Pregnancy is supposed to be an exciting nine months, culminating with the arrival of your precious baby. When I first saw those two lines on the pregnancy test, I was expecting just that. Unfortunately, at only six weeks in, the battle I will never forget began. I was faced with something nobody around me even knew about – Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG). My initial tears of joy quickly turned to ones of pain, suffering, and anger.
9 Weeks—The Hospital Visits Begin
My first of six hospital stays came at nine weeks pregnant. I laid there with an IV and hurled over the side of the bed. I cried as I begged God for there not to be a heartbeat. I was already tired of this fight. None of my medical providers took me seriously. “It is morning sickness,” they said. I didn’t want to go on any longer.
12 Weeks—Severe Weight Loss
By week 12, I had lost 23 pounds, and still, there was no relief. I had been given Zofran, but that seemed to stop working. Over a three-day weekend, I lost seven pounds.
After telling my doctor I wanted to die, I was admitted to the hospital for the second time. I had 24 hours to keep some sort of food down before they would place a feeding tube. Thankfully, we never got to that point.
When I left, I weighed in at 160 lbs—30 pounds lighter than just three months before. At this point, I had tried Zofran, Reglan, and Phenergan. Nothing seemed to work.
Review HER Resources and contact help@hyperemesis.org for support and guidance on HG management.
An Exhausting Battle for Survival
My pain was obvious to everyone around me. The neighbors even called for a welfare check after hearing me scream while getting sick all the time.
During this time, I could be found on the couch, in bed, or lying by the toilet. My husband had to help bathe me. I couldn’t brush my teeth. I was a mess.
The doctor’s office employees knew me by name, and they knew the drill. I’d come in. They would give me an emesis bag, and I would lay in the waiting room until I could get my fluids. This routine took up most of my week.
Occasionally, I would have a “good” week or two. Then, things would go downhill for another few weeks. I threw up so much and so hard I would wet myself. I resented my baby and my husband for doing this to me. I truly wanted to die. I didn’t know how much more I could take. The constant battle for survival was exhausting.
The Mental Toll of HG
From six weeks to 35 weeks when I delivered, I never felt like I could breathe. I constantly anticipated another vomiting episode. I always needed my meds and an emesis bag by my side, otherwise, I would have a panic attack.
I was afraid to leave my house. Nowhere, other than my home felt safe. I shut myself in and started down this long depressive road. I began therapy twice a month as well as Zoloft for the remainder of my pregnancy and into my postpartum period.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
All of this continued until my delivery at 35 weeks. At that point, my membranes ruptured. My OB didn’t say for sure that HG caused it, but it’s a possibility.
I was still throwing up while I was in labor and as I was pushing, but as soon as he was out it all stopped. I had not cried that hard in a while. Of course, I was crying because, finally, my son was here, but also because this fight was over!
There is light at the end of the tunnel. It could be tomorrow, or it could be at delivery, but this WON’T last forever. Know that you are doing everything you can, and that is enough—even if you don’t feel like it is!
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