Breastfeeding in public - by Hema

I’m a small chested girl trapped in the body of a big chested girl.  I’ve never been  comfortable with having whoppers so I knew the whole pregnancy and breastfeeding thing was going to be tough on me.  Apart from trying to find clothes that fitted my  top half, breastfeeding in public became the ultimate challenge.  The Mama scarf I  had bought pre-birth proved to be too small and such a fiddle that it drew more  attention to myself as baby squirmed and wriggled.  I would break out in a sweat trying to keep my eye on everyone else's gaze while making sure I didn’t reveal myself.

I was not a cool breastfeeding Mum and paranoid thoughts fuelled by the  comments of the few dominated these moments. It’s hard, very hard to conceal such generous proportions but when baby is wailing on  a hot summers’ day, I was forced to sit somewhere and pull myself together.  I tried to read people's faces,  see if they knew and were judging me.  I tried to be casual  and pleasant in the hope that either nobody would notice or that they would be nice about it.   In  the end I  wasn’t over-exposing myself and as I had picked National Trust gardens,  I may have benefited from the relaxing atmosphere.  After a while, I became quite good at finding solitary corners and adopting a subtle manner.

Of course, if I stopped breastfeeding, they would return to their normal size (yes,  still going on about that) which would have made me feel better.  However, something unexpected had taken place.  This tiny little being had done away with  some -although not all- of my vanity.  Or maybe it was because I had fought tooth and nail to make breastfeeding work that I needed it to go beyond my planned six months.  In fact, I continued until my daughter was around seventeen months old for many  reasons; some good, some silly, some just plain egotistical.  However, from difficult  beginnings, breastfeeding had transformed into something rather beautiful.

It had taken six to nine months to recover from the shock of motherhood so I had only just  begun to really appreciate my baby as I had imagined I would and giving up  breastfeeding at its highest point suddenly seemed like saying no to Daniel Craig, it's  nuts.

Hema Simkins

Valuing mothers - a breastfeeding counsellor's perspective

Here is another picture I found on Pinterest (yes I know, I often refer to Pinterest! It's probably my preferred social network). I hope you can zoom in and actually read it! If not you can see it here.

I think this short text is absolutely brilliant. It illustrates perfectly one of the core principles of counselling, what American psychologist Carl Rogers called Positive Regard or, in lay terms, to value, respect, care for.

It's something essentially important for a breastfeeding counsellor and the dramatic fact of our profession... *holds the back of her hand to her forehead, Shakespeare-like* ... is that, because we are passionate about breastfeeding, others sometimes think that we only value breastfeeding when, actually, we value whatever a mother does for her baby because we value The Mother first.

It is possible to be passionate about breastfeeding and care deeply for a formula feeding mother! And vice versa : it is possible to deeply value a formula feeding mother and be passionate about breastfeeding!

Anne x

Breastfeeding art

Once you start looking there are many beautiful works of art depicting breastfeeding. I have chosen a few to share. I like the stories they are telling, like that first one, set in a factory. I also like the fact that some of these pictures are going back as far as the early 17th Century but they all feel so close to us, it's very easy to relate to the mothers.

This is a fragment of 'La Cigarreras' (The Cigar Girls) by Gonzalo Bilbao, Seville, 1915. Mothers were allowed to take their baby with them to feed them and could use small factory cots.

'Les âges de l'ouvrier' by Brussels' artist Léon Frédéric, 1897. This is the third part of a triptych representing the life of workmen : the working men, the children and youth, the mothers and infants.

 'A Lapp Mother and Child' by Nico Wilhelm Jungmann, 1905. A well bundled up baby for breastfeeding in cold climate !

'Mother and Child', attributed to Hugues Talbot, beginning of the 21st Century. Such a homely feeling to this scene by the fire.

'The Family' by Dementi Shmarinov, 1957.

'Nurturer' by Anna Rose Bain. A modern breastfeeding scene, not so different from much older representations, such as this following one.

