A wobbly road to motherhood: Pregnancy

(Note: This is not medical advice—just my personal experience, shared in the hope it might help someone else on a similar path.)

After seeing that positive result,I had a million emotions —excited, happy, and grateful, but also terrified and anxious about everything that could still go wrong. Every time I went to the toilet, I checked for blood. Every new sensation had me Googling for reassurance. After all the hoping and work to get here, I was scared it would slip away before I even made it to the first ultrasound.

As this was my first pregnancy, everything was new. And with my chronic health conditions, no one could really tell me how my body would respond—or how my catheter would cope. (Spoiler alert: my body did not enjoy pregnancy.)

First Trimester I found out I was pregnant almost as soon as physically possible—at four weeks. I felt different straight away, though it was hard to know how much was mental versus physical. Around week 5 or 6, the nausea began. Naively, I thought, “I’ve lived with nausea and vomiting for years thanks to gastroparesis and lupus—I can handle this.” Oh, how wrong I was.

The nausea quickly escalated to vomiting more than 16 times a day.

I returned to Australia after being sick on every leg of a 24-hour flight. Jet lag hit me harder than ever, and the fatigue lingered. My existing rest strategies helped a bit, but the vomiting worsened rapidly. From 8 weeks onward, I began cycling through medications. By week 9 or 10, I was admitted to hospital with dehydration—I couldn’t even keep water down.

That’s when I was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) and prescribed stronger medications, including injections, IV meds, and steroids. Going back on steroids was tough—especially knowing the risks for the baby—but it was necessary to reduce vomiting and regain some nutrition for both of us. Hydration and nutrition are important for everyone—but for me, they’re vital. Managing my PoTS, migraines, and bladder health depends heavily on staying hydrated.

Unlike morning sickness, HG often doesn't ease until weeks 16–20—if it eases at all. Knowing I had weeks more to endure felt overwhelming. I was deep in survival mode. Despite already being someone who carries sick bags everywhere, this was a whole new level. I threw up in cars, car parks, public bathrooms, bushes, friends' bathrooms—everywhere. I kept thinking, “Surely Kate Middleton had more dignity when she went through this.”

Incredibly, most of my other conditions remained stable in the first trimester. I was shocked (and thankful). It felt like my body was saying, “One thing at a time.”

At 10 weeks, we found out we were having a baby boy via NIPT—a lovely little boost in the chaos.

Second Trimester

Around week 14, my cocktail of medications and steroids finally started working. Vomiting reduced slightly and I could semi function—but the constant nausea never left. It was utterly draining. I started receiving IV fluids weekly, which helped and I wish I could have started this earlier.

Then came the next challenge: a urinary tract infection—my old enemy, Pseudomonas. The antibiotics that normally worked for me weren’t pregnancy-safe. I had to have a PICC line for daily IV antibiotics that released over 24 hours. Grateful, yes—but it was intense. Daily nurse visits from 'Hospital in the home', so many trips to the hospital, constant blood tests all whilst learning to live with two tubes (catheter + PICC) was overwhelming.

After two weeks, the PICC line was removed… and two weeks later, the infection returned. A second PICC line. Another round of treatment. Then an allergic reaction to the treatment. I always expected a medicalised pregnancy, but this was relentless. I was worried about the baby, about the sheer volume of medications, and about my own health. Just to add to the fun, every infection made the HG vomiting worse, forcing me to increase my steroid dose again—each time feeling like a step back.

Just when I managed a few stable weeks, I developed a site infection around my catheter. This time I couldn’t be treated at home, I had gone in for my weekly obstetrician appointment and she said 'what are you doing the rest of the day?" I said I was working, in which she replied that I had to be admitted to hospital—on the maternity ward, surrounded by crying newborns.

The silver lining was getting constant reassurance from the midwives checking baby’s heartbeat and movement. I clung to that comfort, hoping it would be my last admission before actually giving birth. (Ironically, the maternity nurses kept thinking I was giving birth as they would find me in the deep squat position, crouched over clutching ice packs and breathing through some intense bladder spasms).

Third Trimester

Reaching the third trimester felt like a huge achievement. The end was in sight. I was able to wean off steroids and continue on a gentler medication mix. But my body was absolutely worn out—bruised from needles, sticky from endless tape, and exhausted from the constant cycle of infections, vomiting, antibiotics, and interventions.

I was upgraded from “high risk” to whatever comes beyond that—only allowed to be seen by senior consultants. The care I recieved throughout was amazing though and although the appointments were intense, I was just glad they were looking out for me and my baby.

Around this time, my body began to swell dramatically, sleep became almost impossible, migraines returned, and the vomiting crept back in again despite still being medicated.

The things that got me through were feeling baby kick constantly and the joy of preparing his nursery. I was so ready to meet him—and equally ready to not be pregnant anymore.

Coming next: the birth....