Just weeks after the former women and equalities minister, Kemi Badenoch, said that maternity pay is ‘excessive’, new research from Pregnant Then Screwed, and Women in DataⓇ has revealed that 4 in 10 mothers took just 12 weeks or less following the birth of their most recent child — thanks to the low maternity pay in the UK.
According to Citizen’s Advice, statutory maternity pay lasts up to 39 weeks, made up of: 6 weeks getting 90% of your average weekly pay (before tax), 33 weeks getting either £184.03 a week or 90% of your average weekly pay (before tax) – whichever is less. Which is a staggering 43% of the national living wage.
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Excessive isn’t quite the word, really.
The UK’s fertility rate is falling faster than any other G7 nation
Given how poorly parents are treated once they’ve had children, it’s perhaps no surprise that the UK’s fertility rate is falling faster than any other G7 nation – with austerity thought to be ‘principal factor’.
If we can’t afford to look after our babies once they are born, it makes sense that many people are choosing to not have their own children at all.
One person on X said: “Most adults now have to live with parents through their 20s, commonly through their 30s.
“Millennials are the first generation to be poorer than the last in over 200 years, and have had an adulthood of austerity, recession, and a pandemic. Why would they have kids?”
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More maternity support is essential
Pregnant Then Screwed is calling on the government to increase the rate of statutory maternity pay and maternity allowance to the national living wage. An amount which is widely regarded as the absolute minimum someone needs to live on.
In a press statement, the charity said: “We know that maternity leave more than 12 weeks has huge benefits for a mother and her child. It decreases rates of maternal physical and mental health issues, decreases infant mortality and improves rates of breastfeeding.”
Joeli Brearley, CEO and Founder of Pregnant Then Screwed commented, “The perinatal period is critically important to the health and well-being of a mother and her child, and I think we should all be deeply concerned that due to severe hardship, we are now seeing a degeneration and a degradation of this vital period.
“Ultimately, It is a false economy to not pay parental leave at a rate on which families can survive and thrive.
“We need a government that will listen to parents, creating policies which ensure they can survive and thrive, particularly in those early days. Right now we are falling way behind our European counterparts, and it is not only this generation which is suffering the consequences, but it will be the next.’’
I think, on the balance of probability, I would probably even be called lucky.
Aged 33, I had a well-paid job, house in the country, fabulous friends and family, one relatively well-behaved spaniel and, to cap it all, a sporty, good-looking husband who was six years younger than me.
David and I had moved to Devon about a year after getting married and all we needed to complete our perfect unit was a baby. We had commenced trying for a baby in the same way we did everything: with enthusiasm, enjoyment, and commitment.
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However, after months of trying our carefree attitude was replaced by ovulation strips, schedules and more than my fair share of having my legs propped up against our headboard!
‘Fun’ had definitely left the building.
Eventually we concluded that we might need intervention and sought out our local GP, who was extremely supportive. She told us that quite a lot of the time, as soon as people sought help, it all seemed to happen naturally but she agreed to refer us on for further investigations.
What happened next was not part of the plan.
One night, around 2am, I woke to find David having a seizure in bed. One of those scary ones you see on the television. I watched the person I loved most in the world contorted, shaking, grey foam laced with blood where he had bitten his tongue streaking the bedclothes. Then I watched him lose control of his bladder. Despite calling out, shouting and pleading with him, I couldn’t get through to him. He couldn’t hear me. I called for help.
The paramedics were amazing and being able to abdicate all responsibility for caring for the one that you love to a highly trained specialist was something that I never grew complacent about. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart.
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Waking up the next morning was a slightly surreal experience. David didn’t understand why he was on a towel and why there was blood on the bedding and the carpet. It appeared that he had no recollection of what had happened.
What followed was over three weeks of tests, scans, appointments and follow ups which led us to a final consultation one early spring day. We were told that David had a brain tumour and that it had been the cause of the seizure. David now had epilepsy.
The tumour was the size of a small orange and it was sitting in the speech and memory part of David’s brain. What do you do with that information? How on earth are you meant to process that? Later we were given options: do nothing, do nothing then have surgery, have surgery. We opted for surgery. After all, if you take as much as you can away then there is less tumour to spread. It seemed logical.
But life continued. A couple of weeks later, David was out playing golf and I was painting up a ladder listening to the radio. ‘Stand by your Man’, a song I’m not particularly fond of, was playing and I was wailing along with Tammy Wynette at the top of my voice and somehow I knew all the words…how does that happen? What part of your brain stores the words to all the songs that you knew before you were sixteen? I digress. The wailing wasn’t strange, but the crying was. I put it down to the tumour news.
The next day I woke with sore breasts. Crying? Sore breasts? Surely, in amongst all this hideousness, we hadn’t forgotten the possibility that I might be pregnant. I did a test and yes, there were clearly two blue lines. We worked out the day that we conceived. It was a week before David’s seizure. It seemed miraculous.
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Our happiness knew no bounds, there was no-one that I didn’t want to tell. David urged caution but there was no waiting the obligatory twelve weeks for me – I wanted the world to know we had joyous news. I needed a reason to be happy, to smile again.
