Get rid of that belly: ‘I hate being pregnant’
Image: Getty Images
Hester (44) really enjoyed her pregnancies, up to ten minutes after the positive test. Everything else could be stolen from her, from baby showers to childbirth. But now that she has given birth to four children, she is happily rid of that for good.
The placenta had yet to come out or I already shouted it euphorically to my friend: “I never have to do this again. Never gave birth again! Never pregnant again!” I saw the midwife and nurses looking at each other in surprise; I could have cheered better how beautiful I thought the soaked worm on my chest. And of course I thought that too – the most beautiful thing – but the fact that my task as a pregnant woman in this life had been done for good was a welcome extra at the party. A kind of bonus, an icing on the cake.
Be pregnant
I hate being pregnant. There, I said it. Nothing in me understands that pink cloud that many pregnant women sit on and all the craziness that comes with it. Take a maternity shoot. That’s not for me. Why should I have myself captured on camera half-naked or completely naked, at most wrapped in a piece of net curtains, heavily pregnant and also share that (the horror!) with the general public on social media? I find myself chin-to-toe dressed in a pregnant state in front of the public at the local grocery store horrifying. People don’t talk to you about anything other than that big belly.
“Are you sure there aren’t two?” I was always told somewhere in the third month of all my pregnancies. And a month later, the question arises when I am due; That had to be fast, given my size. Yes Gerda, I also know that I remind you of one of those sperm whales washed ashore, somewhere on the beaches of Vlieland. But you don’t have to rub that in me again while I’m paying for two cucumbers and a carton of soy milk.
Nice outings
Pregnancy like this is always fun for me. About ten minutes, immediately after the positive test. But then it immediately goes wrong. I see a thick line coming through everywhere. For example, the already booked winter sports; for safety reasons, it is of course not the intention that you plunge down a bright red slope any longer. Don’t spend a night with old and new and then nice and crooked and very false Happy New Year blaring along from Abba. No prosecco on the boat. No more riding. The entire year calendar can be wiped empty.
“Honestly? I just don’t like such a horn of a belly”
Although, of course you get all kinds of ‘nice new outings’. Every so many weeks to the midwife, for example. Whether you like it or not, you will live from appointment to appointment after those first months. It’s all about that ever-growing belly. And I’m very honest about it; I just really don’t like a horn like that. When I look pregnant in the mirror and only see my face, I still think about that huge belly. I wouldn’t immediately label myself as the country’s sexiest woman, but that last bit of frivolity really disappears completely during pregnancy. Then I have the appeal of a fully stuffed household purse pull cart. In my opinion then.
I also don’t walk when I’m pregnant, I totter. Where I normally live life in sixth gear, I just don’t go back in time yet, I am that slow. To get to our bedroom you have to go up two flights of stairs. I only do that again in the evening when I’m pregnant, because it feels like the effort of climbing a medium-sized mountain in the Andes (I think). If I find out during the day that I forgot something, socks for example, I leave it like that. Then I barefoot in my shoes, even when it’s freezing outside. I just can’t bring myself to get them.
What a party
I don’t feel the need for parties during the nine-month exercise. Don’t come to me with a baby shower, it just doesn’t suit me. If there’s a party I want to participate, and not sit there with an alcohol-free bubble, tired and fat in a chair, like the one time I was framed. The frosting jumps from my teeth when I see those slick insta pictures with pink or blue tables covered with sugary sweet snacks – and then all the girlfriends, sisters, mothers and mothers-in-law styled the same color. The pregnant woman in the middle, with a bit of luck papered with a plastic sash with ‘mommy to be’ on it.
“When there is a party I want to participate, and not sit down with an alcohol-free bubble, tired and fat in a chair”
What is celebrated there? That you have to go on for a few more months with all the physical discomfort that entails? That you are not allowed to drink a drop, but on the other hand end up in a coma every evening immediately after dinner on the couch? That you prefer to eat everything that is loose and stuck all day long and keep telling yourself that the kilos that fly on are really only due to the baby? That your boyfriend says that he really still thinks you’re very beautiful, but that you haven’t had sex in months? Stop it. I rather opt for a ritually modest commemoration of the life that once was.
