Tag Archives: puke

Morning Sickness: FFS

Hyperemesis sufferers! You have my utmost sympathy and total admiration.  Now those women, they’re “mom enough“*.

I, on the other hand, was a trembling lame fawn in the face of the glaring headlights of morning sickness.  Or all day sickness, whatever you’re having yourself. My first trimester was my looniest by far, initially driven by the crippling fear that something bad would happen after waiting so long to get pregnant and then quickly replaced by the 11 week hangover that was morning sickness.  The relentless, banging hangover that could not be soothed by a huge fry, vat of tea and a two hour kip in the afternoon.

I spent a lot of the first trimester praying, which as an atheist was most uncharacteristic to say the least.

Oh God, please don’t let any cars drive past as I’m retching into the neighbours bushes.” (This prayer went unanswered.)

Oh Jesus, please don’t make me have to run off the bus and then throw up on the street in front of everyone.” (Half answered: had to run, but a false alarm)

Oh God, please get me to the end of this meeting without puking on the table.” (Answered, TG 😉 )

Visits to the supermarket were marred in stress, mostly for my husband, as I stood in the middle of the shop sweating while eyeing up the emergency exits, willing my stomach contents to stay down as the different smells from each aisle sent nausea waves of varying intensity through my body and I answered all of his questions with “I don’t know what I want. No, not that. That and that and that. Quickly.” He always maintained a strong silence while watching me fill the trolley with stuff he knew I was never going to eat but also knew better than to question my purchases.

There were days when I could only eat things that were tomato based and then the next couple of days the sight of tomatoes would make me cry. I had a bagful of food on my person at all times which I dipped into at a minimum of two hour intervals in a bid to fend off the illness.  On my return from the canteen one day, with a substantial and varied paper plate of goodies bowing in the middle with the weight of them, a male colleague commented “you’re always eating, do you know that?”, at which point his surrounding female coworkers went into a communal cluck at the cheek of him.  I, meanwhile, was too sick to respond and instead went back to my office and tried to curl up under my desk.

Photo courtesy of www.priorsrec.co.uk
Photo courtesy of www.priorsrec.co.uk

Morning sickness ruined a lot of things forever for me. There are a few things that even now make me get stick in my mouth a little when I come across them. This beautiful handwash which I had in the bathroom and had absolutely loved the smell of.  It won’t darken our door again.  Chanel No. 5, my signature scent for 10 years, gone forever. As I mentioned in my post about music, Horse Outside gives me the wobbles, as do both the Matt Cardle cover and Biffy Clyro original of Many of Horror (but there’s a non-morning sickness related case to be made there…).

When the fog finally lifted at the end of week 16, I was like a new woman and unbelieveably grateful to the universe for this new healthy body that let me eat. Thankfully it didn’t return towards the end of my pregnancy, which for some reason was a threat that other women loved to dangle over my head when I was feeling well. Thanks ladies.  Sometimes when I get a twinge in my ovaries from the hold of a newborn baby, I remind myself that I’ll probably have to go through all that again and I know I’m not quite ready yet. 🙂

* Obviously, we’re all mom enough, I’m just being a smartarse. 

There was poo

So my birth story and my post on TMI, leads me nicely on to this catchy headline!

There was poo.

Look, I’m cringing writing this but we need to talk about poo.  It happens all the time in labour apparently.  Tracy Donegan has a lovely paragraph in her Gentlebirth guide about how midwives love to see poo because it means your baby is nearly here.  They see it all the time and usually just whisk it away before you even know its happened.  I remember reading that when I was pregnant and taking a small bit of comfort from it but really being mortified by the thoughts of it.  I also remember having a conversation with the only close friend of mine who had had a baby about how she had been a puker during labour but didnt land a number 2.  I confessed that I feared that I might be a puker too because I tend to be anyway but secretly in my head I was thinking that I might be the horror of all horrors, a puker and a pooer.

I was right, I was!

In fairness, my labour was very fast.  There was very little time for my body to do anything other than to purge itself really quickly to prepare for the arrival of my little man.

The puking started once my active labour kicked off.  Suspecting this might happen, I had cunningly purchased a Tesco value white basin in advance for 99 cent and boy was I glad I did.  The nutritional lunch I had just eaten to give my body energy for the labour, thinking that I would be at this for hours, violently came back up and nothing else passed my lips except for small sips of water through a straw which was generously proffered by my husband between contractions as I hung over the side of the birth pool.

The pooing came at the end when I was close to delivery.  I won’t lie and say I’m totally fine about it.  My scientific brain knows that it was perfectly natural and that it happens etc etc.  But my emotional brain reminds me that it happened in front of my husband.  The man I practice making babies with.  Who has never even seen me pee.  But he was and is ridiculously mature about it and totally unphased which is very cool.  We laugh about it sometimes.  But still I wish it didn’t happen but hey, what are you going to do?  I have a beautiful baby boy who’s the best thing that every happened to me and has changed my life forever.  A little poo is a happy trade off.

Related links:

My birth story

Music for the soul

In praise of muslins

Putting away the laundry, I just realised that the 30 odd muslin squares that we have seem to be staying in the drawer for a long time instead of making their daily appearance in the washing machine.  Who’d have thunk this day would come?

Ah, the muslin square, I’ll remember it with affection.  A new parent’s best friend.  Always within arm’s reach.  There to catch the puke, mop up the puke, over Dad’s shoulder, under Mum’s boob, over Mum’s boob to stem the flow of an over enthusiastic nipple shooting across the room.  A makeshift bib. A face cloth. A handy stemmer of the flow of little boy piddle when you turn your back for a second to reach for a fresh nappy…their usefulness is endless.  You can never have too many in those early days.  Praise the muslin!

PS I have IKEA ones.  They rock.