Tag Archives: Pregnant

The Pregnancy Lottery

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We all know that one pregnant girl that may as well join the ranks of the many beautiful pregnant celebrities we see sprawled on the front pages of the magazines. That one pregnant girl we all know that was one of the lucky ones. That one pregnant girl we all know that won, ‘The Pregnancy Lottery’. Winning amongst the thousands, the ‘The Pregnancy Lottery’ winning ticket, like no other ticket, allows a woman to bypass all vomiting, all cellulite, all swelling, all blood noses, all yeast infections, all stretch marks, all moodiness, all bloating, all incontinence, all acne, and all that is linked to the misery that can be and often is pregnancy. The ticket enables them to continue wearing the shortest of short shorts, showing off their cellulite free, perky and toned buttocks. It enables their boobs to remain in their correct pre pregnancy position, miraculously growing in size and giving off the appearance of an overnight boob job, rather than looking like what can only be described as two ill positioned cow udders. A ticket, allowing them to continue their current exercise regime, although lucky enough to down scale their two hour a day gym session to a half hour, as miraculously their metabolism is back to that of a five year old and they are finding it hard to put on weight, despite chowing down nightly on a full block of Cadbury chocolate. Their hair suddenly has an amazing similarity to that of Rapunzel, their skin like the after shots on a corny before and after Clearasil advertisement, their ankles fankle free enabling them to sport the highest of heels, and for some even luckier few, a ticket enabling them to actually pull off a bikini, without looking like an oversized hippopotamus. 

But for others, and probably most women, pregnancy is not always that glowing time that the celebrities, and that one lucky girl you know who won the pregnancy lottery would have you believe. In fact for some, pregnancy is one of the toughest and hardest times in their life.

So what defines a tough pregnancy? I think the answer to this question would differ significantly for anyone that has ‘been there’. It might be fluid retention, the impact of previous miscarriages, migraines, morning sickness, high blood pressure, hair loss, weight gain, weight loss, pre eclampsia, stress, acne or lethargy. Or maybe it’s nothing to do with the actual pregnancy at all and you just have some other stuff going on in life that is making it tough.

For me, I had two whole weeks where I thought maybe my ticket had been drawn. Two whole weeks that after getting through all the testing to confirm that it was not an ecptopic pregnancy, I began planning what I would do with my lottery win. I was genuinely on top of the world and busy planning how I would go about sporting my soon to be bump, planning my new found clean eating and pregnancy friendly exercise regime, and just generally basking in my new found pregnant status, determined to remain looking and feeling fabulous. 

My winning ticket however was short lived. At around the 7 week mark I started feeling a bit off, and within days progressed to what I can only describe as what it must feel like to be in hell – I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum, also known as acute morning sickness. 

I went off work, unable to function beyond vomiting and sucking on Hydralyte ice blocks. With the celebration of being pregnant well and truly over I contemplated how I was going to live with the possibility of having nausea and vomiting for the next 8 months.

After exhausting all other medications, it was suggested that I go on a drug called Zofran, or its generic name ondansetron. Known to block the actions or chemicals in the body that trigger nausea and vomiting, Zofran is generally only used to prevent nausea and vomiting caused by surgery or medicine used to treat cancer. Although assigned to pregnancy category B by the FDA, recommending Zofran only be used during pregnancy when benefit outweighs the risk, we did find one study in Denmark suggesting no negative affect.

Despite our findings and after much deliberation my husband and I decided we would hold off on taking Zofran, if for nothing more than at least the first trimester. As we were holding off on the Zofran, we went on to try every remedy known to man in the hope of subsiding the vomiting. I tried Hydralyte, Gatorade, lemons, hard boiled lollies, fruit mentos, walking, sunshine, flat lemonade, yoga, ginger beer, ginger chews, ginger tea, ginger biscuits, ice chips, acupuncture, swimming, almonds, cider vinegar, relaxation, sea bands, aniseed, vitamin B6, dry crackers, raising the mattress, the yoga tongue pull and licorice. But there was literally nothing that gave me any reprieve to the constant vomiting and nausea.

