Pregnancy over 40: managing weight, culture and the suprises of being a mum

Cultural curves and familial flattery

Pregnancy is not a gentle journey. Beyond the swollen ankles, nausea, and stretch marks, my experience over 40 introduced an entirely new set of trials. One moment I felt confident, fit, and optimistic; the next, I was in the middle of cultural intricacies of a Farsi-speaking family while facing an unflinching BMI report.

Being called ‘fat’ by my mother-in-law initially stung. H’s rapid intervention spared me tears, explaining that in her eyes, I was healthy and radiant. Yet, a mischievous aunt let slip, “Aranda kheli charg” which means very fat. It was a stark reminder that cultural nuances are often lost in translation, especially where a pregnant body is concerned.

Pre-pregnancy health ideals

Before pregnancy, I chased the ideals of fitness with the single-mindedness of someone who believed wheatgrass could transform reality. Daily gym sessions, rigid diets, and the occasional over-enthusiastic health food experiment, including a raw barberry incident, were all part of the pursuit. Despite my best efforts, at a size 14–16, my BMI hovered at 28, and the dream of a zero-body-fat figure remained just that: a dream.

Hospital checks and the weight of labels

At my 14-week check-up, the midwife delivered the news: BMI 31. Officially, in medical terms, I was obese. Pamphlets were handed out, guidelines recited, and despite well-meaning advice, the experience was impersonal. Later, writing this post, I was reminded that terms like “obese” can be sensitive; alternatives such as “person in a higher weight body” may be more considerate, especially when referring to oneself.

Hospital tea and emotional landscapes

Emotionally, the visit left me fragile. Tea became my anchor, a small ritual to steady nerves amid pamphlets and medical advice. Aspirin for pre-eclampsia was recommended, a measure that felt incongruous with the happiness I imagined pregnancy should hold. Cultural phrases, like Ajab asp! (literally “blinkered horse”), helped me translate my feelings: the guidelines were rigid, but they did not define me.

The birthing centre and BMI realities

Later, at the birthing centre, water birth was ruled out due to hospital guidelines on high BMIs; an elective caesarean was offered. Emotional emails, meetings with consultants, and the induction process followed, each decision weighed against my weight rather than my readiness. It was a stark illustration of how medical frameworks often prioritise tick-in-the-box tactics over individual experience.

Delivery and perspective

The delivery suite was cold and clinical. Pitocin drips, epidurals, and the strict environment were challenges in their own right. Yet, despite the trials, Cyrus arrived, 8lb 4oz, perfectly healthy. My sister-in-law’s affectionate term, fandogh koocholoo (“little hazelnut”), softened the clinical edges of having to have a forceps delivery, reminding me of the gratefulness that ultimately mattered more than any BMI chart.

Reflections on pregnancy and weight

My pregnancy may have been defined, in part, by numbers on a scale and medical classifications. Yet the lasting takeaway is clear: it culminated in one healthy, happy baby. For anyone navigating pregnancy over 40, or grappling with the scrutiny of weight labels, remember this: you are the central figure in your story, whatever the metrics may say.