The Yummy Mummy’s Survival Guide

Or, you might just surprise yourself and cope very well. That’s the thrill of it—you have no idea how it is going to go, things change every minute and you just have to fly by the seat of your still-gorgeous pants and hope for the best. You may have to readjust what your idea of ‘the best’ is, to fit in with the realities of looking after a baby and keeping your sanity, but you are more than likely to do a fantastic job and not mess anything up at all.

What about my career?

This is a very tricky one, and, depending on what you do for a living, this could be more or less of a real worry for you.

Some types of work just don’t allow for Yummy Mummyhood at all, because they require your presence fourteen hours a day, 365 days a year (if, say, you are the Prime Minister), or because there are physical factors to take into consideration, like being an astronaut or something.

Assuming you are neither an astronaut nor the Prime Minister, then having a baby should not mean the end of your career, and any employer who suggests it does should be hung, drawn and quartered. Or something else which isn’t very nice. The only effect that becoming a mother will have on your career is that everything you do will be enormously more difficult and complicated forever: there will be logistical and practical hurdles involving childcare, illness and just getting out of the house on time, and every day will now carry a huge emotional burden.

If you do go back to work, three things will be different:

You will have to work harder than everybody else to prove that you are not a waste of company time and money.

You will feel guilty because you are not with your baby.

Your career progression will probably slow down.

If you can handle all of that, and can accept having to take a step back—or sideways—for a while, then some of the worry will be eased.

The real rub is that you, like most other women these days, have probably decided to think about having a baby at exactly the point in your career when things could really take off. You have worked hard throughout your twenties to reach a certain rung on the career ladder, and the last thing you want to do is jump off the ladder, only to be begrudgingly allowed back on somewhere near the bottom again.

This is fair enough. But a Yummy Mummy knows that having a baby is something important that she wants to do in her life, and she will find a way to make it work for her, somehow.

It all comes down to one question: which is more important to you—furthering your career now, or having a family now? Only you can answer that, and deep down you know the answer already. In this country we can, at last, have a career and a young family without drowning in other people’s scorn and too bloody right. But this long-overdue progress can’t solve the central issue: you can’t do both of them 100% of the time or give them both 100% of your energy and care. You just have to decide where the balance lies for you.

The only thing which is not OK is doing something you are not happy with because you feel pressured, worried or guilty, or because somebody forces you to. You do what you gotta do, and all will be wonderful.

I’m just not that organised!

No you’re not, and why should you be? I wasn’t, no mum I ever met was always as frighteningly organised as she is now, but by some as-yet-unexplained process you will become highly skilled at getting a hundred times more stuff done in a much more efficient and effective way than you can at the moment. You’ll still forget half of what you need to remember, but you will become more organised.

Chrissie Rucker, founder of The White Company

Don’t worry if you are not a very organised person yet—I was never organised at all, but having a baby changes all of that. You learn very quickly how to keep on top of things, and you develop your own system of doing things which works for you.

Isn’t it selfish to be a Yummy Mummy?

No.

Real Yummy Mummies dedicate huge amounts of their time and emotional energy to loving and caring for their children—but always reserve some time to make themselves feel special too, which generally involves bottles of sweet-smelling lotions and gorgeous things to hang in their wardrobes.

Real Yummy Mummies would rather spend time with their children than anything else—but realise that spending no time away from them is very unhealthy and can lead to lifeless hair and a deeply wrinkled brow.

If you are simply too selfish to look after your children properly then you are a Rotten Mummy, not a Yummy Mummy, and you don’t need a book, just a good telling off.

I’m too embarrassed about people poking around ‘down there’

Not much I can say to this one, except ‘Oh grow up.’ Doctors have seen it all before, and they really don’t (or shouldn’t) get a kick out of examining your cervix. Your vagina looks like the millions of other vaginas your midwife has already inspected, and there’s almost nothing which can embarrass them.

That said, there does seem to be an unfeasible amount of prodding, poking and measuring involved throughout pregnancy, and also well after the birth, and even the least prudish and most patient of you will be pushed to the limit. I never got used it, and I still hate being asked to ‘lie down on the bed and bend your knees up’. Except by my husband. Unfortunately it’s just part of being a woman, and the only way to deal with it is to stop thinking of yourself as a person and throw yourself into the glamorous role of ‘car going in for a service’. If you can be an Aston Martin rather than a Ford Mondeo that will also help.

