Category Archives: Health & Wellbeing

Support #Daddyandme

Daddy, dad, da, pops, father, pater, papa, old man – whatever you call the man who brought you into the world, the time to remember him is fast approaching on Father’s Day, June 21st. Irish charity Anam Cara is asking people to share a special picture of themselves with their Dad using the hashtag #Daddyandme on social media, and to nominate three friends or family members to do the same in order to raise much needed funds.

Fathers’ Day is a particularly difficult time for those Dads who have been bereaved of a child or children. The aim of the #Daddyandme campaign is to raise awareness of the difficulties bereaved Dads face. This June, Anam Cara is asking members of the public to take part in the #Daddyandme campaign and donate €4 by texting SUPPORT to 50300 to raise funds to provide support services to Dads and families who have experienced the death of a child.

International rugby player and #Daddyandme ambassador, Mike Ross said: “As a Dad to two wonderful children, I dread to imagine how I would even begin to cope with the loss of a child. I experienced first-hand the impact that this can have on a family when one of my brothers died eighteen years ago. Not only did I have to deal with my own pain but I also had to witness the impact that it had on my parents and our family unit. Anam Cara provides invaluable support to families at this traumatic time and I’m asking everyone to get behind the #Daddyandme campaign and to help raise funds for this worthy cause.”

Anam Cara is also producing an information leaflet aimed at bereaved Dads, as part of a larger resource pack for bereaved parents. This is in the final draft stage and once published will be distributed to counsellors, social workers, emergency rooms and funeral homes. Unique in that it is written by bereaved Dads themselves, it offers practical guidance through this most devastating of experiences.

Nearly two thirds of Irish people know someone whose child has died but the intense grief associated with the loss of a child lasts much longer than society realises. It’s estimated that in 2014 alone, 2,100 families suffered the loss of a son or daughter.
How Can You Get Involved?
1. Share a picture of you and your Dad on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram and include the hashtag #Daddyandme. The photo could be a recently taken selfie or one from the archives!

2. Tag and nominate three friends or companies to do the same

3. Donate and include the following text information in your post or tweet – ‘Text SUPPORT to 50300 to donate €4 to Anam Cara’*

A Model Vagina

We moved house last year and haven’t had great luck with finding a new family GP. The first one we tried out was a bit silly – the doctor for my antenatal care, plus those first couple of new baby visits was located up not one, but two very narrow flights of stairs. Whatever about dragging my heavily pregnant and dementedly overdue ass up there, expecting a new mum to haul her broken lady bits AND the baby in the wretched car seat (what is the situation with them being made of lead?) is criminal.

Then, of course, there was the time they charged me €90 for a fifteen-minute visit with Eva because I also asked them to sneak a peek at a rash on the back of Jacob’s knee. The reluctant toddler probably let them take a look at it for all of a second – ok, maybe two seconds, but did it warrant charging this new mother an extra €45? It did in its hoop.

So we moved to GP Number Two and I had it on good advice that this one was very family-friendly, had an open door, no-appointment-necessary policy and that they used their discretionary fee-charging powers with caution. I said ‘Brava! Sign us up’.

Our first visit was for one of Eva’s vaccinations. It went fine; I asked the nice lady doctor if she would check Eva’s chest while we were there as she’d had a constant cough, and she obliged. We left reassured that nothing sinister was at work.

Our second visit was for Eva’s next vaccination. Again, all fine, and when I brought up the cough (which was still lingering months later), I had a prescription for a baby-adapted inhaler somewhat flung at me. Mmmm…sure I let it go. Maybe she was stressed, maybe someone puked directly onto her shoes that morning just as she was leaving the house, you know?

I had one final question for Lady Doctor, since I was there and all, so I chucked it in.

‘And one last thing’ I ventured.

‘Did you want to have a consultation?’ Lady Doctor snapped.

‘I, er…what?’

‘I mean, I am happy to do Eva’s vaccinations and everything, but if you need a consultation, I will book you in.’

Now, I don’t know about you, but if I’m about to have a confrontation with someone who is in a position of ‘higher authority’ or ‘greater status’ than I, I like to try to look the part. I like to look like I can match them, that I can whip out some jargon from my legal studies diploma or my years in customer service and deliver it with force and a full face of make up. Unfortunately, on THIS day, I was wearing ‘that’ tracksuit (you know the one), hadn’t a scrap of make up on and hadn’t slept in…what is it now, oh yeah, three years.

