Preggers photos

Well, thar she blows! I'm getting to be quite proud of my bump, especially as for so long I just looked like a fatty. Note the blinding Alice Springs sunshine, a feature of many photographs taken here. Also note the beard (not pictured).

Home births threatened in Australia

Not enough noise is being made over plans that will threaten Australian women's right to give birth at home with the help of a midwife. Proposals contained in the draft Health Practitioner Regulation National Law, due to come into force in July 2010, will effectively eliminate midwives' ability to legally attend home births in a professional capacity. As I understand it the bill requires midwives to be able to access insurance to be able to be registered, insurance that in turn is only available for midwives working in hospitals. This precludes the possibility of registered midwives attending home births, and for good measure the bill proposes a $30 000 fine for midwives who do attend home births in professional (but unregistered) capacity. (More information on the bill is found at http://www.joyousbirth.info/homebirth-is-not-a-crime.html , with further links at the bottom of the page.)

I find this proposal absolutely abhorrent, for three reasons.

1) It isolates and stigmatises the work that midwives do at homebirths by implying that it is dangerous and unreliable medicine, and thus cannot be insured.

Midwives are highly trained professionals with specialist knowledge. Those that attend home births have particular knowledge of how to make women comfortable in their own home and how to encourage women to listen to their bodies. There is plenty of evidence to suggest that such elements of birth - safety, familiarity, autonomy and control - are crucial to positive outcomes from the birth process. There is also plenty of evidence to suggest that hospitals often do not have or exercise such knowledge, preferring to implement protocols and regulations, often against women's wishes. In particular, women giving birth in hospitals frequently complain of being prevented from moving around during labour, of being given interventions they do not want, and of being given set time-limits in which to give birth. This sort of medicine should not be considered any more 'safe' or 'reliable' than giving birth at home, given the emotional and physical trauma that can be involved.

2) It penalises women who wish to exercise their choice to give birth at home.

Women have been fighting for decades to increase their choices and autonomy throughout the reproductive process. In 1973 the Boston Women's Health Book Collective published their ground-breaking and best-selling guide/polemic, Our Bodies Ourselves, which not only taught women about their bodies but also proposed radical alternatives to conventional Western medicine. Central to their analysis was the importance of autonomy: a woman's ability to choose according to her needs, needs which she herself determined. The book drew upon and inspired the work of many women setting up alternative healthcare services for women (and by 'alternative' I don't necessarily mean anti-Western, I mean services for women run by women) and was part of a wave of women demanding that their rights around healthcare be recognised.

Against this backdrop, the move to restrict homebirths to those that are either a) unassisted or b) illegally assisted by midwives, risking a $30 000 fine, is a major step backwards. It is paternalistic and patronising, and assumes that women (and midwives) do not know what is best for women giving birth. It prevents women from trusting their bodies, and will damage some women's ability to have an empowering experience.

3) It sends the message that home birthing is not a natural or safe practice.

This is simply not true. Women experience complications in childbirth wherever they happen to be, at home or in hospital. If a professional midwife is in attendance at home, it is her responsibility to make the decision to move a woman to hospital, should she need intervention, with plenty of time. This is a crucial part of her job. Thankfully, such cases are in the minority, and usually result in a positive outcome. Of course, hospitals cannot guarantee a live birth, and every year women face the tragedy of the death of the baby even when they have followed all conventional advice. Furthermore, as mentioned above, there is evidence to suggest that women experience less trauma when made comfortable in their own home, than they do within the unfamiliar and at times confronting environment of a hospital. Naomi Wolf (Misconceptions) and Sheila Kitzinger (Birth Crisis) have both written considered but passionate critiques of the ability of hospitals to bring about anxiety and stress during childbirth, seeking to change the very attitudes that are contained in this draft legistlation: that doctors know best, that hospitals are the best (only) place to give birth, and that women who argue otherwise are ignorant. They are not alone, and there are thousands of books, pamphlets, websites and support groups designed to push for greater recognition of the relatie benefits and/or dangers of both hospital-assisted and home births.


