Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Duchess of Cambridge And I Have Something In Common...

Aside from good looks and lovely husbands, Kate Middleton and I have something in common... we both suffered from BAD morning sickness, or Hyperemesis Gravidarum.
Here is an old blog I wrote but have revisited given the news of an impending royal baby and a sick Princess this week.
I have spent at least 60 weeks of my adult life staring into the bowl of a toilet. And that's not even including the four years I drunk my way through, whilst attempting to complete my teaching degree.

That's 60 weeks of riding the porcelain bus, doing the liquid laugh, calling Ralph on the porcelain phone and bowing before the porcelain God. Whatever you want to call it, I had the most severe morning sickness in all three of my pregnancies. The phrase 'morning sickness' causes me to roll my eyes in the most over exaggerated manner. Clearly it was a phrase invented by a man. Because any woman who has experienced this debilitating illness would testify to the fact that it is not only something you will experience in the morning.
The worst part about Hyperemesis is not being able to keep your pregnancy a secret for as long as you would like to, because it is obvious to everyone that something is wrong. I feel for Kate Middleton at the moment, who has to share her news to the world probably sooner than she would like. Alternatively, I am happy she is bringing this condition to the media. It's about time people knew the truth.
Below I have recounted the first 20 weeks of each of my pregnancies.

Baby 1:

I learned I was pregnant (officially) at 5 weeks. I was up in St George with my friend Kym a day or so later and we stopped for lunch. I couldn't eat it. I should have realised something was 'out of whack' then. Anyone who knows me knows that I love my food. But I have really only been in tune with my body since having been pregnant 3 times. That afternoon I arrived home and felt nauseous. This lasted into the early hours of the morning. The actual vomiting started the following day. And then it continued for 20 weeks. But let me get you into the head space of a woman who vomits every day for 20 weeks.

Take the worst hangover you have EVER had. Remember that feeling of not being able to move or think straight. The feel of every movement you make causing the room to spin and your stomach to lurch. And then the actual experience of emptying the contents of your tummy into your little toilet friend. Then multiply that feeling by 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 20 weeks. And I was lucky. Some women have it even worse.

I lost 6 kg in two weeks. And on my frame, that is really something. My face was gaunt and I looked like death warmed up. Sleep is your only respite. Your waking hours are spent counting minutes between your visits to the bathroom. If you can even make it that far. I became very well acquainted with a bucket.

One morning I woke up and just cried and cried. I wondered how much my body (and more specifically my baby) could take? You get dehydrated (I couldn't hold down water, let alone food of any description), and that starts to do funny things to your mind. I was starting to wonder if any baby could possibly be worth all the 'pain'. Of course, having had 3 babies, I know it is completely worth it. But in that time and head space, you really do wonder. It does become a mental thing. You become more and more dpressed. You wish it would all end, and you you hate yourself for not being stronger. I have an aunt who sent me a book on 'morning sickness' and potential remedies. People suggested tea, and crackers and ginger, but nothing was working for me. I couldn't even hold down water. But the book did help, in that it made me feel like I wasn't alone. It even spoke of some women who cannot complete the pregnancy for the reasons I described above. I truly sympathise with those women. You can't imagine how horrible things can be for them. ANYWAY... On the morning I woke up crying, I decided enough was enough. I checked myself into the local hospital. I needed to be hydrated, or something! Several hours later I sat alone in my own room, hooked up to a drip, dosed up on Maxalon (an anti nausea tablet), and crying. CP had gone home and I was to stay here for at least one or two nights to be monitored. It was a low point.

I took time off work and spent the next few days learning to eat food again. Potatoes seemed a safe place to start. Twice a day, I would heat up a small potato in the microwave, and sprinkle it with salt and pepper. And that became my staple diet.

I remember being curled upon the lounge in the foetal position during that period, staring at the television. Too weak to move, too sick to do anything. Penny Wong starred in an ad on calcium at that time, and to this day, even seeing that ad (or Penny Wong for that matter) takes me back into a dark space. I don't like it. Even writing it now is kind of giving me a headache!

This behaviour dragged on. Eventually I returned to work. I borrowed a bean bag from the library at school and used to have little naps in my lunch breaks. I was too weak to make it through a full day on 2 upright legs. I took my 'Sheila Kitzinger Pregnancy and Childbirth' textbook into my classroom and was fully prepared to answer any and all questions my high school students would throw at me. To my pleasant surprise, even the worst students were sympathetic to my condition. It was lovely. I took a 'spew bucket' into my classroom and kept it behind my desk 'just in case.' I used to threated my students with threats like 'If you so much as put a foot out of line, you will have to come and sit up here behind me with the spew bucket.' It seemed to work.

Gradually I was sucking on ice blocks and then biscuits and eventually things were back to 'normal'. The remainder of my pregnancy was incident free, and I would even go so far as to say I glowed. Nice.

