What if I were pregnant now?

Working with women as they prepare for motherhood has been one of the great educations of my life. Nearly twenty years in this space — thousands of birth stories, thousands of women, thousands of babies — gives you a lot to ponder.

So I've been pondering.

Like most of us, I have felt the full spectrum over the years. The fierce broodiness and the equal and opposite gratitude that my children are older, more self-sufficient, and that the hardest baby days are behind me. The thought of going back to the baby stage, as people always call it, brings genuinely mixed emotions.

Part of me knows with absolute certainty that sleep deprivation at nearly 46 would finish me off. My nervous system has been through enough. I am not sure my sanity, my body or my marriage could survive another round of 3am wake-ups.

And then another part of me mourns it. The joy. The weight of a sleeping baby on your chest. The love that is so fierce it's almost painful. Looking back at photos and videos of mine when they were little, it was all so utterly precious — and part of me would do it all again in a heartbeat. If only you could bottle it.

The last chance saloon

They say that as a woman approaches menopause she becomes extra fertile again — nature's clever last attempt to continue the line. I am something of a living example of this theory.

My mother thought she was experiencing the menopause when she bled pretty constantly for over a year. She was 40, had three children already (aged 15, 13 and 6) and when the bleeding stopped she assumed that was that. Except she was also six and a half months pregnant with me. I literally took the last chance available to arrive in my family — and to this day I have absolutely no idea how she didn't know.

Some of my dearest friends have become parents for the first time in their late 40s and early 50s, and it is wonderful to watch them thriving. The term "geriatric mother" needs to be quietly and permanently retired. The body, when nurtured, well-fed, well-rested and given half a chance, can be as vital and strong at any age. I believe that completely.

What I would do differently

If I were pregnant now, here is what I know I would do.

I would slow everything right down. Not as a concept — actually, practically, structurally slow it down. I would leave work at the start of my third trimester. I would do yoga twice a week and proper relaxation every day. I would have massages — regularly, unapologetically. I would treat my body like the extraordinary thing it is rather than an inconvenience to be managed around my schedule.

I would work part time once the baby arrived — I actually did do this by creating LushTums, so I could do every school pickup and every school trip and every holiday — but I would do it even more intentionally now. Because I know, in a way I couldn't have known in my twenties, how fast it goes. You blink and they're teenagers. You blink again and they're leaving.

I would savour the night wakings. I know — I know. But those 3am moments when the whole world is asleep and it's just you and this small perfect person who needs only you — they are actually precious. You don't know that when you're in them. You know it later. I'm telling you now.

What I know now that I didn't then

I would bring a different kind of wisdom to it. More grounded. More patient. Less interested in what anyone thinks. Happy to parent in a way that is true to my heart rather than borrowed from someone else's handbook.

I would remember that our children are our greatest teachers. What we haven't resolved in ourselves will absolutely come front and centre when we have children — they reflect us back to ourselves with startling accuracy. They don't do what we tell them. They do what we do. So if you're seeing something in your child that worries or frustrates you — it's worth asking, gently and honestly, whether it might have started with you. That's not a criticism. It's an invitation. When we do the work on ourselves, the behaviour around us often shifts too.

And I would let go of mum-guilt completely. What an extraordinary waste of precious energy. If guilt is pointing you towards something that genuinely needs changing — change it. Apologise if you need to. Then let it go. Carrying guilt around doesn't make you a better mother. It just makes you a more exhausted one.

If you're pregnant now

You are in one of the most extraordinary seasons of your life — even on the days it doesn't feel like it. Slow down. Do less. Ask for more help than you think you need. Get into a pregnancy yoga class and let yourself be held for an hour a week. Read less internet and trust your instincts more.

And know that the women who've come before you — including the ones teaching your classes — are quietly cheering you on.

By Clare Maddalena — LushTums Founder, Senior Yoga Teacher, Doula & Antenatal Educator