Absolutely f**k right off if you looked at the title of this blog and said to yourself, ‘that’s a myth.’ You’d be right, but you can still jog on. Sure ‘medically’ you only need a few extra calories towards the end of pregnancy but dear god if I want an extra slice (or seven) of pizza I’ll have one. There’s already a reduced choice when it comes to food and drink (WHY ARE ALL THE GOOD CHEESES UNPASTURISED?) so I will enjoy what I want when I want. Do not roll your eyes at me mid meeting for eating another biscuit. Do not tell me, whilst I’m eating chippy, that actually what’s healthy for the baby is a light diet. Especially do not tell me any of this if you have never yourself grown a human being inside you.
Pregnant women spend 99% of their time feeling guilty. Guilty that they aren’t doing enough, or that they’re doing something wrong, or that they need to take time off for appointments, or that they need another wee on this long car journey or you need to give up your seat on the bus. We’re knackered, our lives and bodies are changing immeasurably. So please, PLEASE, give us judgement free pudding. I’m taking my vitamins, I’m not getting pissed, I’m not even having hot baths, so I am having a jumbo sausage roll as an afternoon snack.
In fact, now my bump is growing, and the world is opening back up again, judgement is coming in thick and fast on most aspects of my life, not just what I eat. As a woman I’m used to the constant barrage of unsolicited advice and judgement the world throws at us, but it has well and truly stepped up a notch. My favourite passive aggressive comment has been that ‘there’s nothing sadder than an expectant mum with bad roots.’ Nothing sadder. Sorry Sandra, I’ve been a bit too busy trying not to vomit when I brush my teeth to keep my roots on point. As always, my favourite people who have offered me advice, men. MEN. They don’t have wombs! How can you seriously sit there, man, and tell me how I should be feeling? Apparently, according to a man, I should not be needing to sit down more, as pregnancy is not an illness. You’re correct, it is not an illness, but I am sharing my body with another human life. Think about that Mr. Man. No, actually, I’m not just sharing my body, I’m growing another body, within mine. So, do you mind if I sit the f**k down?
‘Did you know that it’s actually worse for your baby if you oversleep?’ Oh right, did you know that a pregnant woman punching you in the face is really painful? Last week I grew a baby’s spleen, so I think I’ll have a lie in this Sunday, thanks. Just, stop it. We are doing the most important job in the world, and we’re already stressed that we aren’t doing it right, so, just… stop it. If we want to have half a pint in the sun or go out in joggers or run to the front of the toilet queue, don’t look at us like we’ve just shagged your dad. Smile and listen and give us your last sausage roll.
P.S. can you tell your dad he owes me child support?