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 pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I got it I got it I got it I got it
I got the job! :)
Of course I did. Why wouldn't I? As one of the interviewers pointed out, I'm more than qualified and I know I interview really well. But still, the nerves always get to me and for days before the event I practiced my answers to questions while on the bog, or driving, or waiting for Little O to stop screaming like a banshee and go the fluck to sleep. But I digress. It was lovely to finally be back in a work environment, and now we move on to the next phase of sorting out Little O's daycare arrangements.
My husband's mother is coming to stay with us next week to learn the ropes of looking after Little O, and to help us out while I start my new position. Initially we thought we were going to need her from Monday 4th Oct, but there was a huge balls-up with the drug test this afternoon and now I won't be able to start until Wednesday. But no matter: it's nice that she's able (and willing, more importantly) to drop everything and visit us while we're in need. Very, very nice. The drug test incident, to clarify, wasn't an error on MY part. I'm drug free. In fact, the last pot I smoked was before Little O was even conceived, so it's not as though I'm having to wait to re-take the test or something. No, the problem was that I arrived at the testing centre (center, I suppose) with a small child in tow. Apparently some "parents" - I use the term loosely - have used their child's urine in place of their own to avoid detection, so now kids aren't allowed in. I asked if Little O could stay outside the bathroom while I completed the test, but they don't have liability insurance or waivers so that wasn't allowed either. So I was told to go away and find child care arrangements, and then come back by myself. The whole thing is so infuriating, because if I'd been able to find someone to look after Little O this week, I would have started the new job earlier... grr...
Anyway, I'm taking the test Friday morning before my husband and I take Little O to get the results of his MRI test, so now the drug test results won't be available until Tuesday, which means I can't start until Wednesday. I'm sure it doesn't send the greatest message to my new employers, but quite frankly they can lump it. THEY'RE the ones who want my pee so badly, so they can jolly well wait until I'm ready to give it to them.
But I am excited. And it's a contract-to-permanent position, which means even if they choose not to renew the contract come February, I already know in advance and can start looking forbetter paid other work. Plus, if we do decide to have another baby (took a test or seven and I'm NOT currently pregnant... which is a bit of a relief now this job's come up) then I can take the third trimester easy at home, sitting on a comfortable cushion of hard-earned dollar bills, yo.
Yay for me! I think Little O's good luck charm worked. :)
Tina.
Of course I did. Why wouldn't I? As one of the interviewers pointed out, I'm more than qualified and I know I interview really well. But still, the nerves always get to me and for days before the event I practiced my answers to questions while on the bog, or driving, or waiting for Little O to stop screaming like a banshee and go the fluck to sleep. But I digress. It was lovely to finally be back in a work environment, and now we move on to the next phase of sorting out Little O's daycare arrangements.
My husband's mother is coming to stay with us next week to learn the ropes of looking after Little O, and to help us out while I start my new position. Initially we thought we were going to need her from Monday 4th Oct, but there was a huge balls-up with the drug test this afternoon and now I won't be able to start until Wednesday. But no matter: it's nice that she's able (and willing, more importantly) to drop everything and visit us while we're in need. Very, very nice. The drug test incident, to clarify, wasn't an error on MY part. I'm drug free. In fact, the last pot I smoked was before Little O was even conceived, so it's not as though I'm having to wait to re-take the test or something. No, the problem was that I arrived at the testing centre (center, I suppose) with a small child in tow. Apparently some "parents" - I use the term loosely - have used their child's urine in place of their own to avoid detection, so now kids aren't allowed in. I asked if Little O could stay outside the bathroom while I completed the test, but they don't have liability insurance or waivers so that wasn't allowed either. So I was told to go away and find child care arrangements, and then come back by myself. The whole thing is so infuriating, because if I'd been able to find someone to look after Little O this week, I would have started the new job earlier... grr...
Anyway, I'm taking the test Friday morning before my husband and I take Little O to get the results of his MRI test, so now the drug test results won't be available until Tuesday, which means I can't start until Wednesday. I'm sure it doesn't send the greatest message to my new employers, but quite frankly they can lump it. THEY'RE the ones who want my pee so badly, so they can jolly well wait until I'm ready to give it to them.
But I am excited. And it's a contract-to-permanent position, which means even if they choose not to renew the contract come February, I already know in advance and can start looking for
Yay for me! I think Little O's good luck charm worked. :)
Tina.
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
Sunday, September 12, 2010
News
I am a useless person.
Well, to be more accurate, I am a person who has worked full-time since her son was less than 10 weeks old, who devotes a minimum of two evenings a week to playing in and managing a band, and who has spent the last year or so buying and moving into a property. (A key worker property. Do you know how complicated that is??) What I actually am is a busy person.
And as such I have, since S's birth, written but two posts. Both about said birth. Surely I cannot really claim to be a contributor to this blog at all.
However, I feel I must at least post this: I found out yesterday that I am pregnant with our second baby. Congratulations to me, I feel.
(Do not confuse me with Tina at this point! She might be, whereas I definitely am!)
Anthea
Well, to be more accurate, I am a person who has worked full-time since her son was less than 10 weeks old, who devotes a minimum of two evenings a week to playing in and managing a band, and who has spent the last year or so buying and moving into a property. (A key worker property. Do you know how complicated that is??) What I actually am is a busy person.
And as such I have, since S's birth, written but two posts. Both about said birth. Surely I cannot really claim to be a contributor to this blog at all.
However, I feel I must at least post this: I found out yesterday that I am pregnant with our second baby. Congratulations to me, I feel.
(Do not confuse me with Tina at this point! She might be, whereas I definitely am!)
Anthea
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Withdrawal
Coming down from using hormones is astonishing. Just astonishing.
I've been using the Depo Provera shot since June 09: six weeks after the birth of Little O. You may remember I posted this account of my frustrations at the inadequacy of contraceptive options for women back in April 09, and how shocked I was that there was nothing out there that really fitted my needs. Well, my needs after the early arrival of Little O changed somewhat - I wasn't able to breastfeed him directly and once we had him home the schedule of expressing, sterilising, feeding, and ensuring he stayed upright long enough to not aspirate on his own vomit, just proved too exhausting and I had to give up providing breastmilk altogether. It's not something I'm proud of, but that's what had to happen. Anyway, because I wasn't breastfeeding I was able to choose a contraceptive that interfered with a nursing mother's supply, and so I choose Depo Provera. It is administered by a nurse using a needle in the upper arm and lasts for three months. It's GREAT if you hate taking a pill every day; it's GREAT if you don't want to get pregnant for a while (over 99.9% reliable); it's GREAT if you don't like having periods; and it's GREAT if you hate using barrier methods such as condoms.
