Charlize Theron’s latest movie, Tully, is billed as a comedy, but new parents will probably see it as something closer to a fly-on-the-wall horror film. Tully lays out the grisly anatomy of motherhood: from exhaustion and non-stop breast milk pumping to the overwhelming demands of a neglectful partner and the tantrums of the newborn’s siblings. Salvation for Theron’s character, Marlo, eventually arrives in the form of Tully, a night nanny.
Cinemagoers without children will probably not have heard of these Mary Poppins-like figures, who are the subject of urgent discussions by many new mothers.
Night nannies, or maternity nurses, will come to your house in the evening to spend all night looking after the baby – feeding and winding, changing nappies and soothing them to sleep – allowing frazzled parents some respite. Many promise to get the baby into a sleep routine and to train families in ways to make it happen.
The number of night nannies has been increasing steadily, with several agencies providing maternity nurses. Anastasia Baker, a former BBC journalist, claims to have been the first when she set up Night Nannies in 1999 after her second baby. “I approached 17 agencies and no one was doing it,” Baker said. “Now we have about 200 nannies working in London and the south of England.” The agency has helped more than 10,000 families in that time, and demand is growing.
Typically a night nanny will arrive at 9pm and stay until 7am at a cost of £155. If that only solves half the problem, it is possible to hire a maternity nurse who will be available 24 hours a day at a cost of £220 per day, plus a £100 agency fee.
The opportunities for comedy are not obvious, but Julia Lannaman, who has been a night nanny since 2005, says there have been plenty of funny moments during her career. “One client had just had her first baby and she didn’t know anyone at all with a baby,” she said. “She gave me an empty Pepsi bottle and asked ‘can we use that to do the feed?’ ”
Another client asked Lannaman to travel with her on a family holiday to a Spanish resort – but things went badly wrong when they embarked on the return flight. The mother refused to remove her baby from a car seat and hold it in her lap, as instructed by the cabin crew.
“She had a proper meltdown,” Lannaman said. “The pilot became involved and we were escorted off the plane. We couldn’t get another flight, so they hired a private jet at a cost of €25,000. The cabin was so small I had to be sedated because I’m claustrophobic.”
Most of her clients are much more easygoing. “I have worked for some lovely people,” Lannaman said. “Trust is crucial. When the client turns over a baby to you, they have to know that you will take care of it. You have to build a bond with the baby, and there are some beautiful moments.”
There is a serious side to night nannying, because it is a way of taking the pressure off new mothers – if only for a few hours.
Sarah – not her real name – was told about night nannies by a midwife after giving birth at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, London. “I began going through a divorce in my eighth month of pregnancy. We ended up in court in my ninth month. I also have a toddler. When my baby came two weeks early, possibly because of the stress, I knew I needed help.”
She can only afford a night nanny for a couple of days a week. “But just having an extra pair of hands is so important. I need to look after both the children, so I need to have a sufficient amount of sleep.”
Susie Whytock, one of the first night nannies to work with Baker’s agency, typically does a number of 24-hour shifts over a 14-day period to help cement the baby’s sleep pattern. “I met one client in Selfridges – she was a real high flyer,” Whytock said. “She said, ‘I’m having a meeting with my colleagues on Thursday to hand over, I’m booked in for a C-section on Friday, so I’ll see you on Saturday ... let’s see how this first week goes’.”
By the end of the week, the second-time mother had gone through the hormone crash that affects many women and needed all the help that Whytock could give her.
“At the end of the two weeks, she broke down. I could see she was in a dangerous place. I said ‘I’ll take you to my home for five days and you can stay with me.’ It helped head off post-natal depression, and now she’s like an adopted daughter to me.”
She knows that her services are beyond the reach of most women but feels that early interventions could save the NHS a lot of money.
“When I spot post-natal depression coming on I know I have to be quick to step in,” Whytock said. “Certainly, there are some dangerous situations that can develop that midwives and health visitors just won’t get a chance to see.”
