“I’m very pleased for her because during her pregnancy she worried a lot because of all the bad press written about her. Lots and lots of lies,” Chernukha said. “Her pregnancy was a hard one even though she had no [medical] problems with it. And, of course, Mel supported her and so did all her friends. She doesn’t make any statements or get involved with refuting what’s said about her. She just tries to keep herself closed off from all the journalists.”

Let’s be realistic here. The couple announced their pregnancy just six weeks after Mel’s wife of 30 years filed for divorce. Surely it was no surprise that journalists would wanna know the dirt!

Grabbing the honour for the physics prize were Katherine K. Whitcome of the University of Cincinnati,  Daniel E. Lieberman of Harvard University, and Liza J. Shapiro of the University of Texas, whose study “Fetal Load and the Evolution of Lumbar Lordosis in Bipedal Hominins”, was published in December 2007 in the Journal of Nature.

As a once pregnant woman, I’ve got to admit the question has merit — your entire centre of gravity is off thanks to that foetal load (really wish I’d know that term when I was preggers — sounds so much better than “thing hanging under my growing boobs”).

So what’s the answer? Straight from the research: “Human females have evolved a derived curvature and reinforcement of the lumbar vertebrae to compensate for this bipedal obstetric load”. Which is fancy shcmany scientific talk for “because woman are highly evolved creatures”, right?

The Ig Nobel awards are given for research that makes people laugh…and then think. This one sounds more qualified than most.

Congrats to the winners — and to all you pregnant women who have managed not to tip over. It’s hell trying to get back up.

Via: Daily Telegraph

Image: Tourist on Earth via Flickr

The Daily Telegraph says: “Associate Professor George Condous designed the test, which is about 80 per cent accurate, to reassure women their pregnancy is progressing well.

Professor Condous used data from more than 400 women who visited the early pregnancy unit at Nepean Hospital. Working with a team of Sydney University researchers, Dr Condous used information such as previous caesarean births and miscarriages combined with details from the first ultrasound scan.

He combined them in a mathematical process – comparing variables – to come up with the formula.”

Whatever happened to every woman and every pregnancy is different?

Hmmm. The Babble jury’s out on this – for some reason, it smells fishy to us.

For a start, it’s only 80% accurate – which means it’s 20% inaccurate and none of us would fancy being in that 20% who were told they would most probably be suffering a miscarriage at some time in the next few weeks – only to be told later that, um, sorry – we got it wrong.

Could you bear the grief and trauma of an incorrect conclusion from ‘a mathematical process’? That included the number of caesareans you may already have had? Imagine you were told that all was fine, your baby was developing just as it should and you could start buying bootees tomorrow – and that was wrong! Doesn’t bear thinking about, really.

As if pregnancy – particularly the first trimester – wasn’t fraught enough! So now not only do you have to contend with the worry, the mysterious aches and pains, the abject fear and the horror stories from your well-meaning friends, you might also have this test to fret about, too…

Tell us what you think about the new test. And to read the Tele’s article, click here.

As for how she got here? I can thank Anna Wintour.

Resigned to being overdue, I made plans to see Vogue documentary The September Issue at the movies at midday, secretly hoping that I’d jinx myself into labour. Sure enough, 15 minutes in to the movie, just as Paris Fashion Week was in full swing, I clocked the light contractions I’d had all morning at 6 minutes apart. The regularity convinced me that this could indeed be ‘it’ so I figured I needed to leave while I could still drive home, so rang my husband and had him meet me back at the house.

At home, I practised a few techniques from Active Birth to get me through the increasingly strong back contractions. Vocalisation (”Ahhhh”) worked well, stamping and bouncing on a fitball not so much. Just like my son’s posterior labour I found the greatest relief under a scalding hot shower by candlelight. Strangely, contractions usually came on when S. wasn’t in the room, giving credence to Michael Odent’s recent theories on men and labour.

Once the contractions were four minutes apart, I called the birth centre and asked if I should come in. The midwife’s advice was to hold out until either I couldn’t take the pain anymore or I ran out of hot water. Whatever came first.

I held out for another hour or so in the bathroom before the faint promise of pain relief became an overwhelming need. So at about 7.30pm we headed off to the hospital, me screaming through two contractions in the front seat and again out the front of the hospital. I think i may have frightened some small children…

At the birth centre I was examined and found to be 4-5cm dilated – promising, but I still thought I had a long wait ahead, based on my last labour which was about 17 hours long.

