Reactions

People just don't know how to react.

It's very confusing, to be told that someone has gained a much-wanted pregnancy (yay!) and then simultaneously learn that it might nearly kill them (oh!).

The standard response is for people to gloss over the illness part. There are several possible reasons for this:

(1) They hear "sickness," they think "morning sickness, oh yes, I know about that, all pregnant women get that. She's making a big fuss about nothing. We all know what a drama queen she is," and they refuse to let me get away with it.

(2) They hear "terrible illness" and they think, "What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I'll just pretend I didn't hear it."

(3) They hear "debilitation" and they think, "How awful, poor thing. But, well, she's pregnant, this is good. We'll focus on that, not the bad stuff."

Argh, this post is beginning to sound petulant. It's not. I understand. All the above reasons are valid, apart from (a). Hyperemesis is NOT morning sickness. It's much worse; it's potentially life threatening.

But I won't die from it, because modern medicine has a very simple cure (IV drip). And yes, I am a drama queen. They don't put you on a drip until you have been ill for weeks and you are genuinely in danger of death, but hey. They save your life.

God, but I loved that drip. Sometimes, when they added potassium, it hurt. But I didn't care. It made me better. And the nurses, oh those ministering angels. For so long the doctors had failed to make me better or even appear to care very much, and Ally was desperate with worry, and they were reluctant to do home visits, and I just wanted somebody, some super-hero, to swoop down out of the skies, scoop me up in their arms and make it all right, and that's what the nurses and their drips and their smiles and their lovely clean sheets did for me.

I loved being in hospital.

And now here I am, in this weird limbo, and you're all pleased for me, and I'm pleased for me, in fact I'm floating about in a bubble of happiness, and...

You want to know something really really awful?

I'll be disappointed if I don't get ill. Part of me will. The drama queen part. And the part that likes the idea of an entire pregnancy spent at home, like last time. The part that refuses to remember how absolutely sheerly flippin' awful it was. And the part that'll be embarrassed if I turn out to be absolutely fine, after I've made such a bloody fuss about it all.

And I have to stop thinking "when," I have to stop thinking "if," and I have to start thinking "not." No. I won't. It won't. I'm different this time. My body is different. Nothing will be the same. I'll keep going to work and it will be much better than being ill, and I will do all that stuff - the acupuncture, the hypnotherapy, the shiatsu, the massage, the yoga, the toxin-free household, the lack of stress, the vitamins, the organic food, the resting, the relaxation, the positive thinking, the positive thinking, the positive thinking, the positive thinking...