The edge was taken off the tumour and life was rosy again. We put off surgery: we wanted to wait until the baby was born, just in case.
But the start of the pregnancy didn’t run as smoothly as expected, possibly because of the level of stress hormones that had been coursing around my body. About eight weeks in, I started to bleed and I was sent to our local hospital for tests. I remember saying to the nurse: ‘I can’t lose this baby, my husband has got a brain tumour’.
And reality struck.
My husband has got a brain tumour.
I’m pregnant and my husband has got a brain tumour.
A life for a life.
That was the start of our journey: in the space of a month I had received the best and worst news. I learned that I could cry with bone shattering grief whilst my soul soared with happiness. I was introduced to the tightrope I would balance on for the next twelve years of my life.
Seven months later we had our only son George. Nine months later David had his first craniotomy; an operation to remove as much of the tumour as possible. Nine months and one week later we were told that David’s brain cancer was terminal.
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And then I was faced a choice: to go down or to go up; to be fearful or to have faith; to drown or to float. I chose to float.
David’s brain tumour progressed to a glioblastoma, the most aggressive form of brain tumour, in July 2020 and he died in May 2021 when his son, George, was 12 years old.
Clare Campbell-Cooper’s new book Choosing to Float is out now, priced at £8.99 and available from Amazon.co.uk. Clare will be giving at least 10% of her net royalties to Brain Tumour Research.
Pregnancy can come with a myriad of symptoms, including nausea and back pain. However, one that’s especially difficult during the summer is feeling that your body is warmer than usual.
According to the NHS, this is due to hormonal changes and an increase in blood supply to the skin. It can also cause you to sweat more.
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This is already difficult enough, but during a heatwave, like the one that’s set to hit the UK later this month, staying cool can seem outright unmanageable.
How to cope with hot weather and heatwaves during pregnancy
Stay hydrated, especially if you’re prone to sweating
According to the National Institute of Health, the current recommendation for water intake is drinking 8–10 glasses of water each day. Perhaps up it a little more if you need to or are prone to sweating.
The National Childbirth Trust warned: “You might need to adjust your exercise plan while pregnant, particularly if there’s a heatwave. If your body temperature rises too high in the early stages of pregnancy, there are risks.
“So make sure you aren’t over-exerting yourself, particularly in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy.”
Wear light, cool clothing
Try to wear clothing that is breathable and light-coloured. This means avoiding synthetic fabrics, opting for more airy clothes.
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Travel expert Justin Chapman said: “Stick to light-coloured, natural fabrics like cotton and linen in hot weather. These are breathable and will keep you cool, unlike synthetic fabrics that will trap heat, along with bacteria and odour, and make you feel hotter.”
Stay out of the sun where possible
Of course, we all want to make the most of the sun while it’s here, especially in the UK. However, protecting yourself from the sun’s rays will help you to stay cool during hot days.
The NHS recommends staying out of the sun between 11am-3pm, when the sun’s rays are the strongest, and wearing sunglasses and hats to protect yourself and stay cool.
Finally, make sure that you rest! Hot days are tiring as our bodies have to work harder in the heat, so make sure you’re being kind to yourself and resting as much as possible.
When it comes to the right age for getting pregnant, there seem to be a lot of myths surrounding older pregnancies.
Although in the last few years it has been normalised to have a child at a relatively older age (according to society), there is still a lot of misinformation circulating around these pregnancies.
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Getting pregnant in your late 30s and early-to-mid 40s is becoming more and more common, as high profile women like Meghan Markle,Ashley Olsen and Mindy Kaling have also shown.
In fact, according to the Office of National Statistics most recent data from 2020, the average age of a first time mother is 29 and the average age of a mother (not just first time mother) was 31 in 2021.
This is in contrast to 1970 when the average age to become a first time mother in England and Wales was 23.
But what are the realities behind some of the myths associated with being a relatively older pregnant person?
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Dr. Amit Shah, leading gynaecologist and co-founder of Fertility Plus spoke to HuffPost UK to set the record straight.
“Pregnancy at an older age, typically defined as 35 years and older, is often surrounded by myths and misconceptions.
“As a gynaecologist, it’s important to address these myths with accurate information to provide reassurance and proper guidance to older expectant mothers.”
Myth 1: Older women can’t get pregnant without medical intervention
Dr Shah says that while fertility does decline with age, many women in their late 30s and early 40s can and do conceive without IVF.
The chances of conception each cycle decrease from about 20-25% per month in women under 30 to about 5% per month by age 40.
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However, advancements in reproductive technology have also increased the options available for older women wishing to conceive.
Myth 2: Pregnancy is extremely difficult and complicated for older women
While older age can be associated with certain increased risks, many women over 35 have healthy pregnancies and deliveries, comments Dr Shah.
“Proper prenatal care and monitoring can help manage potential complications. Older women are also more likely to be vigilant about their health and prenatal care, which can contribute to better outcomes.”
