Official health guidelines published recently indicate that expectant moms who follow traditional advice to ‘eat for
two’ during pregnancy face an increased risk of complications in subsequent pregnancies.
The Guardian reports that the view that mothers-to-be should ‘eat for two’ is a myth, and that such advice is likely to make pregnant women gain excess weight that they might find difficult to shift. Gaining even one or two pounds can put you at risk of health complications in subsequent pregnancies, and moms are advised to lose all their baby weight before getting pregnant again.
“A woman’s energy needs only increase in the last three months of pregnancy, the National Institute for Clinical Excellence (Nice) says, and then only by around 200 calories a day – less than an average chocolate bar.”
Dammit. That’ll be why I kissed goodbye to my size 10 skinny jeans when I said hello to my baby boy back in January 2005, then. It seems so cruel to tell me this now, two babies and roughly two stone later. And I don’t know about you but my extra calorie consumption during pregnancy had little to do with the idea that I was supposed to eat for two, and everything to do with the fact that fatigue and nausea only seemed to let up when I gorged myself on carbs. Mind you, five years later that sounds like a lame excuse for the extra inches that are still hanging around.
“But Nice also warns against trying to lose weight too quickly, and says media stories about celebrity claims of ‘unrealistic and rapid weight loss’ after pregnancy were unhelpful. ‘This may create additional pressure on women to lose weight inappropriately at an already stressful time,’ its guidance says. Pregnant women should also be told that moderate physical activity, like cycling to work, will not harm them or their unborn children.”
So we shouldn’t gain weight or eat for two, but we shouldn’t lose weight too quickly either. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. What do you think of the guidelines? Did you eat for two and struggle to lose the baby weight? Does anyone really feel pressure to lose weight after giving birth because of all those post-pregnant skinny celebs? Am I completely alone in seeing those pics as legitimate reason to console myself with another custard cream? Joking aside, how do you really feel about your post-pregnant pounds?
The poll also shows that 75 per cent of parents who chose to give their child a traditional name such as Robert, David or Jennifer believe that parents who choose more alternative names are paving the way for their children to be bullied. And six in ten say those who choose wacky names are being selfish and aren’t thinking of the child.
The piece also recounts the advent of a new social media application called My Pregnancy, which allows people to track all the details of your baby’s in-utero existence. Brrrr. I actually shivered as I wrote that. It just strikes me as kind of creepy. I’m an old fashioned gal at heart and I can’t shake the feeling that pregnancy happens on the inside for a reason – not on the outside as an appendage for the world to prod and scrutinise. Once upon a time pregnancy used to be a mysterious and secretive process – remember the days when parents-to-be saw the 20-week scan as an opportunity to check that their baby was developing healthily, not as an indicator for whether they should paint the nursery pink or blue?! Or when all we really knew about a developing unborn child was that they took 9 months to be ready for the world, before the advent of those faintly terrifying week-by-week emails you can get from parenting websites which delight in telling you that this week your baby is developing teeth! And is the size of a small apple! Shriek! And brrr again. Am I the only person who spent that week of my pregnancy haunted by visions of giving birth to an apple with teeth? And while I’m on the subject, WHY do they choose to equate the size of your baby with food? One week I distinctly remember reading that my baby was just big enough to fit inside a teacup, and I just couldn’t stomach my usual beloved cuppa without the fear that a small child might be lurking at the bottom.
