Tomorrow I will be 31 weeks
pregnant. I’ve had a cruisy pregnancy, no complications so far, very few body
aches (other than the normal hip and back ache here and there), and have neither been particularly disgusted
by certain foods nor in need of some very-hard-to-come-by item that I’m
insatiably craving. I had mild nausea in my first trimester, but it disappeared
quickly in my second. I kept mountain biking until about two-thirds the way
through my second trimester, and now I bike 15-20 kilometres everyday (slowly,
and on flat sidewalks!). I was mixing bike rides with daily 10-kilometre walks,
but because of my hip pain have been advised to spend more time on a bike. I do
yoga daily, and listen to pre-recorded sessions of yoga nidra a few times a
week for relaxation. I strengthen my pelvic floor and that pesky bikini line muscle
everyday as well. I eat well, as I have always done, although I do find myself
craving meat in pregnancy, which is a dietary switch for me, as for the past 14
years, I’ve rarely eaten any. I’m on track, in terms of weight-gain, for my
body type and each time my uterus is measured I am either a bit under or
exactly the size I should be for how far along I am. I have decreased my
responsibilities as I near the end of my Uni degree and have tapered off my
workload with the company I work for.
I feel more compassionate, more empathetic,
kinder, more patient, and in general find that the happy hormones of pregnancy
fill my mind and body far more than the clashing of irrational, worried thought.
I do often find myself tearing-up during sentimental moments in movies/shows,
or any advertisement that even mentions a baby, but again this is a sentiment
of happiness, though irrational, certainly. I am also quite aware that my intensified
attachment to my partner is one prompted by the hormones flooding my body. I
want him to be happy, safe, warm (it’s winter here in Canberra), well-fed,
well-rested, and spending his time in ways that make him happy. I’m aware that
I feel this way because I desperately do not want to raise bub on my own, thus
need him to stick around. But the manner in which I express this sentiment
means I’m more understanding and patient with him. I’m more encouraging of his
participation in the activities he loves most, and I’m constantly cooking nourishing,
hearty meals for him (and bub). I am also more patient with myself, although I
think this patience was cultivated out of the necessity of my increasingly-uncoordinated
body.
Bub’s heartbeat is always within
a healthy range. He’s just the right size, although measures a little long and
has a bigger head than many of the bubs at the same stage of development (just
like my partner, who measures long with a big head). He kicks, jabs and wiggles
multiple times throughout the day making it easy to identify his sleeping and
waking patterns. And in the early days of pregnancy when I was still getting
scans it was hard to identify all his bits because he was constantly on the
move, flipping, somersaulting and bouncing on my uterine-trampoline. I have never
in my life loved hearing medical staff use the word ‘normal’ as I do now that I’m
pregnant. My bub is awesomely ‘normal’.
I have also been overwhelmed by
the amazing new knowledge on the female body that I’ve been learning on this
journey. It’s just incredible to me how our hormones fill our bodies with
chemicals that make it difficult to feel all of the readjustments happening. Our
hips are widening, our breasts enlarging, our bellies swelling, skin stretching
and yet we feel very little pain (until bub becomes so heavy in the third trimester
that even the Relaxin in our bodies cannot temper all of the aches). My midwife
also told me that when breast-feeding the mother’s breast identifies bub’s
temperature and can change the temperature of her breast milk to warm or cool
bub. In fact, if mother is feeding twins and the twins are different
temperatures, each breast will produce milk at different temperatures to accommodate.
Absolutely incredible stuff, women’s bodies. And the connection that mother
makes with bub long before bub’s born is more testament to this incredibleness.
Baby's crying-patterns from the moment they are born can be matched to the intonation
of their mother’s speech.
And in the midst of all of these
incredible changes, new knowledge, my own physical and emotional healthiness
and the bonding I am undergoing with my unborn bub and my partner, I cannot
help but feel irritated by certain aspects of the pregnancy world.
First and foremost, the consumerism
that preys on new mothers and that feeling of needing to do the right thing for
the new bub is just disgusting. Whole magazines, dedicated to what $1000 pram
you should choose, or the best baby-wipe warmer (I’m not kidding, this is a
real product) are modeled by undernourished pregnant woman with tiny, little
bumbs (I don’t think they photograph any women in their third trimester) just
to make new moms not only feel guilty for failing to spend their life-savings
on new clothes, toys, prams, cribs, bassinettes, diapers, wipes, towels, and a
slew of products I probably don’t even know about, but these magazines also
work to further make women feel self-conscious about the way their stunning
pregnant bodies have developed, rounded, and widened into the most naturally
beautiful, and purposeful shape.
Unfortunately, it is not just the
magazines that put this unrealistic pressure on pregnant bodies. I have lost
count at how many times someone has seen my pregnant body, I’ve told them how
far along I am and they say something like “Oh, then you must be having twins.”
or “You look so much further along
than ____ weeks, are you sure you’re not further along?” or “I can’t believe
you’re only ____ weeks, when my sister/cousin/friend was pregnant I couldn’t
even tell she was pregnant until her last two weeks.” My in-laws even tried out
the nickname of ‘fatty’ when they saw me at 28-weeks until my partner very
seriously instructed them not to do so. I have continued to politely respond to
people that insist I’m much bigger than I should be that, “No, in fact I’m
exactly the size I should be. My Dr.s and midwifes, even my pregnancy yoga
instructor, all tell me I’m right on track, and so is bub.” But the sheer
volume of these sorts of uninformed, obtuse comments combined with hormone-induced,
pregnancy-sensitivity make it increasingly hard for me to stay calm during
these interactions. The last encounter of this nature, I saw an older Korean
fella, whom my partner and I have befriended, for the first time in many
months. He asked how much further I had to go, I told him, he looked at my
belly and said, “Oh are you sure it’s not twins?” I gritted my teeth, put my
hands on bub and said “Ajoshi, I’m not having some tiny Korean baby. I’m a
white girl.” And I walked away, angry.
These types of comments are not
one-sided, however. I have a pregnant friend (due the day after me) whose bump
does not stick out very far from her body. However, each time she’s measured
for size and healthiness, everything is normal. Her long torso just makes it
hard to see the bump. And she continues to be bombarded by comments from others
like “Are you sure the baby’s developing?” or “You’re not even showing, are you
sure you’re that far along?” or “You must be having such a tiny baby.” And even
though unhealthy skinniness is highly revered in pockets of our unhealthy
society, it is not something a pregnant woman wants to hear.
I should mention that many,
primarily women who have given birth within the past few years, comment on how
healthy I look and seem, and how fantastic my bump is coming along. I cannot
help but think that their exposure to the culture I’ve just described is the
impetus behind their kind words. I am certain to only focus on the healthiness
of other pregnant woman after my own experience.