'Mother and Child' by Pieter de Grebber, 1622.

'The Holy Family with Sheperds' by Jacob Jordaens, 1616. Mary's milk is highly symbolic in religious art.

'Young mother nursing her child' by Mary Cassatt, 1906. So much tenderness in that picture... I love the gesture of the child reaching for his mother's mouth and the mother holding her baby's foot.

A Lady Nursing her Child in a Drawing Room, by François-Guillaume Ménageot, early 19th Century. She looks as if she just came back or was going to go out but her baby needed a feed !

'First Born' Gustave Leonard de Jonghe, 1863 . Peer support ? :)

Silence! By Jean-Baptiste Greuze, 1759. You can just imagine how this young mother might feel, with one nay asleep in her arms, a very small child asleep too - which might be a rare occurrence - willing the oldest to not disturb them.

'Lady Mary Boyle and her son Charles' c.1700 by Sir Godfrey Kneller. An unusal portraying of an English lady.

Multi-tasking by Ricky Mujica. Do I need to add anything ?!

Bertha Wegmann c. 1900. I wonder what's the story behind that picture... Was the mother working in the fields, carrying her babies? Again, observe the deep tenderness between mother and child! Beautiful.

Guest post - What we, as mothers, need: support

This week a have a beautiful post from a talented blogger and real life friend of mine! The blogging world knows her as Recipe Junkie and her blog is well worth a visit if you don't know her yet.

Sally is giving us a beautifully moving and compelling account of her experiences as she became a mother, showing us that, in the end, every mother faces different challenges and knows her own struggle and that it's ok to ask for help :)

Turns out that despite the ‘childbearing hips’ and the fairly practical approach to pain and all things gory, I was rubbish at giving birth. Not in the ‘wimp-out-get-me-an-epidural-immediately’ way, but things just didn’t work out right, either time.

While the giving birth bit was pants, the breastfeeding was fine. I didn’t love it, but it worked, with a bit of perseverance. It didn’t occur to me to do otherwise to be honest. My mum breastfed me and my younger brothers, and while I can’t remember it specifically, it’s what I perceived as ‘the norm’. And perhaps after the first emergency c-section, there was an element of “well, I’m damn well going to get this bit right”. I was vaguely aware of the health benefits of breastfeeding, but possibly more importantly, I’m also inherently lazy. The thought of all that sterilising, and measuring, of making sure you had enough of everything with you, well, it was all too much for me. I could barely remember to take the baby with me when I left the house (if I did) in the first few months of my first born, so the thought of taking anything other than my boobs to feed him, well, it would have been too much.

I remember being in hospital after section #1, lying in my bed in an amenity room, unable to lift my baby out of his cot to have him next to me to feed, but eventually, I got him and we lay there, getting by together. I was visited by someone I think from the Leche League but to be honest, I can’t remember and she was pretty rubbish – cooed on about the beauty of breastfeeding when I wanted some practical support about what I should actually be doing, and the midwives didn’t have much time to spend helping breast feeding, but it just worked.

The early months with my son were difficult ones for me. I had mild depression, didn’t feel like I’d bonded particularly well with my baby. I did too much too quickly after the section, and didn’t recover as well as I might have done. I didn’t feel like seeing anyone, and I remember finding the NCT ‘get togethers’ with my ante-natal class particularly difficult – one of the other women was very confident that ‘she would always be doing the best for her baby’, while I was plagued with indecision and self-doubt – the classic woman with career who falls apart (a little), faced with a defenceless and completely unpredictable infant, unable to admit I wasn’t coping or to ask for help.