However.
Depo Provera SUCKS if you don't want to gain weight (70% of women gain more than 10lb in their first year of use); it SUCKS if you are prone to depression (it has been found to increase this tendency dramatically); it SUCKS if you want to have sex with a partner on a regular basis (it can severely limit your sex drive); it SUCKS if you want strong bones (it can irreversibly affect bone density after two years of continuous use); and it SUCKS if you want to conceive a child in the near future.
Let's go through that a little, shall we?
I am... how shall I put this? A little heavy. I'll admit it. I love food and I love sitting on my arse watching TV, and I hate exercise for the sake of losing weight. I put on nearly 40lb when I was pregnant, although I lost 30lb of that in the first four weeks after giving birth. So I was still 10lb over my pre-pregnancy weight, and I had started that adventure being about 40lb overweight to begin with. So really, my doctor should have advised me that, being about 50lb overweight during my consultation with him, that I should look for another method of birth control until I had successfully lost some weight. I might have smacked him one, and I might have gone ahead with the Depo Provera shot regardless, but I still should have been informed either way.
Secondly, when I went to visit my doctor, my son was still a teeny tiny premature newborn with an extremely rare genetic disorder that no-one, not even a geneticist, could give me an accurate prognosis for. Mothers of babies who stay in the NICU for any length of time are SEVEN TIMES more likely to suffer from some form of post-partum depression than other mothers. If my doctor wasn't aware of any mood changes I was experiencing the first time he administered the shot, he sure as hell should have checked in on me for subsequent shots to make sure this method of contraception was still appropriate. Because after six months, or two shots, it definitely definitely wasn't. I was in full PPD mode, which later led to a more serious mental health issue, and not one single health care professional told me that the Depo Provera shot could be contributing. Also, my doctor doesn't see patients who are there just to receive a shot - you have to ask for a whole other appointment. I really feel that that policy is negligent. At the very least he should have recommended I see him personally after six months or a year, just to check it was still the best choice for me.
Thirdly, while I guffawed at my doctor when he said the shot could decrease my sex drive, I've found out the hard way how true that can be. Having just given birth I wasn't planning on bonking my husband three times a day in the near future anyway, so putting a cap on my sexual activity seemed like no bad thing. However, come six or nine months down the road, my husband and I were lucky if we managed a single bonk in a month. A MONTH! Forgive me for my bluntness, but we used to be four- or five-times-a-week kind of people before I got pregnant. My husband was incredibly patient and we attributed my lack of interest to my adjustment disorder, but it put a huge strain on our marriage when I would only put out on a very limited basis. A marriage needs a healthy sex life, but I was so unhappy that ours just withered away.
The bone thing is disturbing, no? I don't think I've been affected - yet - because I stopped using Depo Provera after 15 months, but the fact your bone density can be damaged so easily without hope of reversal? That's some scary shit.
And finally - if you want to have a child after using Depo Provera, you had better be in it for the long haul. While the company that manufactures it claims fertility can return to normal immediately, there are countless stories on the internet to suggest otherwise. The general consensus among women who know - women who've had at least one child already, used the shot, stopped using the shot, tried to get pregnant again and failed - is that it takes at least as long as you were on the shot to get pregnant again. I used it for 15 months, which means it could take another 15 months to conceive. Wow. They say it can take six months for you to just start ovulating again and to regain regular periods, and another nine to 18 months to get pregnant. Just wow.
I know it's my responsibility to do my own research and work out what's best for MY body before signing up to anything, but I do feel that there isn't enough material given to women about the Depo Provera shot. I certainly wasn't given any literature at my doctor's office, and as a new mother of a special needs baby, I just wanted something that would take away any extra worries I had about getting pregnant for a bit. I was NEVER told about the weight gain, depression, bone density side-effects, or the possibility of it taking so long to conceive again.
I am not an Earth Mother. I am happy to put hormones into my body in order to prevent pregnancy. I hate condoms (I think I must be a little allergic or something, because those things CHAFE) and I was on the pill from the age of 17. I came off it at 25 and conceived within the first month, which meant I haven't had a normal period since I was a teenager. I've always been fine with that because periods are not my friend. I do not believe in embracing something I find unpleasant - just like I find bogeys, eye gunk, earwax, urine, poop, and vomit repulsive. (Actually, baby poop I don't mind at all. I find it incredibly satisfying to clean Little O's bum because then the smell magically disappears. Eye gunk or nose bogeys, however, are a different story. They make me gag.) Anyway, seeing as I'm not mad keen on being a mad woman once a month, I've truly never minded suppressing my fertility with hormones. It's always meant I either had lighter, regular periods, or none at all - and that suited me just fine.
Until now.
Now, I'm coming down from hormone usage. I have been hormone-free for 14 days and the side effects are quite astonishing. Assuming I'm not already pregnant (more on that in a minute), then I've been feeling my body literally moving itself back into a normal position and preparing itself for a monthly cycle once again. It's fascinating, and not without its aches and pains. I've been having the most dramatic mood swings you've ever seen; I've been sleeping during the day and not at night; I've had stomach aches, back aches and leg cramps; my boobs have been going up and down in size, sensitivity, shape, and texture - and they tingle; and I've felt my appetite decrease to such an extent that the thought of some of my old favourite foods (such as chilli), has made me queasy. I've also, happily, begun to want to shag my husband again. He's been most obliging.
The changes in my body over the last two weeks have been so dramatic that I think I'm going to have to check I'm not up the duff. It's made difficult, however, by not having had that normal monthly cycle for the last ten years. I've got absolutely no idea when I would have ovulated, or even if I'm likely to, or when the date of my last period was. (Erm... October, maybe?) I'm therefore completely baffled as to when I'm supposed to take a pregnancy test. Yes, my husband and I have been having (semi) unprotected sex, but if the effects of Depo Provera take as long to wear off as they say they do... and if I don't know when or if I'm even ovulating... then taking a test too soon could give me a false negative result. It's all tremendously disconcerting.