Anyway, you get it. She was in head-to-toe professional garb and was giving me grief, and I looked like an extra from Shameless. But on this day, I dunno, I wasn’t really having it.

‘Oh I’m sorry’ I responded. ‘I actually just had a question but did you want me to pay you in advance for it?’ (I know, eek!)

Strangely enough, Doctor Lady was taken aback enough to backtrack a bit, and started mumbling and stuttering that I should go ahead and ask her that question.

No, no, I protested, getting my fleece on (it goes perfect with the tracksuit and is has the added benefit of being baby-stain-removal-friendly), I’d go back out to reception and make an appointment and schedule my question in.

No, no, no, she insisted, go on.

‘I was just going to ask your advice on the Mirena coil?’ I shrugged. ‘But it’s grand, another time’.

I was halfway out the open door, car seat on one dead arm, wailing just-vaccinated-baby in it, trying to keep my dignity whilst noticing that my tracksuit bottoms had what looked like a piece of encrusted Rusk stuck to the hem.

‘The coil!’ she trilled, ‘of course, no problem’. And, as if by magic, she whipped out a cardboard cutout vagina and started spewing out all sorts of information on how the coil is inserted etc. I couldn’t tell you a word of what she said, because I was genuinely trying to suppress my giggles.

I would nearly have changed doc a third time, but for that panicked cardboard-cutout-vagina display alone….I totally forgive her. What a comeback ;o)

***This article first appeared on the HerFamily.ie Website***

***Going on hols this year? Bringing the kids? ARE YOU SURE? Read THIS first!!***

When Good Hair Goes Bad

I was on the telly last week, you know, yar, yar…

It was my first time ever doing a telly interview so was obviously up to NINETY (as me ma says) all week, not eating bread, doing face exercises (yes it’s a thing), making panic purchases of make up that I hoped would make me look presentable at 8 o’clock on a Friday morning, and praying to the holy Madonna that the kids would sleep the night before (they didn’t – typical).

I think it went ok – Ireland AM are really lovely to visit, were very welcoming and I managed not to swear or lick anyone’s face. Although I did consider it when I met Sinead Desmond, her skin is AMAZING.

Thanks for the outpouring of love and support online since it aired, for my ‘relaxed demeanour’ (that was Rescue Remedy btw) and my lovely blue shoes. The one thing that NONE of you are mentioning one way or the other, and who could blame you, is my hair. It seems to be lovely on one side and the other….well… I dunno… I’ll let you decide for yourselves. (I’m scarlet!)

Catch the full interview HERE!

La Roche-Posay’s Baby Skincare Range Review & Giveaway!

I have very sensitive, very dry skin, once even breaking out head to toe in psoriasis during a particularly stressful period so I am always on the lookout for thick, moisture-intense creams for me and the kids (and believe me, I’ve tried them all).

Because of my history, I keep a watchful eye on the kid’s skin, in case they inherit my sensitivity, and they definitely have a few extra-dry problem areas. It’s the usual spots, behind the knees, the crook of the elbow, the cheeks – but lately, with bad colds and temperatures, Eva’s skin has become completely dry all over her two little legs. Enter La Roche-Posay’s Replenishing Body Balm and I saw an improvement within 24 hours. We are now applying it twice a day to make sure she doesn’t suffer that horrible dry skin irritation that I know so well!

The new kids’ sun cream from La Roche-Posay is brilliant – it’s nice and thick so I know that they are not only protected from the sun but that their skin is being moisturised too. I used to prefer the easier liquid-type suncream for ease of application but honestly, I would rather take the couple of extra minutes applying this creamy one to make sure that I’m doing the right thing.

We have a 100ml tube of La Roche-Posay’s amazing Cicaplast Soothing Repair Balm to GIVEAWAY to one lucky Raising Ireland reader. It is the perfect remedy to have on hand to help soothe and protect your little ones’ damaged skin when they need it.

To Enter:

Like Raising Ireland on Facebook

and COMMENT below.

Competition closes Sunday May 3rd at midnight. Part of this competition is hosted on Facebook but is not endorsed by Facebook. La Roche-Posay have not provided payment for this post although they did send me these fabulous samples and who am I to argue with that?! All opinions are straight from Sharyn’s Horses’s Mouth. All of the La Roche-Posay baby skincare range are available to buy from pharmacies nationwide.

