sends the wind through your…

I need to open with an important disclaimer: if you are feeling particularly nauseous, constitutionally fragile or emotionally sensitive then we have an awful lot in common, and perhaps this week’s post may not be for you right now. If you are keen to plough on regardless, then please do feel free to settle in with a mug of ginger tea and a suitable receptacle, just to be on the safe side. Going in? OK, my apologies in advance.

As a child I was always a lover of fairground rides and would fearlessly relish any opportunity to whoosh through the air or plummet to the ground, whether at a shiny, big theme park or a slightly shabby, local fairground.

“Please attend with a moderately full bladder for this examination.” As a reasonably intelligent adult who pees several times a day and who has attended two previous pregnancy scans and a routine ultrasound, you would think I’d know how to do that by now, but no. What is moderately full? How much water is too much? What if I don’t drink enough? How long does it take to go through, anyway? What if I’m called early? But what if I’m called late? Oh, God.

I am currently parked up in a National Trust car park while my son naps in the car and I attempt to catch up on 26 unread whatsapp messages, reply to 5 out of date texts and write three blog entries. I am not sure this is what the National Trust had in mind when they sold me my membership but if this counts as making the most of the great British countryside then I’m all for it.

“Ahhh, I can see a little willy sticking up! It’s a boy!” And so we are having another boy! All I could see was fuzz if I’m completely honest, but this only makes me respect the expertise of the sonographer even more. We’ve just had our 20 week scan and are delighted and relieved that all is going well.

So, it turns out it is OK to cry uncontrollably during a pregnancy yoga class. I must point out that it should be OK to cry pretty much anywhere when you are pregnant. There should be signs up that say this and leaflets handed out to all women of child bearing age. And to men, to help them cope. It's OK to sob like a baby when you are growing one, because it's bloody hard work.

Man, am I tired this week. Bone tired. I just feel heavy and drowsy and in need of a good duvet. Afternoons are particularly snoozesome, but in all honesty, so are most parts of the day. I sometimes have a window around 10.30am when I am totally on fire, usually after my second cup of tea (no, not decaf — come on people, tea basically tastes like dirty dishwater and its only redeeming feature is the caffeine; it used to be the heat and the caffeine but I don’t often get to drink it hot these days).

It has happened. Whilst getting changed for bed last night, I leant forwards without the support of my trusty maternity bra and my boobs met my belly. I was greeted by that warm and slightly clammy feeling of soft flesh on flesh, which as someone with a slightly less than well stocked rack, I don’t usually get.