But I feel better about not taking any hormones anymore. It feels good. It feels right. If my husband and I do conceive soon, then we're thinking about making a more permanent choice for contraception next time. We're discussing vasectomies, tube-tying, IUDs... even donating an entire testicle to science (yes, it can be done. There's a very famous university who does research into testicular diseases, and they offer thousands and thousands of dollars for healthy testicles from men under 35). Whatever happens in the next few months though, I don't think I'm going to go through this hormone withdrawal again. Using hormones was appropriate for me in the past, but I think I've reached a point in my life where I'm tired of bearing the sole responsibility for contraception in my relationship. And I think after the last 15 months we've had, my husband is too.
Tina.
I've been using the Depo Provera shot since June 09: six weeks after the birth of Little O. You may remember I posted this account of my frustrations at the inadequacy of contraceptive options for women back in April 09, and how shocked I was that there was nothing out there that really fitted my needs. Well, my needs after the early arrival of Little O changed somewhat - I wasn't able to breastfeed him directly and once we had him home the schedule of expressing, sterilising, feeding, and ensuring he stayed upright long enough to not aspirate on his own vomit, just proved too exhausting and I had to give up providing breastmilk altogether. It's not something I'm proud of, but that's what had to happen. Anyway, because I wasn't breastfeeding I was able to choose a contraceptive that interfered with a nursing mother's supply, and so I choose Depo Provera. It is administered by a nurse using a needle in the upper arm and lasts for three months. It's GREAT if you hate taking a pill every day; it's GREAT if you don't want to get pregnant for a while (over 99.9% reliable); it's GREAT if you don't like having periods; and it's GREAT if you hate using barrier methods such as condoms.
However.
Depo Provera SUCKS if you don't want to gain weight (70% of women gain more than 10lb in their first year of use); it SUCKS if you are prone to depression (it has been found to increase this tendency dramatically); it SUCKS if you want to have sex with a partner on a regular basis (it can severely limit your sex drive); it SUCKS if you want strong bones (it can irreversibly affect bone density after two years of continuous use); and it SUCKS if you want to conceive a child in the near future.
Let's go through that a little, shall we?
I am... how shall I put this? A little heavy. I'll admit it. I love food and I love sitting on my arse watching TV, and I hate exercise for the sake of losing weight. I put on nearly 40lb when I was pregnant, although I lost 30lb of that in the first four weeks after giving birth. So I was still 10lb over my pre-pregnancy weight, and I had started that adventure being about 40lb overweight to begin with. So really, my doctor should have advised me that, being about 50lb overweight during my consultation with him, that I should look for another method of birth control until I had successfully lost some weight. I might have smacked him one, and I might have gone ahead with the Depo Provera shot regardless, but I still should have been informed either way.
Secondly, when I went to visit my doctor, my son was still a teeny tiny premature newborn with an extremely rare genetic disorder that no-one, not even a geneticist, could give me an accurate prognosis for. Mothers of babies who stay in the NICU for any length of time are SEVEN TIMES more likely to suffer from some form of post-partum depression than other mothers. If my doctor wasn't aware of any mood changes I was experiencing the first time he administered the shot, he sure as hell should have checked in on me for subsequent shots to make sure this method of contraception was still appropriate. Because after six months, or two shots, it definitely definitely wasn't. I was in full PPD mode, which later led to a more serious mental health issue, and not one single health care professional told me that the Depo Provera shot could be contributing. Also, my doctor doesn't see patients who are there just to receive a shot - you have to ask for a whole other appointment. I really feel that that policy is negligent. At the very least he should have recommended I see him personally after six months or a year, just to check it was still the best choice for me.
Thirdly, while I guffawed at my doctor when he said the shot could decrease my sex drive, I've found out the hard way how true that can be. Having just given birth I wasn't planning on bonking my husband three times a day in the near future anyway, so putting a cap on my sexual activity seemed like no bad thing. However, come six or nine months down the road, my husband and I were lucky if we managed a single bonk in a month. A MONTH! Forgive me for my bluntness, but we used to be four- or five-times-a-week kind of people before I got pregnant. My husband was incredibly patient and we attributed my lack of interest to my adjustment disorder, but it put a huge strain on our marriage when I would only put out on a very limited basis. A marriage needs a healthy sex life, but I was so unhappy that ours just withered away.
The bone thing is disturbing, no? I don't think I've been affected - yet - because I stopped using Depo Provera after 15 months, but the fact your bone density can be damaged so easily without hope of reversal? That's some scary shit.
And finally - if you want to have a child after using Depo Provera, you had better be in it for the long haul. While the company that manufactures it claims fertility can return to normal immediately, there are countless stories on the internet to suggest otherwise. The general consensus among women who know - women who've had at least one child already, used the shot, stopped using the shot, tried to get pregnant again and failed - is that it takes at least as long as you were on the shot to get pregnant again. I used it for 15 months, which means it could take another 15 months to conceive. Wow. They say it can take six months for you to just start ovulating again and to regain regular periods, and another nine to 18 months to get pregnant. Just wow.
I know it's my responsibility to do my own research and work out what's best for MY body before signing up to anything, but I do feel that there isn't enough material given to women about the Depo Provera shot. I certainly wasn't given any literature at my doctor's office, and as a new mother of a special needs baby, I just wanted something that would take away any extra worries I had about getting pregnant for a bit. I was NEVER told about the weight gain, depression, bone density side-effects, or the possibility of it taking so long to conceive again.
I am not an Earth Mother. I am happy to put hormones into my body in order to prevent pregnancy. I hate condoms (I think I must be a little allergic or something, because those things CHAFE) and I was on the pill from the age of 17. I came off it at 25 and conceived within the first month, which meant I haven't had a normal period since I was a teenager. I've always been fine with that because periods are not my friend. I do not believe in embracing something I find unpleasant - just like I find bogeys, eye gunk, earwax, urine, poop, and vomit repulsive. (Actually, baby poop I don't mind at all. I find it incredibly satisfying to clean Little O's bum because then the smell magically disappears. Eye gunk or nose bogeys, however, are a different story. They make me gag.) Anyway, seeing as I'm not mad keen on being a mad woman once a month, I've truly never minded suppressing my fertility with hormones. It's always meant I either had lighter, regular periods, or none at all - and that suited me just fine.
Until now.
