It's been an hectic Summer; aside from the usual beach outings, eating of copious amounts of ice-cream, picnics, walking and craft days things got a bit hairy about half way through. I'l take you back to the beginning of August; it was such a glorious day we decided to take our pooch Daphne, out for a sroll early in the morning and so set off at around 8am. By 8.45am I discovered that my house key had gone missing so after retracing our steps (a bit like the bear hunt, swishy swashy, swishy swashy) we headed back to the house to see if any of the three doors had been accidentally left unlocked. Ummm no. Not today. (Damn my obsessive door-locking behaviour.) Not to worry, I tell the children our next door neighbour has a key so we'l just wait for her to return and let us in.
We waited- rather patiently for a four and five year old in fact, for her return where she produced a set of keys, a set of keys which turned out not to fit any of the doors. Apparently, the old occupier had changed the locks without telling anyone. Joy. So, off we went to bug somebody we knew who lived near-by. Please note- that I was unable to call for help as my mobile phone and purse were inside the house, my husband being off-site that day with no way to reach him. Eventually, having out stayed our welcome by about two hours we toddled back home to wait for my husband's return. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, in the distance I saw a bike, a most welcome site to my ever-rumbling tummy (I'd been feeding the children canned rice-pudding from the campervan) and my rather numb backside from being sat on concrete for hours. As the bike approached, my heart sank, it was not my husband but my neighbour. Where was my husband?
Panicking slightly, I asked to use their phone, and rang my husbands mobile- bearing in mind he had finished work two hours prior. My very flustered spouse answered the phone demanding to know where I was and why I hadn't answered my mobile or the house phone? After explaining (yes, I am aware of my idiocy, thank you) my situation I hear the news that my husband is at his parents awaiting an ambulance for my father-in-law who has pneumonia. What a blooming day!
This was just the beginning; the pneumonia developed into sepsus which meant a gruelling 17 days in hospital for my dear Father In Law, most of them in intensive care. Thank goodness we had our fuel economic and nippy Citroen to run my Mother-In-Law and husband to hospital every evening. Oh no, wait...
A few days after the locked out situation, and we had the happy occasion of a wedding to attend. After the church ceremony we returned home to prepare for the night do. On parking the car I struggled to get the key out of the ignition, calling my ever-handy Hubby over to help, he forces the key out, grabs some WD40 and smothers the key in it to prevent it from sticking. Much to the bemusement of ourselves, this didn't work. The key would not, under any circumstances, go into the ignition. It's a good job we had two vehicles I here you say; yes we do. If only I hadn't parked our now unusable car (with the steering lock, locked on too, rendering it unmoveable) in front of the closed garage- blocking our other vehicle in.
Cancelled wedding, cancel trip to see my parents, cancel anything not possible on foot or on the bus and queue lots of extra problems getting to our local hospital (which is over 20 miles away). Two weeks later and the nice mechanic up the road moved and fixed our car and we even managed to spend a few days on the lovely Isle of Mull before the children went back to school. Aaaah.
About a week later I'm greeted with a smell which completely turns my stomach, my husband walks into our bedroom having consumed a pickled onion about twenty minutes prior. I am asleep but that smell wakes me from my slumber, 'have you been drinking vinegar?' I shout, being most displeased that my nostrils are on fire with the stench. (I am very unreasonable when half asleep.) As I settled back down I am struck with a familiar feeling and the uncanny and disturbing reality that I am pregnant.
As demonstrated in my previous two pregnancies, I'm a bit allergic to the HCG hormone which floods through your body in high quantities in early-pregnancy. Hello sickness, my old assassin who has reappeared to make my life a living hell for a few months. Let me put it plainly, Hyperemesis is not 'morning sickness', it's a debilitating and dangerous condition which leaves a pregnant woman unable to eat or drink for months. Thankfully, and perhaps in part to HRH Kate, awareness of HG has risen substantially since I was pregnant with my first child and the help, support and treatments for the condition has improved dramatically.
I was looking forward to an Autumn of tackling DIY, decorating, marathon training and novel writing now that my youngest has started full-time school (don't get me started) however, now that HG has reappeared I'm lucky if I can even get the children to school, forget my lovely time-boxed timetable and say hello to days of constant sickness, where even lifting my head from the rim of the toilet is exhausting. I know HG is hard, I know I even get fed up with hearing myself complain, there are days where I tell myself I can't do it and at those times I wonder if it will ever end? However, it will and I can. By pushing myself through the next hour, till tea-time, till tomorrow I am bringing myself closer to meeting the tiny life that's growing inside me. My child. Come back to me in a years time and ask- is it worth it? The answer will always be; yes.