People tell you so many things about having a newborn.

You’ll be tired. You’ll never sleep again. Enjoy every second because it goes so fast. Sleep when the baby sleeps. All the usual stuff.

And then you actually have one and realise there’s a whole other side to it that nobody really talks about.

I’ve spent 15 years photographing newborn babies and their families across London, and I’ve also done this twice myself. My children are older now, which I think gives me a slightly different perspective on those early weeks.

So here are some of the things I think we should probably say out loud.

Mother holding her newborn in front of the mirror at her london apartment

The newborn phase might actually be one of the easier bits

Nobody wants to tell a woman who hasn’t slept for three days and is leaking from various parts of her body that this might not be the hardest bit of parenting.

But there. I said it.

I’m not saying it’s easy. It absolutely isn’t.

I just think we talk about getting through the newborn phase as though parenting gradually becomes easier afterwards.

In my experience, it doesn't.

The problems just change.

Eventually they sleep. They feed themselves. They stop needing you for every tiny physical thing.

And then they grow up and bring you entirely new things to worry about.

Sorry. 😂

You can look at them sleeping and feel terrified and peaceful at exactly the same time

I remember this feeling so well.

There’s this tiny person asleep in front of you and they are absolutely perfect. You can sit there just watching them breathe.

And somehow that is both one of the most peaceful and most terrifying feelings in the world.

Because suddenly there is this person you love so much that the thought of anything happening to them is almost unbearable.

Nobody really prepares you for that bit.

The love doesn't always arrive the moment they do

I think we need to say this more.

Some people meet their baby and feel that enormous rush of love immediately.

Some don't.

Sometimes you are exhausted, overwhelmed, recovering from birth and looking at this tiny stranger thinking, Who are you? And how am I suddenly responsible for keeping you alive?

The love can come quietly.

It can build through feeding them, changing them, learning what their cries mean, walking around the house with them at ridiculous hours of the morning.

Not feeling it instantly doesn't mean anything is wrong with you.

It doesn't make the love that comes later any less real.

You might grieve your old life a little

You can desperately want a baby and still miss the life you had before them.

Those two things aren't mutually exclusive.

I think this is one of the strangest things about becoming a mother. Something can be exactly what you wanted and still involve loss.

Your freedom changes. Your relationship changes. Your body changes. Your time isn't entirely yours anymore.

Even your sense of who you are can disappear for a while.

Missing the woman you were doesn't mean you don't love the mother you've become.

It's just honest.

Your body doesn't magically become yours again

There can be this strange expectation that once you've had the baby, pregnancy is finished and now your body simply needs to “recover”.

Except it might be feeding someone.

It might hurt.

It might look completely unfamiliar to you.

You might not want anybody touching you.

You might feel incredibly proud of it one minute and want your old body back the next.

And recovery can take months, not weeks.

I photograph women during this period all the time, and one of the things I've noticed is how quickly we apologise for our bodies.

Before I've even taken the photograph.

As though we were supposed to have put everything back where it came from first.

You weren't.

Your relationship might feel different too

A baby doesn't just arrive in a family. It changes the shape of it.

Suddenly two people who used to have whole conversations are discussing nappies, feeds and whose turn it is to get up.

Intimacy can disappear for a while.

One person can feel invisible.

Both of you can be exhausted and convinced you're doing more than the other one.

And then someone comes round empty-handed, drinks your tea, stays for three hours and somehow manages to make everything worse. 😂

Some couples find this period brings them incredibly close. Others find it exposes every crack that was already there.

Probably most of us experience a bit of both.

Father holding his baby close to his chest

Newborns are also quite boring

There. Another one.

They are exquisite.

The smell of their head does something completely ridiculous to your brain.

Their tiny fingers. Their eyelashes. The little noises. The way their entire body fits against yours.

I have built a career partly around being fascinated by these details.

But they also sleep, feed, cry, poo and then do the whole thing again.

You are allowed to be completely besotted with your baby and occasionally bored out of your mind.

Nobody needs to confiscate your motherhood card.

And somehow, you start learning this tiny person

This is perhaps the part I find most extraordinary.

At the beginning, you don't know them.

And then gradually you become fluent in them.

You know that particular movement means they're about to wake up.

You know which cry means hunger and which one means absolutely nothing is technically wrong but I am furious anyway.

You know how they like to be held.

You know the exact movement that settles them.

And one day you realise this person who arrived as a complete stranger has become someone you know almost instinctively.

That bit is quite incredible.

Maybe we need to make room for all of it

I photograph the newborn phase for a living, so of course I want to make it look beautiful.

Because it is beautiful.

But I don't think the beauty means the rest of it wasn't there.

The exhaustion was there.

The worry was there.

The body you didn't quite recognise yet.

The relationship finding its new shape.

The grief for bits of your old life.

The overwhelming love, if it had arrived.

The love still finding its way, if it hadn't.

All of it can exist in the same room.

And perhaps that's why I'm less interested these days in making families perform some perfect version of new parenthood for my camera.

You don't need to.

Feed your baby. Settle them. Stop for a cup of tea. Laugh when everything goes wrong. Tell me you're exhausted.

I'll still make it beautiful.

Because I've never thought those things made it any less so.

About the author

Samantha is an award-winning London newborn , maternity and family photographer with fifteen years of experience and MPA Licentiate accreditation. She photographs families in their homes across London, creating calm, baby and children-led sessions that feel natural, considered and true to each family.