Gifts

Sex for procreation is different than normal sex. It’s more moving, more intimate, and (thankfully) sexier! The anticipation of him coming, really coming, inside me, turns me on. And when he does, I feel as though he’s giving me some wonderful gift. I feel so thankful, and so loved, that he would do this for me - that he would give me the most precious thing he owns. All of which is terribly cheesy of course, but that doesn’t stop it being true.

And then there’s the dark side. The knowledge of what it might bring. And when I went to the hyperemesis website today, it confirmed what I already knew but refused to acknowledge. That I don’t have any control over it. That I can’t stop it. That a lack of toxins, hypnotherapy and all the alternative medicine in the world is unlikely to make a blind bit of difference. But worse than that, I also found something I didn’t know: That hyperemesis can cause real damage to both foetus and mother. And that in order to avoid this, I really need IV vitamins and / or serious pre-emptive medication. But that IV vitamins can in themselves be dangerous, as can the medications which stand any chance of working - quite apart from the fact that both these things are expensive and unlikely to be easily - if at all - obtained from the NHS. I don’t want to have to think about these things. I don’t want a battle. I hate battles. I will always concede and capitulate and conciliate - anything to avoid a fight. And that’s when I’m well. There’s no chance of me managing any of this when I’m ill.