Resource: Help My Kid Learn

I am ALWAYS on the lookout for tips on things to do with Jacob at home – especially on those days when it’s either pouring down outside OR you’ve got a sick child and can’t leave the house OR you’re wrecked and can’t bear to leave the house one way or the other. He totally gets cabin fever just like the rest of us so a planned activity at home can really break up the afternoon.

Then of course there are the weekends and mid terms and days off and holidays to fill with as much fun as possible (phew!), so I was delighted to come across the this online resource to help me with some cool ideas.

Help My Kid Learn is a website developed by the National Adult Literacy Agency (NALA). It promotes family literacy by giving parents, guardians and family members fun ideas to help build their child’s literacy and numeracy skills. The activities range from traditional games and activities to suggested online games and apps and are aimed at kids from age 0 to age 12. You don’t have to register, and it is totally free. On the website you can sign up for a monthly online newsletter to keep you up to date with new items on the website, or like them on Facebook

Nuts For Hallowe’en

We went on holidays a few weeks ago. Am I still banging on about that, about it being the first holiday we had in three years, how we blew WAY too much money on it but we were desperate? Yes I am! (review for Kelly’s Hotel, Wexford, to follow!)

Anyway, on our last day, we met a lovely couple and their son who was just a little bit younger than Jacob by a few months. The boys got on great so naturally we got chatting to the parents while supervising them on the super-cool Viking ship playground in the back garden.

The mum told us a VERY harrowing story about recently discovering that their son is allergic to nuts – and they found out the hard way. He ate a tiny bit of granola that had traces – TRACES – of nuts in it, and immediately suffered a major allergic reaction.

The ambulance couldn’t get to Crumlin Childrens Hospital quickly enough from Clonskeagh on the busy motorway as this little man swelled up, broke out in massive hives all over his body and his windpipe closed in. They diverted to St. Vincent’s hospital to get some steroids to tide him over until they got to Crumlin, and the entire time, his mum kept thinking ‘My baby’s going to die. My baby’s going to die’.

Naturally enough, I was BAWLING listening to her story, and couldn’t NOT give her a big hug for going through it. We also discussed my pal whose daughter is allergic to eggs and that poor girl from Drimnagh who died on O’Connell street last year after being denied an EpiPen by the chemist. I still can’t fucking believe that happened, by the way.

This mum and her husband at least had a happy outcome – their son was alive and well and having a great time on holidays with his parents and new pal (for a day!), Jacob.

As today is Hallowe’en, I am reminded of this family as my son is about to call to neighborhood houses in his dinosaur costume and other kids will call to our house, all looking for Hallowe’en loot and goodies in their precious bags. And we have NO IDEA sometimes who these kids are, or if they could be allergic to anything.

So I’ll do a deal with you – you don’t give my kid monkey nuts today and I won’t give any to yours. Just in case. Cool?

Postpartum Depression (Via Lucie’s List)

If you have yet to sign up to Lucie’s List, then please do. Sound, practical advice on pregnancy and beyond, with a few ‘Fuck yeahs!’ thrown in. Just up our alley, right?

This is an AMAZING piece on postpartum depression that Lucie’s List has kindly given me permission to share. I think every single pregnant woman and new mother should read it, PARTICULARLY in this country as Ireland is still so flippin’ backwards on these matters!

Take it from me right now, if you recognize yourself in the descriptions of different types of PPD below, then please be assured that it is EXTREMELY normal and that you have the super-woman strength to find the help you need to get through. We’re rooting for you xxx

Postpartum Depression

1 in 8 of you will suffer from postpartum depression, anxiety, or OCD. It can be nasty stuff and should not go untreated.

You’ve probably experienced the “baby blues”, which is the crazy moodiness and weepiness that occurs in the first week after you give birth. It’s normal. Everyone goes through it.

Perinatal mood disorders are different. They may feel like baby blues at first — but the signs and symptoms are more intense and longer lasting.

The Stats, Please

– 13% of postpartum women develop PPD (1 in 8!)
– 10% OF DADS (yes, that’s right, men!) develop symptoms of PPD
– 1-3 in 1,000 women develop postpartum psychosis. (I have 70,000 subscribers, which means – statistically – that several dozen of you will experience this and it is SERIOUS business!)
** A woman experiencing postpartum psychosis may be in danger of taking her own life or that of her child. Symptoms include paranoia, hallucinations (hearing voices urging a new mother to kill herself or her child), severe insomnia, total loss of appetite, and major anxiety and depression. This condition is considered a psychiatric emergency and demands an aggressive, immediate response. Please click here to get local help where you live. Help is waiting for you. Please don’t delay!

