I had spent several weeks researching conception on the Internet. In my opinion, there wasn’t very much information on pregnancy and childbirth and I found myself reading and rereading the same articles time and time again between phone calls with my clients. I read that my husband, George*, had to eliminate alcohol from his diet which would prove a little difficult considering it was his birthday on the week I would be most likely fertile. I had to make sure he drank his one coffee a day and protect his precious sperm from overheating by not restricting them in tight pants. I suggested he start wearing boxers but to George, boxers were for Versace models and not for Greek builders. Everything I read stated Zinc levels were to be up and so I sought the assistance of 2 naturopaths who both agreed that I purchase a [Mega-genics] Zinc Drink but George said only Louis Vuitton models consumed Vitamins and Minerals.
I began taking folate tablets 4 months prior to the planned fertile period. I ensured my individual private health insurance was taken out early to meet the waiting period of 12 months for obstetrics. You can never know if you’ll have a premature baby and find yourself paying out the entire costs of going private. I was lucky that my work had a corporate no-out-of-pocket obstetric insurance plan that only cost me $600 which I thought was too good to be true but signed up anyway. I remember being so concerned I’d have to pay close to $10K in fees out of my own pocket that I hounded the company until they confirmed the agreement in writing.
On my next pre-conception shopping adventure I purchased a little microscope gadget, which could determine when I was ovulating based on my saliva. I moved my husband’s 33rd birthday party forward to ensure that he wasn’t drinking during our conceiving attempts. So the practicing for the baby began. We were passionately making love morning and night regardless of where we were. I remember on one occasion, we had dinner at George’s folks house and retired to his old bedroom for pure baby making sex. For the first time in 13 years with George, I was finally bored of lovemaking. I didn’t want to have sex after that week but of course continued to for the necessity of Australia’s population dilemma. Who else is going to fund our retirement?
Within 3 days, I started to feel queasy and nauseous and I knew I was pregnant. George said it was in my head because I wanted a baby so much. Considering it was our first try I never considered that my mind would conjure up feelings of morning sickness. I did plan that moment for 6 months and did everything I could in terms of our lifestyles, diets and finances but I never thought I could make myself nauseous because I didn’t really think about morning sickness that much. Infact I planned to have a fit pregnancy and never gave morning sickness much thought. We visited our local Dr and did a pregnancy test and found out that I wasn’t pregnant. It was such a surprise to my husband when I told the Dr that the urine test was wrong, as I was certain I was pregnant. Dr P informed us we could go back after my period was due and try again and that’s exactly what I did. It was Easter Monday and I walked 20 minutes to the Dr surgery even though I was quite unwell and this time found another female Dr who made me to do a urine test again and this time it came out positive. An overwhelming feeling swept over me and I began to cry out of happiness. I was going to be a mum or was I already? Dr Norris asked if I had been trying for very long and when I responded with a No as we were blessed the first go, she responded that I was going to be one of the greatest mothers. How kind of her.
Within a few days, I was bombarded with distaste for everything. Almost the smell of anything made me heave. I couldn’t travel in the car without feeling uncomfortable and unwell. I recently received a huge promotion at work where I was fortunate enough to get more than double my previous salary and the opportunity to fly interstate and live it up in the best accommodation. I was able to maintain my professionalism although I felt extremely under the weather. I lost my colleague support and couldn’t tell anyone about my pregnancy as I felt if I told them that I knew of the pregnancy and still applied for the role, I would be discriminated against and maybe have my key accounts taken away from me and if I told them it was an unplanned pregnancy then I’d feel I was lying about the “want” for this baby and I couldn’t do that so I chose to state I had an appendicitis problems. I have been raised under the superstition of not telling others of an impending pregnancy until after 3 months so I couldn’t even share that with my old friends who still worked two floors up. I felt alone and overwhelmed with wanting this baby so much and also wanting my career to continue to flourish now that I had this wonderful lucrative position as a Technical Account Manager.
Within 10 weeks, I was unable to hide my sickness at overnight conferences I was unable to drink and talk to colleagues and customers without having to take a break. I could no longer tolerate the outside night air that was expelled from fire places throughout Sydney, I had severe heartburn, felt like my insides were empty and only brushed with bile juice, my esophagus was bleeding from all the vomiting and I no longer enjoyed anyone’s company. I started to push a lot of friends away from me as I couldn’t handle them seeing me this way and I was embarrassed of the state of me and my home. I quit my job after 5 years with the company without an explanation. I simply stated I was too unwell to continue.
