It's official, Australian babies are getting fatter.
A recent study in the Medical Journal of Australia shows the number of baby boys tipping the scales at the hefty four-kilogram mark at birth has increased by more than 10%, while girls have increased by 15%.
It used to be said that chubby bubbies were the healthy bubbies, but in reality, heavier babies are more likely to suffer from a variety of health problems including asthma and type 1 diabetes. One of the reasons given for this increase in tubby bubs is an increase in older mums, and by that, they mean anyone older than 35.
Other possible factors include more expectant mothers having diabetes and a decrease in the number of mums who smoked when pregnant. Adding fuel to the fat debate, another recent study has suggested that childhood obesity could actually begin in the womb.
The study showed that mums who consumed junk food during pregnancy – and not necessarily in large amounts – were potentially setting their children up for a life of liver disease and diabetes. The fact that the study involved monkeys didn’t make me feel any better about the odd pizza that I’d indulged in while pregnant.
Foolishly I thought I had nine months to take it easy – eat to my heart’s content, blame every scatty thing I did on my bump and have little more to do than paint a nursery and buy some cute baby things. But only a few months into my pregnancy and I’ve discovered that being a parent – making the tough decisions and living with the guilt of potentially making the wrong ones – begins when the baby is barely a twinkle in it’s daddy’s eye. Well, perhaps not quite that early, but sooner than I or any of my other soon-to-be parent friends had expected.
Carried out by the University of Colorado School of Medicine, the report’s authors went on to say that a high-fat diet in the womb may affect the “appetite centre” of the brain leading to problems with appetite control after birth. One of the last things any expectant mother wants to hear is that they are making their unborn baby fat.
But then again, you only have to look around to know that as a nation we are getting fatter. Australia now outweighs America as the fattest nation on Earth. About four million Australians, or 20 per cent of the population are now considered obese, compared with
25 per cent of Americans.
In the study, pregnant monkeys who were fed a high-fat diet of potato chips, peanut butter and chocolate then went on to have babies with fatty-liver disease, a potential precursor to diabetes. Their babies were obese by six months old.
Suddenly my occasional treat was going to lead to teenager who needs a liver transplant. Then again, one week of horse riding will damage your future fertility, while the next week working with animals will improve your unborn child’s immune system – I’ve just made these up, but you could easily imagine them in print.
As a woman in her mid-30s, I’ve spent the past five years reading frightening stories about my fertility falling off a cliff, but in the end we were fine.
The idea that I am making my child fat because of my not-so-perfect eating habits is a sobering thought – even before my child is born am I setting him or her up for a life of diets, schoolyard teasing and self-esteem issues?
The occasional fish and chips or chocolate bar now seems less like a treat and more like a fatty timebomb of guilt waiting to go off when my new-born bundle of joy grows into a hulking tot. I could already see the disapproving looks of other mothers and hear the clucks of reproach from healthcare workers.
So here’s the rub. I thought I had the full nine yards to go before I had to worry about being a parent, but already I am experiencing the loss of autonomy that many of my friends with children have told me about. Some nicely: “You have no time to yourself , but it’s wonderful and really, you don’t mind.” And the others not so nicely: “Your life is over.” With a hefty side order of self-induced guilt: “A few squares of chocolate can’t do that much harm, can it?”
But perhaps this is Mother Nature’s way of preparing me for the real thing. An exercise in letting go of my own needs and desires and putting the baby’s needs first.
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» www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/wellbeing/