I am not a bump, I am a free woman (Preparing for Birth)

Member Name: Celandine

Product:	Preparing for Birth
Date:	09/07/01 (177 review reads)
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I'm me. That's a pretty indisputable fact, but it's also one of the reasons that I want to write this. When I was pregnant, certain things irked me, and certain things scared me, and they weren't necessarily physically related to the pregnancy, but were more emotional, I suppose. I think the first person that really scared me was my Mother-in-Law. After the first 'congratulations' and slightly taken-aback pleasure at my (hitherto unsuspected) state, she fixed me with a beady stare and announced:

"It'll change you forever, you know".
"You'll never be the same person again".

I'm sorry, but this statement terrified me. I knew who I was, thankyou very much, and I didn't want to go through some strange, unexpected transmogrification. What exactly would this baby do to change me? Was she inferring that I'd have the baby and then suddenly start buying all my clothes from Marks and Sparks, having my hair set every week, and buying terribly sensible shoes. Was I going to start carrying around a smart handbag? Pearls? Twinset? Aaargh.

Yes, there were going to be some physical surprises, and I'd read through all the leaflets, and the Bounty guide, so I was pretty much prepared for most of that stuff, and I wasn't damnfool enough to think that my life wouldn't be changed by the physical presence of a baby. I knew I was going to love the baby, too, that the baby would be dependent on me, and that I'd love it in a way that I'd never experienced love before, but when it came to the workings of my innermost thoughts I was sort of hoping that they'd be left alone, pre-natally, and post-natally.

In my naivety, I'd failed to realise one of the most annoying things that pregnancy can bring. It isn't in the Bounty guide, and it wasn't mentioned by my Doctor, and, just in case there's anyone like me out there, worrying frantically about personal
ity changes, I just wanted to mention it. I thought, you see, that whilst pregnant, my body and my inner mind were still, technically private property, and just wasn't prepared for one of the weirder side effects of the condition. This is that, however private you thought your private life was, it isn't any longer.

Have you ever had total strangers accost you in Superdrug, and ask if you've suffered from Piles? No? Well, I did. Lots of women suddenly felt the urge to tell me about their swollen ankles, too. I didn't mind being told about them, but it's slightly strange. I've always been one of those people that gets into conversation with strangers on trains, and I like it. It's great to meet new people this way, but I'm a little bemused when the conversation is all about another woman's labour. Similarly, I found it awkward when relatives wished to 'touch my bump'. I know that it's lovely, and (believe me), I'd never want to offend them, but I did find bump-patting a bit bewildering. This was my stomach we're talking about, not a magic talisman, or cuddly elephant. By all means, cuddle a baby, but why pat a bump?

That's another thing. When you're pregnant, people automatically tend to assume that you know what to do with babies. I didn't. I hadn't got a clue. When presented with a baby to cuddle my heart did little flip-flops of panic in case I dropped it. I've always loved toddlers - they're easy, wandering up to you with a sieve, or spontaneously counting to thirteen. They do all the work for you when you're playing with them. I was frantically worried that even though I was pregnant, I still couldn't 'do' newborns very well, still less change a nappy.

Mothercare. This, too, was the bane of my life. I managed to get through 7 months of pregnancy wearing a size 14 elasicated-waist velvet skirt, and a man's jumper, despite nods and winks f
rom relatives in the direction of ghastly floral tents. I think it's a difference in perception. Lots of women want to 'show -off' their pregnant state, and good luck to them. I didn't, that's all. I was looking forward to having a baby, and I couldn't hide the fact that one was incipient I didn't really want to wear a tabard proclaiming the fact to the nation. I was, just, well, pregnant. Otherwise, I was still me, despite warnings to the contrary. One thing? I did feel guilty. I felt guilty because I didn't want to wear Big Dresses, or Big Knickers, and I felt guilty because I felt unwilling to be dragged into some secret "pregnant women" club. I hated all this "all girls together" status that pregnancy seems to confer on you, whether you're willing or not.