Myth 3: Older women have a higher risk of miscarriage
The risk of miscarriage does increase with age. For women under 30, the miscarriage rate is around 10-15%, while for women over 40, it rises to about 34-50%.
Dr Shah says this increased risk is primarily due to a higher likelihood of chromosomal abnormalities in the eggs as women age. Regular prenatal screenings and genetic counselling can help manage and mitigate some of these risks.
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Myth 4: Vaginal delivery is unlikely for older women
Dr Shah explains that many older women can and do have successful vaginal deliveries. However, there is a slightly higher chance of requiring a cesarean section due to factors such as decreased uterine flexibility, a higher incidence of conditions like placenta previa, and concerns about foetal distress.
“That said, each pregnancy is unique, and delivery plans should be individualised based on the health of the mother and baby.”
Myth 5: Older mothers are more likely to have babies with genetic disorders
The risk of chromosomal abnormalities, such as Down Syndrome, does increase with maternal age. For example, the risk of having a baby with Down Syndrome is about 1 in 1,200 at age 25, increasing to about 1 in 100 at age 40.
Dr Shah says prenatal screening and diagnostic tests like NIPT (Non-Invasive Prenatal Testing), amniocentesis and chorionic villus sampling (CVS) can provide valuable information about the baby’s health.
Myth 6: Older women will experience more health problems during pregnancy
While older age is associated with a higher incidence of conditions like gestational diabetes, hypertension and preeclampsia, these conditions are manageable with proper medical care.
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Preconception counselling and a healthy lifestyle can also play a significant role in mitigating these risks. Regular monitoring and timely intervention can help ensure a healthy pregnancy and delivery, says Dr Shah.
Myth 7: Older pregnant women should avoid exercise
Exercise is beneficial for most pregnant women, including those over 35. Regular, moderate exercise can improve cardiovascular health, reduce the risk of gestational diabetes, improve mood and aid in maintaining a healthy weight.
However, it’s important for each woman to consult with her healthcare provider to tailor an exercise plan appropriate for her specific health needs, recommends Dr Shah.
Myth 8: Older women will have more complications during delivery
While there is a slightly increased risk of complications during delivery, including longer labour and higher rates of interventions like forceps or vacuum delivery, many older women have smooth deliveries, says Dr Shah.
Close monitoring during labour and delivery helps to manage any potential issues effectively.
He concludes: “All in all, pregnancy in older women comes with certain increased risks, but many of these can be effectively managed with proper prenatal care and medical supervision.
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“It’s important for older expectant mothers to have open, honest conversations with their healthcare providers to address any concerns and receive personalised care tailored to their individual health needs.
“With advancements in medical technology and a proactive approach to health, older women can and do have successful, healthy pregnancies and deliveries.”
Help and support:
Sands works to support anyone affected by the death of a baby.
Tommy’s fund research into miscarriage, stillbirth and premature birth, and provide pregnancy health information to parents.
Saying Goodbye offers support for anyone who has suffered the loss of a baby during pregnancy, at birth or in infancy.
“And what does it say about me that being told I can’t have sugar makes me feel like this, like I’m losing my mind — why am I so OBSESSED with sugar? What’s WRONG WITH ME?”
Tears were creeping down my cheeks, inhales coming in broken and sniffly as I typed in the chat my husband and I used to communicate during work hours, dumping out all the intense feelings that had been pummelling me since my midwife sent the email diagnosing me with gestational diabetes.
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After undergoing gastric bypass at 17 and losing 100 pounds — enough to get me into a J. Crew dress but never their pants; enough to get me attention from certain boys but never cross the societal line from “fat friend” to “cute girl” — I’d decided that, while it hadn’t made me thin, the surgery had “levelled the playing field,” meaning I could diet like a normal woman and exert some control over my previously unruly body.
I spent the next 15-plus years swinging between crash diets and hands-off-the-wheel reactive eating, punishing myself at the gym and then spending my lunch hour texting my long-distance boyfriend about what I’d eaten that day and how many calories I had left.
By the time I turned 30, though, I’d mostly accepted that my body just didn’t want to be smaller than a size 16. Dieting made me insufferably boring, so I tried to avoid it, and I’d recently discovered that yoga made me feel great, even when it didn’t make me smaller. But I was also already the smallest I’d ever been, as the result of nine months of deep depression following the end of my engagement to the aforementioned boyfriend.
When I started regaining some of that weight after meeting a new man (now my husband), my issues with food began to resurface. I scared the crap out of him with the level of my obsession, my inability to just make a change and behave normally. When I tried to be paleo for three days, making batch after batch of “cloud bread” and “cheese crisps,” he and my therapist both put their feet down. I was banned from dieting, at least without talking to my therapist first.
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Things got better again. Between therapy, investing more time and energy in fat-positive spaces, and beginning to work with a nutritional counselor who specializes in intuitive eating, I was able to fight my obsession with smallness and control. Even when the pandemic weight I knew I’d gained, but hadn’t kept track of, was recorded against my will at an urgent care center and plastered in huge numbers across the top of my aftercare paperwork, I didn’t diet.