I did have anxiety about feeding – especially on the days when he did nothing but feed, or, worse, the days when my breasts were achingly full to the point where my nipples felt they might just ping off, yet he seemed to refuse point blank to feed, while I would sit there leaking milk and tears – but mostly we got on OK on the feeding side of things. Given the fact that I was mildly depressed, it was only a blessing that he piled on the weight like a dream, and my milk or ability to feed was never questioned. Eventually, I gave in, admitted I wasn’t coping in other aspects, and got support from the health visitor when my boy was about 6 months old, enabling me to sort out my depression issues and carry on with life. My boy and my boobs agreed to part company when he was around 10 months old and I went back to work. Earlier than some, later than lots of others. It was an amicable break up – on both sides, and my boy went happily on to solid food without a backward glance.

Fast forward a couple of years, and my daughter arrived, a week early, in true emergency style. Forget the calm undertaking of the first ‘emergency’ section: I went into labour while we were in Southampton General Hospital where my lovely boy was having chemo for the leukaemia that he had been diagnosed with 3 months earlier. Despite the desire of the ward’s admin officer and fundraiser who had originally trained as a midwife, giving birth on a ward full of immuno-compromised children was not desirable, and I had nothing with me, not even the bag with the kit to collect my cord stem cells in the event that my son needed a transplant. The events of that afternoon/evening will forever remain implanted on my memory – my husband driving from Southampton to Basingstoke at a speed that would make your eyes water, him trying to make arrangements for our son without worrying me (while I thought he was sneaking off for crafty fags), my mother speeding down the M1 in thunderstorms to be there to help us out, finding out that there was no gas and air left (I kid you not), the moment when the monitor I had been strapped up to because of the previous c section indicated that my unborn baby’s heart beat had disappeared and we had to hit the big red button, screaming at the nurses to make sure they had the blood bags to collect the cord blood, and swearing at the chirpy anaesthetist (“Hello, my name’s Ben and I’m your anaesthetist today!” “F*** OFF YOU ARE TOO YOUNG GET ME A GROWN UP!”).

The general anaesthetic was probably a great relief to everyone.

When I woke up, I had a baby girl. Amazingly after all the trauma, she was perfect. I stayed on the delivery suite, and despite the midwives concern, wrapped her to me using a blanket to hold her on my chest. I was desperate to get home, to my son, and fortunately, established breastfeeding with my daughter relatively easily. I was much more confident as I knew what I was doing, and had coped with a section before, and the scary midwives in charge of me were mostly well pleased, apart from the fact that I wouldn’t put her down very much. “She should learn to sleep on her own” they berated me. But I’d learnt from the first time, and it was easier to keep her swaddled to me than to keep putting her down in her cot. I did spend the first couple of weeks clinging to the floor with my toes each time she latched on, but I knew it would be OK eventually and it was.

I fed her for around 9-10 months – as with so many thing with the second child, the details are forgotten. I took her with me wherever we went, which was mostly the paediatric wards of either North Hants or Southampton General Hospitals with my son. It meant that in all the chaos of my son’s illness, when she was often left in a buggy in the corner of a treatment room, this was something I could do for her. And given that I spent so much of that time dealing with the more complicated aspects of keeping my son alive it was wonderful to be able to spend time with her occupied in such a fundamental, and fundamentally simple and life-giving activity. I will always treasure that time.

The thing about breastfeeding though is a bit like the birth itself, or any aspect of child raising. You can beat yourself up for not having ‘the proper’ birth, or for not breastfeeding – or breastfeeding but feeling miserable about it as some people do, but the way I see it is that you need to have the support to get on with your situation and make the best of it. I didn’t get particularly good support on the breastfeeding side of things – or anything else - with my first child, but I muddled through the first few weeks, and it was OK. With child number 2, by virtue of the fact that my son was ill, I was surrounded by paediatric experts, and while they were primarily concerned with my son, we had fantastically holistic care which meant that if I was worried about my daughter, I could ask.