I'll try to explain with an example. When 7 months pregnant, on my day off, I went to a football match with an old friend. He happened to be an ex-boyfriend, and the match happened to be quite a long distance away, but I wanted to see him, and spend some time with him before we moved. I made no secret about where I was going, and my husband-to-be didn't mind at all, but other people did. People didn't approve, you see. People didn't approve of the fact that I was going to stand in the cold watching football, when pregnant. See an ex-boyfriend, when pregnant. I'm still not sure what all the fuss was about. After all, I was hardly going to seduce him was I. I wasn't going to consume 15 pints of beer post-game, and I wasn't going to celebrate by doing hand-stands on the pitch afterwoods. I was merely continuing my life, pregnant or not.

I think people didn't approve because when you're pregnant, some people feel freer to make assumptions about 'correct' behaviour. In reality, despite the obvious physical restrictions, I found pregnancy rather lovely. It's wonderful to feel a baby inside you,
and what I was doing was attempting to go out, visit places, and see people, since I knew that once baby arrived, my social life would be curtailed for a while.

Maybe it's a boy/girl thing, too. I've always had a fair few male friends, and I wanted to reassure them that I hadn't suddenly turned into the 'thing from outer space' because I was 'expecting'. I found male reactions to pregnancy equally as baffling as womens'. They seemed to be divided into roughly two camps; the 'Run Away - she's all huuuge' and the 'wrap her up in cotton wool'. Neither helped me feel as if I was still 'me'.

So, what have I been wittering about. I promised there was a point here somewhere. It's that I did spend way too much time whilst pregnant worrying that I somehow wasn't 'doing it' right. I don't think anyone should have to worry about such silly things. If you want to wear big dresses, haunt mothercare and pat bumps, then good for you. If you want to go to football matches in the pouring rain, then do it, and enjoy yourself. So long as you follow the basic health guidelines, and go to your ante-natal appointments, then either attitude should be fine. Just don't, ever, be made to feel guilty. If you've a friend who's pregnant, and you're a little bit scared that she might change beyond belief - then I bet she won't.

One last thing. If I ever wanted proof positive that I'm still me, then here it is. I won't go into the gory details too much here, but following a relatively trouble-free pregnancy everything went pearshaped at the last minute. I had a scan. I was polyhydramnic ( lots of water). I was induced. After a horrible 24 hours which included having drips and my water's burst with a huge hook, I eventually reached second stage labour. Three and a half hours, and two 'contraction-inducing' drips later, the three midwives:

'
Just push, dear. Go on, you can do it'

called a doctor, who tried forceps and ventouse. No joy. They then called another doctor. You can imagine that at this point, to say I wasn't very happy was probably an understatement. I was very, very high, admittedly, having cracked on the 'pain relief' front quite some hours before, and taken a lovely cocktail of strong drugs, but I'd pushed, and pushed, and it All Hurt more than I'd ever imagined anything could.

So there am I. Wired up to machines, desperate to give birth, and not feeling so hot, when in walks this gorgeous, gorgeous man. Admittedly, part of his fascination was that he was going to get me out of this fix, but he had this lovely pair of drop-dead drown-in dark brown eyes.
'Hmmm, thought I......(wishing we'd met in different circumstances)......'
I swear this is true. For the splittest of a split second, even in this particular situation, I lay there fancying the locum. Nothing changes. I'm still me. Yippee! My Mother-in-Law was wrong! Pregnant, or with baby, no-one can change my (admittedly possibly peculiar) internal workings.

Oh, and for the record, having a child is wonderful, even if it was by emergency caesarian by the most fanciable doctor I've ever met. My external life has changed beyond all recognition, and it makes me doubly glad I did lots of social things whilst pregnant. I love my daughter with a kind of love you don't experience until you have a child, but, I'm still me. And, you know, I think she'd lose out if I wasn't. After all, it's me that loves her, even if I don't wear twinsets yet, or Mothercare dresses.

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