Now, I'm coming down from hormone usage. I have been hormone-free for 14 days and the side effects are quite astonishing. Assuming I'm not already pregnant (more on that in a minute), then I've been feeling my body literally moving itself back into a normal position and preparing itself for a monthly cycle once again. It's fascinating, and not without its aches and pains. I've been having the most dramatic mood swings you've ever seen; I've been sleeping during the day and not at night; I've had stomach aches, back aches and leg cramps; my boobs have been going up and down in size, sensitivity, shape, and texture - and they tingle; and I've felt my appetite decrease to such an extent that the thought of some of my old favourite foods (such as chilli), has made me queasy. I've also, happily, begun to want to shag my husband again. He's been most obliging.
The changes in my body over the last two weeks have been so dramatic that I think I'm going to have to check I'm not up the duff. It's made difficult, however, by not having had that normal monthly cycle for the last ten years. I've got absolutely no idea when I would have ovulated, or even if I'm likely to, or when the date of my last period was. (Erm... October, maybe?) I'm therefore completely baffled as to when I'm supposed to take a pregnancy test. Yes, my husband and I have been having (semi) unprotected sex, but if the effects of Depo Provera take as long to wear off as they say they do... and if I don't know when or if I'm even ovulating... then taking a test too soon could give me a false negative result. It's all tremendously disconcerting.
But I feel better about not taking any hormones anymore. It feels good. It feels right. If my husband and I do conceive soon, then we're thinking about making a more permanent choice for contraception next time. We're discussing vasectomies, tube-tying, IUDs... even donating an entire testicle to science (yes, it can be done. There's a very famous university who does research into testicular diseases, and they offer thousands and thousands of dollars for healthy testicles from men under 35). Whatever happens in the next few months though, I don't think I'm going to go through this hormone withdrawal again. Using hormones was appropriate for me in the past, but I think I've reached a point in my life where I'm tired of bearing the sole responsibility for contraception in my relationship. And I think after the last 15 months we've had, my husband is too.
Tina.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Part 2
Right, where was I?
At about 12.00pm I asked to get back into the bath. (Midwife: "That's a good idea, it can really help to speed things along". So why aren't there rows of baths instead of beds on maternity wards then?) I had actually wanted a water birth but, as I say, I don't think anyone bothered to look at my birth plan, and I was too frightened to speak up. Anyway, I got into the bath, dragging my Entonox cylinder with me, and promptly relaxed and calmed down. I continued to doze off between contractions, with the Entonox mouthpiece falling out of my mouth! Before long, though, I thought, "this baby's coming." I gesiculated wildly at the midwife's pull-cord to get my husband to summon her, but he didn't know what I was pointing at and thought I wanted something from my pile of clothes on the windowsill! I finally gasped "midwife!" and he got her.
I was taken back to my bed to be examined, whereupon my waters broke. I was 7cm dilated and preparations were made to take me down to the labour ward. At this point the 'show' appeared (the mucus plug in the cervix which keeps everything sealed up for 9 months). I spotted it on the bed and asked what it was (I wanted to be sure). "Oh, that's the show," said the midwife, and threw a sheet over it. "You weren't supposed to see that." Why the hell not? "It's ok, I made it," I managed to say. The staff commented that I still had a sense of humour - which was true but that wasn't the point. It had been inside me for all that time and I wanted to see it, to be aware of everything that had and was still happening to me. Why did they feel the need to keep it hidden? Is there honestly still a belief that these natural female bodily functions and secretions are shameful and dirty? I was put in a wheelchair and taken to the labour ward - but not before a little wait because there was a hospital tour for expectant mothers taking place and, the state I was in, I don't think they wanted me to frighten them! I'm not sure what I think about this. I mean, I was about to give birth, surely my needs should have been top of the list, but it is good that they wanted to give the expectant mothers a positive impression of what they're about to endure (however misleading that may be).
So then. Onto the second stage, or 'active labour'. I had originally decided not to have an epidural as I didn't fancy the side-effects (loss of bladder control, lasting numbness that would have to wear off, etc) but at this stage I changed my mind and decided I wanted one. However, the staff said that I was doing so well and things were moving on at such a pace that I would probably get on without one. I began pushing with the contractions, and stopped taking the Entonox (no pain relief at all! I am a hardass.). This carried on for nearly two hours, during which time I repeatedly requested an epidural and was repeatedly told (very nicely, though) that it would probably not be worth it. However, before long I was shouting "I don't care if you have to keep your quotas down or whatever, I wanted an epidural and YOU wouldn't give me one!" In retrospect, I'm pleased that I made it through without one, but it's myself I'm pleased with, not the staff. They should have given me what I wanted. I was given fluids in an IV in my left hand, and I remember informng them that I give blood from my right, and that they might have more luck finding a vein there!
What nobody knew at this stage was that the baby's cord was wrapped three times around the neck, which was why the baby wasn't making progress down the birth canal. A (male) obsetrician appeared at this point (to be honest, plenty of people were in and out of that room over those few hours, and I could not tell you how many or who the majority of them were. My mind was elsewhere) and he said that they were going to 'give the baby a hand' getting out, since progress had stalled and the baby's heartbeat had slowed. Whatever my feelings on interventions during birth were prior to this, this was brilliant news. As I was moaning and complaining about the pain, a midwife said, "it's 3.00pm. Your baby will be born by 10 past". The best thing I had heard all day.
The end of the bed came away, my head went back, the stirrups appeared and up went my legs. I was given four injections of local anaesthetic and an episiotomy (cut thorught the perenium) was perfomed. Yes, it's an absolute cariacature of childbirth, and it was quite a bloodbath (and have I mentioned the shit yet? Yes, I shat myself while I was pushing. And couldn't care less). A suction cup (ventouse) was attached to the baby's head, and with a few more pushes and contractions, the head was out. I asked why I couldn't hear the baby. I still don't understand why babies don't cry as soon as their head's born! A couple more contractions and pushes and my husband cried "It's a boy! Oh, it's S------!" and my brand new son was born.
He was a huge baby - 9lb 4oz, I shortly learned - and he had shat himself too, and was grey from the birth goo and the effect of the birth on his circulation. They plonked him on my tummy and the first thing I saw was this enormous, round, grey baby bum with a brown anus! Nice! I didn't even see his face until minutes later, when the cord had been cut and he'd been wrapped in a blanket. Next time, I'm going to insist that all that can wait until I've seen my baby's face and kissed it. Nor did I see the placenta, which I really wanted a look at (see 'the show', above). In all honesty, my prevailing feeling at that point was relief and gladness at the pregnancy, labour and birth being over, rather than joy or excitement at meeting S. That sounds awful, but in my defence, I had had virtually no sleep, there was no food in my system, I had never experienced pain like it, and I was rather out of it from the Entonox. And I doubt I'm the first new mother to have felt like that! giving birth was simultaneously the best and worst experience of my life, although I would not come to see it as the best for little while. Predictably, the first thing I said was, "I'm never doing that again!" The midwives all laughed and said, "they all say that," so I pointed to my husband and said, "well, you're having the next one then!" And I meant it.