I had no depression following my daughter’s birth. Ironically, the people who should have been looking after me and my daughter, the local health visitor/nurse team, were the ones that were no help at all. There was fantastic health visitor who helped me out before my daughter was born, in relation to my son, but she retired, and, honestly, the baby clinic was terrible. To be fair, I didn’t make it often, but one occasion I have vividly implanted in my mind is when my daughter was 8 months old. We actually had time between my son’s chemo appointments to go to the baby clinic, and I proudly went in with my beautiful girl, who I was still breastfeeding, but who was being conveniently easy to wean. She hadn’t put on much weight since the last time I’d taken her, but she had started crawling. She was fit and beautiful. So there I was with a healthy baby, plus a nearly 3 year old with no hair who looked, frankly like a cancer victim, and the nurse in the clinic laid into me for feeding my daughter cow’s milk from a cup. There was no interest in the family circumstances, she didn’t ask about my son, or what my daughter was eating in terms of solid food, or the fact that I was still breast feeding her 3 times a day. I was close to abusing her by allowing her to drink cow’s milk.

I managed not to punch her, and left. Fortunately, I was on my way to hospital with my son anyway, and had a brief sob with one of the paediatric community nursing team before the amazing, awesome, wonderful consultant came bustling in and told me to pull myself together, anyone with any sense could see that my daughter was fine – “Well, no, the guidelines say you’re not supposed to give her cow’s milk, but look at her - she’s FINE and you are doing a WONDERFUL JOB” she told me. And that is what we as mothers need. Support.

My challenges, especially with my second child, were about holding it together, not about the feeding itself. The decision to feed both children was pretty much a no brainer. But, especially after the birth of my daughter, I was lucky to have friends and family to support me through that time, as well the doctors and nurses caring for my son. But everyone faces their own challenges bringing up their kids: physical challenges, emotional challenges, and what we all need is support, not criticism, to help us through it. The thing is that we’re all mothers, all struggling with raising our children and looking after them as best we can, and we should support each other, and be able to find support.

Apart from the incident I have described above, the support I had helped me through the challenges I faced in that period, and pulled me through a really, really tough time in my life. If the challenges a woman is facing relate to actually feeding her child, then she needs the support to help her get through those challenges too, and the ability to know where to get the support from. And it’s really OK to ask for help - whatever the challenges – it’s not a relative thing – it’s personal.

Sally

Breastfeeding dads !

Recently I came across this lovely picture on Pinterest :

Except for the fact that the baby is facing the wrong way (just a small matter !) it struck me as quite a good example of the breastfeeding position called side-lying.

It got me thinking about what makes a breastfeeding relationship what it is, how the bond is tied, and how dads can find their place in this relationship.

I think we often forget that breastfeeding is not only about feeding. Let's reflect on what a breastfeeding mum does when she 'feeds' her baby :
- she holds her baby
- she sits with her baby
- she sleeps with her baby (sometimes, if it's her choice, like the dad in the picture)
- she gives comfort to her baby
- she gives milk to her baby
Breastfeeding mums talk about the time they spend sitting down, feeding, and by feeding they encompass all of the above. So, once the baby is fed, why couldn't dads do the same ? Yes it is sometimes difficult to put a baby down after they've fallen asleep while feeding. Yes they sometimes keep sucking for comfort. But there is a difference between being put down in a cot or moses basket and being cuddled in dad's arms!
Many breastfeeding mums might find that, maybe with a bit of rocking and singing when they change arms, their baby will be perfectly happy to finish their sleep with dad. And isn't it the precious bond and relationship dads are really after when they express the wish to feed the baby ?!

I found other pictures of contented babies in dads' arms, that are strongly reminiscent of breastfeeding positions :

Cradle hold (almost perfect, baby would just need to be turned in a bit more)

Laid back (just look how peaceful they both are!)

Rugby hold (not quite but close enough!)

Naomi Stadlen wrote a beautiful book called What Mothers Do, Especially When it Looks like Nothing. Maybe that's all  fathers need to do to experience the same sort of bond as mothers have with their baby. Doing nothing else than being with their baby, feeling like they're doing nothing when they're actually doing everything ;)

Anne x

Missing me or my boob?!