I cried, and raged, and panicked, but I didn’t diet.
Then, at 36, I got pregnant.
The first trimester was mostly OK. Yes, finding a provider who wouldn’t obsess about my BMI was a struggle, and morning (or, for me, all-day) sickness was no joke, but with the help of my nutritional counsellor I was able to let go of preconceived notions about what and how much I should be eating and focus on nourishing my body with whatever it could tolerate — pretty much just salty carbs.
But as my pregnancy advanced and the nausea eased, things only got harder. Since my gastric bypass, I’ve had to avoid particularly fatty or sweet foods; a few years later, I was diagnosed with oral allergy syndrome, which drastically limited the number of fresh fruits and vegetables I can eat without cooking or pickling. I’d gotten pretty used to those restrictions, but then came pregnancy.
No raw seafood. No tuna, even if it’s fully cooked. No pink meat. No fresh/soft cheeses. No pineapple. No Caesar salads. No more than 200mg of caffeine. No Googling “Can I eat xyz during pregnancy?” unless you want to be told that thing you were about to put in your mouth might kill your unborn child.
Years of work to dismantle the binary of good versus bad foods and here was an easy loophole! I could assign moral value to foods if it pertained to my condition.
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The noose only tightened when we got to the blood glucose testing stage of the pregnancy and found that, counter to the reactive hypoglycemia I’ve lived with since the gastric bypass, I was in fact teetering on the edge of gestational diabetes.
At first I was only supposed to be tracking my blood glucose and not changing my diet — I was in an “observational period” — but I knew better than to trust that. I began examining everything that went into my mouth, secretly Googling whether foods were “allowed” with gestational diabetes, and avoiding but also obsessing over carbs.
I fixated on them, at once desperate to eat nothing but bread and pastries and candy and repulsed by my own desperation, my weakness. I hunted down recipes that were diabetes-friendly but not full of fake sugar — I actually found one good one — and bought hundreds of dollars’ worth of keto substitutions for snacks I missed (word to the wise: Kodiak waffles are no Eggos).
My last defenses had failed. After years of nutritional counseling and pushing back against diet talk at work/with my family/among friends/online, I was back to my ’90s California roots: Carbs were the enemy. And this time I couldn’t argue, because it was my baby’s health at risk, not mine.
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My husband kept reminding me that this burning hot medical spotlight on my diet was temporary, but I knew something much older and more enduring had been kicked loose in my brain.
And now here I was, being explicitly told to diet, the last scraps of my sanity obliterated by an informational PDF full of condescending, shaming language around food and weight. All the time and energy (and money) I’d spent working toward a release from diet culture felt worthless in the face of this fairly common but intensely triggering diagnosis.
When I emailed my nutritional counsellor about the diagnosis, she ordered me not to look at the pamphlet again and recommended that I work with a certified diabetes educator (CDE) with experience working with people in recovery from eating disorders and diet culture trauma.
And she was right. I can’t overstate the benefit of working with someone who understands the complexities of diabetes, who can view my glucose readings holistically, and who can contextualise my questions and concerns against my history and other restrictions. Every time I leave a virtual appointment with my CDE, I feel infinitely better.
But it doesn’t last. The minute it’s time to eat again, I’m thrown into turmoil. It’s actually worse than my past experiences with dieting, because the rules are less rigid: I’m supposed to eat carbs, but they have to be the right kind of carbs, in the right amounts, alongside the right balance of protein and fat and fibre. It’s enough to make me long for my fat camp days, when some skinny adult would portion everything out for me and I could just eat mindlessly (if miserably).
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The constant calculations and carb-tracking and food prep are good reminders of why dieting made me so unhappy for so long. It’s exhausting and all-consuming. But I have to do it, and unfortunately my damaged brain is a little too good at it; I hate to admit that I’m settling into this joyless eating pattern, fighting the diet less every day.
Between my limited food choices and the baby squishing my stomach, I don’t feel much like eating anyway — I have to remind myself to do it, to keep us both alive. This has also caused me to steadily lose weight during the second half of my pregnancy, which my midwife seems a little too happy about for my liking (despite the dark, ancient pride that sometimes oozes up from the deepest parts of me when she mentions it).
The good news is that most of these issues should go away within a day or two after the birth — thinking about the deli turkey sandwich I’m going to make my husband bring me in the hospital is the only thing that makes me actually look forward to labor.
I say “should” because don’t google the statistics about type 2 diabetes after gestational diabetes. But as my CDE points out, it’s just another risk factor like any other. And thank goodness, because the last thing I need is to be obsessing over carbs and glucose readings and how much fruit I can eat when I’m trying to keep this little human alive outside my body.
What’s less certain is whether I’ll be so quick to get back to thinking of food choices as neutral or joyful, instead of as a test of my morality. I can only hope, and prepare — in case my mental health doesn’t “snap back” — to get back to the work of dismantling the lessons of diet culture that were so easy to slip back into.
I stared at the pregnancy test with relief, sadness, fear, longing and regret. “Pregnant,” it said.
