For twenty weeks. Twenty of the longest and hardest weeks of my life I was floored, suffering from extreme morning sickness. It was something I absolutely did not expect or prepare for. I'd had sickness before with the others, sometimes quite badly, not wanting to eat and feeling nauseous. But this was in another league. I literally could not get out of bed. I couldn't be a mum to my kids - I couldn't even hug them. If I ate it left me feeling revolting but if I didn't eat the. hunger pangs left me doubled over. The worse thing of all was the darkness. The insane feelings of sadness. Of not wanting to have to go through another day. I sound dramatic and I felt guilty. I wasn't 'ill'. I didn't have a disease. I was carrying a baby. I was blessed. But the truth is I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Yet here I am a month on, up and about, feeling okay. Tired, itchy and big, but I repeat and take in the words 'I am up and I am out'. I am cuddling my kids again. I am here. I'm starting to feel our baby kicking me and the reality of what is happening is sinking in. The excitement slowly gathering pace as I plan our future with a soft hand caressing my bump. In some ways I'm panicking a little too. This is the last time I will do this I am sure of that and so I want to be able to relish every moment and fulfil every pregnancy dream I have - whatever they are, but I know they exist. I want to make the most of the moment, the magical moments of growing our baby. For all that I have been through those first four months, I am so grateful I have been given the chance to find my own happiness in this blessing.