The morning sickness continued and I gave up trying to fight it. I didn’t have any energy left in me. I had lost 5 kilos, which wasn’t too bad considering I was a little overweight to begin with. I became anxious that my baby wasn’t absorbing the required nutrients to thrive as I was unable to keep food down long enough. I started to stress about this fact and called a counselor I found in the front of the yellow pages but after numerous attempts to speak to them, I was unsuccessful and I’m still waiting for their return phone calls. As I was unable to cook for myself and the only food George was able to make for me was toast, most meals he ate were horrible stinking takeaway foods. Food I once loved now smelt like rotten garbage.
I could no longer watch Big Brother, as the sponsors were KFC and Pizza. At that time they certainly didn’t advertise salads. I couldn’t understand how I used to eat food like that without a salad! As salad was the only food I could tolerate, I thought that the answer to my problem was easy, find a way of buying salad and make it at home but George was pathetic with shopping and cooking and unfortunately I was advised by our hospital that there was a listeria risk with pre-made salads. As we lived so far from family, I had to rely on George who worked 12 hours a day and spent another 2 hours in traffic to feed me and my baby. To combat the nausea, I found that eating a little bit of food (which may mean one bite of toast) would work but my body was so hungry I would scoff 2 toast and then I was at it again - paying homage to the china bus.
I could no longer tolerate wholemeal bread and it would scratch my already raw esophagus and I disliked skim milk which I had enjoyed drinking since I was a teenager. I could only tolerate full cream milk. This alone was a big shock to me. I also couldn’t drive past a coffee shop because the smell of coffee could have me throwing up all day. Tea was another enemy. My biggest concern was I was completely dehydrated from all the regurgitating that I knew I had to replace the fluids I lost but by this stage, I had developed a phobia for water. It was frightening to look at. In hindsight this sounds bizarre. I found a substitute. George was on consignment to deliver 2 bottles of Gatorade / Powerade from the local service station on his way home every night and I would gradually drink by straw the sugary alternative to water but I had no choice. It was either that or risk my child’s health.
The vomiting became unbearable. Although I had always been a natural person, someone that refused to take paracetemol, I desperately wanted an answer to this nightmare that felt like a lifetime of torture. I tried Blackmores Ginger tablets that did alleviate the vomiting from 6 vomits to 1 vomit a day, which was a relief. I was so sad for mothers in developing nations who weren’t as lucky as me to have the relief of these tablets. I felt almost guilty. However, within a week these supermarkets sourced tablets no longer worked.
Although I was previously concerned with the effects the Blackmores Ginger tablets would have on my unborn child, I was so unwell I was open to any suggestions about a solution to my violent illness. The Dr recommended Maxolon, which apparently was safe and had no proven side effects for 20 years but that wasn’t comforting enough for me. I had read on the internet it was a teratogen on mice and refused to listen to the facts that spelt out the benefits far outweighing the risks. They didn’t work anyway, I still felt sick and was so drowsy on only half the prescribed medication (I thought if I took half the prescribed pills then the possible risks to the baby would be reduced by half). I was unable to communicate with George, unable to focus on anything and slept all the time or just stared at the ceiling. I was too unwell to watch TV or read a book. My life was in solitude. I started becoming withdrawn and sad. I wanted a mother figure in my life. I was scared. George didn’t know what to do. I know he meant well as he is the kindest man I know with the best intentions but he wasn’t supporting me the way I needed.
So I stopped taking the tablets and that was a relief because at least I was able to watch television again even if I couldn’t really concentrate on it. At least I wasn’t just staring at a ceiling for 16 hours. There was a show that was on television about an Italian family and that gave me 1 hour of happiness. When the show was removed from commercial television, I found cable TV, which was a lifesaver for my sanity. Everything I said I’d never do and there I was with cable TV and I didn’t feel guilty one bit. I felt I needed and welcomed all the help I could get which told me I was maybe getting a little better.
George and I booked into the 3 month Ultrasound which I very anxious about. After all I had been through I was extremely concerned the Dr’s would tell us the baby was unwell and should be terminated. I couldn’t bare the thought. I was nervous until the sonographer said the baby looked wonderful. I cried again and thanked her and God endlessly.
At about 4 months into the pregnancy, I began to travel 50 minutes to mums house to be treated like a princess and waited on for 2 hours. I did that once a week. Although I was extremely sick to some, I was much better and able to leave the house. I was getting better and my spirits picked up only a tiny little bit but enough to notice.
I was still unable to take the suggested Pregnancy supplements, as I couldn’t even bare the thought of swallowing them. I still had thoughts that everything had listeria in it. I was scared from all the warnings during pregnancy. I tried to stop reading everything but I was a magnet to anything written, read previously or not.