The next 5 weeks was an absolute blur. All I can remember is laying on the floor thinking I was surely going to die. I could not watch television. I could not read. I could not speak. I could not move. All I could do was vomit. I did not care about anyone or anything else. I was completely consumed in my own misery. So much so that my husband, a very practical and matter of fact man, would often attempt to pull me out of my own self pity. On one occasion I recall him telling me that I was not the first person to have ever suffered such horrific pregnancy related sickness, and that there are many other women that are in fact a lot worse off than I. Now a smarter man would have stopped there, however my husband, being my husband, then went on to tell me that there would no doubt be women living in remote African villages suffering from HG, however despite being so sick, still had to push themselves up off the dirt floor and out of their wooden huts to walk 10km to the nearest river, only to then have to collect 50 gallons of water to which they would perch on top of their heads, before carrying it back to the village. As you can imagine this did not go down so well and needless to say my husband’s future attempts at drawing me out of my misery were a little less inspiring. 

When 12 weeks came and went and there was no change to the monotonous hell I was in, with mixed emotions I started on Zofran. Despite not eradicating the constant nausea, nor getting rid of the daily vomiting, Zofran did manage to take the edge off and above all else it enabled me go back to work.

Having HG really took its toll, not just physically but also mentally. Sadly not only for me but also for those around me. For what should be one of the most happy and joyous times in your life, it is beyond devastating to be feeling so miserable and unhappy for such a long period of time. One of my biggest fears during pregnancy was that having HG would scar me for life. That my new found miserable state was my new normal. And that even after the arrival of our baby I would not know how to be myself anymore. I recall that I literally couldn’t remember what it was like to not feel so sick, to not constantly feel nauseous, and to remember what it felt like to go just one day without vomiting.

Thankfully a lot of exposure has been brought to HG in recent years. And now people have some understanding of the toll it can take. It is however a hard illness to have diagnosed and as you still look ‘normal’, often people will fail to believe or understand how very sick you are. Although I suffered with both vomiting and nausea right up until the moment our beautiful baby boy was born, there are other HG sufferers that are a lot worse off than I. Many regularly hospitalized, many needing permanent IV’s or pumps to administer both fluid and medication, and tragically there are even some women so sick that pregnancies are terminated. 

Despite it having been an extremely tough time in our life, as every woman will tell you that has had a rough pregnancy, every ounce of pain and suffering suddenly seems pretty insignificant when you finally get to gaze into the eyes of your newborn. I certainly haven’t forgotten what I went through to get here, and to be honest my pregnancy has certainly made having a newborn a walk in the park, however I guess I know now that no matter the journey, we are ultimately all winners in the end. And what is most ironic, the more women I speak to, even women that I was convinced had won the Pregnancy Lotto, have shared with me their own rough journey, and I have concluded that maybe ‘The Pregnancy Lotto’ doesn’t even exist. That maybe ‘The Pregnancy Lotto’ is something we have just manufactured in our own heads. Maybe us pregnant women really are all the same, just on different journey’s but all ultimately leading to the same prize.

The ‘ultimate’ delivery

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Embarrassingly enough to admit I was one of those women that prior to even falling pregnant, scrolled the internet in search of the ‘ultimate’ way that upon falling pregnant I would go about breaking the wonderful news to my husband. Now I have watched many a romantic comedy, and as much as I loved the idea of seeing a positive result and instinctively letting out a blood curdling scream from our bathroom, to which my husband would come running, only to have me throw the urine covered stick in his face , and us both break down in tears, I knew that I just wasn’t the screaming type. So I was tossing up between placing three peas in a small box, to which I guarantee my husband would have had absolutely no idea of what that meant, returning to where my husband proposed and playing hangman in the sand (yes, that is how he proposed, kinda quirky, but definitely very cool), or buy my husband a pair of baby Volleys, again to which he probably would have had no idea what it meant.