Apparently I only swore once and only told my husband to shut up once - less than on a normal day!
I've been writing this as much for me as for anyone else to read it. While women the world over give birth every minute, I have done it but once, and it was the experience of my life. Nothing else comes close. Every woman's birth story is unique and I'm glad I've now got mine on record. Having said that, it's true that nature causes you to forget the pain, so despite this being a pretty accurate account, I know something is missing. We all know that if any mother had an accurate memory of giving birth, she would never put herself through it again! I've got a lot more to tell about the first days and months of S's life, and hope I can continue to write on here a little more often. But now it's teatime.
Anthea
At about 12.00pm I asked to get back into the bath. (Midwife: "That's a good idea, it can really help to speed things along". So why aren't there rows of baths instead of beds on maternity wards then?) I had actually wanted a water birth but, as I say, I don't think anyone bothered to look at my birth plan, and I was too frightened to speak up. Anyway, I got into the bath, dragging my Entonox cylinder with me, and promptly relaxed and calmed down. I continued to doze off between contractions, with the Entonox mouthpiece falling out of my mouth! Before long, though, I thought, "this baby's coming." I gesiculated wildly at the midwife's pull-cord to get my husband to summon her, but he didn't know what I was pointing at and thought I wanted something from my pile of clothes on the windowsill! I finally gasped "midwife!" and he got her.
I was taken back to my bed to be examined, whereupon my waters broke. I was 7cm dilated and preparations were made to take me down to the labour ward. At this point the 'show' appeared (the mucus plug in the cervix which keeps everything sealed up for 9 months). I spotted it on the bed and asked what it was (I wanted to be sure). "Oh, that's the show," said the midwife, and threw a sheet over it. "You weren't supposed to see that." Why the hell not? "It's ok, I made it," I managed to say. The staff commented that I still had a sense of humour - which was true but that wasn't the point. It had been inside me for all that time and I wanted to see it, to be aware of everything that had and was still happening to me. Why did they feel the need to keep it hidden? Is there honestly still a belief that these natural female bodily functions and secretions are shameful and dirty? I was put in a wheelchair and taken to the labour ward - but not before a little wait because there was a hospital tour for expectant mothers taking place and, the state I was in, I don't think they wanted me to frighten them! I'm not sure what I think about this. I mean, I was about to give birth, surely my needs should have been top of the list, but it is good that they wanted to give the expectant mothers a positive impression of what they're about to endure (however misleading that may be).
So then. Onto the second stage, or 'active labour'. I had originally decided not to have an epidural as I didn't fancy the side-effects (loss of bladder control, lasting numbness that would have to wear off, etc) but at this stage I changed my mind and decided I wanted one. However, the staff said that I was doing so well and things were moving on at such a pace that I would probably get on without one. I began pushing with the contractions, and stopped taking the Entonox (no pain relief at all! I am a hardass.). This carried on for nearly two hours, during which time I repeatedly requested an epidural and was repeatedly told (very nicely, though) that it would probably not be worth it. However, before long I was shouting "I don't care if you have to keep your quotas down or whatever, I wanted an epidural and YOU wouldn't give me one!" In retrospect, I'm pleased that I made it through without one, but it's myself I'm pleased with, not the staff. They should have given me what I wanted. I was given fluids in an IV in my left hand, and I remember informng them that I give blood from my right, and that they might have more luck finding a vein there!
What nobody knew at this stage was that the baby's cord was wrapped three times around the neck, which was why the baby wasn't making progress down the birth canal. A (male) obsetrician appeared at this point (to be honest, plenty of people were in and out of that room over those few hours, and I could not tell you how many or who the majority of them were. My mind was elsewhere) and he said that they were going to 'give the baby a hand' getting out, since progress had stalled and the baby's heartbeat had slowed. Whatever my feelings on interventions during birth were prior to this, this was brilliant news. As I was moaning and complaining about the pain, a midwife said, "it's 3.00pm. Your baby will be born by 10 past". The best thing I had heard all day.
The end of the bed came away, my head went back, the stirrups appeared and up went my legs. I was given four injections of local anaesthetic and an episiotomy (cut thorught the perenium) was perfomed. Yes, it's an absolute cariacature of childbirth, and it was quite a bloodbath (and have I mentioned the shit yet? Yes, I shat myself while I was pushing. And couldn't care less). A suction cup (ventouse) was attached to the baby's head, and with a few more pushes and contractions, the head was out. I asked why I couldn't hear the baby. I still don't understand why babies don't cry as soon as their head's born! A couple more contractions and pushes and my husband cried "It's a boy! Oh, it's S------!" and my brand new son was born.
He was a huge baby - 9lb 4oz, I shortly learned - and he had shat himself too, and was grey from the birth goo and the effect of the birth on his circulation. They plonked him on my tummy and the first thing I saw was this enormous, round, grey baby bum with a brown anus! Nice! I didn't even see his face until minutes later, when the cord had been cut and he'd been wrapped in a blanket. Next time, I'm going to insist that all that can wait until I've seen my baby's face and kissed it. Nor did I see the placenta, which I really wanted a look at (see 'the show', above). In all honesty, my prevailing feeling at that point was relief and gladness at the pregnancy, labour and birth being over, rather than joy or excitement at meeting S. That sounds awful, but in my defence, I had had virtually no sleep, there was no food in my system, I had never experienced pain like it, and I was rather out of it from the Entonox. And I doubt I'm the first new mother to have felt like that! giving birth was simultaneously the best and worst experience of my life, although I would not come to see it as the best for little while. Predictably, the first thing I said was, "I'm never doing that again!" The midwives all laughed and said, "they all say that," so I pointed to my husband and said, "well, you're having the next one then!" And I meant it.
Apparently I only swore once and only told my husband to shut up once - less than on a normal day!
