I have had two children. I never was so well in my life as I was during
pregnancy over my first. A bearing-down caused hæmorrhoids. However, I
was not troubled greatly with them then. My second child was born one
year and seven months afterwards. Now all the time during pregnancy
over him I was thoroughly ill. My work was a trouble, and altogether
I _was_ ill. But as pregnancy is never thought a sufficient cause for
even having a holiday, I simply struggled on for fear of being held up
to ridicule. You see, I was only twenty-two years old then, and thought
that the only way to do was to show a brave front, even though I felt
almost too ill to do anything. Well, I had to have chloroform, and
again I had to have instruments; and my children would never be born
naturally, for my womb is in the wrong place, the doctor says. I had
also a trained nurse who despaired again of my life.
I was in bed one month for maternity and was unable to do my work even
when I did get up. I could not mother either of my children, for I
never had any milk. That was a grief to me. I had hæmorrhoids again
through bearing down, brought on through pregnancy, and from these I
suffered for three years and doctored for them. Then I had an operation
and had them removed. I have not had more children, neither do I want
them, as the doctor fears my life will pay the forfeit. I had a serious
operation for tumour in the womb four years ago, and have been much
better in health ever since.
_Two children._