Happiness is homemade

Hyperemesis Gravidarum or HG is a little known pregnancy complication. A sufferer (and it is a suffering) has severe nausea, and vomiting, which can lead to weight loss and dehydration. It is more than just morning sickness. It can sometimes last the entire pregnancy (for me until 30 weeks) and affects less than 2% of women. There is no known cause.

I am one of the lucky ones. I only lost weight in the first trimester and suffered severe dehydration once. Some women require hospitalisation a few times throughout their pregnancies and can vomit 30+ times a day. My personal best was 19.

This is a really difficult post for me to write. I don’t want to say it out loud as I am ashamed. In a world in which this Baby is the most hoped, wished, loved and longed for being, there were a few times I found myself wishing that I wasn’t pregnant, wishing it would all just stop.

Whilst I had my head in the toilet for the 20th time, violently vomiting up my stomach lining (i’d not eaten for 48 hours), listening to yet another opinionated, interfering, arsehole ask if I had tried eating a ginger biscuit (ffs!), I can appreciate how persuasive that thought can be. Fortunately for me, HG didn’t become a serious illness. I was a lucky one. For some Mother’s, a decision has to be made for her own physical and mental wellbeing.

I can only touch on my own experience and it’s really challenging to put down in words how much it affected me mentally as well as physically. Instead, I’m going to direct you to a couple of links that helped me during my pregnancy.



I am thankful my poor, vomity body made another beautiful, healthy baby and for that I am full of gratitude and happiness.

Lindsay x


Back on the Blogging Bandwagon

It’s been more than 12 months since my last blog post. It turns out that the withdrawal symptoms of a sugar free diet are also the same as early pregnancy symptoms!

In fact, pretty much all of my ‘sugar free’ symptoms are the same as what I experienced whilst pregnant with BV. I was so sure in fact that I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. However, the idea was in my head, I was so sure I was pregnant. I knew the test was wrong. I waited until the following day and I took another test (again negative), in fact I took a test a further 3 more times (all negative!) before the 5th one gave me a very faint positive. I knew it. I was knocked up with no.2.

Mr Intrepid and I were ecstatic. I was ready for it. I was hoping to blog my way through this pregnancy with cute, accuracy of what it is to be pregnant, a week by week growth of this little one. However, the little bean had other ideas. She (yes this one is a girl!) was determined to make me suffer more than BV ever did. I felt like hell.

I fainted all over the place, I had nosebleeds, headaches, sore limbs, and my god I was tired.

I had no energy and I was fucking exhausted. Pregnancy is hard and I had a toddler now this time. 6 weeks in I began to get really unwell. The nausea had kicked in, only this time there was vomiting too. All day and all night long. I was throwing up in carrier bags on my daily commute, in nappy bags whilst changing my son’s nappies, in the shower and once actually in the street. I couldn’t catch a break. I could barely get through the day, there was no way I was blogging about it.

1 year later, on maternity leave, the baby naps are back. Despite popular advice I can’t nap when baby naps (who would hang up the washing?), I am ready to get back on the blogging band wagon. First up, I want to spread awareness of a little know pregnancy condition, Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG).

Lindsay x

Zero Fucks Given

I’m not trying to be one of those cool sweary blogger mums, but my reality is I’m just a swearer. All the effing time. I can’t help it. I use it for enthusiasm and humour and just plain habit. I don’t think about it enough, to always rein it in.

I swear in front of my son. I try not too, especially now he’s talking and absorbing every little thing like a sponge, but sometimes a perfectly timed F-bomb just slips right out.

I have stopped worrying about it. I think that actually, it’s ok. Swearing has its place; it’s always my honest, and emotional reaction. It’s instinct. When I love something – coffee, art, a cool bar,  – I fucking love it. I am celebrating my joy in life, with words, and to be honest, fuck happens to be one of my favourites.