I was facilitating a breastfeeding session on Thursday morning so, once again, I had to leave DB with a baby sitter, and it just doesn't get much easier.

As soon as the baby sitter arrived DB knew what was going to happen. She held her arms out to me, put her head on my shoulder and then pushed up with her feet so that as much of her as possible was curled up into my neck! She does that...

I pressed DB against me, even closer if it was possible, kissed her and said I would come back. Then I took my things, all ready beforehand, with DB cuddling up to me, then deposited her on the sofa with a last kiss and literally legged it out before the tears that had started to fall gathered momentum!

When I came back she was playing with the baby sitter. Although she did that thing of crying again on seeing me (I think just to pick up where we had left off and showing she had not enjoyed herself at all...!) she couldn't resist showing me what she'd been doing, her little face lighting up then.
She also cries if I leave her with DH, except if her brother and sisters are around.

She loves her daddy though. She even is a bit of Daddy's girl. Only yesterday morning I was upstairs when she woke up but she declined my offer to pick her up and instead made her own way downstairs to find Daddy!
On Monday Daddy took her and DS on a trip into town, on the bus! She was quite happy to leave me behind. It's lovely to see her like this but a bit unsettling too...

I think that, as the picture I chose to illustrate this post suggests, a lot of breastfeeding mothers can get the feeling that it's their boobs their baby is missing.

But then bottle-fed babies are the same and I think bottle-feeding mothers can experience the same feeling of frustration at their baby not accepting the care of others but being quite happy to have fun without them!

I know, really, that it's not just my boobs she misses and that it's all developmental. All the same... It's hard work!

Anne x

Guest Post : How I accidentally breastfed for 3 years

I have been desperate to have children from the moment I physically could. I was lucky enough to meet my to be husband at 17 so after we married when I was 23 I felt like I'd been waiting forever.


I became pregnant when I was 24 and we were both extremely anxious but both very excited. Sadly this baby was not to be and at 10 weeks I had a miscarriage. We were both devastated. After talking it through we both said we wanted to try again. The next month I was pregnant again. At the time pregnancies were only scanned at 20 weeks. We had decided not to tell anyone about the pregnancy so it was very easy to stay detached and not really believe it was happening.


Fast forward to the hospital delivery room. I was asking what pain relief was available when the midwife explained there was no time for that I would be a mother within an hour. It suddenly hit me that it really was going to happen this time. I was going to get the baby it seemed I had been waiting my whole life for.

We had been to the antenatal classes where the breastfeeding talk lasted all of ten minutes. The midwife briefly explained that breast feeding was best for the baby and we all nodded and assumed that was all there was to it.


When my beautiful daughter was born I dutifully put her to my breast to feed her and all seemed well. Eventually it was time for my husband to leave me at the hospital and I suddenly seemed totally responsible for this amazing new being. A couple of hours after that she seemed to have done nothing but feed or scream. A passing midwife told me to feed my crying baby, I said to her that I had fed her non stop since she had been born. The midwifes response was, yes they feed non stop. Gahhhh!


The next day I came home. The midwife visited me at home where I dutifully nodded that beastfeeding was going great and all was well. The midwife told me I was a natural. What I was desperate to tell her but too ashamed was that one of my nipples was bleeding, I was sore and my baby didn't stop screaming or feeding.


The midwife came again the next day. Again I said all was well, when it very much wasn't. Within an hour of her leaving thinking we were doing fine I was a blubbering wreck on the phone to her saying I needed her help. She arrived within minutes, she seemed like an angel. First of all she asked what on earth I was doing hiding upstairs to feed, no wonder I was feeling alone. She then showed me how to position cushions and how to hold my daughter like a rugby ball. Most of all though, she listened to the ramblings of a hormonal terrified new mum.


The next few weeks were hard. I had been discharged by the midwife and felt like I had no support. There was no point asking my mum or mother in law, they were of the formula feeding generation and would have just told me to give up. I had no friends with babies. Although I was beyond being a teenage mum, most of my friends had only just left university none of them had babies. I was extremely uncomfortable feeding in front of anyone except my husband. I would plan leaving the house so I wouldn't have to. I literally never did it in public.

