Getting Fat in the Name of Pregnancy

How Love, Doctors, and Laziness Turn a Healthy Woman into a Lifetime Patient

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INTRODUCTION: THE DAY EVERYTHING CHANGED

She was a normal woman.

Fit enough. Medium weight. Could run for a bus.

Then she got pregnant.

And suddenly —

Her mother-in-law became a nutritionist.

Her husband became a silent feeder.

Her doctor became a walking fear factory.

And her own body became a festival of food, fear, and fat.

By the third month, her saree didn’t fit.

By the fifth, she needed help getting up.

By the eighth, she was obese — but everyone clapped.

Because in Karnataka, pregnancy is no longer about birth.

It has become a license to rest, eat, and avoid responsibility.

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PART 1: THE FIRST TRAP — DOCTOR’S INSTRUCTIONS

Modern doctors, especially in private clinics, start early:

“Start protein powders.”

“No fasting. Not even for a few hours.”

“Three big meals. Two snacks.”

“Keep eating. Don’t let your stomach go empty.”

“Avoid walking too much. No jerks.”

“You must gain weight. It’s for the baby.”

And the woman — innocent, trusting — obeys.

Even when her hunger is missing.

Even when she starts to feel bloated.

Even when her digestion screams for rest.

The doctor gives pills, powders, and protein.

Not once does anyone ask:

"Are you actually hungry?"

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PART 2: THE SECOND TRAP — FAMILY LOVE = FORCE-FEEDING

Now the mother, grandmother, and in-laws join:

“Tinnamma. Magu beleybeku.” (Eat. Baby has to grow.)

“Don’t walk too much.”

“Sleep after meals.”

“One banana morning, one banana night.”

“Ghee in every bite.”

“Hot rice and jaggery daily.”

“Oats are for sick people. Eat proper meals!”

Soon, food becomes an hourly ritual.

She eats even without hunger.

She eats when she’s full.

She eats when she’s bored.

She eats when she’s anxious.

But no one sees the danger.

Because culturally, a pregnant woman must be:

Resting, glowing, and eating without limits.

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PART 3: WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS IN THE BODY

Let’s break the myth.

A healthy pregnancy doesn’t require huge weight gain.

It requires stable energy, clean digestion, and emotional peace.

But with:

Overfeeding

No walking

Over-sleeping

Sugary drinks and supplements

Emotional isolation

...her body begins to:

Store fat rapidly

Develop insulin resistance

Lose muscle tone

Slow down metabolism

She’s not “carrying the baby.”

She’s carrying the leftovers of mindless feeding.

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PART 4: CULTURE MAKES IT WORSE

In Karnataka, it’s common to hear:

“You must gain weight in pregnancy.”

“Don’t bend. Don’t walk fast. Don’t do any work.”

“Weight loss can happen later. Focus on baby now.”

“If you lose weight during pregnancy, baby will be weak.”

All of this is cultural misunderstanding.

In the past, women:

Walked to the fields

Ate simple meals

Swept floors

Rested after hard work

And delivered healthy babies.

Now they:

Scroll phones

Eat fried rice at 11 pm

Drink boost in milk

Sit in chairs all day

And grow not just a baby, but also 15 kg of fat.

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PART 5: THE BIGGER DANGER — LIFELONG DAMAGE

Once she becomes fat during pregnancy:

She can’t breastfeed well (fat deposits affect letdown)

She struggles with postpartum recovery

She develops belly fat that never leaves

Her blood sugar, thyroid, and blood pressure shift permanently

Her confidence crashes

She feels tired, disconnected, and frustrated

But no one blames the overfeeding.

They just say:

“It’s natural after pregnancy.”

It’s not.

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PART 6: HOW TO PREVENT FAT-GAIN DURING PREGNANCY

Simple, ancestral wisdom still applies:

1. Eat only when hungry.

Not when clock says, not when others say.