Many women value their ability to give birth at home and will be devastated if this option is taken away from them. I myself have been put off this option due to the uncertainty surrounding the future of home-births (and it must be said, the prospect of making arrangements for a birth in Castlemaine from Alice Springs). I hope that for future pregnancies I will be more settled (waiting to settle down, after all) and will be able access a registered, legal midwife to help me labour at home. But this won't happen if we don't fight. To make your opposition to this bill known, write to:

The Health Minister, Nicola Roxon (Nicola.Roxon.MP@aph.gov.au)
Your state or territory Health Minister - they are all in this together.

Sign the petition here

And tell your friends and family all about this - it's vital we make MORE NOISE!!

'Oh, yes! Pregnancy is horrible, dincha know?!'

Well, Simon and baby and I have passed the twelve week mark and have made the big announcement to all of our friends. Many congratulations have poured in, and even the first gift - some teeny tiny socks, jumpsuits, rompers and singlets, all in neutral colours, from Chris, Paula, Georgia and Isabel. (Thankyou!) There has been a lot of goodwill sent in our direction, promises of visits to Castlemaine, and too many emailed exclamation marks to count!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What also came through, though, were a few emails from friends who for various reasons are not pregnant but would like to be. Confessions of slight jealousy at our good fortune have not surprised me; I have expressed exactly the same sentiments to previous mothers-to-be of my circle, when they have made announcements that I wished I was making. Well, ladies and germs, I want to relate to you a conversation I had on Sunday morning with my old school friend Kirsty, mother of two:

Me: 'Hello?'
Kirst: 'Ohmigod! You're pregnant! I just read your email and I started crying! I am so excited for you it is such amazing news!'
Me: 'Kirst, thankyou.'
K:'Are you excited?'
Me: 'Actually, Kirst, I'm finding that pregnancy is quite hard...'
K: 'Oh yes! Pregnancy is horrible, didn't you know?'
Me: 'No one told me....'
K: 'I told you.'
Me: 'I don't think I was listening...'
K: 'No, you weren't. It's really a terrible experience.'

Now, I don't want to confuse 'being pregnant' with 'having a child', because I am told that the latter is much more a) pleasant and b) permanent than the former. So please don't think I am not looking forward to having a little Jess or Simon to name, influence, discipline, and do craft with. No, I am talking about the nine months preceding the start of that phase, those months that are, in the scheme of things, quite short, but by their nature seem to pass glacially slowly.

I can hear the clicking of tongues and the furrowing of brows from here. What could be so terrible about growing new life? Isn't that the crowning achievement of womanhood, should one be lucky enough to be able?

Well, consider this. How would you like it if suddenly you lost all ability to stand upright for more than ten minutes? And stay awake for more than about six hours? Have to eat every two hours, but not too much at a time? And could no longer eat some of the most convenient foods around, that might give you sustenance without too much effort (sushi, premade salads, ham)? And could on many occasions stomach nothing but hot chips and lemonade anyway? Had to give up all activities based in standing up/walking/cycling? Alternated constipation and diarrhoea for weeks and weeks? Had to endure mystery stomach aches for days on end? (Don't anyone dare say anything about the chips and lemonade.) Headaches that lasted for days? A runny nose permanently? Sensitive teeth, anyone? Muscle loss due to lying in bed all day? Pretending none of it happening so as to preserve the secret? And finally, the piece de resistance: massive, unpredictable, extreme mood swings, from despair to jubilation in a matter of hours.

Oh yes, pregnancy is horrible. Do not be fooled. Do not aspire to it. See it as a necessary stage of life that will, all going well, produce a bundle of joy that will be your most amazing achievement. But it is not fun.

We live in a culture that, rightly, exults the process of pregnancy and childbirth. It is a tough business and women should be praised to the skies for it. But don't romanticise the process too much. I am told there are some women who 'love' being pregnant. All power to them. For the rest of us, it's akin having to a giant hangover, PMT, and chronic fatigue syndrome all at once.