But back under the blissful double hot water jets, The frequency and force of the contractions, which had slowed as my body adjusted to the new environment, kicked back in with great intensity. I summoned for the gas and clamped down on the hose like a demented animal.

The next hour and a half was quite a blur of shouting, sucking on gas and sobbing as the contractions started to come right on top of each other. I frequently told my partner that I couldn’t do it anymore, he responded each time that I was doing it and that she’d be here soon. I felt really strong baby movements and could actually physically see my stomach distorting as she changed positions from posterior. No natural “pain management technique” was useful anymore, all I could do was hang in there for dear life.

The next thing I knew, the new shift Midwife, Sue, had me on my back in the bath and my waters broke. She took my crack pipe gas hose away said that if I felt like pushing, to go right ahead.

Woah, steady on! I was only just getting my breath back from going through transition. I announced that I was not ready to push and wanted to get out of the bath. Intense emotions are common at this stage of labour and in my case I was shaking and in denial. Sue and my husband kept up the encouragement and sure enough, the next contraction (thankfully these were not as fast and painful as the earlier ones) were accompanied by the urge to ‘bear down’. Having had an epidural with my son the feeling was unusual and scared the crap out of me.

Within only two rounds of pushing, her head was ready to crown. Terrified, but overwhelmed now by the incredible, primal urge running through me I bore down several times in quick succession and several excruciating seconds later the worst was over and her head was out. All too quickly I was being told to give just a couple of small pushes and she slid out, scooped out of the water by Sue and placed in my arms. Squealing ‘my baby, my baby!’ it was a moment of utter joy as Shane and I held our beautiful screaming girl for the first time. I felt the flood of oxytocin that I’d only read about and all pain was forgotten as I cradled her. Here is the magic moment.

It was 10.30pm, only 12 hours since I’d gone into early labour. The midwives marvelled at her size and the skipping-rope length umbilical cord. At 4.33kg she was almost half a kilo bigger than my son who was born 10 days later in gestation, with the same big head size of 37cm (yes, I needed stitches, lots of them, let’s not talk about it.)

The next couple of hours were idyllic as the placenta was delivered without incident and we were left alone in the home-like confines of the birth centre for skin-to-skin bonding time and a brilliant first breastfeed, after which Lucinda fell into a massive seven hour sleep.

I couldn’t believe how amazing I felt after a natural birth. Too wired to stay in bed, I woke at 5am, put on lip gloss, made some toast and read Grazia magazine while my new family slept. Such a civilised way to recover post-birth.

The exhaustion has caught up with me a few days later, but now that I’m home after a short hospital stay I can sit on my own couch, eat chocolates and take endless photos of Lucie. We’re getting the hang of the whole feeding thing, her brother is getting used to not being the centre of the universe anymore (anyone got any tips on sibling jealousy?) and I’m remarking at how it is indeed possible to function on only 4 hours of broken sleep a night.

Thanks for following my journey to this point and I wish all my pregnant readers the best of luck with their own births and baby moons. So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a nap.

To say that such a long pre-labour is frustrating is an understatement. But now that I’m due tomorrow, I know that the end is in sight (well, no more than two weeks away). My son was born at 42 weeks so I’m under no illusion that due dates mean anything.

The other benefit of being due this week is that now when random strangers tell me that I look ready to pop, I can actually reply, “yes.. any day now” instead of  ”err… I’m actually about two months away”.

The texts and emails have started, and if I don’t update my Facebook status daily you can be sure there’ll be a query on my wall. It’s nice that people are interested, even if I feel like screaming SHE’S NOT HERE YET at the top of my lungs.

Among the advice I’ve been given to bring on labour this week have been the following:

- Bumpy bus ride

- Long walk followed by a curry

- Sex (semen contains prostaglandins which induce labour, apparently)

- Nipple stimulation

- Fresh pineapple

- Fancy restaurant reservation or hair appointment (acts as a jinx)

- Acupuncture/chiropathy/Bowen therapy

- Castor oil (did that last time, disgusting and ineffective)

- Brazilian waxing (ouch!)

