When I’m not lying in bed clutching a vomit-filled ice cream container, you’ll usually find me outside running, tending to my veggie patch, hiking with my husband in the local National Park, or spending time with our 1-year old daughter, Bronte.
I dream of one day discovering some as yet unknown skill or invention that will make me millions. But at the moment I’ll have to be content with having a writer’s mind that wakes me at unsociable hours, and refuses to shut up until I have furiously scribbled the words onto paper. I guess with being both left-handed, and labelled a ‘daydreamer’ by an early primary school teacher, that this is to be expected.
The past three years of my life have flown, and meandered by. I travelled the world with my boyfriend (who became my fiance on top of an isolated mountain in the South American desert), moved to the Southern Highlands of NSW, stepped up my career in media, entered my first half marathon, married, purchased our first house, fell pregnant, became a mother, set up a proofreading and editing business (please don’t take the largely unedited ramblings of my blogs as my ‘normal’ polished product!), entered my second half marathon and first biathlon, and became pregnant again.
Despite becoming parents earlier than expected, (one year into married life) we adore our growing family. During my first pregnancy in 2010, I suffered severe hyperemesis gravidarum, and was off work for four months. I’d never been severely sick in my life. The first and only operation I’ve had was to give birth by caesarean as Bronte stubbornly remained breech for the entire nine months. Now, two months into pregnancy number two, I am off work again indefinitely and estimate that after both pregnancies we will have lost nearly a year’s income due to HG.
Thankfully, the human brain ‘forgets’ pain such as HG over time. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be going back for seconds! This time around, I am keeping a diary of the experience for several reasons. To share my story with other HGers (let’s face it, this story is far too depressing for healthy, non-pregnant, non-vomiting people to get into!), to use it to look back on so we absolutely don’t break our determined resolution to stop at two children, and to fill in the hours and hours of absolute boredom while lying here bedridden, nauseous and yet, insatiably hungry…