So I need to ask (new mothers): how are you doing?

Some of you are feeling Super Duper! Jolly Good. Elated. Tired, yes, but happy. Some of you may be struggling and still others may be somewhere in the middle.

Maybe you’ve experienced depressive episodes in the past (ahem) and maybe you haven’t, so let’s talk specifics. *** MIND YOU: this isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. Some women experience some symptoms and not others.

[During my research, I stumbled across an excellent site for PPD support called Postpartum Progress. The following is re-printed directly from this article. (thanks Katherine!!)]

*You may have postpartum depression if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

You feel overwhelmed. Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.” More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.” You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother. In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.
You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling new motherhood better than this. You feel like your baby deserves better. You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would. You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.
You don’t feel bonded to your baby. You’re not having that mythical mommy bliss that you see on TV or read about in magazines.
You can’t understand why this is happening. You are very confused and scared.
You feel irritated or angry. You have no patience. Everything annoys you. You feel resentment toward your baby, or your partner, or your friends who don’t have babies. You feel out-of-control rage.
You feel nothing. Emptiness and numbness. You are just going through the motions.
You feel sadness to the depths of your soul. You can’t stop crying, even when there’s no real reason to be crying.
You feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. You feel weak and defective. You feel like a failure.
You can’t bring yourself to eat, or perhaps the only thing that makes you feel better is eating.
You can’t sleep when the baby sleeps, nor can you sleep at any other time. Or maybe you can fall asleep, but you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep no matter how tired you are. Or maybe all you can do is sleep and you can’t seem to stay awake to get the most basic things done. Whichever it is, your sleeping is completely screwed up and it’s not just because you have a newborn.
You can’t concentrate. You can’t focus. You can’t think of the words you want to say. You can’t remember what you were supposed to do. You can’t make a decision. You feel like you’re in a fog.
You feel disconnected. You feel strangely apart from everyone for some reason, like there’s an invisible wall between you and the rest of the world.
Maybe you’re doing everything right. You are exercising. You are taking your vitamins. You have a healthy spirituality. You do yoga. You’re thinking “Why can’t I just get over this?” You feel like you should be able to snap out of it, but you can’t.
You might be having thoughts of running away and leaving your family behind. Or you’ve thought of driving off the road, or taking too many pills, or finding some other way to end this misery.
You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.
*You may have postpartum anxiety or postpartum OCD if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

Your thoughts are racing. You can’t quiet your mind. You can’t settle down. You can’t relax.
You feel like you have to be doing something at all times. Cleaning bottles. Cleaning baby clothes. Cleaning the house. Doing work. Entertaining the baby. Checking on the baby.
You are worried. Really worried. All. The. Time. Am I doing this right? Will my husband come home from his trip? Will the baby wake up? Is the baby eating enough? Is there something wrong with the baby that I’m missing? No matter what anyone says to reassure you it doesn’t help.
You may be having disturbing thoughts. Thoughts that you’ve never had before. Scary thoughts that make you wonder whether you aren’t the person you thought you were. They fly into your head unwanted and you know they aren’t right, that this isn’t the real you, but they terrify you and they won’t go away. These thoughts may start with the words “What if …”
You are afraid to be alone with your baby because of the thoughts. You are also afraid of things in your house that could potentially cause harm, like kitchen knives or stairs, and you avoid them like the plague.
You have to check things constantly. Did I lock the door? Did I lock the car? Did I turn off the oven? Is the baby breathing?
You may be having physical symptoms like stomach cramps or headaches, shakiness or nausea. You might even have panic attacks.
You feel like a captive animal, pacing back and forth in a cage. Restless. On edge.
You can’t eat. You have no appetite.
You can’t sleep. You are so, so tired, but you can’t sleep.
You feel a sense of dread all the time, like something terrible is going to happen.
You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.
Now that you’ve gone through these lists are you thinking “How the heck does this lady know me? Is there a hidden camera in here?” Nope. What this should tell you is that you are NOT alone and you are NOT a freak and you are NOT highly unusual. If you are having these feelings and symptoms then it is possible you are experiencing common illnesses that 15 to 20% of new mothers have, and they are completely treatable. Just reach out for help (by state and country).