Baby 2 and Baby 3:

We had weddings we were attending in the early stages of both pregnancies. We had hoped to keep the pregnancies a secret until the magic 12 weeks, however morning sickness set in for these pregnancies as well, and since we didn't want to disrupt either wedding by having people speculate about my frequent visits to the bathroom, failure to consume litres of free alcohol and inability to eat, we told people very early on.

I didn't require hospitalisation with Baby 2, however I checked myself in for 'rehydration' with Baby 3. Maxalon became my best friend. And there is something really strange about having a toddler hold your hair back from your face and rub your back when you are lurched over a toilet. Goodness knows what my two eldest ever thought I was doing!

We renovated our house during my pregnancy with Baby 2. My morning sickness factored into our designs. I insisted on an ensuite close to my side of the bed, so that my midnight and early morning dashes wouldn't be too far from my bed.

Being in public is also traumatic if you are suffering from this infliction. You can never trust a public toilet. (Having to place your head anywhere near where people defacate is enough to make you vomit even if you aren't already feeling nauseous.) I could only do my grocery shop immediately after I had vomited, so that I knew I would have the time to finish it in one go. And given that we live an hour from the supermarket, my drives to town were fraught with frequent stops on the side of the road. I can still point out all the places I have ralphed. Charming.

On the upside, the last half of all of my pregnancies were perfect. Perhaps that was my good karma for the first 20 weeks. I feel desperately sorry for those people who suffer from this illness until the moment they give birth! I also have some of the best, fastest and easiest labours and births of everyone I know. I walk out of hospital weighing exactly the same as what I weigh when I learn I am pregnant. (Except that it maybe hangs off my frame a little differently). So everything equals out. The good with the bad.

And all you have to do is look at that tiny baby once to realise that it was all completely worth it.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Behind Every Good Farmer...

Several years ago our little family was holidaying in Maleny. We were enjoying the lovely weather from the verandah of our hotel room, when Miss (then) Four struck up a conversation with the man next door, who was also outside enjoying the weather with his wife.

"How old are you?" Miss Four asked him innocently.
"I'm 35." He replied. "What about you?"
"I'm 4. And how old is your mother?" She continued, to peals of laughter from him and not that much laughter from his wife.

Or the time that Miss Five asked her ninety-something year old great granny if she was 'nearly dead', to which great granny replied 'one foot in the door my dear!', before bursting into a giggle.

I write things like this down all the time. I blog about them and I share these little anecdotes online for my friends and family. I want people to remember them, and I want to look back and laugh at all the funny little things my children said and did, so that I don't look back in years to come and wish that I had.

I also take photos. My middle child once drew all over our new cream bed sheets with a black marker pen. I was furious, but still managed to stay level headed enough to take photos, before dragging her in to our room and hauling her over hot coals for it! I knew that one day I would laugh about it. Definitely not on that day, but one day nonetheless.

"Am I going to be in trouble for this?"

"Well... this one over here is..."

"And this one over here is..."
Oh wait... number three has done this before as well...
Yes... I mean you...

Because I take the photos, I am rarely in any myself. Unless I beg someone to take a new facebook profile pic for me, I will always be the mysterious photo taker behind the lens. Thankfully I have a group of social networkers around me who ensure I have the occasional photo taken too.

It seems to be (more often than not) the women who are set on making and recording memories of their family. The Farmer could tell you how much rainfall we've had over the last three years, and what the price of wool is doing this year compared to five years ago, but will struggle to remember birthdays, anniversaries and other important family information. He's not being slack, it's just that his brain prioritises things differently to mine.

In rural communities, it is the women who do the lion's share of the fundraising too. The school P and C, the Kindy parent group, the CWA, the show society; whilst all have men who will help out (and who do a fantastic job I might add), it is the women who seem to keep things flowing, and who ensure that the organisation stays on track. The men are more hands on when it comes to getting things done, whereas the women seem to stick to deadlines and offer gentle reminders, and tend to the minor details; the essential details.

I never cease to be amazed by women who manage to keep their house and families running, and then they either go to work or join a bunch of committees to pour any remaining time and energy into! One minute these women are out playing with children and making lunches and washing clothes, and the next they are cooking sausages on a BBQ for a school fete, and baking scones and cakes for the Christmas in the park.

I have been the driving force behind many of The Farmer's ventures, and find that it often ends with me in a crying heap on the floor. I often wonder if it's easier to hide from committees if you live in a city? And then in the next breath I remember that without women like me to offer some community spirit, energy and effort, small communities become a very quiet place indeed. And so it is that we keep going with our baking, catering, quiz nights, tuckshop duties, show committee roles, and stalls. And really, if it means we all get to hang out and bask in the glory of female company with like-minded women, how bad can it really be?

I once read that 'behind every good farmer, is a wife who works in town.'

But I also believe that behind every good farmer is an even better wife, regardless of where she is.

PS. Pop over to my Promotional Offers and Giveaways Page to see if you can score yourself some stocking fillers for Christmas! x