I've been writing this as much for me as for anyone else to read it. While women the world over give birth every minute, I have done it but once, and it was the experience of my life. Nothing else comes close. Every woman's birth story is unique and I'm glad I've now got mine on record. Having said that, it's true that nature causes you to forget the pain, so despite this being a pretty accurate account, I know something is missing. We all know that if any mother had an accurate memory of giving birth, she would never put herself through it again! I've got a lot more to tell about the first days and months of S's life, and hope I can continue to write on here a little more often. But now it's teatime.
Anthea
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Part 1 of many
OK, I've finally found 5 minutes to sit down and write something on here for the first time in about 8 months!
The birth of my baby seems like as good a place to start as any.
After two weeks of curries, 'romantic nights', long walks, membrane sweeps (if you have to ask...) and abject boredom, baby was showing no signs of making an appearance. In fact, the head was partly engaged and then went back up again! I had to be induced. I walked to the hospital on the Friday night and had prostoglandins (synthetic hormones) injected up me - nice. Normally, this method of induction takes about 6 hours to work and is not successful first time round for first time mothers, so the plan was that I would have it done at bedtime, sleep, and then they'd have another go in the morning which was much more likely to work.
So. My husband stayed with me while the induction took place, then got me settled and went home to get some sleep himself. Unbeknownst to him, the hormones took effect very quickly and my labour began at about 1.00am. It felt like back pain, but after a while a midwife confirmed that the pains were settling into fairly regular contractions. I was alone on the ward, in the dark, with a skeleton weekend staff whom I barely saw. Not how I'd pictured my labour. No-one asked me about my birth plan, I was too intimidated to ask for help with my TENS machine (so didn't use it in the end) and had no-one to rub my back or coach me through the pains. At 3.00am I decided I wanted to phone my husband and get him to come in so approached the front desk and informed the woman (don't know if she was a midwife, nurse or receptionist) that there would soon be a man arriving and she would need to let him in. "Why?" she asked (!!!???!) "Because I'm in pain and I want my husband to help me through it," I replied (!!!!!!!) "I'm afraid visiting hours are between 8.00am and 8.00pm," she informed me. Fucking hell. So I spent the rest of the night without pain relief (I wanted massage and the TENS machine), labouring alone in the dark, and fairly scared since this was my first time. I do plan to have another baby, and if the same thing happens again, I shall shout and scream and stamp my foot until I am allowed to have my husband with me. I mean, if we'd turned up at midnight with me having gone into labour spontaneously, would they have sent him away and told him to come back at 8.00am? I think not. The more I look back on this, the more outraged I am. I'm thinking of officially complaining. Any thoughts?
Anyway. I did take a bath after this in a huge double tub. I found it highly effective - in fact, although I'm usually happier on dry land and a bit scared of water, I had really enjoyed baths and swimming throughout my pregnancy - in terms of pain relief and calming me down. At 7.00am I rang my husband. He answered the phone and apparently I sounded really down (not surprising, considering the night I'd had!). He took this to mean that I was annoyed that the induction hadn't worked, when it was quite the opposite! "See you in an hour," I said, but 15 minutes later I the pains were getting worse so I rang him and told him to come straight there, to hell with their visiting hours. At 7.30 he arrived and was again informed of the visiting hours. "Is that going to be a problem?" he demanded, and they grudgingly let him in.
From then until about lunchtime is a bit hazy now. I walked around for pain relief and vomited on another bed ("You must really stay near your bed!" I was curtly told - minutes before another midwife recommended I try walking around!). I used Entonox (gas and air) for pain relief, which I loved. My husband massaged my back for what seemed to him like hours on end. I can't really remember much more than this as I was quite high on Entonox and had had virtually no sleep during the night so kept dozing off between contractions.
Right, baby is now demanding milk so I will return shortly with the next instalment!
Anthea
The birth of my baby seems like as good a place to start as any.
After two weeks of curries, 'romantic nights', long walks, membrane sweeps (if you have to ask...) and abject boredom, baby was showing no signs of making an appearance. In fact, the head was partly engaged and then went back up again! I had to be induced. I walked to the hospital on the Friday night and had prostoglandins (synthetic hormones) injected up me - nice. Normally, this method of induction takes about 6 hours to work and is not successful first time round for first time mothers, so the plan was that I would have it done at bedtime, sleep, and then they'd have another go in the morning which was much more likely to work.
So. My husband stayed with me while the induction took place, then got me settled and went home to get some sleep himself. Unbeknownst to him, the hormones took effect very quickly and my labour began at about 1.00am. It felt like back pain, but after a while a midwife confirmed that the pains were settling into fairly regular contractions. I was alone on the ward, in the dark, with a skeleton weekend staff whom I barely saw. Not how I'd pictured my labour. No-one asked me about my birth plan, I was too intimidated to ask for help with my TENS machine (so didn't use it in the end) and had no-one to rub my back or coach me through the pains. At 3.00am I decided I wanted to phone my husband and get him to come in so approached the front desk and informed the woman (don't know if she was a midwife, nurse or receptionist) that there would soon be a man arriving and she would need to let him in. "Why?" she asked (!!!???!) "Because I'm in pain and I want my husband to help me through it," I replied (!!!!!!!) "I'm afraid visiting hours are between 8.00am and 8.00pm," she informed me. Fucking hell. So I spent the rest of the night without pain relief (I wanted massage and the TENS machine), labouring alone in the dark, and fairly scared since this was my first time. I do plan to have another baby, and if the same thing happens again, I shall shout and scream and stamp my foot until I am allowed to have my husband with me. I mean, if we'd turned up at midnight with me having gone into labour spontaneously, would they have sent him away and told him to come back at 8.00am? I think not. The more I look back on this, the more outraged I am. I'm thinking of officially complaining. Any thoughts?
Anyway. I did take a bath after this in a huge double tub. I found it highly effective - in fact, although I'm usually happier on dry land and a bit scared of water, I had really enjoyed baths and swimming throughout my pregnancy - in terms of pain relief and calming me down. At 7.00am I rang my husband. He answered the phone and apparently I sounded really down (not surprising, considering the night I'd had!). He took this to mean that I was annoyed that the induction hadn't worked, when it was quite the opposite! "See you in an hour," I said, but 15 minutes later I the pains were getting worse so I rang him and told him to come straight there, to hell with their visiting hours. At 7.30 he arrived and was again informed of the visiting hours. "Is that going to be a problem?" he demanded, and they grudgingly let him in.