So says Jess, proselytiser for Truth About Pregnancy.

Questions? Comments? Challenges? Bring it on! I'll fight the lot of yer! Gah...

I'm off to eat baked beans from the tin, shuffle into the shower, and then have a nap.

Feminist Pregnancy

I have never been pregnant before, except for one brief and all-too-quickly terminated opportunity in 1998. And I have to say, I am shocked by the experience.
I am now at the Leslie Nielsen stage (9 and a half weeks.... geddit?) and have spent much of the last three and a half weeks lying on the couch. I am so tired. I feel so sick. I have to keep eating constantly, but not just anything. Oh no. I have to negotiate at length between my body and mind so as to discover what will be acceptable to both. One day hot chips will be the peak of heavenly food consumption, the next hot chips will be an evil I cannot tolerate even thinking about. Our cupboards and fridge are full of things I thought I might like to eat, or even started eating, but which have been cast aside. For the record, today I am keen on passionfruit, strawberries (but I don't have any), lemonade, chocolate, hot chips (it's one of those days). I am not keen on any other fruit, vegetables, eggs, Yogo, leftover curry, or black jellybeans.
Why am I so shocked? I thought that pregnancy was a fairly inocuous thing during the first trimester - no one knows, no one can tell (ha! My waist has, as they say, 'thickened' dramatically) and morning sickness just meant throwing up occasionally if you were lucky, often if you were not. WRONG. Morning sickness is not just about nausea, although that aspect of it can be crippling. It's about motion sickness: moving around anywhere seems very unnatural, and my body pleads with me to lie down if I overdo it. I cannot cook, I cannot do the shopping, I cannot exercise. This is extreme, peeps! Who knew?
Further to that, my digestive system has gone ballistic. This could be down to the odd diet I have been negotiating, plus the lack of exercise. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that knowing when to force down some prune juice is fast becoming an essential skill of this pregnancy.
And then there's the emotional aspect. I am not ready for a baby! I only just got back from London! I only just decided to switch careers! I have no friends in Alice Springs, where I live! Poor Simon has been on the receiving end of this. I lash out at him when I am at my sickest, and I cry on him when I am plumbing depths I thought were some way off (like when the baby was born). True, there have been happy moments too but they are usually brought on by Simon himself, an emotional oasis in the desert that provides encouragement, hope and excitement.
For of course I am excited. I am excited to be doing this and to be doing it with Simon. As he himself says, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the blessing, but a blessing it undoubtedly is.
My question though, is this: Why are women fooled into thinking that pregnancy is this glowing, wonderful state? No woman I have spoken to has enjoyed their first trimester. Every single one I have confided in has clucked with sympathy when I speak of sickness, nausea, fatigue, uncertainty and boredom. They all know what I am talking about. Some are adamant that the second trimester is fun, but no one has argued yet that the third trimester, when you look like you have swallowed a watermelon, is all that brilliant. That means that for the vast majority of us, at least two trimesters out of three are a physical challenge that we are, arguably, unprepared for. We are led to believe that we will look beautiful, feel great, and enjoy nesting as we prepare for the birth. I feel unlike I ever have before: I have lost control of my body, I can FEEL the hormones washing around, and at the end of the day the sickness actually cannot be predicted or neutralised. My boobs are sore, my belly is growing (and groaning), I nap in the afternoons and I contribute nothing, apart from an invisible embryo, to the household. I have lost my energy, my identity and my strength, and I really feel I had very little warning that this would happen.
When the baby is born and becomes the light of my life, I will of course forget all of this. I will be affected by the amnesia that allows women to go back, time and again, for more pregnancy, more babies. And in the end, I do not wish in any way to suggest that I suspect that this effort is not worth it.
I just wish that women had told me how hard this was going to be. It may be 'natural', but it sure doesn't feel that way.