But life for us was not like the movies would have you believe, nor was it like what it appeared to be for the hundreds and thousands of women who posted their brilliant, quirky, weird and wonderful delivery ideas on the internet. For us and our journey, despite being really fortunate with how quickly I managed to fall pregnant, my ‘ultimate’ delivery never came to fruition, and as such there were no peas, no game of hangman and no pair of baby Volleys.

I suspected something was amiss whilst at the Food and Wine Festival with one of my best friends. Whilst consuming copious amounts of free cheese and liquor, I began getting terrible tummy cramps. I initially ignored the pain I was in, unable to determine whether the pain stemmed from having devoured 10 kilograms of halloumi cheese, or the mixing of the five thousand different types of booze they had for free on tap.

Upon returning home later that evening, with my mind racing, I decided to access my stockpile of pre purchased pregnancy tests, which women will deny however I guarantee every woman trying for a baby has. So with my one similarity to the movies, I was in the bathroom and did the pregnancy test. And then I waited. And I waited. And then I saw what ‘kind of’, and I say ‘kind of’ because it only ‘kind of’ looked like there was a very faint blue line possibly confirming that I was maybe, ‘kind of’ pregnant. I was convinced I must have being seeing things, and that the blue line was just wishful thinking, and possibly deep seeded concern for the effect that the amount of cheese and booze I had only just recently inhaled may have on an unborn foetus. So I immediately used the other three tests I had in my stockpile. And then I went to the pharmacy and purchased another five. Literally another five. One of every brand that they had for sale, as I was still convinced of my deteriorating eye sight and thought for sure a wider array may have me seeing things a little clearer. Upon returning home all tests however appeared to have the same ‘kind of’ very faint blue line confirming that I was in fact pregnant.

But unlike the movies, there was no blood curdling scream. My husband did not come running and I did not throw a urine covered stick at his head. We did not break down in a joyful heap. Nor did I put three peas in a box. There was no game of hangman and there was certainly no purchasing of any pair of baby Volleys. To be honest, all there was, was a sick feeling of whether I was in fact pregnant, and if I was then why was I in so much pain. That night I put on a happy face and said nothing to my husband. Not wanting to burden him with my concerns and still holding high hope that I would maybe get to utilise that pack of frozen peas in the freezer (was a front runner in the delivery stakes).

The next day I went to the doctor and my fears came to fruition, he thought it was an eptopic pregnancy. Although it wasn’t confirmed I was absolutely devastated. I called my husband asking him to return home immediately, unable to tell him on the phone. I then in my tearful state broke the news that I was pregnant. No peas, no hangman and no pair of baby Volleys. But despite not being what I had pictured or imagined, it was our reality,  and all part of our unique journey to where we are today.

Pregnancy, birth and beyond

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Life can sometimes be a bit of a tough gig. And being pregnant and giving birth for me was one of those times. But if there is one thing I have come to release over the past couple of years, particularly since trying for a bub and now having our beautiful baby boy, it is that people just don’t talk enough about the tough stuff, the gross stuff and the hard stuff.

We are fed to believe that trying for a baby will be this relaxed, fun filled time with our partner, making spontaneous love on a day to day basis, doing it in the bedroom, the shower, on the beach, in a public toilet and for some maybe even upside down in a tree house. We are fed to believe that being pregnant is a really beautiful time in your life, where you will form a special bond and a real connection with your unborn child. We are fed to believe that we will glow being pregnant, that our hair will be thicker, our skin clearer and we will have a new found burst of energy and a spiritual aura around us. We are fed to believe that giving birth is a natural and beautiful time where music will be played, incense burnt, all while your partner will be giving you a sensual massage setting a serene environment for the newborn baby to be born. That breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world, and that upon placing the newborn baby on your bare chest, they will naturally nuzzle their way down to a breast of their choice and latch accordingly. That once your baby is born you will be nothing but overjoyed and happy over the arrival and will forget all else, including all efforts to get to this moment and all that will no doubt follow, even after possibly pushing a large watermelon out a hole the size of a pea, or possibly having major surgery and your stomach muscles split in half. That you and your partner should be closer than ever after bringing such a miracle into this world, and that you will need to ensure you have at least one date night a fortnight from then on in to keep that love alive. That decisions on circumcision, sleeping positions and when to start solids are easy and that others will respect the decisions you make despite not always agreeing. 

