I was nine weeks pregnant when I told my brother that I thought I was dying. I was lying on the sofa, clutching the phone and whispering that I could barely eat or drink. The conversation scared him. He told me to go to hospital, so the next day I did. I felt a fake among all those properly ill people — until the doctor admitted me and immediately put me on a drip.
I was ill for the entire pregnancy — at 20 weeks I felt so dreadful that I seriously considered an abortion. This was the baby whom I now adore to a ridiculous extent. Back then, however, he was already making me more ill than I had ever been.
I was suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum, an extreme form of morning sickness. It is potentially life-threatening (one theory is that Charlotte Brontë died from it); sufferers feel, and are, sick most of the time and soon become dehydrated. It is thought that 0.5 to 2 per cent of all pregnancies are affected by hyperemesis, and it can be very serious. Many people’s symptoms disappear by 20 weeks, though mine continued all the way through, both times I was pregnant.
No one is sure what causes it but hormones could be responsible. And if you’ve had hyperemesis once, you’re likely to get it again, usually worse.
The morning sickness came on incredibly quickly: I had just found out that I was pregnant when I started feeling unwell. By seven weeks I felt properly ill; by eight, most of my time was spent in bed or throwing up. Within a week I was in hospital.
Advertisement
A scan confirmed that the baby was fine and then, as well as the drip, I was prescribed anti-sickness drugs. It was difficult to argue when the consultant told me that the baby would prefer drugs to malnutrition. I lay in hospital for five days, being pumped with water and deciding whether I really wanted another baby after all. There was such a long time to go, and I had already been pushing my adored daughter away, unable to cope with her when I felt so awful. As it turned out, Jessica spent much of the following months playing by herself.
How can I properly explain how ill I felt? Saying that I felt awful every second of every single day still doesn’t describe the magnitude of it all. What I really wanted was to be put in a coma and woken up when the baby was ready. I tried acupuncture and homoeopathy but they made no difference, and by the time I went for my “checking-in” appointment at the hospital at 14 weeks, I was convinced that I couldn’t manage for another 26 weeks.
But I had to manage so I did, sort of, though I became increasingly lonely. My husband would take Jessica out at the weekend and I was left alone. She told my mother and me that she had two mummies — she’d invented another one because I was obviously no longer enough. It was a blow, but not as much as when I told her that I would come with her and her father for a walk and she said she didn’t want me to.
People close to me were dismissive (“she’s not the only person to have morning sickness” was one comment) and I felt fraudulent. After all, I was ill for a good reason but how could I compare myself with people with “real” illnesses, such as the friend with breast cancer? Mine would end, with, I hoped, a healthy baby. The combination of it all — illness, guilt, wondering what people thought — led to increasing depression.
It was also hard for my husband, who had no idea what to do with me. My diet was unusual, to say the least: bread (not toast; I couldn’t swallow it), mild Edam cheese, Dairy Milk, Twiglets, carrots and a very expensive fruit called a granadilla.
Advertisement
Brushing my teeth made me throw up immediately; I couldn’t bear cooking smells and was continually asking my husband to open a window — even in winter — and light aromatherapy candles. I was also strict about what he could eat. I would recoil if he had eaten anything with onions, garlic or chilli for his lunch at work. This may all sound like a bizarre joke, but at the time it was a nightmare.
Nor could I help to pay the bills — I was self-employed, barely able to work, but I still had to pay for the part-time childcare. Friendships, too, were affected. Some friends simply disappeared, only to reappear once I was better.
By the end of last year I was very, very low. Someone suggested that I look at a hyperemesis website, Blooming Awful (www.hyperemesis.org.uk), but I found it unremittingly depressing. Its stories of women who had opted for abortions because they felt so terrible somehow pushed me to the edge.
I was about 20 weeks pregnant by this time but felt that it had to be me or the baby. This was a planned, much-wanted second child, yet I seriously thought about terminating the pregnancy. I just didn’t feel that I could cope for another 20 weeks.
My hospital consultant helped. Not only did she listen with sympathy, but told me that I needed to ask more people for help, particularly to tackle my loneliness. And she prescribed strong pills, ondansetron. The tablets, usually given to people undergoing chemotherapy, are meant to stop sickness. They weren’t a cure but they did take the edge off. When you are that low and ill, 10 per cent can make all the difference.
Advertisement
The next few months were grim, nonetheless. My daughter started morning nursery and, though generally happy, would often tell us that her legs didn’t work or that she couldn’t join in because she couldn’t bend down. Staff at her nursery were worried about her constant mentions of the “babies in her tummy” who were making her ill.
Having sworn that I would never have another Caesarean section, I begged the hospital for one. I wanted this baby out as soon as possible, and at 3pm on April 28 my son — a beautiful, healthy, golden boy — was born. I cried with happiness. Gradually the nausea faded away.
Six months later I have just about come to terms with everything — and want to reassure others that they can get through it with the use of drugs, can even eat rubbish and still produce a gorgeous, healthy baby. My daughter is completely back to normal and my relationship with my husband is how it used to be. And my son is the most adorable boy ever.
But I know that I could never be pregnant again, so I’ve had my tubes tied. It was not that hard a decision to take, as I have been blessed with two wonderful children.
Coping with nausea during pregnancy
Advertisement
Morning sickness usually affects women early in their pregnancy, and generally disappears by 20 weeks. More than 80 per cent of women experience it to varying degrees. There is no “cure” as such, but there are a number of remedies which may help. These range from the traditional (making a “tea” with grated fresh ginger, a well-known nausea antidote), to the more modern Preggie pops (lollipops made with essential oils, mothersbliss.com).
Other options include: