Both our bodies and our minds go through huge monumental changes whilst we are pregnant, and then when we become mums. Therefore, we need to make sure we take care of our mental health by ensuring that we talk about any anxieties and worries we may have, and by taking time out to rest. We have to make ourselves a priority by educating ourselves on maternal mental health illnesses – what they are and where to get the right help and support if we are suffering through pregnancy or following the birth of our baby. (For anyone needing support during pregnancy or after the birth of your baby then please see page 236–page 238 for support services you can access.)
6. ‘Ohhh let me have a feel!’
They come at you from out of nowhere. Before you know it, you have a pair of hands feeling and rubbing their way across your stomach whilst you look on in shock and dismay. And as your pregnancy and size of bump progresses, it seems you are fair game for anyone to have a grope. The worst are the totally inappropriate tummy terrorists who think that feeling the lower part of your bump is acceptable rather than verging on sexual harassment. ‘Don’t you realise your hands are sitting on the top of my vagina! Please get the hell away from me!’
7. ‘Wow you’re getting big!’
The only comment anyone should pass about the size of your bump or appearance during pregnancy is to tell you how great you look. I don’t care if you are the size of a hippo on steroids or are alternatively verging on the smaller side, no one should be passing comment – at least, not out loud and not to your face! Comments such as ‘Wow, you’re getting big’ should be met with ‘No shit Sherlock, I’m growing a human. What’s your excuse?’ And anyone who dares comment, ‘Wow you’re tiny, are you sure that’s normal?’ should be met with a kick to the shin.
8. ‘When can we come and stay?’
‘Hmmmm, you can’t!’. Visitors popping in for an hour is one thing. Hopefully, they will come bearing prepared meals and compliments and no expectations of being hosted, and then after whipping the hoover around and washing up their tea cups, they’ll be on their merry way. Overnight houseguests you don’t have to accept. You have become a mum, not a B & B!
9. ‘Oh you’re taking the easy way out and having an epidural?’
There is no ‘easy way’ out when you are trying to push a baby out of a small hole in your body. Fact. As mums-to-be we are bombarded with opinions about how we should be bringing our tiny human into the world, with our options graded from being hardcore and doing it drug-free to taking the easy way out by having an epidural or a C-section. Let me be the first to tell you that all of it is damn hardcore! Each option is challenging and scary as hell. No matter how you bring your tiny human into the world, you are a ROCK STAR!
10. ‘So, come on, tell me your baby names.’
DON’T DO IT! Seriously, no matter how strong the urge to spill the beans on the carefully planned names that both you and your partner have fallen in love with, keep them to yourself. Just one slightly off response of ‘Oh, really’ or ‘Wow, that’s a bit unusual’ will have you backtracking for the rest of your pregnancy.
11. ‘Ooh, make the most of your sleep/life/whatever – because when the baby comes, your life is over!’
Just shut the fuck up, will you!
CHILDBIRTH, AKA TRYING TO PUSH A TINY HUMAN OUT OF YOUR VAGINA
THANK GOD FOR ONE BORN EVERY MINUTE!
I have to admit it, before the birth of my first tiny human I didn’t pay the actual giving birth bit much attention (STUPIDLY). When I mentioned antenatal groups to my gynaecologist and he realised how long the journey up and down the mountain would take, he told me not to bother, so I didn’t! Oh yes, the sheer pre-baby bliss of not knowing what lies ahead and the bloody cruelty of hindsight when I was 5 centimetres dilated, screaming like a demon and wanting to punch the aforementioned gynae in the face for not frogmarching me to those meetings! (Thank God for One Born Every Minute, which I watched religiously throughout my first pregnancy.)
Antenatal classes in France don’t seem to hold the same importance as they do here in the UK (well, not to my gynaecologist at least). And I have to admit that, despite the horror stories I’ve heard about antenatal groups from other mums, I feel that on the whole I did miss out on this front, by not having the opportunity to meet potential new mum friends for that much-needed support.
Therefore, going into childbirth for the first time, my birth plan went a bit like this: I’ll have contractions, do my yoga breathing until the pain is too much to bear and I’ll then have an epidural and have a baby. The End.
My tiny human had other ideas. She came six weeks early, which involved a couple of stints in hospital pre-birth, three days of being induced, a failed epidural, blind shit-the-bed panic and a drug-free-but-not-by-choice birth that had me climbing out of my skin and telling my husband never to ask me to do that EVER again.
Fast forward eighteen months and I was back a-bloody-gain with my second baby. And again six weeks early, following a couple of stints in hospital. This time, though, it involved a successful epidural and a textbook birth with me telling my hubby straight after that ‘I would do that again tomorrow!’. Unbelievable, that two birth experiences could be so very different.
And I guess that’s the point: we can only prepare for what is about to happen as best we can. That means doing whatever the hell you need to do to get yourself through it and bring your tiny human into the world as safely as possible. Whether this means meditating with Himalayan goats pre-birth, necking all the drugs available, reading every birthing book and technique going, exercising throughout to be as strong and as fit as possible – whatever it is, don’t worry about what other people think of your techniques, ideas and values on the matter. Do what you need to do to get prepared.
They say that nothing can really prepare you for the reality of childbirth. However, I believe that talking about our experiences without fear of judgement, and being honest about its realities helps us to get as prepared as possible both physically and mentally.
Most importantly, what ever happens, when you come out the other side of it, please remember this: no matter what type of birth you have, no matter how you bring your tiny human into this world, you bloody rock and are truly magnificent!
DEAR FANNY– A LETTER TO MY PRE-BABY VAGINA
Now before we get cracking with sharing our birth stories, there is someone we need to invite to the party. After all, she plays a key role in getting our tiny humans here as safe and sound as possible. Oh yes, our dear friend Fanny.
Dearest Fanny,
Firstly, may I say that I have the upmost respect for the services you’ve rendered so far over the past thirty-nine years. I want to commend you on how reliable, trustworthy and downright supportive you’ve been of me and whatever strange friends, creams, waxing trends you’ve been subjected to – by me.
That’s why I can’t let you go into this next part of our journey without a bit of a heads-up about what’s about to be coming your way.
I don’t know quite how to break this to you, but in just a matter of weeks a tiny human will be making its way into this world via your good self!
Yes. Yes, I know, I get it. WTF, right? I hear ya, sista! I also can’t get my head (or it seems my vagina) around the idea that a tiny human will soon be exiting us.