Superhuman smell and taste

When I purchased the pregnancy strip tests from the pharmacy they always confirmed what my nose had already told me: You’re pregnant. When I was pregnant with Poppy, our fourth baby, I was in the kitchen and I could smell the hint of a rotting mandarin. I sniffed until I landed at the fruit bowl. Pete, who was standing beside me unloading dishes from the dishwasher, couldn’t smell a thing. I picked up the mandarin that I had sniffed out and it looked fine. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ he said. I broke it open. The fruit, rotting on the inside, fell apart in my hands. That was when my stomach began to churn and thoughts of pregnancy flitted into my mind. It can be a wonderful thing, this superhero smelling power. Roses and mangoes smell like they have never smelt before. It can also work the other way, sometimes surprisingly so. A shampoo you have used for years and with a smell you love can all of a sudden make you want to vomit. Some pregnant women who have loved to drink coffee can’t get their mouths anywhere near it because their noses won’t let them. This heightened sense of smell can certainly add a whole new realm to the morning sickness experience.

My nose is often blocked with hay fever and my sense of smell has never been one of my outstanding qualities. But when I was pregnant I could smell drying seaweed on a hot sandy beach three blocks back from the ocean. If the wind was in my favour I could smell it six blocks back. Along with their honed sense of smell, some pregnant women find their taste buds are no longer happy with foods they used to love. They start avoiding familiar tastes and seek out new ones. When a friend — a health freak who normally lives on nothing but tofu, beans and salad — fell pregnant, she started craving caramel milkshakes (much to her horror). She tried to resist at first but found it impossible, especially when sitting in a café watching her husband sip on a milkshake. She gave in and enjoyed caramel milkshakes for the rest of her pregnancy.

In one of my antenatal classes, a woman was very distressed when she could no longer stand the taste of chicken. Chicken had been one of her favourite dishes before she fell pregnant, enjoying it at least three or four times a week. In her pregnancy she not only recoiled at the taste but she couldn’t be anywhere in house where chicken was being fried. I saw her at an antenatal class reunion happily biting into a chicken sandwich. Her aversion to chicken disappeared with the last push that birthed her baby.

I think pregnancy is one of those few times left in our modern lives when our body attempts to take over and tell us what is best while we nurture a brand new, little life. As much as possible — try to listen! Trust that your new sense of smell and taste are simply guiding you to protect your growing baby.

Caesarean sections

There seems to be a myth in some parts of the world that having a caesarean section saves you the pain of birth. That a caesarean section will eliminate the risk of vaginal tearing and stretching and is all round the more civilised way to give birth. Oh, and of course, a caesarean birth is much safer for all those involved. Vaginas are meant for receiving sperm and giving birth. There are, of course, some situations (and there always will be) when a caesarean section is either the best or the only way a woman can give birth. In the majority of births, however, the best way for a baby to arrive into the world is by sliding through the birth canal. It helps them to empty their lungs of fluid and encourages their first breath.

A caesarean section is a major operation. The scalpel cuts through the skin, through fat layers, muscle and then the wall of the uterus. And all of this has to be sewn back together. Then it all has to heal. Most doctors agree that it takes at least a year before the uterus is strong enough to carry another baby — before the scar in the uterus is ready to take the pressure of a growing baby. Also, like all major operations, a caesarean section carries the risk of infection, bleeding and adverse drug reactions.

Many women I have spoken to have hobbled around after a Caesar waiting for strength to return to their abdominal muscles. They would gladly opt for a vaginal birth next time. Some women feel ripped off because they didn’t experience natural birth, others are simply more interested in the faster recovery rate of natural birth.

Caesarean sections are not always a negative experience. A friend of mine who is a singer had invested a lot of time and energy into preparing for a natural birth. She attended all the right classes, read all the recommended books and had a group of support people coming into labour with her, including a Hawaiian masseuse. She laboured beautifully for twentyfour hours and then, when she was eight centimetres dilated, her cervix went on strike. Her cervix would not dilate any further no matter how many different positions she tried. The mother’s small pelvis prevented the baby’s head from moving any further down into the birth canal. Without the assistance of this downward pressure, the cervix was unable to continue dilating. It was the classic case of the baby’s head being too big to fit through his mother’s pelvis.

The decision was made for a Caesar. It would have been easy for her to collapse into a heap, upset that a Caesarean was not the way she had planned to give birth at all. But she didn’t collapse. All the strength and courage she had gathered for labour she applied to the Caesarean. None of her support people were allowed into the operation except her husband. He sat with her, holding her hand, pushing her hair back off her face. The operating theatre was cold and white and she was trembling underneath the sterile, green sheets. She took a deep breath and began to sing. She tells me the acoustics in an operating theatre are amazing and that her caesarean birth was, after all, the beautiful spiritual experience she had hoped for. I was born by caesarean section. My mother laboured for twenty-four hours with only gas for pain relief; her cervix only opened to three centimetres. I was delivered via emergency caesarean section. My head was the shape of a figure eight from trying to squeeze into a pelvis I was never going to fit through. I have a big head to this very day. Without a caesarean section I wouldn’t be here, and neither would my mother. So there are times when a caesarean section is life-saving and the only way a woman can give birth. Most mothers and babies, however, are much better off if their babies are born the way nature intended.