I was fairly lucky regarding morning sickness. I felt pretty rough for the first few months when I was expecting Weeza and lost half a stone, so my final weight of 10 stone was actually only a gain of about 20 pounds. I ended up at the same weight when I was pregnant with Al, but gained an extra half stone in my ‘practice makes perfect’ pregnancy with Ro. However, it shifted quickly enough, I never had any difficulty in snapping right back to a slim waistline.
My mother had a different experience, and would have a great deal of sympathy with Katie Kambridge. She was dreadfully sick through much of her pregnancies. If she’d had babies a few years later, she’d certainly have been offered thalidomide – but she’d not have taken it. Like me, she was ultra-cautious regarding any drugs.
Remarkably, few people knew she was even pregnant. She and my father ran a hotel in Weymouth at the time Wink and I were born, so of course sales reps used to call regularly. She told us of one, who called every three months and was surprised to see a baby in a pram. “Looking after it for a friend?” “No, she’s mine.” “Oh, you’ve adopted, congratulations.” “Thank you, but she’s really my own baby!” She was worst affected by her first pregnancy and hardly put on any weight at all, remarkable as Wink weighed 9 lbs 8 oz. She did need to go up a size, from 12 to 14 when I was on the way, but then I was a hulking 10-pounder. Re-markable. Everyone thought I’d be a six-footer.
I’ve been distinctly ashamed of having weighed more during my mid-forties to mid-fifties than when I was 9 months pregnant with Ro. But it’s gone. It mustn’t come back. Nag me, loves, if necessary, won’t you? Thanks.