I tried to breathe. I guess I couldn’t have that glass of wine I had been planning after all. In fact, the reason I bought the test was that I wanted to drink. I hadn’t for the past several days because I started to become alarmed that my period was so late. Holy buckets. Pregnant! How did this happen?
Oh yeah, that one time I had unprotected sex. I didn’t bother taking the morning after pill because I figured I was too ancient for something to happen.
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I honestly didn’t think I could get pregnant. I spent my 20s doing everything in my power to prevent such an occurrence, including taking the morning after pill numerous times.
Then in my 30s, I came around to the idea that I actually did want to have a kid and tried to conceive with my partner at the time. I went off birth control for years with no result. I looked into going to a fertility clinic, but the cost was prohibitive.
In my late 30s, my inability to get pregnant caused acute pain and an ongoing feeling of loss. When I turned 40, I was finally able to come to peace with what I assumed was my own infertility. When I turned 42, I figured that window had closed.
Then I found myself about to turn 43 and pregnant by someone I’d met on Hinge and with whom I had four dates.
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I paced and paced, my mind spinning. This thing I wanted for so long finally came to fruition. A baby! I never considered getting an abortion, despite the less-than-ideal situation of being without a partner. Yes, I was scared of all the risks of having a kid as an older mom, but there was no way I’d let this chance pass me by.
I started to think of baby names right away, and before I even told anyone, plotted scenarios of how on earth I would make it work. I’d need to get a two-bedroom apartment, I thought. Maybe my parents could help with child care. Or I could ask my nieces and nephews to help babysit. I plotted and schemed how I’d make it work.
I didn’t tell anyone until the next day. The first person I called was my sister. “I think I’m going to keep it,” I found myself saying.
I told a few other close friends. Everyone was supportive, though some encouraged me not to make my decision right away about keeping it or not. I said I would think about it to appease them, but I had already made up my mind.
“I began to see how people in early pregnancy should instead lean into their community. If the worst happens, then the village is there to offer support. Why keep things secret and battle that loss alone?”
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I found it very difficult not to tell people my happy news. I wanted to share it with the world, but I didn’t even tell my parents, nor did I tell the Hinge guy, who I hadn’t spoken to in two months. I knew I would tell them, but I felt I needed to wait.
I had heard you weren’t supposed to announce your pregnancy until you were 12 weeks along. I had people I was close to encourage me to wait until that long to share widely, but I didn’t understand why.
Abortion stigma and miscarriage stigma are two sides of the same coin. In both cases, instead of seeing reproductive health as simply that — a part of a person’s overall health care, it’s instead loaded with politics and morality. One sequence of events means you are a terrible person, another sequence of events means you somehow are lacking as a real woman.
One-quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage. We are told to keep early pregnancies private in order to be spared the pain of sharing our loss. I began to see how people in early pregnancy should instead lean into their community. If the worst happens, then the village is there to offer support. Why keep things secret and battle that loss alone?
A week and a half after I found out I was pregnant, I was reading on the couch, and I felt a sudden gush of liquid. I went to the bathroom and realised I was spotting. I happened to have my first ultrasound appointment the next day, and I was prepared for the worst.
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At first, when the technician began the ultrasound, I didn’t realise that my insides were being projected on the screen in front of me. I opened my legs apart so I could see the image. I gasped. I saw the most miraculous thing. It was my very own little nugget right there!
Finally, the technician took the wand out and told me she was very sorry but couldn’t detect a heartbeat. It was like she jabbed me with a knife. I started crying then, and she took me to a private room so I didn’t have to go to the waiting room.
I immediately regretted not telling my parents. I needed my mom more than ever. Why hadn’t I shared with her the truth from the beginning?
“Our culture has a long way to go to support people who get pregnant, and that starts with getting rid of the shame of miscarriage, the politicization of abortion, and the judgment of not having children at all.”
I felt shame too, about the people I had told. Now I would have to tell them about the miscarriage. But then I started to question myself. Wasn’t it a good thing to seek support when something terrible happens? Why should I feel ashamed?
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It took three more weeks for the miscarriage to actually happen. I decided to wait for it to happen naturally, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room. It was traumatic, and yet I still felt hesitant to share with people outside of my closest circle.
I didn’t truly feel comfortable saying it was a loss, but it was. That doesn’t negate other people’s experiences of becoming pregnant and deciding to abort. Those two truths can exist for different people. For me, I lost someone I wanted to meet and love. I had to say goodbye before they were even born.
Our culture has a long way to go to support people who get pregnant, and that starts with getting rid of the shame of miscarriage, the politicization of abortion, and the judgment of not having children at all.
That’s why you should share whenever you feel compelled to share. For me, keeping the news bottled inside me ended up preventing me from getting all the support I needed. Maybe other pregnant folks want to wait a bit longer.
The important thing is that as a society, we need to stop telling people they have to wait until some arbitrary predetermined date. Get rid of the stigma around miscarriage and start caring for people at all stages of their pregnancy journey, even pregnancies that don’t come to term.