These are all just a few of the misconceptions I had before trying for a bub. And yet if there is one thing I know now is that although these may very well be a reality for some, it is actually not often the case for many others. 

Everyone has there own unique story in getting where they are today, sometimes smooth sailing, sometimes difficult and sometimes outright tragic, but for some reason we don’t openly share that story with other women. And I know people will say, and have said to me, ‘Why would anyone want to hear the bad stuff?’, however recalling how alone I felt after going through a pretty difficult time with my own pregnancy and birth, I have realized that upon sharing my own story, I was not alone. There were in fact others going through or had been through just as tougher, if not a lot harder time than I and yet for one reason or another, we all put on this happy face and acted like life was pretty darn good.

Telling others that pregnancy can sometimes be pretty hard, or that giving birth to a child is generally pretty gross and maybe even traumatic and scary, and that sometimes the aftermath of all these things put together is sometimes pretty tough, doesn’t make you a failure as a mum. It doesn’t make you a weak person. It doesn’t even affect the way you show love or feel love for your beautiful child. It just makes you real.

Why trying for a baby is not always as it’s cracked up to be

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To be honest I really liked the ‘idea’ of trying to conceive. I was certain that between my easy going husband and I, we would be lucky enough to really embrace and maintain our laid back approach to baby making, and it would be a really fun time in our lives. I was genuinely convinced that we would not be one of those couples that would become completely consumed by trying to fall pregnant. In fact I was determined that that we would not be one of those couples.

There was no way that I wanted to be one of those couples that started consuming copious amounts of caffeine before intercourse to assist the speed of my husband’s sperm. Convinced that we would not download ovulation apps on our phone, or start scheduling in our love making, inevitably making it a chore. I was convinced we would not incorporate a ‘baby dance’ in our love making session, where I would raise my legs in the air after intercourse like an upside down giraffe, nor ever sit and regret not continuing with my childhood gymnastics endeavors that would have enabled me to be able to stand on my head after sex. I was convinced we would make love irrespective of the moon being full nor would we ever endeavor to travel to the corner of the Earth just to rub a penis like statue and appeal to the fertility Gods.

But once we started trying to conceive, or as we liked to put it, were open to having a new addition join our family, you suddenly start seeing pregnant women on every street corner, every friend or friend of a friend is suddenly announcing on Facebook they are expecting, the television is full of advertisements regarding pregnancy vitamins and baby formula, and every time you are making love with you partner, you find yourself wondering whether this is going to be that magical moment, and wracking your brain as to what made that particular time in someway special, so you can plug it in the memory bank to one day reflect back on that beautiful day that your child was conceived.

But despite being convinced I was not going to be one of those people consumed with becoming pregnant, the truth that no one ever tells you, is that the decision to keep it from consuming you is in fact completely out of your hands. And despite not going as far as booking your ticket to rub that penis statue, the truth is that the minute you decide you want to be a mum, to become a family, to have a baby, becoming pregnant becomes the most important thing in the world to you. It’s a bit sad really, that it can’t be that fun filled, adventurous, loving and spontaneous time in our lives that the movies, or maybe just our own endeavors would have us believe. But the real reality is that despite it not being any or all of these things, trying to conceive is going to be something you look back on and cherish no matter how long it took or the way in which you got there, why, because it was all part of your unique journey.