I’m scared of all the pain

This is a very good sign. It shows you are a normal, healthy, sensible woman who knows that squeezing a hard object the size of a basketball through your very small and delicate parts will hurt like hell. It also shows that you have put some considerable thought into the ‘motherhood’ issue, and have already reached the critical stumbling block. Good. Now you progress past this point by realising the following:

Giving birth is the most painful thing you should ever experience. It is agonisingly, excruciating, faint-inducingly painful.

Once you have done it, no other pain will ever seem as bad (until you do it again).

Doesn’t the fact that some women go through it more than once show it can’t be that bad? Actually it is that bad, but Mother Nature has solved this by ensuring that…

You will forget how awful childbirth is almost immediately.

Not all women find childbirth terribly painful.

The drugs work. No pain; lots of gain.

Put it in perspective: when the result of this pain is your own baby, who will grow into a child, an adult and then the bearer of your grandchildren, and will fill your life with more joy and love than you can imagine yet, what’s twelve hours of pain, really? I would go through a month of pain to get the children I have now. Ahhhhh.

The pain stops abruptly once the baby is out. Most discomforts and pains linger on for ages and gradually just peter out. Not childbirth: it’s excruciating one minute, and then it’s completely gone the next. And that feels fantastic!

Going through childbirth gives you the automatic and unquestionable right to have the tapless end of the bath, never take the bins out and have a foot tickle every night for the rest of your life. If he does question this right, suggest you shave his testicles with a cheese-grater, and see how fast he moves.

What if things go wrong between me and my partner?

Not the most optimistic way to approach motherhood, but if you will examine every depressing possibility then I guess I would agree that having a baby puts a vast amount of strain on the relationship you have with your husband, or partner, or whatever we’re calling him or her. Whatever your relationship is now, it will be completely different once you have a baby, and even well before that moment actually comes. The only way of succeeding is to TALK about EVERYTHING and to know where you stand before you get too far down a road you’re not happy with. There is more about this in New Relationships in Part Eleven, but, until then, perhaps telling your partner about your concerns is a good idea, as is setting out to make it work instead of preparing for it to fail.

I’m too old/ I’m too young

Well at least you can’t be worrying about both of these!

There is no ‘good time’ to have a baby—what suits some people doesn’t suit others. I did it very young, which means I had tons of energy (never underestimate how important this is), my body didn’t suffer very much, by the time I was thirty I had all my child-bearing days all over with, (I think, but I still have all the baby clothes in the attic) and I will be able to wear my daughters’ far more fashionable clothes very soon. BUT, I missed out on my carefree, childless twenties, I didn’t manage to get my career going as I might have liked, my husband and I had very few years alone together, and I now have to do the career and kids things at the same time.

Older mums have the advantages of enjoying a successful career first, often having more money, being more self-confident and sure of what they want and wanting the time away from work to enjoy being a mum. BUT, it is harder to get pregnant as you get older (tick-tock, tick-tock); you will find the exhaustion harder to cope with; your body will probably suffer more and be harder to get back into shape; you will find all those years of independence and smart, child-free living very hard to leave behind; and you may find it harder to get back to work at the same level in your late thirties or early forties.

Both ways are good and both are bad. I would just urge as many women as possible to remember the biological clock. Science is great and everything, and there have been some huge advances in fertility treatments, but the wobbly bottom line is that, in the same way that 8 inch stilettos are not designed for rock climbing, so we are not designed to have babies in our fifties. We can still do it, but it’s a heck of a lot harder. Just wanted to get that off my pert-ish chest.

PART TWO Pregnancy—The Early Days…

On your marks, get set…what?

Here’s where our little journey into Yummy Mummyhood kicks off, and I start waffling about nipples, hormones, pelvic floor muscles and elasticated waists. Once we’ve started, there’s no turning back (which is one of the key concepts to grasp when you’re going to have a baby), so if you need a little Dutch Courage, go get it now, while you still can.

