As we know, I am telling quite a lot of people about my current pregnancy, and when I do so, I have developed the need to follow the news up with the information that I don't intend to have any more.
This is because I want to pre-empt them thinking that I'm some kind of manic breeder, who either has no idea how to use contraceptives, or who is some martyr who just wants to devote herself to discomfort and the needs of others, I dunno. Well, what's wrong with either of those? It's not a sin to have children. It's not a sin to have 12 children! But I still don't want to be perceived as either of them, for some reason.
Yes, the pregnancies have followed in somewhat quick succession, but they're not really that close compared to, say, me and my sister, or my husband and his brother. These babies will be 23 months apart, perfectly respectable. There were many reasons why I chose to have a baby at this time, to do with my age, my career at this point, my finances and the desire for S to have a sibling he could have fun with. These were my reasons, dammit! Nothing to do with what anyone else thinks! Yes, there have been gasps of, "Oh! You didn't give yourself much breathing space did you?!" and, "Congratulations, you mad thing!" but who gives a crap what they think?
Apparently I do. And I was unable to stop myself from frowning and muttering, "Well, it's a lot to put your body through..." when judgy friend from a few posts back mentioned that she had stopped using contraception. (She has two children under the age of 2). I'm telling myself I was just getting my own back for her calling me silly the other week.
But really, have I too absorbed society's message that procreation and women's pregnant bodies and childbirth are obscene and that they should be controlled and constrained? Probably.
Anthea
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The big secret
I'm about 6 weeks pregnant, I think, and have told a lot of people. I told my family immediately. I found out on a Saturday, and told everyone at work on the Monday. I haven't told many friends, just a close few. Any others I'm going to tell as and when I see them. I'll do the big Facebook broadcast once I've had my first scan.
Last time I was pregnant, I was horribly sick - puking most mornings, the works. I came in late, left early and was a fetching shade of green. As a primary school teacher, the majority of my colleagues are women and as such many of them are mothers. Most people suspected I was pregnant and grilled my closest work friends about it (who denied all knowledge, bless 'em). But no-one actually came and spoke to me! Everyone was talking about me, but no-one was talking to me! The stupid thing is, if anybody had approached me and said, "are you pregnant?" I would have answered, "yes, but please keep it to yourself".
I posted here:
http://thegoodbodies.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-puking-began-here.html
about how unfair it is that during the first trimester, the time when you feel the worst and need the most support, you are not supposed to tell anyone. The reasons for this are that something like 95% of miscarriages happen some time in the first 12 weeks. So presumably, you wouldn't want to follow up the exciting announcement of a pregnancy with the sad one of a miscarriage.
Or would you? In a workplace full of women, mothers, children and family problems, my colleagues are a fabulous support network. We see each other through private and professional dramas, and rally round when somone is having a crisis, however large or small. In fact, I think that if I were to suffer a miscarriage - which is not that likely anyway, I'm not in any of the high-risk categories and have already had one straightforward pregnancy - my colleagues would provide me with tremendous support. If I suffered any other sort of loss or bereavement, I would want the support of the people around me. I wouldn't really want to soldier on as if nothing had happened. I wouldn't want it to be a secret. And therefore I can't see any good reason for me keeping early pregnancy a secret.
I'm lucky in that my employer is fully supportive (to the point of over-enthusiastic!) of staff having children. In other workplaces, it might be a good idea to keep it quiet until your maternity arrangments are fully in place, I don't know. But I've told everyone at work so that they know there's a good reason why I might not be keeping up properly, or be rather absent-minded, or be green. I want their support through this, because it's a big upheaval, even second time around. (Mind you, I seem to be getting evening sickness rather than morning sickness this time so maybe it would have been easy to conceal, I don't know!)
I play in a brass band and told one of my friends there, who herself has two children under the age of two, at the same time as another friend. She asked me how far along I was and I told her only a few weeks. "Well that's a bit silly, announcing it this early, isn't it?" she said, all judgemental. "Why?" I asked. "Well, you'd better hope nothing happens," she replied, implying a miscarriage. "But then I'd want people to know that as well," I said.
OK, so this particular friend is a bit like that, a bit judgy and speaks without thinking, but I reckon her comments only demonstrate the prevailing attitude in society. Where does this come from? Why should miscarriage be such a shameful secret? Why should early pregnancy be so embarrassing? Does this date back to a time when reproduction - and naturally, women's bodies in general - was just so shameful that it wasn't mentioned in public until the physical evidence was unavoidable: i.e. the bump began to show, at the start of the second trimester? Probably.
Ugh, in other news, a friend has just found out she is expecting twins! Please God no! I haven't got room for two more, just one please! It hadn't even occured to me until she told me that of course, she hadn't known either until the scan. And mine is about 6 weeks away! Fingers crossed, just the one baby please!
Anthea
Last time I was pregnant, I was horribly sick - puking most mornings, the works. I came in late, left early and was a fetching shade of green. As a primary school teacher, the majority of my colleagues are women and as such many of them are mothers. Most people suspected I was pregnant and grilled my closest work friends about it (who denied all knowledge, bless 'em). But no-one actually came and spoke to me! Everyone was talking about me, but no-one was talking to me! The stupid thing is, if anybody had approached me and said, "are you pregnant?" I would have answered, "yes, but please keep it to yourself".
I posted here:
http://thegoodbodies.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-puking-began-here.html
about how unfair it is that during the first trimester, the time when you feel the worst and need the most support, you are not supposed to tell anyone. The reasons for this are that something like 95% of miscarriages happen some time in the first 12 weeks. So presumably, you wouldn't want to follow up the exciting announcement of a pregnancy with the sad one of a miscarriage.
