As group bonding exercises go, “pelvic line dancing” has to be one of the most bizarre. Let me set the scene: it is a drizzly afternoon in a posh Cotswolds hotel. Inside a conference room, to the strains of the Mavericks’
Dance the Night Away, nine heavily pregnant women and their partners are gyrating their hips in figures of eight while squeezing their pelvic floor muscles. Some are giggling, some look perplexed, others constipated.
This is one of the country’s first residential antenatal courses, tailored towards pregnant professionals and their partners, and the collective pelvic-clenching is just one of many memorable moments during intensive but enjoyable preparations for labour and beyond.
I am expecting my first child and originally had decided to shun antenatal courses. If hell is other people, then other people discussing prolapse and placentas is hell squared, but with more mucus and less dignity. The whole concept of antenatal groups had reminded me of university freshers week, full of forced friendships and faux intimacy destined to crumble months later when you realise, post-pregnancy, that all you have in common is leaky nipples.
Besides, giving birth is natural: cave women didn’t watch birthing videos, so why should I? When I told my mother, who made two lifelong friends at her parenting classes some 30 years ago, she looked at me as if I was bonkers, opened her mouth — and then sensing an hormonal tsunami encroaching — wisely shut it.
I took heart from a TV interview with the actor Russell Crowe when his wife Danielle Spencer was pregnant. He asked whether they should attend labour classes. She responded: “For Chrissakes, I know how to f***ing breathe, don’t I?” My attitude was similarly gung-ho. Then my husband James observed that she was a tough Aussie who relaxed by wrestling wallabies, while I am a pampered Londoner who squeals at the sight of blood. As my tummy grew, my conviction that its contents would enter the world easily became smaller.
Panic set in when I phoned my local National Childbirth Trust (NCT) and was told that, at five months pregnant, I was too late: its classes were full and it was booking July babies already. This meant that other mothers-to-be must have picked up the phone within six seconds of conception.
Luckily, after frantically bulk-buying pregnancy magazines, I discovered a residential antenatal course at the Lygon Arms in Worcestershire, which not only had places available but a Michelin-starred restaurant too. Run by two NCT-trained and utterly charming teachers, Jean Heaman and Sam Williams, “Choices” covers everything involved with birth and baby- care. All in a weekend. Wow.
Other participants included a banker, a beautician, a journalist, a dentist, a barrister and a student counsellor. It was very middle-class. The bourgeois barometer went through the roof when it emerged that seven of the nine couples were buying designer Bugaboo pushchairs, beloved by the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow. The other two weren’t because they disapproved of designer labels or something. Anyway, we had all swotted up on the childcare experts Gina Ford and Sheila Kitzinger beforehand and so shared the same knowledge base.
On top of years of training and a calm, informed manner, Heaman and Williams have nine children and a range of birthing experiences between them, including one Caesarean section, an epidural and four inductions. I had heard horror stories about friends’ antenatal tuition experiences and was worried that the teachers would be of the breastfeed-until puberty variety. Thankfully, they neither proselytised nor expressed opinions on some of the thornier issues. In fact, the only stern instruction they offered was that the men think very carefully before “ venturing south” in the labour ward.
Lessons began with a pair of tights with a knotted gusset, which represented the pelvic floor. In went 3.5kg (7.7lb) of potatoes, a litre of juice, a bag of sugar and two tins of beans: the average weight of a baby plus support system. The men were impressed, but their respect soon mutated into concern when they found out what carrying a week’s groceries in your womb can do to a woman: prolapse, when the uterus falls down into the vagina; incontinence; and, when it comes to sex, the man getting the feeling that he’s waving a worm in a windsock. Even more reason to practise those clenches.
The weekend finally extinguished the notion that men are the tougher sex. After seeing diagrams of an episiotomy (a surgical cut made between the vagina and anus to ease the passage of the baby) and hearing tales of 45-hour labours, the women remained stoic and relaxed, while the men grimaced and grabbed their partners’ hands. It was a thoroughly 21st-century portrait. My dad was in the pub when I was born and I can’t imagine him or many men of his generation knowing about an episiotomy — or wanting to know.
Despite my preconceptions I enjoyed socialising with other pregnant women. It was reassuring to see that I was not the only one who wobbled like a Weeble when walking or whose newly-developed cleavage was the perfect receptacle for crumbs. I even swapped telephone numbers with one woman and was slightly rueful that none of the others lived nearer. Heck, I am even considering joining a coffee morning club.
This is where local NCT groups have the advantage, as they offer a support network on your doorstep. But the course has boosted my confidence and although knowledge is power, Heaman and Williams have helped me to realise that no woman can completely control what happens in labour and if I end up having a Caesarean, instead of the natural birth I want, it won’t be my fault. Mother Nature often has other ideas.
Need to know
The Choices antenatal weekend at the Lygon Arms, Broadway, Worcestershire, costs £965 for two and includes meals (apart from Saturday dinner). For more info visit choices-antenatal.co.uk, or call 0800 9774225. For details of local NCT groups, visit www.pregnancyandbabycare.com.
Page 2: Bodylicious: Stretch-mark lotions ()
Bodylicious: Stretch-mark lotions
Melanie Goose, the editor of Cosmpolitan Hair and Beauty, chooses the best creams to keep stretch marks at bay during pregnancy
1 FOR MORNINGS
Champneys Mother-to-Be Beautiful Bump Body Butter, £10 for 350ml
This lovely, lightly fragranced cream is rich, but sinks into your skin quickly without leaving a greasy residue. Stockists Sainsbury’s
2 FOR BOTH OF YOU
L’Occitane Mom & Baby Balm, £9.50 for 50ml
With shea butter, coconut and grapeseed oil, plus softening oatmeal and soothing calendula extract, this will keep your skin ultra-silky. It is safe to use on your newborn baby too, as it contains no preservatives. Stockists 020-7907 0301
3 FOR BATHTIME
Clarins Huile “Tonic” Body Treatment Oil, £30 for 100ml
This lubricator is a sensory treat, with 100 per cent plant extracts of rosemary, sage and mint. Apply twice a day after a warm shower, when your skin is still slightly damp. Stockists 0800 0363558
