Pretty much since day one the dreaded sickness has been lurking. Usually in the form of a distinct 'funny taste' in my mouth and a hasty run to the bathroom at 5am. Unpleasant, but manageable and little did I know what was coming...
Week 8 saw a distinct change in proceedings. A couple of nights without the sickness led me into a false sense of security. No sooner was I merrily thinking, 'Morning sickness? What a breeze' when BAM! I was hit by the most terrible nausea that lasted all day long. And I mean ALL DAY LONG. Sat down: felt sick, stood up: felt sick, ate: felt sick, didn't eat: felt sick.
There was one incident which is probably best forgotten- that of waiting for a tube on a crowded platform and suddenly battling the violent urge to throw up. Needless to say, it wasn't something I had any control over. The commuters were not impressed.
Week 9 was the killer (so far!) I got to a point, one night last week, where I couldn't keep anything down. Not even water. I became so crazed by the continual trip from bed to bathroom, that I set up camp next to the toilet. Things got so bad that I couldn't see straight - my head was banging and the dizziness was so intense that I collapsed in a heap on the floor.
I was admitted to hospital for three days. Diagnosis: Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Treatment: mounds of anti sickness pills, 7 horribly stingy injections in my butt and seven bags of IV fluid.
All's well, that ends well.