I’ve been fascinated by stories of women who gave birth to a baby…without even knowing they were pregnant! Have you read any of them?
As a mother of three, and Hyperemesis Gravidarum sufferer (click the link for my story – not for the faint of heart!), I can’t help but wonder how someone can carry a pregnancy to term, without knowing they were pregnant?! The idea just totally baffled me.
Until last night.
Last night was the night of all nights. The mother of all pain. I honestly thought that this was it, I was actually pregnant – and didn’t know it all these months – and tonight I was going to deliver a shiny new baby on my bed and turn to my husband like “Hey! Check this out! You’re a daddy again!”
So what happened?
Well, it all started late Tuesday evening…the kids had gone to bed and it was relatively early (at 11pm) and I took my trusty eye mask, rubbed some oil behind my ears and settled down to sleep.
A few hours passed and I woke up with stomach pain. Which led to terrible sickness. I’ll spare you the details but needless to say, I did not get very much sleep after that. When I did finally sleep, I slept a LOT. In fact, I can’t really recall Wednesday. Though I know somewhere in-between sleep I was blogging. That’s dedication for you.
Thursday came along and I was feeling very weak and worn out. I had barely eaten anything since Tuesday and my body was angry about it. So I decided to try eating some toast.
So far so good.
A few hours passed and the kids were hungry, so I cooked some battered fish and chips. The fish was not gluten-free (And I should be on a strict gluten-free diet.) However, still feeling energy-less and looking around at the piles of dishes to wash up, I thought I’d save energy and time and just eat some of the kids’ food.
Bad. Idea.
The fish was really greasy and on a delicate tummy, that’s probably the worst thing you can consume – except you know, drinking a bottle of acid. Within a few hours I started to get a weird ache in my stomach.
I was propped up on my bed typing messages to my sister as we were designing book covers for two of my upcoming books. (More on that soon!) When I felt like I’d sprained a muscle in my stomach or something. I bent one way, curled up in a ball, stood up, stretched out and yet the pain continued.
The ache turned into a burning pain that traveled up to my chest and my mouth tasted – quite frankly – like vomit.
It reminded me of the good old days (Ha!) when I was heavily pregnant. You know, when the baby’s foot is pressed up under a rib and a hand squeezes the stomach sending bile up the oesophagus to the back of your mouth. Oh and how it burns.
So what did I do? I took a swig (or two) of Gaviscon liquid – which is a testament in itself of how desperate I was because drinking that stuff is akin to drink ball of cotton wool. Then I took some digestive enzymes which have never failed me before. And I waited for the pain to settle down.
Unfortunately as the evening came along, I was stuck in bed in the foetal position daring not to move. The kids climbed into bed with me, along with the puppy, and we watched 5 Minute Craft videos on YouTube.
Once bedtime came along, tears were forming my eyes as I grit my teeth and tried hard not to make a sound while the boys hugged me goodnight.
I took an anti-acid tablet, a drop of CBD oil for anxiety and gulped down loads and loads of water.
Here…comes…the….pain!!!
Once the kids were in bed, I rolled around in sheer agony. The pain was so intense, it felt like I was being speared by a red hot poker stick, right through my heart. The pain came in waves. Just like contractions. It was weird because it wasn’t really stomach pain at this point because most of the burning radiated from my diaphragm and my chest. Ross was deliberating whether to get me seen by an out-of-hours doctor, but I figured this was just a bit of indigestion that’s now brought on a panic attack. Last thing I wanted was a doctor to tell me it’s all in my head.
With each pain, I couldn’t breathe. My head felt like it was going to explode. Each time the pain faded, I passed out.
I’m serious you guys, this indigestion business is NOT fun.
Then come the tears. The “I wish my dad wasn’t dead” tears. My whole body was wracked with grief that I’d bottled up for months and months – thanks to me deciding people were sick of me telling them how sad I am that my dad died. It all came spilling out.
I was in emotional, physical and mental agony. And I actually thought, ok this is what a heart attack feels like. This is where it happens. Grief has finally taken hold of me and I’m going to die.
Yet here I am! Not dead! So how did it all calm down?
Well, Ross was amazing. He held my hand, hugged me and talked me down. Kind of like how a kind passer-by might talk to a person who is standing on the edge of a bridge ready to jump. He lowered my panic levels just by asking me gentle questions and reasoning (“Well, the house hasn’t fallen down yet so don’t worry about that”) and I took another anti-acid tablet which seemed to start working.
I was able to get up and get ready for bed, so I settled down and Ross gave me a Priesthood Blessing. I don’t remember the words, but I remember the feelings of peace and comfort I felt as soon as he ended the prayer. He gave me a kiss on the forehead afterwards too.
I slept well and woke up feel better. Although I feel like I’ve been to Mordor and back. But wow, I just want to say, WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT PAIN???
Was it Acid Reflux, Grief and Panic? Stomach ulcer? Gallbladder flare up?
I’m now too scared to eat anything again. (She says, 5 minutes after scoffing a plate of beans on toast) But you know…it was terrifying.
Anyone else suffered with anything like this before? I’d love to know your top tips! In the meantime, I know I wont be eating battered fish anytime soon.
Laura
XOXO