I want my son to see me as a real, honest and straight talking person, with real life feelings, and to see how I react and cope with normal daily life. I am trying to replace the shits with the sugars and the fucks with the fluffs but what’s the point, when 10 minutes later I stub my toe and an array of unstoppable, colourful words just pop right out?

I don’t want to tip-toe around touchy subjects. You will not find rose-tainted, sugar coated explanations here. I want to teach my son to be passionate about life.  I couldn’t care less if you think I am a bitch (I’m not!) or if you think I am a ‘bit of a dick’ for speaking out against discrimination, bullying or life’s unfairness. I will not be apologetic for standing up for my son, my friends or myself. I am not violent nor am I a hater, but anyone who fucks with my loved ones will be torn to pieces with my sharp tongue and explosive vocabulary. I use swear words to express my emotions, whether that be happy or sad, angry or fluffing elated . I swear my way through life’s tricky situations and well, at the end of the day, Fuck is just a word.

A word in itself, any word, isn’t harmful unless it is used in a harmful way. Harm is determined by how the word is used. If you’re using expletives to verbally and emotionally attack, then of course this is harmful. However, if you spill your Tea and your first reaction is to blurt out ‘oh, bugger’ then that my friends is just reality.

I am teaching my son to express himself in cathartic and productive ways. I do not want him to be worried about being judged by everyone around him, and I want him to be tolerant, empathetic and non-judgemental in return. I want him to know that when someone does judge him, and makes him feel anything less than brilliant, that fuck off is a completely acceptable response.

I don’t for a minute wish for you to think that I tolerate or condone this kind of language. I don’t want my son to swear, (and I will do what I can to discourage it), but I also don’t feel like I have to censor myself. He will grow up responsible and educated enough to appreciate that there are some things kids can do, and there are some things only adults can do. If I censor all of this, how can I expect him to work it out?

Language is a powerful tool. Being a parent has taught me that there is as much menace in “get down from there, now” then there is in any profanity I use when I stub my toe, and that “you fucking idiot” has the same attacking undertones as “you idiot“. Context is everything. So, when BV falls over and lets rip with a “dammit, mummy” (true story!) I will stifle a giggle and give zero fucks whatsoever….


Lindsay x

Happy Wife, Happy Life

This week, Mr Intrepid and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. 2 Years since we said ‘I do’, 732 days since I married my best friend.

The day has brought back happy memories of the most beautiful day we ever had together. Friends, Family, Art, Cake, Love, Skulls, Pineapples, Cacti, Tweed, Street Art, Bow, Yellow, Rockabilly, Pimms, London, Mexican, Tequila, Cake, Blue, Flip Flops, Dancing, Buttons, Rain, Sun, Red bus, Shoreditch, Oasis, Day of the Dead, Face paint, More cake…

I won’t blog about our wedding as I literally have no words to describe how amazing it was (cliché but true), but you can read about it here, and here on two of my favourite blogs: http://www.todreamofdresses.com and http://www.rocknrollbride.com



In these 2 years we have been married, I have learnt a few things. Marriage brings out who you truly are, and often it is not pretty or smooth. It is transitional. Together we are growing, improving and striving.  We are a team (Woohoo Go Team Lamb!). We have changed as individuals. For a start, we have become parents. We have added a whole new dimension to our 2. We are now 3.

No amount of preparation can make you ready for parenthood, nor can any amount of assumption predict how your spouse will actually be, during those stormy days (trust me, the days are not always calm). However Mr Intrepid, my love, has remained my constant. He is my rock. We support one another, and we trust one another. He keeps me grounded and he keeps me high, and we tackle all stormy moments head on, together.  He is my witness, and I , his.  This is why Marriage exists.  Life is not all about the individual, it’s not about me, it is about someone else too. It is about us together.  I am a happy wife with a happy life.

Together, we pay the bills, take care of our son, fight battles, make decisions and laugh and laugh and laugh. We adore and endure each other, and life is sweeter.

Lindsay x

 All photo credits are by talented photographer Sassy from Assassynation