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Help and support:
Sands works to support anyone affected by the death of a baby.
Tommy’s fund research into miscarriage, stillbirth and premature birth, and provide pregnancy health information to parents.
Saying Goodbye offers support for anyone who has suffered the loss of a baby during pregnancy, at birth or in infancy.
Former Strictly Come Dancing professional Oti Mabuse has shared a candid Instagram post about the “huge adjustments” she’s made due to her pregnancy.
Over the weekend, Oti announced that she and her husband, fellow dancer Marius Lepure, are expecting their first child, and in a follow-up Instagram post, revealed she had to take an extended break from dancing early on in her pregnancy due to the nausea it triggered.
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“I actually do enjoy working out lately again,” she explained. “In the beginning it was the one thing along with dancing that would cause my nausea so I stayed away for the longest of time.
“This obviously was a huge adjustment for my body, mental health and stamina and came with another huge but beautiful life lesson. I am creating a human being and whatever my body needs I should listen to it.
“But now that I can walk, run [and] lift weights again… I’m excited to get active again.”
Oti joked: “And this new ass… OH MY DAYS. I love it.”
In her original post announcing her pregnancy news, Oti wrote: “This is new for us, scarier than swimming with sharks, jumping off cliffs or even swinging from bridges, but the best news we could have ever asked for.
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“We love our little bundle of joy so much already… and can’t wait to see what our future will now look like as family of three plus Leo [the couple’s dog].
“It’s been a beautiful journey so far with close friends and family and nearly over but we have learnt a lot a long the way…. Christmas is about to get even louder.”
The South African performer followed this with a beautiful video in which she was seen sharing her happy news with her husband, Marius, as well as different family members and friends.
Oti is most well-known for her seven-year stint as a professional on Strictly, during which she made TV history as the only dancer to have won the show in two consecutive series.
When Lucy Baker was five months pregnant with her third child, a mum on the school playground exclaimed rather bluntly: “But you’re going to be 47 when the baby starts school!”
It wasn’t the first negative comment she’d faced since revealing she was pregnant at 42 – other “judgy, thoughtless comments” she’d been on the receiving end of included, “Why are you having another baby?” and “Was it a mistake?”
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But the comment on the school playground really stuck with her.
At the time, she says she was “aghast”, but she later turned her negative experience into a positive, launching her blog the Geriatric Mum, which celebrates older mums.
“It’s been a real driver for me in some ways because I thought: you know what, I’ll bloody show you,” Baker, who lives in Lincolnshire and has three children aged 13, 10 and four, tells HuffPost UK.
Fast forward five years and Baker’s youngest child is set to start school in September.
To honour the occasion and “show the world how great being an older mummy can be,” the confidence coach plans to wear a gold, sparkly dress to drop him off on his first day.
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The idea came about while she was doing a panel talk in London and was wearing the gold dress in question. “I talked about the Geriatric Mum story and the fact my son starts school in September,” she recalls.
“I said to the audience: ‘Actually I should do something big on the day, should I wear this gold dress?’ And the whole place cheered, so I thought: Well, I’ve committed to it now.”
Baker plans to wear the dress as a way of sticking two fingers up to society’s ageist views – which especially impact women.
“I want to do it as a celebration of geriatric mums – and for me and my little boy,” she says.
There is a deeper message she wants to convey by getting parents, particularly mothers – both on the playground, and reading this article – considering their actions towards others.
“As a geriatric mum, I’m trying to spread the message of: please don’t judge other women for their life circumstances, their choices, their situations because it’s really boring and actually hurts – these words stick,” she says, referring back to the comments she received during her pregnancy.
“I get messages on Instagram and women are feeling judged because of their age. It’s still happening and those labels are 100% out there.”
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She adds: “I was really judged and nobody knows what I was feeling behind the scenes or what I’d been through to have my third child. Nobody knows what anyone else is going through.
“The journey to pregnancy is so unknown, but people are still judging other people for the age they have their children.
“I just want people to hold back on that judgement and pause for a minute and think: I don’t know that person’s story, so why am I judging them?”
But above all, she wants people to know she’s “loving being an older mum” – and endeavours to give other women who are striving to become mothers in their 40s hope.
“I’m in a great place in my life, I’m confident, I’m happy,” she says. “Motherhood is tricky whatever age – it’s really difficult, it can be very hard work, it changes your life. But I’m loving it – and I want the message to be: it can be glorious no matter how old you are.”
Shocking new research from the campaign group Pregnant Then Screwed has revealed that 1 in every 61 pregnant workers says their boss has insinuated they should terminate their pregnancy for the sake of their career.
Pregnant Then Screwed, who campaign for the rights of parents and against sex discrimination, surveyed over 24,000 parents to uncover the discrimination that women face in the workplace when they become mothers.
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The data shows that over half of all mothers (52%) have faced some form of discrimination when pregnant, on maternity leave, or when they returned to work.
One woman involved in the study, Connie*, told her boss about her pregnancy at eight weeks and was told, “It would be easier for your future career if you just brought a coat hanger”. Three colleagues went on to tell Connie that she had ruined her career and should have had an abortion.