From then until about lunchtime is a bit hazy now. I walked around for pain relief and vomited on another bed ("You must really stay near your bed!" I was curtly told - minutes before another midwife recommended I try walking around!). I used Entonox (gas and air) for pain relief, which I loved. My husband massaged my back for what seemed to him like hours on end. I can't really remember much more than this as I was quite high on Entonox and had had virtually no sleep during the night so kept dozing off between contractions.
Right, baby is now demanding milk so I will return shortly with the next instalment!
Anthea
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The old abortion debate
Oddly enough, I've found myself becoming simultaneously both more pro-choice and more pro-life than I was before. Why is this?
I have always described myself as 'pro-life in theory, pro-choice in practice'. What I mean by this is that whilst, to me, the ending of a child's life before it has begun is theoretically abhorrent, I also live in the real world and recognise that easy access to free, safe, legal abortion is absolutely necessary to ensure women's freedom. In places where this is not available, women live in dreadful circumstances. I am not going to detail those here, it's all been done elsewhere.
I have become more pro-life in that I do not understand how, after seeing scan pictures (as early as 8 weeks) and feeling movements (as early as 16 weeks) any woman could possibly contemplate the ending of that little, helpless life inside her (abortion in this country is legal up to 24 weeks). I suppose that the vast majority of terminations happen much earlier than this and that someone who was going to have one would not have a scan or reach the stage where she felt movements, but the overwhelming urge I have to protect the fetus inside me really makes me question how anyone could choose to terminate a pregnancy.
On the other hand, this pregnancy is the single biggest upheaval I've experienced in my life. I was dreadfully sick in the early stages and am sufferering just as badly in the late stages with heartburn. I've had interrupted sleep throughout the last 7 months, constipation, alarming mood swings, swollen ankles and tiredness at all sorts of strange times. It is no exaggeration that a pregnancy takes over your entire body and by extension your whole life: I no longer play in my music group due to exhaustion, I can't travel easily, various fun activities (e.g. rollercoasters, certain sports) are off-limits and I've had to cut out some of my favourite foods, such as mouldy cheeses (a big deal for a vegetarian!!). This is before we even come to the pain and trauma of the birth, and the trials and responsiblities of being a parent. As strongly as I feel about fetal rights, I now feel more strongly than ever that no woman should ever, ever be forced to go through what I've been going through or am about to experience - and I'm having a fairly straightforward preganancy! So yes, I could say that I'm more pro-choice these days.
And that is how I come to be both more pro-life and more pro-choice as a result of experiencing pregnancy for myself. Thank you and good night.
Anthea
I have always described myself as 'pro-life in theory, pro-choice in practice'. What I mean by this is that whilst, to me, the ending of a child's life before it has begun is theoretically abhorrent, I also live in the real world and recognise that easy access to free, safe, legal abortion is absolutely necessary to ensure women's freedom. In places where this is not available, women live in dreadful circumstances. I am not going to detail those here, it's all been done elsewhere.
I have become more pro-life in that I do not understand how, after seeing scan pictures (as early as 8 weeks) and feeling movements (as early as 16 weeks) any woman could possibly contemplate the ending of that little, helpless life inside her (abortion in this country is legal up to 24 weeks). I suppose that the vast majority of terminations happen much earlier than this and that someone who was going to have one would not have a scan or reach the stage where she felt movements, but the overwhelming urge I have to protect the fetus inside me really makes me question how anyone could choose to terminate a pregnancy.
On the other hand, this pregnancy is the single biggest upheaval I've experienced in my life. I was dreadfully sick in the early stages and am sufferering just as badly in the late stages with heartburn. I've had interrupted sleep throughout the last 7 months, constipation, alarming mood swings, swollen ankles and tiredness at all sorts of strange times. It is no exaggeration that a pregnancy takes over your entire body and by extension your whole life: I no longer play in my music group due to exhaustion, I can't travel easily, various fun activities (e.g. rollercoasters, certain sports) are off-limits and I've had to cut out some of my favourite foods, such as mouldy cheeses (a big deal for a vegetarian!!). This is before we even come to the pain and trauma of the birth, and the trials and responsiblities of being a parent. As strongly as I feel about fetal rights, I now feel more strongly than ever that no woman should ever, ever be forced to go through what I've been going through or am about to experience - and I'm having a fairly straightforward preganancy! So yes, I could say that I'm more pro-choice these days.
And that is how I come to be both more pro-life and more pro-choice as a result of experiencing pregnancy for myself. Thank you and good night.
Anthea
But... aren't you supposed to get fat?
All the medical professionals - midwives, doctors - I've dealt with so far have been women. I've liked some more than others. Some were reassuring, some were rude, some were funny, some were know-it-alls, several had had children of their own. Where I live, one's antenatal care is shared between the hospital (where one is seen by midwives and if necessary a consultant) and your GP. At my GP's surgery, in common with many others, the doctor you actually see will not necessarily be your own registered GP, but whoever can fit you in, so until recently both my antenatal appointments at my doctor's had been with a female GP (and mother, incidently).
This week, I saw my own GP instead. We hadn't met before and I liked him very much. He's in his 40s, I suppose, and I couldn't tell whether he had any children of his own. He carried out a couple of the usual tests and asked the usual questions. Then he asked me to step on the scales - something I hadn't done since my initial booking appointment. The first time I did this, in about th eighth week of my pregnancy, I had a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 27 which made me overweight. I am 5'2" and a size 10-12, and I've always known I've weighed a lot. I must just have dense bones or something. The point is, I was, and always have been, in good shape - and I am not the first person to have noticed that shorter people are disadvantaged by BMI calculations. The midwife was surprised at the BMI but looked me up and down and decided there was clearly no problem with my weight. I have never owned a set of scales and have always eaten sensibly but still according to what I want rather than how I look. Besides, I read in my pregnancy book that weight gain is no longer seen as an accurate measure of how a pregnancy is progressing so is not usually monitored these days.
So, this week, for my GP, I got on the scales for the first time since October. I weighed about 11st, which means I've put on about a stone and a quarter. Given that my baby is due in 8 weeks, I think this is a reasonable amount. Added to which, my face has got no fatter than it was and is always the first place to show whenever my weight fluctuates, so I'm confident that the weight gain is temporary and that I'll have little difficulty losing it once the baby's born. Being the liberated woman that I am, I stepped off the scales seeing the weight gain as of little consequence. Mr GP, however, had other ideas. "That's quite a good weight gain," he said. I was pleased. I thought this meant that the weight gain was just right for the health of my baby and me. He and I clearly have different ideas of what the word 'good' means, as he then went on to make it clear that he thought I'd put too much on. "You know, it's OK to diet during late pregnancy," he continued, "I think it's due to hormones. The women in my family tell me they want to eat more during pregnancy and their periods, so they eat too much. Don't cut out just one food group, just cut down generally so you're still getting some of everything."
