Nine months of living hell?

Pregnant Woman Suffering With Morning Sickness In Bathroom

Pregnant Woman Suffering With Morning Sickness In Bathroom - Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto

Turns out there’s only one thing worse than severe morning sickness some like to call hyperemesis gravidarum. And that is the tripe that people spout. Disguised as advice, comments like these truly make the whole dreadful experience bleaker.

If you want to annoy a pregnant woman in nausea hell, say one of these little gems:

Ginger worked for me

It doesn’t work for me. Not the tea, not the biscuits, not the nobbly weird twiggy things like witches’ knuckles. Ginger can kiss my expanding butt.

It’s just morning sickness

You’ve never had severe morning sickness then. See ya! And I hope you never do get it. Well, that’s a lie. I do sort of hope you really do get it. Then I will say this to you.

Have you tried sucking lemons?

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Nibble cream crackers

If I had a penny for every well-meaning stranger who told me to trust the cream crackers method of hyperemesis gravidarum cure then I would be very rich in cream crackers.

Get your husband to do everything!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Oh and - ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. He won’t. He can’t. If yours will and can then bully for you, Smugface.

Was the baby planned?

Yes. Oh yes. Yessity yes yess yess! A thousand times yess.

Oh - yoooooooo mean if I knew I was going to feel so ghastly and throwing up is so vile, then why did I want to add another much adored superhuman mini me to my amazing brood of best babies ever? Because they’re totally worth it.

Whatever you do, don’t take evil tablets!

These words could only be uttered by someone who hasn’t spent most of the day crying into a toilet with stinging acid vomit leaking from her eyes and nose - as well as being violently angrily expelled from her shaking palpitating body - with a little voice or three saying “are you OK, Mummy?” so sweetly that it makes her more tearful, as her back is rubbed innocently by a tiny chubby little hand. These words are only designed to make me feel guilty for needing medication to, like, live. My baby needs to live. My children need to live. We all basically just need the tablets.

Did you try cloudy lemonade?

It made me sicker than ever in the history of my baby-based vomfests. So take your lemonade and shove it. Please.

Buy wristbands!

Ya think? Those ones that don’t work for boat sickness, car sickness or air sickness? I reckon I’ll save my fifteen quid. Your hyperemesis gravidarum might be totes gullible and easily bribed like a thick kid with a smiley sticker but mine is much more intelligent and discerning...

It can’t be that bad - it’s nature after all.

So are tsunamis, cancer and being trampled by stampeding elephants. I know which I’d rather face.

Rub Vicks on your nose

I smell toast and my stomach lurches into my throat. The slightest whiff of raw mince makes me retch. Vicks from 30 paces causes heaving. Rubbing it on the end of my nose ain’t gonna be doing any favours. The ‘logic’ behind this pearl is that the aroma of the stuff often used to combat colds acts as a defence, overwhelming every other smell, thus keeping your breakfast/lunch/dinner in their rightful intestines. But if you can’t tolerate the menthol smell on the end of your snout for the rest of the week, this will be a hard learned lesson and much vomiting will ensue.

Is that like Kate Middleton gets?

What except the future monarch growing inside her, her air ambulance pilot husband eternally by her side, the infinite public purse to provide all the private residential care she needs and millions of maids on hand to fan her, feed her, groom her, water her and IV drip hydrate her back to beauty and serenity, while the nation sympathetically looks on smiling and nodding and sending her flowers, cards and gifts of love, peace and joy? Yes. Exactly that! Got it in one, sister!