How do you put words to something that stole a portion of your life and left you reeling long afterwards, when that very ‘thing’ is one that most people have never heard of? But that’s what HG is for me. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is a rare (read: incredibly underdiagnosed/recognised) complication of pregnancy. It steals your beautiful shift into motherhood and instead leaves you a depleted, malnourished, vomiting shadow of your former self.
We still aren’t quite sure what causes it, or how to stop it, so women with HG continue to live with severe nausea and vomiting often consuming their entire pregnancy. The impacts are devastating – dehydration, essential vitamin and mineral deficiencies, hypotension, tachycardia, ptyalism, mental health concerns as well as the profound impact it can have on your quality of life and everything that encompasses.
Finding out I was pregnant with our first baby was a wonderful surprise. Being struck with relentless nausea and vomiting just two weeks later was an awful surprise.
But being a first time, Mum I didn’t know this was different.
I continued to drag myself through full days of treating patients. I spewed between every single appointment and often during them too. I allowed double the travel time because even being in the car was enough to amplify my symptoms and leave me spewing and crying roadside. All of this while trying to put on a brave face because ‘you don’t tell anyone before 12 weeks’.
The magic 12-week mark came and went, but HG didn’t. By now I had lost 15kg, a whopping 20% of my body weight. I was admitted to hospital for a week of IV supplements, rehydration and medication. At this point it was impossible for me to work and I began months of being bed ridden. The curtains in our room stay drawn because rolling over to face away from the light would trigger an endless episode of vomiting. The only sense of time was a phone alarm reminding me to take another dose of medication in the hopes of keeping just a sip of water down. But it didn’t. Despite those very meds costing us our savings I still found my way to the maternity ward every three days for more IV fluids.
In all of this I felt so incredibly alone because no one knew or could possibly understand the torment I lived through every single day.
People fumbled to find supportive things to say:
‘think of the baby you’ll get at the end’
‘oh I had morning sickness too’ ‘ginger and dry crackers will fix it’
‘it will stop at 12 weeks…16 weeks…20 weeks’ ‘At least you can get pregnant’
Not even one of those words helped.
I had no connection to this baby I was supposed to love.
I resented being pregnant at all and was constantly torn between my only two options:
continue to struggle through every single day or terminate our pregnancy. I called our growing baby ‘it’ or ‘leech’ and had no desire to swoon over sweet little onesies or decorate a nursery. I lived with the fear that he would know I hated pregnancy and we wouldn’t ever connect and love each other. How could we after all of this? Then there was my relationship. In a few short months of living together my now husband had shifted from boyfriend to carer. He had to supervise my in the shower because I couldn’t do it alone. The heat made me pass out and if I did make it through, I had to literally crawl back to bed to gather the strength for dressing – only to spew and wet myself and need to change again.
And so on and on this awful ride went. Some days I managed sips of water, and on a few wonderful days I even managed to keep down food. I wished the entire pregnancy away because the only thing that could make the suffering end was labour. But how in hell could I manage to deliver this baby when I could barely even tolerate the car ride to the hospital? In spite all of that I was still one of the lucky ones. I survived my pregnancy. I avoided needing tube feeds and long-term hospitalisation. My healthcare team believed me. My workplace supported me. My family understood and held me.
I came home with a baby.
I birthed a beautiful, healthy baby boy and I cannot even tell you how euphoric that first gulp of water and solid meal was. I was left with fractured teeth, a depleted body, pelvic organ prolapse and all the other wonders that come with giving birth. All of them a price I would happily pay to not be in the grip of HG anymore.
To the leagues of women out there, the HG survivors and sufferers, I see you. I’ve been you. Above all else, I admire you, respect you, and hold love for each and every one of you. I’d also like to acknowledge here the brilliant work of Hyperemesis Australia. A locally founded charity advocating for policy changes within hospitals, increasing awareness for HG and the provision of a peer support program linking HG mamas with HG survivors. Because no one understands Hyperemesis like another HG survivor. Whether you're suffering or you've survived, click on the icon below to link in with HA and help more Mum's who are just like us.
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