I was stunned! I nodded and made noises of assent, but all the time I was wondering what the hell he thought he was saying. I simply cannot contemplate eating any less right now. I need vast amounts of energy just to get through the day (I teach small children for a living) and what's more, I eat when I'm hungry - not just for the hell of it but when I'm hungry! Does he expect me to continue being hungry? Why?? Would he go through the day being hungry? Nope, he would eat! I cannot help but wonder if I would have received the same advice from a female professional - particularly one who had been through pregnancy herself. Is this sexist of me? Quite possibly. But I also think there was implicit sexism in his use of the word 'diet', especially as a verb. I have never dieted in my life and I got the feeling that he thought he was asking me to do something which would be no problem for me.
Needless to say, I am ignoring that particular nugget of advice. As usual, I am eating what I want and keeping it pretty sensible. And to me, eating sensibly means never, ever going hungry if you can avoid it. Which would probably be good advice for everyone.
Anthea
This week, I saw my own GP instead. We hadn't met before and I liked him very much. He's in his 40s, I suppose, and I couldn't tell whether he had any children of his own. He carried out a couple of the usual tests and asked the usual questions. Then he asked me to step on the scales - something I hadn't done since my initial booking appointment. The first time I did this, in about th eighth week of my pregnancy, I had a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 27 which made me overweight. I am 5'2" and a size 10-12, and I've always known I've weighed a lot. I must just have dense bones or something. The point is, I was, and always have been, in good shape - and I am not the first person to have noticed that shorter people are disadvantaged by BMI calculations. The midwife was surprised at the BMI but looked me up and down and decided there was clearly no problem with my weight. I have never owned a set of scales and have always eaten sensibly but still according to what I want rather than how I look. Besides, I read in my pregnancy book that weight gain is no longer seen as an accurate measure of how a pregnancy is progressing so is not usually monitored these days.
So, this week, for my GP, I got on the scales for the first time since October. I weighed about 11st, which means I've put on about a stone and a quarter. Given that my baby is due in 8 weeks, I think this is a reasonable amount. Added to which, my face has got no fatter than it was and is always the first place to show whenever my weight fluctuates, so I'm confident that the weight gain is temporary and that I'll have little difficulty losing it once the baby's born. Being the liberated woman that I am, I stepped off the scales seeing the weight gain as of little consequence. Mr GP, however, had other ideas. "That's quite a good weight gain," he said. I was pleased. I thought this meant that the weight gain was just right for the health of my baby and me. He and I clearly have different ideas of what the word 'good' means, as he then went on to make it clear that he thought I'd put too much on. "You know, it's OK to diet during late pregnancy," he continued, "I think it's due to hormones. The women in my family tell me they want to eat more during pregnancy and their periods, so they eat too much. Don't cut out just one food group, just cut down generally so you're still getting some of everything."
I was stunned! I nodded and made noises of assent, but all the time I was wondering what the hell he thought he was saying. I simply cannot contemplate eating any less right now. I need vast amounts of energy just to get through the day (I teach small children for a living) and what's more, I eat when I'm hungry - not just for the hell of it but when I'm hungry! Does he expect me to continue being hungry? Why?? Would he go through the day being hungry? Nope, he would eat! I cannot help but wonder if I would have received the same advice from a female professional - particularly one who had been through pregnancy herself. Is this sexist of me? Quite possibly. But I also think there was implicit sexism in his use of the word 'diet', especially as a verb. I have never dieted in my life and I got the feeling that he thought he was asking me to do something which would be no problem for me.
Needless to say, I am ignoring that particular nugget of advice. As usual, I am eating what I want and keeping it pretty sensible. And to me, eating sensibly means never, ever going hungry if you can avoid it. Which would probably be good advice for everyone.
Anthea
Monday, December 22, 2008
In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children
Giving birth and all the physical changes doing so incurs has long been framed as a burden, even a punishment, for women. I mean, from start to finish, the capacity to reproduce gives females grief: periods (Early or late starter? Chronic cramps? Bleeding for 5 days?), pregnancy (Nausea? Vomiting? Exhaustion? Loss of balance? Forgetfulness? Aches and pains? Leaking breasts? etc etc etc), birth (Like, massive amounts of pain...), breastfeeding (tied to someone else for 6 months) and menopause (hot flushes, facial hair etc etc). What a palaver. You'd be forgiven for thinking that nature (or God, depending on your persuasion) really really has dealt the female sex an unfair hand.
And yet, and yet. I can't help but feel honoured that I get to do this. That in order for my husband and me to have a child, I get to be the one that grows it inside me, keeps it close to me at all times, brings it into the world and then nourishes it with my own body. It's incredible and I feel so lucky. This could also be something to do with the fact that I am a natural attention seeker and am really enjoying the fuss people are making of me (!) - but that doesn't explain those joyful, silent moments when I am all alone with my belly, stroking it and thinking peaceful thoughts. I feel slightly sorry for my husband that, although he escapes the nausea, backache etc, he doesn't get to have this primal connection with the baby, or at least, not yet.
I recognise that other people will feel differently about this, and certainly don't expect all women to embrace the notion that giving birth should be their number one achievement in life, but I just can't see this as a burden or a punishment. It's an honour.
Anthea
And yet, and yet. I can't help but feel honoured that I get to do this. That in order for my husband and me to have a child, I get to be the one that grows it inside me, keeps it close to me at all times, brings it into the world and then nourishes it with my own body. It's incredible and I feel so lucky. This could also be something to do with the fact that I am a natural attention seeker and am really enjoying the fuss people are making of me (!) - but that doesn't explain those joyful, silent moments when I am all alone with my belly, stroking it and thinking peaceful thoughts. I feel slightly sorry for my husband that, although he escapes the nausea, backache etc, he doesn't get to have this primal connection with the baby, or at least, not yet.
I recognise that other people will feel differently about this, and certainly don't expect all women to embrace the notion that giving birth should be their number one achievement in life, but I just can't see this as a burden or a punishment. It's an honour.
Anthea
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)