Ready now? Let’s go.

The first few weeks of your pregnancy can be the most exhilarating, debilitating, confusing and terrifying weeks you have ever experienced. Yippee. With your emotions bouncing around like Zebedee on speed, your body starting to do the most peculiar and unpleasant things, and your list of worries growing as fast as your certainty that this was a Good Plan is shrinking, you can be left wondering whether you really are only pregnant, or whether you have been transported to a parallel, less pleasant universe.

Things will get a lot easier, so if you can just get through the initial shock, everything will be cool…

Getting Pregnant—A Brief Biology Re-cap What’s the best way to conceive?

Have sex.

That really is all there is to be said on the matter, and anyone who gets themselves bogged down with sexual positions, moon phases, eating certain fertility-boosting foods, the right music, positive mental vibes or other mumbo-jumbo is wasting a lot of shagging energy. In my humble opinion. If you have sex, you might become pregnant and that’s the end of it. Having difficulty conceiving is no laughing matter at all, and it’s one of life’s cruellest tests. Unfortunately life is how it is, and some people are just more fertile than others. How you decide to go about raising your chances is up to you, and there is a lot of detailed information out there on the subject. For now, here are some tips which might help you out a little:

The more you worry about it, the less likely you are to get pregnant. I don’t know why it is, but this really seems to be true. Look at all the women who try for years with no luck, and the second they adopt a baby they find themselves expecting twins. Those who want a baby can try desperately for ages in vain, while the reckless, highly fertile singleton who just fancies a quickie in the stationery cupboard is pregnant in less time than it would have taken to actually get the printer cartridge she pretended to be fetching. It’s unbelievable and very unfair, but the mind is a powerful thing. So, if you can, try not to be desperate for a baby, and you might find yourself knocked up in no time. Well, a few minutes maybe.

Forget predictor kits. These are supposed to tell you when the most likely time to conceive is, but they feel like a big con to me. The manufacturers are preying on our nervous, befuddled disposition and our desperate need for anything which seems like it might help. I took several of these tests, for exactly that reason, but I always felt that I knew, from my own cycle length and finger-counting, when the most likely time to conceive was, and that I was just paying a lot of money for some confirmation of this. Again, it’s a very costly way of being told something you probably know anyway. Shagging frequently is cheaper and much more fun, and makes the event a lot less like a military operation.

Don’t have sex for a few days before your most fertile spell. I know this sounds very cruel, but I have heard that saving up a bit more sperm and then delivering it all in one go (so to speak) can boost your chances of getting one determined little bugger who makes it all the way.

Try to enjoy it. We’ve all done it, or know someone who has: we’ve looked at the calendar, checked our watches and run downstairs shouting, ‘Switch the footie off—we have to have sex NOW!’ This is not very sexy, and the moment having sex becomes nothing more than an exercise in getting pregnant is the moment it stops being fun. Once this has happened, it’s hard to go back.

Don’t tell anybody you are trying to get pregnant. A fatal mistake, because once the pressure is on, the likelihood of conceiving will drop through the floor. Act like all those sensible celebrities who ‘have no plans to start a family just yet’, but who have decorated the nursery and already own six pairs of baby Nikes. This is also a good protective measure for your partner, because if you do having trouble conceiving, everybody will assume there’s something wrong with his John Thomas, and that can’t boost a man’s self-esteem.

The Thin Blue Line: That Moment

I love a good ‘apparently’ as much as the next Yummy Mummy, but this one really takes the Farley’s Rusk. Apparently, some women can go to full term without ever noticing they are pregnant. Apparently, they just feel a bit bloated, and then one day they go to the loo, experience an ‘odd’ sensation and wham! a fully developed baby drops into the bowl. Apparently.

To counteract this strange group of women who house a black hole in their abdomen is another unlikely type who, apparently, know they are pregnant the second a sperm arrives, gasping, at an ovum. These same ladies can usually tell you the sex, weight and IQ of the unborn child as well.

For the rest of us (who also don’t believe that a swan can break your arm or that you can really think yourself slim), learning that we are pregnant is life-changing news, confirmed by a strip of blue ink about a centimetre long and a millimetre wide which smells of wee. Cruelly, this line is almost impossible to see if you are desperate for a baby, and is impossible to miss if you’re hoping that you’re just a bit late because of the recent extra stress at work.

