Sinead Corcoran Dye has had a bumpy pregnancy journey. Photo/ Sylvie Whinray
This mother-to-be has something to say about judgment.
Nine months is a long time to go without running into at least one nugget of unsolicited advice that makes you feel nothing short of the world’s worst mother. And in my 7.5 months I’ve come across six types of these people who have been determined to share their strange pregnancy gospel with me. Here’s who to avoid.
The people who criticise your diet. Particularly anyone who tells you that your sugar intake is damaging your baby and that when they’re born, they’ll never sleep because they’ll be wired. I have hyperemesis which means I vomit up almost every meal and drinking Coke is the only thing that seems to help. Not anti-nausea medication, not ginger biscuits, not eating “little and often”. Just full-fat, full-sugar cola.
Despite my obstetrician confirming this is fine, multiple friends and family members have assured me this fizzy drink habit means my baby will be born a gurning insomniac. And while I’m sure there are good intentions behind this strange advice, unless you see me drinking gin and tonics (and even then) don’t worry about me, thanks.
The person who looks around your inner-city townhouse living room and asks where you’ll be putting the inflatable birthing pool. Because while I understand home births are for some people, I am not home-birth people. I am so far from home-birth people.
My idea of a holistic and serene birthing experience is being hooked up to a bleeping machine that costs thousands of dollars and being pumped full of lovely drugs and surrounded by people in scrubs who spent thrice the amount of time at university than I did, and who didn’t just get a BA.
The person who, when you announce you’re having an elective C-section, looks at you appalled and hisses “childbirth isn’t hard, Sinead”. In the words of comedian and mother-of-two Ali Wong, “I have suffered enough.” Since hearing this during her interview on pregnancy with Ellen DeGeneres, this has become my mantra for motherhood from here on out. I have suffered enough. If you can make giving birth easier, make it easier, and don’t feel guilty about it.
As someone who manages a severe mental illness – and during pregnancy an unmedicated one at that – I have no interest in finding out how the uncertainty of a spontaneous, potentially extremely long, and painful vaginal birth would exacerbate that. Instead, I will be booking in for a mid-morning, weekday slot to have my baby cut out of me in under 30 minutes, birthing injury-free and to the sounds of my Taylor Swift playlist. I don’t give a sh*t what kind of “too posh to push” mother that might make me, because I know it’s the best decision for me. And a C-section is still childbirth! It’s 2023, and in the words of my obstetrician – your baby doesn’t care how they’re born, they just want to come out and meet you.
Anyone who asks what your baby’s name is, then when you tell them says, “hmmm, no”. It is very rare that an expectant mother would be willing to share the name of her unborn child, so if they do, the only acceptable response is “OMG, beautiful, so cool.” It is never an invitation to give your opinion, unless requested. A pregnant mum doesn’t give a sh*t if your primary school bully or incarcerated second cousin has that name.
A person who, upon hearing about what a miserable pregnancy you’ve had, gleefully announces “well it’s only going to get worse when the baby arrives!”. This person is a genuine sociopath. Yes, you might be sleep-deprived, but I have it on good authority from many mums that newborn sleeplessness is nothing compared to ungodly pregnancy exhaustion. And C-section wounds or bruised vaginas are bad, but they’re nothing ice packs and painkillers can’t help. And that the smell of your new baby’s head and a fat glass of pinot noir makes everything groovy.
Anyone who makes you feel like you can’t complain about being pregnant because you’re only allowed to be grateful to be having a baby, and these things shall not co-exist. A while ago after writing about how I was having a difficult pregnancy, someone emailed me saying I don’t deserve to be pregnant and that they feel sorry for my daughter. I tried for three years to have a baby naturally and went on to pay tens of thousands of dollars for IVF. Believe me, no one’s more gutted than me that my much-wanted pregnancy is not what I dreamed of, particularly when it was hard to even get to this point. But we can want our babies, and love our babies, and still hate the process. Pregnancy is very hard on a lot of people’s bodies, and if you’re struggling too, my DM’s will always be a safe, judgment-free place for you.
Photo: Sylvie Whinray / Clothing: Legoe Heritage