Also read – Mothers honest about body after pregnancy: ‘Didn’t dare to wear tight clothes’ >
On top
“I felt completely feminine and I was full of energy until the seventh month,” Nikki (33, mother of Evi) tells me. She did pregnancy yoga and even jogged a few times a week. Evi is Nikki’s first and she has had to wait a long time for this pregnancy.
I carefully ask her if she hasn’t talked herself into it, that it was all so much fun. Because if you so hoped for it, then you can only be grateful. She doesn’t think so. “I felt really good. My skin and hair glowed like never before. And I took extremely good care of myself; I went to bed early, only ate healthy and I exercised a lot, which kept me fit.”
In Nikki’s circle of friends, there are many women who feel the same way. It is physically demanding now and then, but above all a miracle of nature that they are very happy with.
A big pink cloud
It’s a trend that almost euphoric thinking and talking about upcoming motherhood. Just browse social media and you will find only beautiful pictures with hands on big bellies, beautifully styled children’s rooms and images of super romantic baby moons; the last holiday together. In this makeable life, everything must above all be Instagrammable. Well, that’s not my persistent negative posturing about the never-ending wear.
“I expected a fantastic time during the pregnancy because of that romanticization around me”
As far as Elle (31) is concerned, it could all be a bit more honest. “I expected a fantastic time because of the romanticization around me. A week after my positive test, I hung over the toilet bowl about twenty times a day; away pink cloud. I was wildly emotional, an absolute witch to my boyfriend and I didn’t want to think about meeting friends. I lived a kind of hermitage for months; Corona suited me just fine in that regard. Now that Job is over a year old, I am starting to look a little like myself again. We wanted a big family, but I kind of came back from that.”
no shame
Pregnancy ends with a birth. One does not shy away from a distorted image about this either. I follow an Instagram account on which a birth is shown in detail almost daily and of the hundreds that I have voluntarily viewed on it (don’t ask) I haven’t seen one where the woman in question curses the partner to hell, screams halfway through the hospital or yells that she NEVER does it again, endure all that hell.
They are very serene films, often with soothing music below, of women giving birth to a baby in the bath; man join in the fun – other children, if present, also in the same bath. It all seems so simple and even fun that way, but it’s not the reality that way.
“It all seems so simple and even fun, but it is not the reality”
During my last delivery, the gynecologist suggested an enema a minute after the water broke, as if it were a biscuit with the coffee. My friend suggested that we leave the hospital room for a while. “No, stay. no shame today,” I replied. It was either that or under the watchful eye of your partner and some nurses just before birth in bed turd. Not to do both.
That’s how I survived that day a bit. Humming no shame to myself as a mantra, while of course I was just ashamed of how I looked and what I was spouting. Really, I could have put so many lava lamps and burners with essential oils around my bed; it wouldn’t have been more beautiful – for me that is.
baby time
I have four children. And I had three miscarriages before I got pregnant with our last daughter Frenkie. After so much grief you should thank the goddess of fertility on your bare knees that it is still granted to you. “This is what you wanted”, was bitten viciously by an acquaintance, when I complained about my ailments. So in total I have been pregnant seven times; quite an achievement for someone who detests it wholeheartedly.
Then why did I start all over again? Those babies, of course. As debilitating as I find the lack of sleep; you will rarely hear me negatively about it. I do it for that first smile. For those fat legs and those of those hands where rubber bands seem to be around the wrists. For that baby scent. For those sweet sounds, that cooing from the pram.
You won’t hear me say that babyhood can’t come soon enough. I suck every moment of it, also because I can do it as myself again. I run back up the stairs when I forget my socks. I jump in the car to get a forgotten errand, routinely taking the baby in the Maxi-Cosi. I warm bottles on a terrace in Austria or at the back of the riding school where my other daughter is on a horse. I rock that early motherhood like crazy.
“As far as I’m concerned, an embryo can also grow into a baby in a preserving bottle”
Everyone has their own thing, everyone has their quality. Mine is clearly not about being pregnant and I’m sure there are more women out there who would like to see a different solution just like me. As far as I’m concerned, an embryo can also grow into a full-term baby in a preserving bottle on my bedside table, for example. But as far as I understand, that concept is not yet being worked very hard by medical science.
This article appears in Kek Mama 09-2022.
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