Taking a pregnancy test isn’t like waiting for the lottery result, or standing on the scales after a week’s skiing and fondue-eating. It’s a huge deal. If you’ve ever stood in the loo with a thong around your ankles, holding a white plastic pen-like object to the light and straining your eyes in the desperate hope for a trace, any trace at all, of something which could possibly pass for a blue or even a blue-ish streak while time stands still and your bottom freezes, then you’ll understand what I mean. I remember asking my husband after several negative tests if he was absolutely sure he couldn’t see anything there, and he suggested I go and have my eyes checked instead of my hormone levels.

Before taking a pregnancy test, there are some tell-tale signs of possible pregnancy to look out for, but not everyone gets any of these, so don’t worry if you feel perfectly normal—you may well be pregnant, but just be one of the very lucky few who are in for an easy ride…here’s hoping!

Missed period. Duh. No, really?

Extreme tiredness. I really do mean extreme here: it’s not just ‘more tired than normal’, but an overwhelming, unbeatable exhaustion unlike any other, which leaves you falling asleep in meetings, feeling like a lead weight and crawling into bed at 7.30. It does pass though!

Weeing between ad-breaks. If you can’t make it until the next commercial break for a trip to the loo, go back and check your dates again.

Tender breasts and nipples. Not necessarily sore, but much more sensitive than normal, in a bad way. Fondling is not welcomed, and going bra-less is impossible.

Feeling bloated. As most of us feel like this at some point in the month it’s not such a good indicator, but if it’s much more than usual and combined with tenderness in your abdomen, then there could be a teeny, weeny bun in there.

Feeling or being sick. (Unless you drank two bottles of wine the night before, in which case it’s just a bad hangover.) This sickness is not restricted to the morning, so if you’re talking to God on the big white telephone every evening, something might be afoot.

If you’ve experienced any, all or none of these things and you think you might be pregnant, it’s probably time for a test to confirm things. Pregnancy tests are unbelievably accurate, and can detect the tiniest increases in hormone levels, so they are a very good way of getting an answer. But, before you rush to Boots, here are some survival tips for taking pregnancy tests:

Don’t do too many. They are very expensive, and you usually have to take several, because it’s the wrong time of the month, you drop it in the toilet (I’ve done that four times!) or you just refuse to believe the result. I’ve spent a small fortune on them over my three pregnancies, and, looking back, I wasted a lot of money. If you can, try to wait a few days between tests (the packet should tell you exactly how many), and if you still have any doubts ask for a free test from your kind GP.

Get it over with. Waiting for the best moment to do a test is futile: you will be so wound up with nerves that you’ll mess it up and have to do another one. Get up, wee, look, and then cry either way.

Don’t worry about doing it right. If you are, you are: whether you’ve had a glass of water first, or have drunk too much coffee, or weed on it for eight seconds instead of five, if you’re pregnant the test will be positive. Almost definitely. But do get confirmation if you want to be sure.

When that moment happens, and the little window signals the end of your life as you know it, you cannot predict how you will react. Some of my friends fainted (a tad over-dramatic I’d say), others cried or laughed or screamed with delight (or woe—they’re never quite clear on why they screamed…). I tended to be quite quiet, which always surprised me, as I imagined I would at least whoop a little. Perhaps it was just the fact that I was still naked from the waist down.

Tired, Tired, Tired

We’ve all been tired. We’ve been tired after partying too hard, working too hard or making babies too hard.

When you are pregnant, however, you will experience a new kind of tiredness—actually a kind of total, numbing exhaustion—which is so intense and overpowering that you might mistake it for certain, impending death. This sudden, debilitating tiredness was always my first clue that I was pregnant, and every time it left me baffled: how can something so tiny reduce a grown woman to a useless heap? When you’re seven months down the line and hauling about a considerable amount of bulk around with you, feeling exhausted will seem perfectly understandable. But not in the first few weeks! There’s nothing there! You can’t see anything, feel anything, or, worse still, tell anyone yet, so you have to suffer in complete silence.