Week 11 started relatively well as I had just got out of hospital and was feeling a lot better than it had been in the previous weeks. I learnt in the future that this would be normal and I could expect 1 or 2 good days following a hospital stay. I got out of the hospital on a Wednesday evening and attempted going to the cinema on the Saturday. I quickly learnt the literal meaning of the expression 'Dont run before you can walk' as this was way too much for me to be trying, even though you would think sitting in a chair in an empty cinema would not be too taxing. I started to feel very nauseous about halfway through the movie and this continued to get worse over the coming days until I was back on my bed/sofa routine.
I did some more research into hyperemesis over the coming weeks as the goal of 12 weeks came and went and brought with it no end to how I was feeling. I read that for women who suffer hyperemesis, if indeed they are lucky enough to get some respite, it comes around the 20 week mark or just after. For others, it doesnt come until after the birth of the baby. For a woman at 12 weeks feeling this way reading that best case scenario they have a further 2 months of this ahead is terrifying. I dont mind admitting I cried out of fear and thinking I couldnt do it, I wasnt strong enough. I've had my fair share of sickness and pain in my life, but nothing has ever come close to this. I read many times that many women terminated pregnancies who suffer from this illness as they just couldn't cope and although I always felt, Ive got this far, I have to do it.. I can understand the women who felt they had no choice.
Other things come to mind on good days where you miss things like trips to the cinema, meals out, seeing friends, having an interest in anything, most of the time though is spent trying not to be sick and concentrating on lying as still as you can so the vertigo which comes hand in hand with the sickness doesnt start.
These weeks led to another hospital admission with the same rigmarole as before at exactly 3 weeks after my first admission. Again on a Sunday and again on a ward with another senile old lady who spent her time giving me marraige counselling and staring at me and Darren during his visits, telling me afterwards how it was clear he didnt want to be there.
This time I was allowed out on the Tuesday, so a day earlier than last time. I learnt my lesson this time though and didnt do anything in the days which followed for fear of another relapse. As it was, it came anyway, so it seems the cinema trip wasnt to blame last time, I would have got worse as a natural progression anyway.
Next landmark for me to hope for... 20 weeks.