Then week six arrived and hit me like a tornado. It literally knocked me off my feet. A combination of flu, extreme nausea and chronic fatigue caught me unexpectedly. The nausea was all consuming. I had what felt like a brick lodged at the top of my abdomen. I was so uncomfortable. Any small movement would see me hurtling for the loo. I was bed ridden immediately. I didn’t know what was happening. Within days I had lost all control of my body and my life.

I couldn’t stand, let alone go to the gym. I could barely talk, let alone run a business. The only time I felt normal was when I was asleep. Eating helped, but not too much. Anything more than small dry carbs made me retch.

Weeks went by, and I wondered if I’d ever feel better again. It sounds that dramatic now, but I’d never felt worse. I couldn’t talk to anyone except my mum and Rob because some loon once upon a time decided it was taboo to talk until the 12 week safe marker. We had also suffered a chemical miscarriage in the early stages of a previous pregnancy so we were unsure if this would stick.

I remember crying into my husband’s arms asking him to stop the pain, saying that even after our struggle to fall and my longing for a baby, I didn’t know if I could go through with this. This wasn’t the blossoming pregnancy I had imagined. Where was this part on the ‘fit pregnant moms’ Instagram feeds?

Instead, google and forums became my best friend. Any feeling I had I would google. It was self-diagnosis at its most vulnerable. But I found out I wasn’t alone – women everywhere were suffering too. I was told that I would eventually feel better. But what if I didn’t? I also learnt that some women feel like this their entire pregnancy!

Luckily, week 10 (a month later) came round, and things began to ease. I was extremely tired, malnourished and weak but the majority of the sickness had subsided. I had lost weight, although I’m sure that was all of my muscle leaving me as I felt like a blancmange. I could finally leave the house. I could see friends and socialise again but things had changed. I still couldn’t tell them I was pregnant. I felt insecure, like a shell of my former self. I was usually such a positive person, and didn’t stop talking. I told my friends I'd been unwell but in fact I hadn’t been ill at all, I had been growing a human.

Like a wound without a cast, it’s difficult being pregnant without a bump. Everything begins to expand. I didn't fit into any of my jeans, and even leggings were too restricting around my stomach. Maternity clothes were too big and my clothes too small. So I bought clothes a few sizes bigger which did nothing for myself self esteem. My husband was a hero throughout; although logically this was barmy, he sympathised and let me feel. He kept reminding me that what I was doing was incredible. We talked in depth about how I wasn’t enjoying it so far and how I wanted to change my mentality in the second trimester. It became very apparent that although we have come on leaps and bounds with gender equality, this is what divides us greatly. I couldn’t pass him this responsibility, and he could continue with his life as normal. It was a huge responsibility to take on alone. Although we are very much in it together and I am unsure if I could have gone through this without his support, the physical side of the burden is frustrating and at times it would be nice if he too could feel the pain. As weeks progressed, I began to love the responsibility, but in the early stages, I’d have gladly passed the baton.