Or would you? In a workplace full of women, mothers, children and family problems, my colleagues are a fabulous support network. We see each other through private and professional dramas, and rally round when somone is having a crisis, however large or small. In fact, I think that if I were to suffer a miscarriage - which is not that likely anyway, I'm not in any of the high-risk categories and have already had one straightforward pregnancy - my colleagues would provide me with tremendous support. If I suffered any other sort of loss or bereavement, I would want the support of the people around me. I wouldn't really want to soldier on as if nothing had happened. I wouldn't want it to be a secret. And therefore I can't see any good reason for me keeping early pregnancy a secret.
I'm lucky in that my employer is fully supportive (to the point of over-enthusiastic!) of staff having children. In other workplaces, it might be a good idea to keep it quiet until your maternity arrangments are fully in place, I don't know. But I've told everyone at work so that they know there's a good reason why I might not be keeping up properly, or be rather absent-minded, or be green. I want their support through this, because it's a big upheaval, even second time around. (Mind you, I seem to be getting evening sickness rather than morning sickness this time so maybe it would have been easy to conceal, I don't know!)
I play in a brass band and told one of my friends there, who herself has two children under the age of two, at the same time as another friend. She asked me how far along I was and I told her only a few weeks. "Well that's a bit silly, announcing it this early, isn't it?" she said, all judgemental. "Why?" I asked. "Well, you'd better hope nothing happens," she replied, implying a miscarriage. "But then I'd want people to know that as well," I said.
OK, so this particular friend is a bit like that, a bit judgy and speaks without thinking, but I reckon her comments only demonstrate the prevailing attitude in society. Where does this come from? Why should miscarriage be such a shameful secret? Why should early pregnancy be so embarrassing? Does this date back to a time when reproduction - and naturally, women's bodies in general - was just so shameful that it wasn't mentioned in public until the physical evidence was unavoidable: i.e. the bump began to show, at the start of the second trimester? Probably.
Ugh, in other news, a friend has just found out she is expecting twins! Please God no! I haven't got room for two more, just one please! It hadn't even occured to me until she told me that of course, she hadn't known either until the scan. And mine is about 6 weeks away! Fingers crossed, just the one baby please!
Anthea
Monday, August 30, 2010
Radio Ga Ga, Radio Goo Goo
Over the weekend things felt a lot better for me. We met up with some friends on Saturday morning to visit the Milwaukee Zoo (seeing the orangutans is VERY important for Little O, you see), and the weather was just gorgeous. Because these friends also have a little one, they completely understood when we needed to stop and change a diaper, or set up Little O's feeding pump, or whatever. The difference between going on a day trip with these friends and going on day trips when my Mum was out here was astonishing. Just so much more relaxed, and we had plenty to discuss. I really, really like L. She's so 'with it' in terms of her career and her relationship with her husband, but sometimes asks for my advice regarding her baby. It makes me feel fantastic to reassure her about a minor detail, or to suggest she asks her doctor about this or that. And by the same token, I call on her to reassure ME that I'm not going crazy when I fuck things up at home or with my own husband. She's just a really cool lady.
After the zoo we went home and took a family nap. It. Was. Awesome.
Saturday night I stayed up late preparing for my radio interviews. Butterfly Charlie, who reads this blog, told me afterwards that she'd listened in and thought I was an excellent guest. :) This is good to hear: partly because she works in the media, and partly because I was shitting bricks when I did them. The first was in Leeds and I thought I sounded really stupid and nervous, but after Manchester, Sheffield, Derby, and West Midlands, I think I had the routine down pat and did a good job. I felt incredibly energised afterwards, and even though I slunk into bed at 3.30am I was wide awake for another hour or so, just running things through my head again. I listened to the shows the next day to reassure myself I hadn't made a complete arse of myself, and they weren't too bad. You can actually still listen to them for another few days, but as they give out my full name I'm not going to link to the sites on this blog. If I'm friends with you on another site, ask me for the links and I shall oblige.
Oh, and one last thing. My husband and I had unprotected sex for the first time. (Well, not the FIRST time... obviously... Little O is proof enough of that.) Watch this space, and keep your fingers crossed I'm not up the duff YET. Christmas would be just fine.
Tina.
After the zoo we went home and took a family nap. It. Was. Awesome.
Saturday night I stayed up late preparing for my radio interviews. Butterfly Charlie, who reads this blog, told me afterwards that she'd listened in and thought I was an excellent guest. :) This is good to hear: partly because she works in the media, and partly because I was shitting bricks when I did them. The first was in Leeds and I thought I sounded really stupid and nervous, but after Manchester, Sheffield, Derby, and West Midlands, I think I had the routine down pat and did a good job. I felt incredibly energised afterwards, and even though I slunk into bed at 3.30am I was wide awake for another hour or so, just running things through my head again. I listened to the shows the next day to reassure myself I hadn't made a complete arse of myself, and they weren't too bad. You can actually still listen to them for another few days, but as they give out my full name I'm not going to link to the sites on this blog. If I'm friends with you on another site, ask me for the links and I shall oblige.
Oh, and one last thing. My husband and I had unprotected sex for the first time. (Well, not the FIRST time... obviously... Little O is proof enough of that.) Watch this space, and keep your fingers crossed I'm not up the duff YET. Christmas would be just fine.
Tina.
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