But really, unless I’m staring a medical induction in the face I think I’ll stick to my regime of chilling out, nanna naps and life uninterrupted by a three-hourly feeding schedule for as long as I can.

Tell me – how did you bring on your labour?

Unlike those women whose waters break spontaneously and kicktstart a fast labour, my body likes to tease me with signs of pre-labour for weeks and weeks: strong braxton hicks ‘practice’ contractions, back pain, spotting, nausea and moodiness. I keep thinking ‘this is it!’ and then… nothing.

I’m on full holiday time now and couldn’t tell you what day it is. But unlike holidays that can be filled with activities I’m practically housebound, waddling from room to room, trying in vain to keep up with my toddler.

As another friend who is 39 weeks pregnant put it, “ I am hunkering down in trackie pants and comfy tops and doing NOTHING, unless absolutely necessary… the poor kids are climbing the walls.”

The place which is my saviour at the moment is a play centre with decent coffee and a multitude of slides. It may be expensive, but what price can you put on being able to eat a chocolate caramel slice in relative peace? It has the dual benefit of tiring Finn out so we can both have a decent afternoon nanna nap.

Still, my midwives assure me that it won’t be long at all until I’m enjoying the surrounds of the birth centre while visualising my cervix opening like a flower (thanks Juju Sundin.) I’m 3/5 engaged and could safely go in to labour at any time. Bags are packed, an iPod playlist is being created and I’ve been practising my birth mantras, also from Juju’s book:

Relax, release, let go

Pain means action

Baby’s coming, baby’s coming

I can only hope next week’s blog brings more exciting news!

Do let me know if any birth mantras worked for you, and what was on your labour soundtrack.

With large families, such as the Jolies and Klums, stealing the celebrity spotlight big families are not only becoming more socially acceptable but they have a certain undefined glamour about them.  The Today Show featured a piece from the upcoming issue of Woman’s Health that focused on woman that feel a deep need to be pregnant and feel it is socially acceptable to keep on procreating.

“Women who are obsessed with being pregnant are literally filling an emptiness inside of them, just as alcoholics and drug addicts use substances to fill a psychological void,” stated a Beverly Hills psychiatrist Carole Lieberman, M.D.

And it keeps you busy.

American psychiatrist, Keith Ablow, M.D said that for some women, “Bearing another child can sometimes provide a substitute for deciding on a career path, making a marriage work, or even wrestling with questions of self-worth.”

According to the article, some women strive for multiple pregnancies in an attempt to recapture those special nine months before birth: a time of parties in your honour, more attention and eating what you want.

But what do you think? Is Bumpaholic-ism real or yet another term drummed up by ‘experts’?

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Some believe she is possibly pregnant again, but I’m not seeing it. And trust me, I’ve done my fair share of ohmigoshlookaththatloosefittingtopshemustbepregnant shrieks. I freely admit that. But Halle doesn’t look pregnant. Right?

Oh, see, I saw you hesitate and now I’m having doubts.  Maybe she is preggo with baby number two?  Her daughter Nahla would love a sibling.  Sure, she’s not even two yet and might not know what a sibling is, but still, she’d love one.

We know Halle’s man Gabriel Aubry wants a second child. He said so.

Great, thanks.  Now I’m thinking she might be expecting again!  I’m blaming you.

But really, what do you think? Is Halle preggers?

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She ran errands with her mum in the L.A. area, but started the day off at a local medical building. They have doctors’ offices in those buildings. Doctors that see pregnant girls.

They also have other kinds of doctors there too, I know, but it’s not nearly as fun. Really though, poor girl can’t go to the doctor without people thinking it has something to do with a secret pregnancy.

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I was under the impression from the kajillion articles we’ve written about them, that they were going to wait until Fergie is done with her tour in October. Maybe we should actually wait until October, when the couple is together consistently, before we decide if they are fighting or not.

Recently, Josh was spotted smiling giddily at a maternity store of all places. An “insider” says: “Josh was on the phone with Fergie and laughing while looking at maternity clothes. He looked like a proud father already! Then, after about 15 minutes, he noticed he was being watched and when the saleswoman asked if he needed help, he quickly said, ‘No, thanks,’ and darted out of the store.”

Maybe they are just in the planning stages and he’s wanting to move on to the next chapter in his life and he’s frustrated because he has to wait until October to do it.

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