If you are having the symptoms listed above, call your doctor. There is no need to suffer. Perinatal mood and anxiety disorders are temporary and treatable with professional help.”

Remember: YOU ARE NOT ALONE. You are not crazy, nuts, or psycho.

Also…. yes, breast is best (and all that), but it’s waaaay more important that mommy is playing with a full deck of cards. If you need to stop b’fing in order to take the meds that you need to get better, it’s NOT a big deal. Our entire generation was raised on formula, and we’re FINE. (Read also: Letting Go of the Guilt from not Breastfeeding).

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Vagina

Kegel Exercises. Def: “repetitive contractions by a woman of the muscles that are used to stop the urinary flow in urination in order to increase the tone of the pubococcygeal muscle especially to control incontinence or to enhance sexual responsiveness during intercourse”

Ok, so Kegels are important, (A), to stop you from pissing yourself and (B), to stop you from saying things like ‘Are you in yet?” (yes, sometimes that isn’t always to do with the size of whatever you are welcoming into your vajayjay…who-da-thunk-it?)

So if they’re so important, why can’t I remember to do them? I was REALLY bad during my last pregnancy and hardly did any Kegels at all, and although I vowed to get onto it with a vengeance as soon as Eva was two weeks old, she’s now four weeks old and I’m still talking myself around.

But now I have a plan. I realized that I needed a daily reminder, some sort of trigger that would remind me to get on with the business of squeezing those muscles for a couple of minutes at a time. Would it be every time that I showered? Well, that isn’t likely to happen regularly with a newborn in the house. When I brushed my teeth? Couldn’t rely on it. How about whenever I got to eat my lunch? As it happens, I can’t remember the last time I ate lunch, and if I did eat lunch recently, I couldn’t tell you what was on the menu.

No, I have now aligned my Kegel time to my ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ time. I have always sang songs to Jacob since I was pregnant with him, and at almost three years of age, he still insists on my singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before he goes for his daily nap, and before he goes to bed at night. If I sing three renditions and think I’m finished, he raises his sleepy head from his pillow and insists, ‘Mammy. More Tinkle Stor’.

Thanks to all that, I am now Kegeling twice a day. Every time I open my mouth, I close my…well, my other end. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, as the timing of the song is actually perfect. Try it:

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (SQUEEZE IN!)

How I Wonder What You Are (SQUEEZE OUT!)

Up Above The World So High (SQUEEZE IN!!)

Like a Diamond In The Sky (SQUEEZE OUT!!) (*though I always spaz out here and wonder if that’s where Rihanna got her inspiration for ‘Shine Bright Like A Diamond’. Always).

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (SQUEEZE IN!!)

How I Wonder What You Are (SQUEEZE OUT!)

You’re welcome. I think I’ll bring a fitness video out for Xmas…. ;o)

Sharyn xxx

Every Digital Cloud Has A Silver Lining…

Now that we are (mostly) unpacked at the new house and the skips have been taken away, I have turned my attention to trying to have a digital clear-out. I am positively convinced that in the next 24 months or perhaps, years, I will have achieved this via my eventual understanding of Google Drive and being nicer to my computer desktops by not saving every single photo and video that I come across to them.

Granted, I’m not really enjoying it, or looking forward to the next two years BUT! I am finding some joy in the odd little gem here and there. Like this one; a letter I not only wrote but also printed and gave to Ass Monkey’s sister who took our dog Pearl for a week when Jacob was born. Yes, I put the letter in Pearl’s ‘Holiday Bag’. And yes, I only wrote it as if I was Pearl.

What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?!!!!

‘Dear Aunty Naomi,

Hi, Pearl here. You may have heard I’m a bit of a bitch but mostly I’m misunderstood & frustrated because these stupid fucking humans who ‘take care’ of me haven’t learnt how to speak basic common Doglish yet. Idiots.

Anyway, thanks for letting me come and stay. I think Mammy Sharyn is off to hospital to have some liposuction done. She’s really let herself go in the last few months and looks like a complete fat arse. How she thinks she’ll ever fit into a size 10 again is beyond me. Daddy Alan is in hiding because he’s MORTIFIED about the situation. I recently heard him on the phone to a mate saying he hadn’t signed up for such a fat bird. It was Christmas at the time so I can only assume that’s when Mammy Sharyn started shoving food down her massive trap.