For some women, the consequences of having children can have life-changing consequences on their career, with one in five mothers (19%) making the decision to leave their employer due to a negative experience.
Additionally, one in 10 women (10%) revealed they were bullied or harassed when pregnant or returning to work, and 7% of women lost their job — through redundancy, sacking, or feeling forced to leave due to a flexible working request being declined or due to health and safety issues.
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If scaled up, this could mean as many as 41,752 pregnant women or mothers are sacked or made redundant every year.
“These stats show how far we have to go before mothers are truly accepted as equal members of the workplace,” says Joeli Brearley, CEO and founder of Pregnant Then Screwed.
“We know that women are treated differently from the point they get pregnant. They are viewed as distracted and less committed to their work, despite there being no change to their performance. This bias plays out in numerous ways, affecting women’s earnings and career potential. There is absolutely no excuse for bosses, who hold the power, to tell their employees to abort a pregnancy. It is sex discrimination and it is inhumane.”
The discrimination that women face doesn’t always come from their boss; in fact, 73% of women shared that a colleague made hurtful comments about their pregnancy or maternity leave, and 74% of women said that a colleague insinuated that their performance had dipped due to pregnancy or maternity leave. Some women even experience criticism based on the way they look when they are pregnant – with 64% saying their boss or a colleague had made inappropriate comments about their looks.
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“The fact that the majority of pregnant women have experienced inappropriate and degrading comments from a colleague or their boss about the way they look is shameful,” says Brearley.
“Why as a society do we accept women being a target for such abuse? These hurtful comments chip away at women’s confidence, ambition and feeling of belonging,” she says.
“Pregnant women are made to feel like an unsightly burden, no wonder a high proportion of women report feeling depressed or anxious when pregnant and one in five women leave their employer after becoming pregnant.’’
The study’s data and the shocking stories shared by pregnant women in workplaces around the UK highlight the worrying and pervasive attitudes towards women in society — even in a supposedly equal one like the UK.
It isn’t just about having children; women are being treated differently for decisions relating to their reproductive health, too. An especially worrying trend in our post-Roe v Wade world, which is seeing our rights rolled back across the globe.
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For instance, a third of women (31.58%) who told their employer about having an abortion felt that they experienced discrimination or were unfairly treated as a result. And the majority of women (57.6%) didn’t even tell their employer they had an abortion, presumably for fear of being judged negatively.
Women being bullied out of the workplace for being pregnant, or choosing not to be, is just one more example of the ways women’s freedoms are being infringed upon, and shows that, in the end, the patriarchy doesn’t want us to win.
It’s something we should all vehemently stand against, together.
If you or anyone you know has experienced discrimination in the workplace, please call the Pregnant Then Screwed helpline on Tel: 0161 2229879
After weekly medical check-ins at the end of pregnancy, most people won’t see a health care provider until six weeks postpartum. At that point, if it looks like healing is proceeding well, they are officially “cleared” to have sex and exercise again.
Following delivery, the focus tends to shift to the baby’s health (how much are they eating, sleeping or crying?) and away from the person who gave birth.
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Common postpartum physical complaints such as incontinence or pain in the back, pelvis or genitals are often written off as par for the course, as though pregnancy and birth are expected to do some damage to the body.
While postpartum healing is a process, and most people need some time before they feel “back to normal,” there are things that you can do to support healing and lessen pain and discomfort.
One proactive step you can take is to make an appointment with a physical therapist, who can evaluate you for common postpartum issues and recommend exercises to prevent incontinence and pain.
Postpartum physical therapy isn’t the norm in the U.S., but in other countries, such as France, it’s standard care.
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Pregnancy’s impact on the body
There are multiple ways that pregnancy can put a strain on your musculoskeletal system. The hormonal shifts of pregnancy don’t only affect your reproductive organs.
“What happens is the joints can become a little more loose and lax,” Jenni Limoges, a physical therapist in Nevada specialising in pelvic floor issues, told HuffPost. This loosening helps your pelvis expand to make room for the baby, but it can also trigger pain from a previous back or hip injury or result in new discomfort.
In addition, as your belly grows, your body has to adjust to a new centre of gravity. “It tends to pull people forward. It creates instability,” said Limoges.
Your pelvis tips forward, and the muscles in your back, pelvis and hips all shift, either lengthening or shortening. Your abdominal muscles separate to make space for the baby. Even your feet change, flattening out to support your pregnant body (many people find they go up a shoe size following pregnancy).
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Your pelvic floor muscles provide a sort of shelf inside your hip bones that supports all of the internal organs, including the uterus. There are three layers and nine different muscles that work in concert, Limoges explained.
“These muscles help us stay dry,” she said, and play a key role in sexual functioning. The way these muscles have to stretch to accommodate pregnancy and allow for delivery can cause them to become too stiff or too loose, causing pain or incontinence (urinary and/or faecal).
