Before you read my story I want you to get a background on what I’m about to share with you. No, sometimes pregnancy is the worst thing to ever happen to a woman. Sometimes moms get sick, I mean really fucking sick.
Hyperemesis Gravidarum has robbed me of what was supposed to be the greatest chapter in my book. It was the thief in the night that came in and stayed robbing me and my baby for 9 months. The one that almost robbed us of our lives. The one that stole my mental stability. The thief that kept taking till until I was left weak and completely broken. (Mentally and physically)
Now, I’m just here to tell my tale.
It all started in December of 2015. I had felt really off and nauseous. I thought I was suffering from a never ending hangover. Low and behold on December 6 I peed on a cutesy little stick that read the words “way to go fertile murtle!!” Yes, There was a little bundle on the way! 👶🏻
A week from the moment I found out I was pregnant I started having really strong food aversions. I remember going to my doctor at 6 weeks then at 8 complaining of how sick I was and how much vomiting had been going on. Even with just smelling certain things I’d vomit. Changing positions would make me vomit. EVERYTHING would make me vomit. I was told repeatedly I had a “virus” of some sort. This went on for 4 more weeks. At that point I couldn’t even hold down water. I was throwing up so much that I eventually just threw up my own blood. My throat burned, my stomach hurt, I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without my boyfriends assistance because every time I stood up I felt like collapsing. My showers had to be me sitting on the floor in tears because my legs couldn’t hold up the skeleton of a body I now had. When Week 12 rolled around I decided to change clinics. My first visit with my new Obstetrician was pretty long, he told me he thought I had a condition but was going to give it another week to see if I got any better on its own.
Did I forget to mention by this time I had racked up about 6 ER visits in just 2 months? I knew something was wrong, very wrong. The next week rolled around and I was officially diagnosed with Hyperemesis. To recap, I began my pregnancy roughly around 130 pounds. That day almost 4 months pregnant I weighed about 96 pounds. I looked like the corpse bride. Technically, my body had been malnourished those first few months and all the food I was able to keep down was going straight to my son. I felt like I was dying. Come to find out, you CAN actually die from Hyperemesis and 1 in 3 babies pass away from it depending on severity. The diagnose hit me like a ton of bricks. This was after all my first pregnancy and this is how it was going to play out?!
My OB saved our lives. The next few weeks were me on bed rest and a lovely nurse that came and gave me IV fluids every 3 days. Ultrasounds about every two weeks to make sure my baby was ok. I was on numerous nausea medications and I slowly became an empty hole of who I once was. There was no joy, no mommy glow, no happy plans of any sort. Just pain, isolation, and anger. All I resorted too was crying, yelling at God, bargaining with him, and praying extra hard that if push came to shove Kai would make it even if that meant not being able to save me. I lost my job. My ability to go to school. The happiness any new mom deserves.
Hyperemesis took it all from me.
My pregnancy came to an end and birth rocked my world. Not in a “oh my god I can’t believe I did that” but in a “holy shit, I almost died” kinda way. The theory I hold in my head as to why I went into a shock is:
1. I had NO strength
2. 27 hours of labor and all the medical interventions was way too much for my fragile state and body
3. You can’t live in starvation mode and be expected to labor and push out a human with 0 reserves. (It’s like running a marathon after not eating for months)
I still had a series of terrifying complications even after I gave birth to my son. I blame HG for that too.
This illness robbed me of my ideal birth it left me with an emotional wound so deep I’m still trying to recover from it 8 months later but I won’t let it win. I vow to always talk about it and make sure people know how to treat any woman with this awful illness. HG warrior moms are nothing short of AMAZING. I have fought the hardest fight in my life and now I have to heal from the after shocks it has left me with. Including ptsd and a non existent appetite.
but….in the end I also thank HG for my beautiful intelligent baby boy and for the bad ass woman I know I am going to be once it’s all said and done.
To all my hg mommas:
You are a rockstar & even on days when you feel you can’t go on.. you can and you will! I know the pain.. I know the resentment .. I know how weak and misunderstood you feel. Please remember you are stronger than you think. & most importantly remember that I love you and I am here for you.