2. Walk daily.

Gently, but regularly. Movement keeps metabolism strong.

3. Sleep early, wake early.

Hormonal balance is protected by the circadian rhythm.

4. Avoid white sugar, fried food, and too much jaggery.

5. Use traditional foods in moderation:

Ragi malt (unsweetened)

Fresh leafy greens

Methi, ajwain, cumin-based recipes

Homemade buttermilk, not milk + sugar combo

6. Trust your instinct.

Pregnancy is not illness. It’s strength.

The body knows. The belly knows.

Listen.

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CONCLUSION: PREGNANCY IS NOT A PATH TO FATNESS

Pregnancy is a chance to become more alive, more aware, more connected.

But today, it’s being hijacked by:

False advice

Overfeeding

Lazy resting

And emotional loneliness

A normal woman — healthy and active — is turned into a chronic patient by month nine.

Not because of the baby.

But because of the lies told in the name of love.

Let’s stop this.

Let pregnancy be sacred.

Not a food parade.

Let mothers birth babies — not blood sugar, not bloated stomachs, not regrets.

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It’s Not Just the Baby, It’s the Bloating Too — A Healing Dialogue with Madhukar

CHARACTERS

Radha – 28-year-old woman, 6 months pregnant, recently gained 14 kg, constantly tired, told to eat every 2 hours.

Madhukar – The wise hermit living in rural Karnataka, known for healing truth through silence and words.

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SCENE

A quiet mud hut under a neem tree. Birds chirp. Radha arrives with her mother-in-law, visibly bloated, slightly breathless, holding a flask of milk and jaggery. Madhukar sits, eyes closed, hands wrapped around a mud cup of buttermilk.

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Radha (nervously):

Namaskara, Madhukar Anna…

I’m pregnant… 6 months now.

They told me you help people find peace.

Madhukar (opening his eyes, smiling gently):

Peace is there, Radhe. It’s just buried under sugar, sleep, and too many instructions.

Radha:

They told me to eat more.

Even when I’m not hungry, they say “tinnamma, magu beleybeku.”

I’ve already gained 14 kilos.

My feet are swollen. I sleep all day. I feel... heavy.

But they keep saying “That’s good! You look healthy!”

Madhukar (softly):

You are not feeding the baby, Radha.

You are feeding their fear.

And your own loneliness.

Radha (confused):

Fear?

Madhukar:

Yes.

They fear you’ll fall weak.

So they drown you in food.

They fear something will go wrong.

So they stop you from moving.

And inside, you fear too.

So you chew without hunger.

You sit without peace.

You smile without breath.

Radha (eyes tear up):

Yes…

I haven’t felt light in weeks.

I miss walking. I miss feeling alive.

I don’t want to get fat… but everyone says, “Later you can lose.”

But what if I don’t?

Madhukar:

Then you’ll carry this fat, this guilt, and this lie for years.

And one day, when your child asks,

“Amma, why are you always tired?”

You’ll have no answer.

Because you were too afraid to say no to love that harmed you.

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A MOMENT OF SILENCE. A COW MOOING IN THE DISTANCE.

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Madhukar:

Radha, pregnancy is not a festival of feeding.

It is a return to instinct.

The baby doesn’t need ghee in every bite.

The baby needs a clear, calm mother.

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MADHUKAR’S HEALING GUIDANCE FOR RADHA

1. Listen to hunger.

If you are not hungry, you don’t eat — even if they beg you.

2. Walk every morning before 9 am.

Let the baby feel rhythm, not restlessness.

3. Stop milk with jaggery at night.

Your baby doesn’t want a sugar bath.

4. One bowl of steamed greens a day.

Not for tradition — but for your blood.

5. Sleep early. No screen after sunset.

Your baby grows with your light, not your entertainment.

6. Sit on the floor, eat slowly, chew fully.

Bless every bite. Digest every emotion.

7. Say no gently but firmly.

To sweets. To fear. To fake advice.

