Month two began with drama. What’s a pregnancy without a terrifying episode?
A few days after the pregnancy test, I developed stomach cramps which got steadily worse. Slightly upset, I called the doctor. “I’m pregnant,” I sobbed loudly.
“Congratulations!” replied the startled receptionist on the other end of the line. “Aren’t you happy?”
“I am,” I wailed, “but my stomach really hurts. Can I have an emergency appointment?”
“No,” came the reply. “Go straight to hospital, head for the early pregnancy unit, and have a scan.”
I wailed some more, exited work sharpish and called S to come and meet me.
Three hours later I was having my first, very early, scan.
“Everything’s fine,” smiled the consultant. And then a surprise. “You’re five weeks pregnant.”
The home test had said I was only two weeks. In fact, month two was well underway. S beamed and happily snapped a photo of the blob on the screen. I asked if it was twins (they’re in my family), the consultant said it was a possibility, and then S looked a bit less happy.
I had no sickness in month one. Amazing. I thought I’d escaped. Month two, not so much. One yuck-filled morning, I woke up at 5am with a feeling inside me best described as a combination of squelch, poison and Lucifer. An hour later, S found me slumped over the toilet and surrounded by own effluvium like a rock star after a night on the tiles.
S, rather surprised by this display, picked me up by the armpits and carried me back to bed, where I enjoyed the luxury of a whole half-hour’s sleep before having to get up for work.
Intense nausea has continued throughout the month, all day, every day. Sometimes, I haven’t even been able to throw up, which has been even worse. The only plus side is appreciating S’s patience. Anyone who can listen to his wife burp, retch and moan like a dying elephant and still find her attractive is a good man.
Well, either that, or he’s been wearing earplugs on the sly.
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