Nasty in pregnancy: The longest hangover of my life!

morning sickness
Help, this is the longest hangover of my life!

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Editor Anna is eternally grateful to be a mother. What she is not grateful for: this unspeakable nausea. Day and night.

When I drank a little too deeply at a party with colleagues seven years ago, the punishment came the next day: I was bedridden for twelve hours, I couldn’t talk, sleep or eat because of the nausea. I only went to the bathroom for the date with the toilet bowl – no, crawled! Did I deserve that? Yes damn it! I had done terrible things to my body and this was his way of showing me: Girl, don’t you do that to me again! And what should I say. It had worked. From then on, I set up the three-glass rule for myself. There were no more than three alcoholic drinks. And I never had a hangover again. It can be that easy.

Now I’m pregnant. In the 13th week. And honestly, it brings back memories. Just this time I’m wondering: What have I done? I’m doing something for the preservation of humanity. I’m having a baby – that’s a good thing. And yet the world is punishing me with this unspeakable nausea that has been going on all day since week seven. morning sickness? It would be nice! I never imagined how bad something like that could be.

No, I don’t have the severe form, hyperemesis gravidarum, which Duchess Kate made famous and which causes many to end up on drips. At least I can keep some food down. Therefore: The female hangover back then was even worse. Nevertheless, I feel like a heap of misery, fighting my way through the seconds, minutes, hours every day until I can finally sleep in the evening. My husband has been serving me mashed potatoes for weeks because nothing else works. And I keep asking myself: Am I perhaps trying too hard? So many have! Now just look forward to your baby!

And that’s exactly the point: morning sickness is always dismissed by many as something that is just part of becoming a mother. “It’s normal, be happy, then at least you know that everything is fine”. Some women even wish they were sick because otherwise they wouldn’t feel “really pregnant”. Hardly anyone dares to talk about the fact that it can really wear you down, to the point of wondering whether it’s all worth it. An 8 week hangover. All OK? Is that part of it? Come on?

The nausea is already pushing me to my limits

I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last few weeks if I hadn’t occasionally gotten an ultrasound of my little miracle to take home with me. Looking again and again at what you endure all this for gives you a lot of strength and is simply indescribably beautiful. And yet the joy is soon clouded by disgust, bile and vomiting. Sorry for the choice of words!

I’m not saying that all pregnancies are bad. I firmly believe that pregnancy glow exists. And that magical time everyone is talking about. But I would like us to talk more about the fact that carrying a child can be a real feat. And 40 weeks isn’t necessarily the happiest time in a woman’s life. You don’t just rub the baby’s room, but above all your stomach because it hurts from nausea or heartburn. In addition to baby clothes, you might buy a waist belt so that the mother’s ligaments don’t hurt as much. And the new stroller is probably not the only one rolling. But also avalanches of tears, because hormonal emotional outbursts turn you into an unpredictable mommy monster.

Of all the challenges that pregnancy still has in store for me: the nausea is already pushing me to my limits. And no one can tell me for sure when it will stop. “By birth at the latest,” I hear then. Thank you for nothing, because this prospect is about as much comfort as “Other mothers have beautiful sons too” while one sinks into lovesickness.

I wish I could come up with something like the three-jar rule to save me from this misery starting tomorrow. But it’s not that easy this time, I still have to go through it for a while. At least I’m thinking a lot about the 1-child rule right now. But when I really think about it: back then, before I got pregnant, at that garden party, didn’t I even drink four glasses of wine…?

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