Then, my pregnancy started to get really interesting.
Not content with morning sickness, stretching, putting on weight and generally feeling a bit nackered, my body decided it wanted to act without my permission.
Seven weeks into pregnancy, I had a seizure.
What happened? I have no idea. What did it feel like? No clue.
I jumped in and out of consciousness in an ambulance and then a hospital.
What I know of the three (!) paramedics who attended; they were absolutely brilliant.
I can’t even remember where I came to properly. I remember a paramedic telling someone my details and that I had had a seizure. I’m so glad I had at least some presence of mind and didn’t say what I was thinking.
“No I didn’t.”
For once in my life, I shut up. And threw up. Alot.
When my husband called 999, he had told them I was pregnant and apparently a paramedic car was there within minutes. Closely followed by an ambulance that had been called off another job to come to us.
Those guys do such an amazing job.
I remember being in A&E with my husband beside me and the doctor asking me to give him a urine sample.
No bother, said I. My bladder, at least, had managed to behave during the seizure.
Off I went (not easy with a canular in your hand!) and then off he went with the wee bottle.
The doc came back and stated that I was pregnant.
This is definitely not the best way to get confirmation.
It was stupid o’clock so I was admitted overnight and let out early the next day. My husband, however, had to find his way out of the night exit and home without a car or a wallet.
Clearly, my subconscious decided it wasn’t getting enough attention…