After about 6 weeks I finally felt I knew what I was doing and had both my daughter and feeding in a routine.

It seemed no time at all before people were asking me about weaning, it was something I hadn't considered, certainly not in regards to breast feeding. When the time came I just carried on feeding and assumed I would know when my daughter and I were ready to stop. I was right, by 16 months I felt ready to move on and was even beginning to think about a second baby.

Lucky for us there was no problem transitioning and I felt confident that I had picked the right time.
Soon I did become pregnant again, this time was so different to the first. Yes, breastfeeding was uncomfortable to start with, however I knew it wouldn't last. More importantly I couldn't fall to pieces this time, I had a 3 year old to look after as well as a baby. I was so pleased when one day I saw my daughter copying me and breastfeeding her doll. No hiding away to feed this time, it just wasn't possible with a 3 year old in tow. I bought some breastfeeding tops that covered up my wobbly bits, this really helped my confidence. It really was a shock to me how little people stared, I felt completely different this time.


My daughter caught swine flu when baby number 2 was 6 months. She was incredibly ill and it was a very scary time. There was nothing I could do to protect my baby from catching it and it seemed inevitable. However, he never did. I hope it was my breastmilk that protected him. If it was I thank mother nature for enabling me to protect him.

Again this breast feeding journey lasted a year.


Three years on and baby number 3 arrived. Its hard to believe how different I have felt about feeding each baby. I felt completely confident about breast feeding number 3. I made sure I was ready with feeding tops. However, even with baby number 3 I still had questions and queries.

In Overton where I live we are so lucky. We have two wonderful breast feeding counsellors. They are so knowledgeable and supportive answering questions and listening. I wish so much they had been around for my first.


I am now really lucky, I have a wonderful group of mummy mates that share the ups and downs of babies and life. I feel so glad that I didn't stop feeding in those early days with baby number 1, it seemed like the easy and obvious solution. However, by baby number 3 I've realised breastfeeding is far easier. No going downstairs in the cold at night to make bottles, I always have safe sterile milk with me. My baby is protected against so many illnesses. I am also benefiting from a lower risk of breast and cervical cancer.


When talking to friends who are expecting for the first time I find there is still little information for parents regarding breastfeeding. They all seem to know its the best thing for their baby and assume it will be straight forward. I try to share how difficult it can be but how rewarding and beautiful it can be once you have the hang of it. I think a support network in place before your baby is born is essential. Having someone you can call when things get tough that will listen and advise is invaluable.

Breastfeeding isn't for everyone and I totally support a woman's choice. A baby needs a happy mum more than it needs breast milk. However, if a woman can be supported in the right way, breast feeding is a wonderful part of motherhood.

Jill Cann

In search of the best breastfeeding advice...

I read this article today. And it made me really sad to think that mothers still think that they've been failed by breastfeeding support and that all we do is to pressure them into keeping at it. That's really not what we're setting out to do, and as 'we' I mean breastfeeding counsellors and peer supporters.

Yet, to take the same example as the one in the article, if a mother comes to see me with mastitis or a supply issue, would I tell her to feed more? Well to be honest yes!

Let's talk about mastitis. It's an inflammation of breast tissues caused by milk stasis (milk not being removed from the breast) or a blocked duct. And the most effective way to resolve mastitis is indeed to feed more and get the baby to remove the milk/unblock the plug that's causing problem. I know, I've had it! Because that's the thing, breastfeeding counsellors are firstly breastfeeding mothers who have had similar experiences to the mothers they support and know first hand how hard it can be. Their 'agenda' is not to please the public health's politics of the moment but to genuinely provide the best support they can to other breastfeeding mothers.

Milk supply issues? Breastfeeding works as a balance between supply and demand. Basically the more a baby feeds, the more milk the mother's body will make. So yes again, feeding is the best way to increase supply.