“I often times hear of people saying that they want to opt for a C-section because they think this protects their pelvic floor,” said Ruba Raza, a North Carolina-based physical therapist who also specialises in pelvic floor, pregnancy and postpartum issues. However, Raza told HuffPost that you can still have pelvic floor issues following a C-section.
“Regardless of the mode of delivery, it is important to see a pelvic floor physical therapist if you are having symptoms during or after pregnancy,” Raza said.
“A lot of people do not seek out our services during pregnancy because they assume that their symptoms will improve postpartum, but with most concerns, these can continue and even worsen if they are not addressed.”
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Common postpartum issues
In addition to urinary and faecal incontinence, other common postpartum complaints that can be addressed with physical therapy, Raza said, include: “Sacroiliac joint pain [the sacroiliac joints link the pelvis to the bottom of the spine], constipation, low back pain, pelvic floor pain, C-section scar sensitivity, pain with intercourse and rectal pain.”
Another issue you may have heard about is diastasis recti. A line of connective tissue called the linea alba runs down the middle of your stomach and fastens together on both sides of your abdominal muscles.
During pregnancy, this tissue stretches out and often separates to accommodate your growing uterus. After delivery, it generally closes back up again over the course of eight weeks or so. If it doesn’t close back up, you may notice that you continue to have a belly pouch, as though you were still pregnant. You may also have pain or incontinence.
Because movements like traditional abdominal crunches can worsen diastasis recti, it’s important to work with a knowledgeable provider who can prescribe exercises to help your diastasis recti heal.
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What treatment looks like
Physical therapy for postpartum issues generally involves weekly visits.
“The typical model for the pelvic floor is one-on-one for an hour,” said Limoges, adding that you should feel the results as soon as a couple of weeks in.
“I definitely expect within four to six weeks you’re seeing some improvements,” she continued.
Raza said she typically sees patients once a week for six to eight weeks, but of course, this varies based on the nature and severity of the issue they’re dealing with.
“The plan is very individualised to the patient’s concerns or symptoms,” she said. There are a multitude of exercises your physical therapist may teach you and have you practice at home.
Limoges explained that the treatment for pelvic floor issues such as incontinence depends on whether the problem is that the muscles are too stiff or overstretched and lacking in tone.
With incontinence, it’s common to hear the blanket advice to do Kegel exercises (contracting the pelvic floor muscles — the ones you use to stop urination mid-stream), but these can be counterproductive if the issue is stiffness. For this reason, it’s a good idea to have an evaluation with a physical therapist before starting any exercise program to address your problem.
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While a good portion of the evaluation involves the physical therapist learning what your symptoms are, and sometimes this can even be done via a remote telehealth visit, if you’re having a pelvic floor issue, an internal pelvic exam is usually necessary at some point.
“I like to tell people, ‘I’m not the gynaecologist’s office, so I don’t use stirrups,’” said Limoges.
“I typically do a scan of tissue first, just to make sure everything looks OK. And then for the internal assessment, I insert my finger vaginally, and I’m checking each layer of muscles.” This internal exam allows the physical therapist to assess the muscle’s flexibility and to see if there is organ prolapse.
Your therapist will likely want to see how long you can hold a contraction of your pelvic muscles (a Kegel). The standard goal is ten seconds. They will also want to see how quickly you can contract the muscles and whether you have any pain.
While a physical therapist may recommend Kegel exercises if they find a lack of tone in your pelvic floor muscles, there are many other types of exercises they may prescribe.
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Raza and Limoges discussed using breathing exercises with postpartum pelvic floor patients. Other possibilities include stretches, squats, and what Limoges called “self-tissue mobilization,” in which you apply gentle, internal pressure to the layers of muscle.
Each physical therapist stressed the importance of finding a way for a new parent to work these exercises into their day in a way that is feasible.
“I love incorporating exercises into activities that the patient is already doing, such as adding in a pelvic floor and core contraction every time the patient completes a transitional movement or working on diaphragmatic breathing and pelvic floor relaxation while they are breastfeeding their baby,” said Raza.
Limoges also mentioned feeding/pumping as an opportunity to do Kegels or breathing exercises, as your life during those first few months tends to revolve around these moments. She recalled working with one mom caring for her newborn while homeschooling her older children. She needed exercises that she could do while standing and wearing the baby, so Limoges prescribed some wall sets and lunges she could do.
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Postpartum or not, Limoges said she limits treatment to a few daily exercises that a person can work into their routine without too much trouble and works with the patients to address their most urgent concerns within the context of their lives.
A mother of twins, Limoges recalled, was having issues with urgency to urinate. “But she was running into a problem because she couldn’t get the twins in a place that she could watch them and go to the bathroom at the same time.” She padded her bathtub so she could set them safely in it to pee without leaking or holding it too long.
While your body will never return exactly to what it was before pregnancy, Limoges believes that improvement is always possible with any of these physical issues.
“My goal is to get people to 90% at least,” Limoges said. “Can you get yourself to where you’re not hunting for the bathroom or worrying about wearing a pad everywhere you go or [not] leaving your house and those kinds of things? Absolutely.”