I focused only on pregnancy, a little bit of labour and even less about babies, toddlers and children in general. I became so enthralled with the subject and had few people to talk with since I had stopped working. Although I was booked into a private obstetrician (who mind you charges through the roof), I also received complimentary visits to the public hospital I was booked into. I didn’t mind waiting 3 hours and having to move my car from the 1 hour parking lot just to speak to a professional and check up on the baby. I think it came down to getting some contact with the outside world. So, looking back, I became a neurotic, Dr seeking pregnant woman. I was always at the hospital but I also met some wonderful people through the Yoga and Pregnancy fitness classes. I also met a pregnant woman addicted to methadone and I felt so angry that her child was addicted to a drug because of her actions. This really opened up my eyes to what health professionals must struggle to deal with daily.
My mind was always on the health of my baby, I would walk to the front garden and wanted so much to garden but because I feared toxoplasmosis, I believed that gloves would not protect my baby from it and I would breathe it in and swallow it. This was during the soil scare in 2003 on potting mixes. So I borrowed some pregnancy fitness videos and books from my local library and that was a whole 2 days of fun. I read more although I had to reread things several times to process the information. I felt frustrated by my lack of memory and was unable to string a sentence together. I spoke in short sentences and avoided adjectives, as it was all too difficult. I was once a respected IT Engineer and now I was a waffling pregnant overweight woman. I had gained 20 kilos (or 25 if you include the weight I lost in the beginning of our pregnancy). I was informed I was glowing. Yes maybe from all the preservatives in the ice cream I consumed daily. Hmm hindsight is such a lovely thing - I can see what contributed to my excessive weight gain.
I met up with another pregnant friend who was consuming red wine with her prawn and feta cheese dinner. She seemed blissfully unconcerned about all the scares but I felt if I was privy to the information and if I didn’t follow the recommendations and something happened I could never forgive myself. A few weeks later, I met up with another pregnant friend and we both ate everything they served us at Fox studios. Our husbands were watching us gorge the entire table in awe. We called it our Master Copious-Food Consumption Feast via Osmosis.
My older sister conveniently had a fight with her husband and came to live with us when I was about 5 months pregnant. I enrolled into a short 6-week course at TAFE wearing huge big winter jumpers and choosing to hide my pregnancy in class and showing off my bump outside of class. I remember having the best week with her over. She cooked for us every night and tidied up afterwards. I was so happy. Although I wanted her to be happy and return to her husband, I was so happy with her over. She was a wonderful mother figure who provided me with 1 entire week of happiness. I remember asking her to ensure my eggs were not yolky or runny (another fear) as I was pregnant. She followed orders alright. She came back to me with a plate of the toughest, hardest egg omelet you’ve ever seen - so tough one could barely swallow it. I looked at the plate, looked up at her and she seemed so eager to make me happy that I started eating the almost burned eggs.
Walking was so difficult at around six months. My legs hurt, my stomach ached, my feet killed and I had to rest every 2-5 minutes. I was lucky to have such patient family members with me who understood the aches and pains of overweight pregnant woman. (I would highly recommend if you have nausea to eat small healthy meals with very little sugar or you will find you may request a wheelchair to get around).
George also took me to a lovely hidden place named Akuna Bay for lunch. What a beautiful day out that was. It was exactly what the baby in its second trimester ordered. I was told by the good intentioned visitors that I looked like I was carrying twins but I didn’t know if I wanted to hear that. I also knew I didn’t want to hear my baby was little. I think people who like to comment on the size of a pregnant woman’s belly should think twice as it has negative effects on us emotional and mentally unstable people
At 7 months I decided I was going to move into my mother in laws and do it slowly. Slowly enough so she wouldn’t downright disagree to having George and I live with her for the next 3 months. It was the best decision I could have made. Her house was lively. We went about doing things together from curtain making to planning dinner parties at her house. It was wonderful to have a friend again. I had every meal shopped and cooked for me, all housework done before I woke up, entertainment on hand all day long, all house bills paid for. I started helping out with my husband and his fathers business and I was always busy. I saved thousands of dollars in the business by shopping around for cheaper car necessities, workers compensations expenses and other business overheads. It was fulfilling. A fulfillment I hadn’t achieved since I left my job at 10 weeks pregnant. Old friends came to visit, new friends came to visit, it was close to the city and so much to do and see. Mangos were plentiful in their two fridges and from that moment on I swore to love my mother law until the day I die. I think she thought I was the daughter she never had. Our home was collecting dust while I was making up for a lost enjoyable pregnancy.
