Unfortunately, this has been the worst week of my pregnancy so far. Despite having a flu jab, I’ve contracted influenza. Although I can still feel my little girl kicking and hopefully enjoying the quiet solace of my belly, things on the outside have been pretty horrendous and terrifying.

It started a week ago with a case of the sniffles. Dexter was struck down first and had a few bouts of late-night / early-morning screams. As he can’t talk yet, the cause of his discomfort wasn’t immediately obvious. At first we suspected he was struggling to adjust to his new surroundings (we’ve been in our new home for just 1 week), then excessive dribbling and lots of hand-chewing pointed to some back molars coming through, but before long it became clear we were dealing with a nasty cold.

It was somewhat inevitable I’d catch whatever germs my little man has been cultivating - I’d estimate I’m swiping his nose at a rate of 3 times per hour, that’s a 36 to 1 shot per day of it coming my way. Short of buying one of those face masks and running my home like a hospital, it was a forgone conclusion. Yet on the face of it, aside from the snotty nose and grumpy temperament, Dexter seems okay. I’ve also shaken off more than my fair share of colds this pregnancy so just prepared myself for another day of Kleenex abuse. But unfortunately whatever infection he had, mutated within me and brought out one of the worst strains of flu I’ve ever experienced.

As a result, I haven’t managed to keep any food down for 52 hours, have been asleep for an average of 20 hours per day, and have passed out a few times in my en suite. It’s been epic.

At first, I tried to be as pragmatic as possible about it. I read up about contracting flu in pregnancy and knew I couldn’t get medieval on the medicine cabinet, and already knew what the healthcare professionals would advise for the first 72 hours for any flu-like symptoms - plenty of fluids, lots of sleep, manage fever etc. The first few days I even managed a five hour shift cleaning the old house, a meal out with Craig (albeit cut short around 10pm), and managed to stick to Dexter’s usual routine. In retrospect, I should have cleared my diary, organised child-care and taken it easy. But I didn’t.

The full force of the flu hit me on Saturday. I was continually sick, couldn’t muster the energy to get out of bed, and bright lights hurt my eyes. I was so congested I struggled to breathe and couldn’t clear my nose or throat for long enough to get any real respite. Even glasses of water wouldn’t stay down and I quickly became dehydrated. Yet the worst thing, by far, was that all the retching was causing my stomach to cramp. My thoughts inevitably turned to my little tenant.

Having had the doctor on speed dial, until yesterday his guidance had been as expected. But yesterday he sounded a little concerned and has sent over a bevvy of safe medication to try and shift it. Given I’m now firmly in the second trimester, he’s switched out the paracetamol and codeine for antibiotics and it seems we’ve declared war on this thing.

So now I’m laying in bed surrounded by tissues, with streaming eyes, and the laptop back light on low. During the course of typing some 700 words, I’ve been sick twice, and have had 4 bouts of cramp (each lasting around 20 seconds every 20 minutes). Hand on heart, this is the worst I’ve felt in years.

To say I’ve been frightened is an understatement. Although my doctor likened baby’s temporary home in my belly to a balloon filled with water (e.g. practically impossible to burst), the cramps have regularly taken my breath away, and I’m very conscious that baby hasn’t had any nutrients for a few days now. I’m prepared to give it a few days on this new set of medication before I get myself down to the hospital, put in my own cannula and pump some meds into me intravenously. Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.

Stay in the warm baby girl, trust me, you don’t want to come out yet.