Up the Duff (3): My anger towards pregnancy manuals

We found out we were pregnant immediately after moving to a foreign country where we don’t know anyone and don’t speak the language. We found a great doctor and health care, but support groups and classes are non-existent here. So until we become integrated enough to have a circle of acquaintances/friends, I’m desperately looking for books on pregnancy and going into online chat rooms looking to share worries, discuss issues, and get reassurance from other women.

But pregnancy, I’ve discovered, is a big business, and one that is based more around an idealized myth of what it’s supposed to be like rather than on honest and practical realism. This is why I usually shy away from the self-help section of the bookstore: it seems to perpetuate some pop-media created ideal of what type of humans we are supposed to be. Not climbing the corporate ladder fast enough? Here’s what you’re doing wrong. Can’t communicate with your parents? Here’s why your family is messed up. Having problems conceiving? Here’s why it’s your fault.

Because of pop culture, I’ve always believed pregnancy was this beautiful time of graceful womanhood, and a time when your body is beautiful and glowing. Celebrity twits keep this up by proclaiming how “empowered” they feel. I understand that they need the public to see that they are happy to be pregnant, but let’s call a spade a spade. For most women, pregnancy is not empowering. Actually, it’s the pits. To say one is in a “delicate condition” is far more accurate. Delicate is exactly what I would call myself these days, in every sense.

At the bookstore, the first manual I picked up was Dr. Spock because it’s sort of a requirement. It was too thick, small print, and not at all something my ADD hormone addled mind is capable of focusing on. No humor, no real discussions about the “discomfort” of pregnancy. Discomfort? Discomfort?! It’s a non-stop migraine popping puke fest. Bloody men. In the first section, Dr. Spock wants to know my goals for my child. What goals, I don’t have any goals? A healthy baby is about it, the rest is up to the kid. Then he asks what my aim is. You’ve got to be kidding me. This book goes back on the shelf. I don’t want some stupid manual making me feel badly because I don’t have colleges picked out, and I don’t want a manual that gives me homework.

Next up, I pick up The Rough Guide to Pregnancy, which claims to give the lowdown on “blokes, bosoms, and busybodies.” Yep, this is more up my ally. Into the basket.

Next to that is Deepak Chopra, which I just put in the basket because, well, it’s Deepak and I usually fall for his whole mind/body medicine, plus the cover looks peaceful and text type inside is nice and big. Big mistake. I get home and really look at the title: Magical Beginnings. Chapter Six is actually called “partners in love” and the conclusion is titled “healing the world one child at a time.” I don’t want to sound like a big hater, but given my whole anger at the world for misrepresenting the truth about pregnancy, Deepak can take his lovey-dovey outlook and shove it you know where.

The fourth book, beautifully entitled “Wiped: Life with a pint-size dictator” is actually more about the third trimester and life after birth, but I love it. The first line of the preface says “here’s the thing: you could say I didn’t exactly enjoy being pregnant.” Bingo! The author goes on to admit she can’t figure out the diaper genie and ponders why, if she hasn’t had a drink in nearly a year, she still looks worse than she ever did with a hangover. I want to know exactly the same thing! And Spock doesn’t even cover it. Doesn’t he know what’s important?

I find it interesting that the horrible “pregnancy is a time of graceful empowerment and the opportunity to better yourself” kind of books are written by men. As if they would know! The totally realistic, filled with love and practicality books, are written by women who have actually been pregnant. It’s like, if I have an issue, I can always go to my doctor for an answer. But when I go into the chatrooms and find 100’s of other women wondering about the same thing, I feel so much better. These books do the same thing. Reassurance is all I’m really looking for, along with humor and realism. Deepak and Dr. Spock just doesn’t compare.

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