At 41 weeks and 4 days into the pregnancy I couldn’t tolerate the feeling of pregnancy any longer. It had been the longest wait of my life. I had anticipated I was going to be as lucky as my friend and have the baby at around 38 weeks but my baby was 11 days overdue and I was desperate to get it out. I was disappointed at 39 or 40 weeks when my obstetrician advised me our baby girl hadn’t engaged and the woman he saw before me had dilated 2cms. He said that was most likely because she was fit and I felt he told me that because he was never happy with my excessive weight gain (I had reached 104kg and only 5”2 tall)
It was the 30 December and although I was happy that my baby’s birthday wouldn’t land on a busy day like Christmas where her special day would be overlooked, I was a still over the whole pregnancy and I had waited my 41 weeks which felt like a lifetime of waiting. I had waited enough for 3 babies – staring at walls stretches out 41 weeks to 3 years.
**** optional *****I went into the hospital and mentioned my Dr was on holidays but informed the staff that he had advised me to go in that day to have the baby checked out. I was still vomiting and the general unwellness continued till delivery. I was so over the pregnancy I was emotional yet had the strength to insist on an induction (if only I had known what this meant in terms of agony). Had I been in the public system they would have sent me back home but as I mentioned my Dr insisted I be induced that day (which I don’t honestly remember him insisting this – infact I don’t remember anything he said other than get checked out. The only information I was certain about was dates I asked him to write down on a piece of paper). The outcome of labour may have been different had I not been so persistent with my demands.
*****optional *****As we walked into the labour ward, I reminded my husband of my written birth plan, no drugs unless I ask for it, don’t allow anyone to offer me any. “I can do this without any assistance as I always do”. Only after the induction of a gel did my waters break. I was then rushed upstairs to the labour ward where I instantly began having major intensified contractions (thanks to my stupid demands), hot showers for hours on my front and back (I didn’t feel guilty about the water wastage I tell you), I couldn’t stay still, the pain was so intense but I couldn’t hold myself up during the contraction. As I was so unwell during the pregnancy, I was extremely weak and unfit and had very little muscle left in me. It felt like I had taken 3 breaths in the labour ward when I insisted on GAS IMMEDIATELY. After I returned to the bed to lie down, the midwife placed a bag of syntocin to expedite the contractions, which absolutely felt like a bus was running over me time and time again. I don’t remember there being a long enough break between contractions to speak. They felt like they were coming one after another. I managed to scream out Epidural. Amongst my biggest fears was having an epidural but at that time I didn’t care!!! My husband looked into my eyes and knew I wasn’t to be fought with on the subject at that time. He just asked are you sure and I was able to say “yes, remember I asked for it, it wasn’t suggested by the midwives” which was our rule. 16hours into the labour with the assistance of Mr Lovely Epidural and a top up, I was advised by the Locum Obstetrician (who oddly enough shared the same name as the female GP who advised me I was pregnant) that the baby was not engaging and I was only 8cms dilated and he suggested while the baby was not in distress I should consider a caesarean. I asked if I could wait a little longer and he said we could wait another 4 hours and see if there was any progress. 20 hours into the labour I hadn’t dilated any further and the baby hadn’t engaged. By this stage, the 10 months, 1 week, 20 hours of labour with the most uncomfortable recording belts around my stomach (the epidural reduces pain a little lower from this point) was enough for me to say “Okay let’s do the suggested c-section – I didn’t want to risk my baby going into distress or an infection.
*****optional*****I was prepped up into a gown. Poor bastards that carried me from my bed to the trolley and back onto the operating theatre bed again. George retrieved the video recorder while I received a spinal tap and a revolting drink, which tasted like battery acid. I was talking and shaking from all the drugs but felt relief that I was going to see my beautiful baby soon. The Dr asked if there were any requests and I said, I want to hear my baby cry so that I know it’s breathing well and within a few minutes of violently shaking and feeling like only a head with a neck, I heard those beautiful cries from my baby. The wonderful midwife who was my strength brought her to me instantly and she was covered in vernix and looked tall enough to be a 3 month old baby. I was instantly in love. She was born alert and attentive and for 3 hours before I came out of the drugs, she spent quality time with her dad staring into his eyes. The vomiting and nausea left me from that moment on. Infact, I went back to the good old me and didn’t need any of the drugs they suggest for c-sections apart from the initial injection of Morphine. I was moving furniture 3 weeks after the delivery.
So looking back, I was malnutrition, dehydrated, isolated, depressed, overweight and anxious to the very end. People have asked me how was my labour and my response was (and this response could have been a delayed reaction due to an injection of Morphine I received) “I could handle the intensified 20 hours of contractions once a week rather than what I experienced during pregnancy”.
Names have been changed because *George insisted on it.