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Radha:

But won’t people say I’m being rude?

That I’m not caring for the baby?

Madhukar:

They already cared too much — with laddoos and powders.

Now you care — with silence and truth.

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CLOSING SCENE

Radha ties her dupatta tighter — this time, not to hide her belly, but to support her spine.

She pours the jaggery milk into the grass.

The cow licks it.

She laughs.

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Madhukar (smiling):

Pregnancy is sacred, Radha.

But feeding without hunger is not care.

It’s confusion.

Let your baby grow in a body that’s light, listening, and alive.

Not in a belly stuffed with someone else’s fear.

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---

the weight of two

(but one is a baby, and the other is bullshit)

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they said

“you’re pregnant! eat.”

and she did.

not with joy, not with hunger—

but with fear, boredom, and the silent applause of aunties

who equated stuffing with safety

and swelling with success.

her hunger was gone by week five

but the food kept coming

—

three idlis,

then rava kesari,

a banana,

then hot milk,

then upma,

then lunch with ghee,

then dosa at 4,

then a mango,

then jaggery water,

then dinner,

then haldi milk with almond powder

because someone on YouTube said it was “must during pregnancy”

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her belly didn’t ask.

her mouth didn’t argue.

her hands just obeyed.

she didn’t grow a baby.

she grew a system of denial

wrapped in saffron rice and soft lies.

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she stopped walking.

because the doctor said:

“take rest.”

she stopped lifting.

because the mother-in-law said:

“magu ge effect agutte.”

she stopped saying no.

because if she did,

her family would act like she aborted their blessings.

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they told her she was glowing.

but it was sweat.

and gas.

and the milk boiling inside her like unpaid anger.

they told her she was healthy.

but her knees creaked.

her sleep broke.

and she hadn’t taken a proper shit in 11 days.

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they said it was all “baby weight.”

but her back fat

had no umbilical cord.

her chin rolls

weren’t kicking in the womb.

her upper arms

weren’t craving iron or protein.

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she was tired

and angry

and lonely

but every time she frowned,

they gave her more food.

as if emotional hunger was solved with a second helping of puliyogare.

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they told her

“weight loss can happen later.”

they didn’t tell her

that the weight would grow roots

like a mango tree in a temple courtyard—

too sacred to cut

but too massive to ignore.

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and after the baby came

they still didn’t stop.

“Now your milk should be strong!”

so came the laddoos.

the cashew halwa.

the jaggery balls.

the drumstick rasam.

and the castor oil baths

that felt less like healing

and more like drowning slowly in warm tradition.

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nobody asked if she wanted to go for a walk.

nobody said,

“you look uncomfortable.”

they said,

“you look divine!”

while she itched inside her own skin

and avoided mirrors

like debt collectors.

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her husband was kind.

but quiet.

he didn’t say a word

as she slowly turned from partner

to patient.

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and now,

six months in,

her baby is smiling

but she isn’t.

her thighs rub like political alliances.

her blouse doesn’t button.

and every time someone says,

“you must be so happy!”

a part of her

wants to throw hot sambhar on their clean white shirts.

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pregnancy didn’t ruin her.

pretending did.

pretending that overeating was love.

pretending that movement was danger.

pretending that obedience was devotion.

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the baby was never the problem.

the lies were.

the weight of the child was three kilos.

the weight of expectations, confusion, and cultural overeating

was fifteen.

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she gave birth to a baby.

but also to

hemorrhoids,

pre-diabetes,

emotional constipation,

and the permanent fear of saying “no” to someone offering food with love but no awareness.

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this is how mothers are built—

not in hospitals,

but in kitchens that confuse

stuffing with sacrifice.

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she was once a normal woman.

but now she is

a storage unit for ancient habits

wearing leggings and a dupatta

and trying to smile between burps.

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and nobody sees it.

because she’s pregnant.

and everything is allowed

when you say the word

"magu."