And I do talk about formula to the mothers who come to my antenatal breastfeeding sessions. And if they ask, as they often do "When is it that enough is enough and it's best to stop?" I do say that the most important thing for a baby is to have a happy mother and that if breastfeeding makes them unhappy it's time to stop. I do!

But if I agree that the mother's happiness is key I can't help feeling anger and frustration at reading this : "Furthermore, breastfeeding activists (or lactivists) shouldn't have to borrow risk factors from the developing world to make mothers in Eastleigh feel breast milk is the only safe foodstuff for their children."
Journalists should present correct information and I don't consider it correct information to say that we borrow risk factors from the developing world. It's also in our wealthy country that children are unnecessarily hospitalised for infections that breastfeeding prevents when formula doesn't.
Gastro enteritis for example. Not only does breastfeeding alone - not formula - provide protection against such infections but formula can be detrimental, not promote a healthy growth of babies' immature gut.
For mums too, breastfeeding is important. Breast and cervical cancers are on the rise and lots of studies show how breastfeeding dramatically reduces the risks for mothers to contract them.

In an ironic sort of way I also read today this post from The Alpha Parent.  I recommend to read this to see just how much breastfeeding is not just a bout the developing world risk factor.

And this is always at the back of our mind, as breastfeeding supporters. And it would be nice, for once, if the media tried to see things how we see them, and what our daily struggle is to have to juggle mothers' emotional well-being and not putting pressure on anyone with what we know about what formula does to babies and mothers' health, instead of always getting us pilloried for what we do!

Anne, BFC

MITKAndover showcase Event

We are very lucky to be part of an exciting event taking place for families in Andover and surrounding areas. This event is organised by MITKAndover, which is a group created by mums and aiming to allow parents to stay informed about every events and activities happening for them and their children.

A warm thank you to MITKAndover for welcoming the Breastfeeding Mums Group to this event!

Saturday 18 January 2014

St Paul’s church

Smannell road, Andover

0930- 1130  is the date, time and place of our next MITK event.

This event will show case some of the great activities that are run in Andover and surrounding areas for you and your children.

Here is a list of people with their activities that will be available to talk to and ask questions at this event,

Rhythm Time,  ( for Babies, Toddlers and pre school) Rhythm Time is a really enjoyable experience for children but it is much more than just a sing-along. It is a well thought out musical experience which uses lots of exciting songs and activities to help a child’s development and life skills

The Long Overdue Theatre School, ( 4-13 year olds),aspires to nurture natural ability and train the budding stars of tomorrow. Classes give students an opportunity to gain confidence, learn new life skills, develop their creativity and imagination, make new friends, keep fit but most of all have fun – all in a safe, sociable environment.

Enham Trust, Enham Trust recognises the uniqueness of every individual and the vital importance of tailor made support. They go the extra mile to make a difference in every aspect of a disabled person’s life.

Phil Evans ,Phil takes the beautiful  photos for the NAOMI HOUSE BOOK PROJECT , as well as many many other lovely photos of your family members.

Paul’s party pals, with so many characters available, who will show at our MITK event ?

Test Valley Brass, They will come along with a few brass instruments for you to try out , along with details of how you could join them in the band.

The Scott centre, They provide Early Years Pre-school childcare for children ages 2-4 as well as running  an after school, holidays and inset days for children aged 4 ~ 13.

Big up words, They are bringing children’s poets and authors, age range starts 7  and goes up to 16.

The Breastfeeding Mums group is a support and meeting up group, run by trained breastfeeding peer supporters. It’s a by mums for mums group!

My Happy Baby –  baby massage group classes,Baby Massage can offer huge benefits to both parents and their babies.My Happy Baby offers quality one to one time with your baby.

There will also be refreshments and a colouring table available through out the morning.

Entry is by donation. See you there 

If you’d like to be part of this event please email me at mitkandover@hotmail.co.uk