(Week 10, by LMP)
After taking those pills all last weekend, I decided not to take them during the week, since I don’t know what they’re doing to you in there. By 11am on Monday morning, I had vomited 7 times, and all I could taste was bile. My stomach was hurting; I was shaking, and went to sleep. Daddy was trying to cope with Ameli and trying to work, so when I woke up, I took the tablet, and have done so for the rest of the week.
I’m a bit apprehensive of writing this letter today. Thing is, I don’t want you to carry any guilt, or any negative feelings about your conception or pregnancy, so it would be easier not to tell you how I’m doing right now. Â The truth of the matter, however, is that your sister, and maybe some day you, if you’re a girl, need to know about this illness, and need to know that it can happen to you too.
So, Mommy has this disease that only affects me when I’m pregnant. It’s something to do with hormones, and my body not liking the pregnancy hormones, and as they get stronger as you get bigger, I get sicker.
Well, we â€˜ve had some week, haven’t we? No sooner did I finish writing your letter last week saying thanks for the no sickness, than guess what? I had to do a runner for the toilet. It didn’t stop either and by Thursday I was vomiting bits of blood in the bile. I went to the doctor and asked for something to help me and I was given some tablets. I’m sorry about that. I hate that I have to be on pills when you’re busy growing. It really doesn’t sit well with me, but I hope you’ll be okay from it.
I spent a bit of time today surfing the ol’ world wide web, just catching up on reading that I’ve not been able to do for a few days due to extreme sickness, and read an article on actress Kate Hudson who had a successful VBAC this weekend. While that’s fantastic news, it was her comment about pregnancy that struck the very core of me.
Hyperemesis Gravidarum. No, I’m not swearing at you but if those are words you are familiar with, I won’t be surprised if you just flinched.
I remember when I was pregnant with your sister, there were weeks where it felt like I was in limbo, like nothing was happening. With her, week five wasn’t it. I’d been throwing up for days. With you, however, I get the occasional wave of nausea, and there are foods the thought of which turn my stomach, but so far, my appetite remains healthy, if a little reduced, and importantly everything stays down.
These early days are really difficult because there’s no evidence of you, I
know you’re there, but I’ve not seen you. Heck, by the time I was five weeks with Ameli, I’d had two scans â€“ this time, I’ve not even seen a midwife or a GP. I’m still waiting for them to phone me back for an appointment. Apparently they’re not as worried about the mum-to-be second time round, as we already know what’s going on. Fair enough, I guess.
So, really, there’s not a whole lot to tell you. You’re tiny right now â€“ your heart, which should start beating this week, is the size of a poppy seed, and you look a little like a tadpole. Your major organs are starting to develop, and I’m just praying that everything goes in the right place, and forms properly. How I feel about you doesn’t change, you’ll always be my baby, but it would make for an easier life if you’re healthy.
I’m looking pretty normal, although less of my hair is falling out, which is a bonus, as I was starting to worry that I was going bald. I’m thrilled to not be having periods again â€“ I’ve only had five in over two years now â€“ bliss. I’ll start taking photos of my belly soon enough, but at the moment, my normal belly fat is just protruding a little more. I’m definitely already showing more than I did last time though.
I’ve had to resist the urge to go out to the storage and bring in the big box of new born clothes. Fortunately we didn’t know Ameli’s sex till a little after she was born, so we have plenty unisex new born goodies. They really don’t need to be washed and put in the cupboard yet though, do they! There’s time yet, but I look forward to planning for you.
Well, Squidgy, thanks for not making me too sick so far. It’s been nice to just get on with business as usual.
Love you already, my little tadpole baby.
My favourite piece of writing* in pretty much all of literary history is the poem â€˜If’ by Rudyard Kipling. There’s something about his admonitions to his son that speaks to my very heart, and the phrases:
â€œIF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;â€
I was invited to an event the other day, because as a ‘natural parenting expert’ they valued my opinion. Well, the event came and went, but I’ve been thinking about that whole ˜natural parenting expert’ thing a lot. Here’s a confession for you:
I’m not a parenting expert, I’m not a natural parenting expert and because I have mentors who seem to have it all together, I’m painfully aware of where I fall short of the mark.
The problem is, because there are these women and mothers I look up to, I sometimes feel ashamed of my own short comings. So much so that I often can’t write or contribute where I’m supposed to because I feel like a fraud. So this is my confession. Here are the places I fall short of my own mark.
Hello beautiful girl,
Yesterday you turned 21 months old, and right now, I think of you and little butterflies flutter in my heart and bring a smile to my face. I wish I could formulate words to tell you how perfect I think you are. Of course, you’re a toddler. You refuse to pick up your toys when I ask you, and turn your head away pretending you can’t hear me when I ask you to go call Daddy for me. You’re by no means â€˜perfect’, but you are my perfect little girl.
I’m your mommy. I found out about you a week ago, and I’ve been wanting to write to you and welcome you, but I must say, I’ve been so busy it’s been hard to sit down and find a gap to form the thoughts in my head into words.