To be honest, I’m not entirely impressed with such unstable and dysfunctional Masters, so if things work out between you and I, maybe we can hang out indefinitely. I’m sure my cousin Baxter will have something to say about that but honestly? He can go and f*ck himself. All I ever want to do is wrap my paws around his indifferent, grimacing face, and all he wants to do is watch Will & Grace re-runs. I think, in time, he’ll come around to my way of thinking and be my best friend. Either that or I’m going to chew his pride-coloured lead to shreds while he’s asleep. That’ll learn him.

My crazy, over-organised Mammy Sharyn has packed a bag for me that is RIDICULOUS, and not just because it’s a knock-off Louis Vuitton monstrosity. She has my bowl in there (pink, how stereotypical), a red Kong that I usually eat peanut butter out of and that keeps me entertained for ages, and other toys and treats. Mostly, they don’t give me treats unless I sit down and give them the paw. The c*nts.

They also have their ‘orders’ that they like to shout at me, to get me to do things that make them feel better about themselves. So I can ‘sit’, ‘lie down’, ‘give me the paw’, ‘go easy’ when I’m a bit hyperactive, and Daddy Alan thinks its great that I’ll give him a ‘high five’, but mostly I’m just putting my paws up to say ‘Back the f*ck off asshole, would you??!!’

My harness might look stupid, but it’s because I get too choked with the lead going from my collar. I think I must have been be-headed in a past life – I’m thinking about talking to Psychic Sally about that. If you put the main bit around my neck, I can put my own paws through the side straps. Yes, I am that f*cking amazeballs.

So that’s the low-down, Aunty Naomi. Everyone knows you’re the coolest aunt, so there’s no fear of my pissing on your floor. Promise. I will, however, require a LOT of affection, because they starve me of it here, and that’s just tough shit for you. Get your cuddles on.

Lots of love and smelly poos,

Pearl xxxxxxxxxxx

PS: I think they’ve packed some of their socks with their smell on it too so I won’t be lonely without them. But I can’t really talk about that right now.’

Morning Sickness

I need to get a rant out of my system, and it’s about the greatest pregnancy misnomer there is: morning sickness.

I was in work one day, about 6 weeks pregnant with my first baby and feeling fine, when I was suddenly hit by violent waves of nausea. I lay down in a meeting room for a while, but eventually picked myself up and walked out of the office. I didn’t return for 10 weeks. Instead, I lay in bed quaking with sickness, consuming nothing but Lucozade and crackers. Vomiting actually brought blessed relief from the nausea, for a few minutes at least.

Think back to the worst hangovers of your life – you know the sweaty, fat-tongued ones where you’re afraid to move your head in case you puke down the wall, where you can’t even contemplate bacon and Coke, and the merest chink of light makes your eyeballs explode? Now imagine that for 24 hours a day, for weeks and weeks on end. This is what they daintily call ‘morning sickness’.

This offensive term is constantly used in the press, on parenting blogs, in books – EVERYWHERE – and is a complete load of bollocks. For a start, most expectant mothers I’ve known actually experience their nausea in the evenings, when energy levels are low and exhaustion takes its toll. Some women – Kate Middleton being a famous example – are even admitted to hospital suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum – or to use the technical term: dehydration from relentless spewing.

Yet some women don’t experience pregnancy sickness at all. There is no medical explanation for it, it’s just ‘one of those things’. I was simply one of the unlucky ones. What makes it even more difficult is that it generally peaks during those first 12 weeks when you’re not supposed to divulge your pregnancy to anyone, or when you don’t have a big belly to wave in people’s faces on the bus to get a seat. Most women have to just suffer in silence, getting by with an office desk drawer full of Ritz crackers and frequent trips to the toilet. One friend of mine nearly crashed her car en route to work as she screeched onto the hard shoulder, opened the door and barfed into the road. Amazingly, she wasn’t pulled up for drink driving.

But my main gripe is with the genius who coined this phrase and the massive disservice they have done pregnant women. It implies that those of us who couldn’t get out of bed, who couldn’t even walk into our own kitchens for fear of smelling food, are weak, maybe milking it a bit to get some attention and time off work. Believe me, I’d have loved nothing more than to feel good and enjoy my first pregnancy. Instead, I was forced to waste nearly one-third of it feeling like shite when I should have been out enjoying my last months of freedom.

So please, newspaper and magazine editors, people of the world in general, can we start calling it pregnancy sickness?

Did you suffer from pregnancy sickness, and what helped you cope? Do share with us!