I had no idea that May 15th, 2020 was International Hyperemesis Awareness Day. That very day being my birthday, of all days, I can’t help but feel that it was meant to be. All those who know me very well knows that I am currently suffering with my second round of this disease during this second pregnancy. Hyperemesis gravidarum is severe nausea and/or vomiting that is coupled with dehydration, malnutrition, weight loss and more that affects about 1% of pregnant women.
I am part of that 1%. For the second time.
Girls like me who have always dreamed of becoming a mom and could not wait for their time to get pregnant would probably join me in saying that we always envisioned ourselves having perfect, glowing, beautiful pregnancies. Little did we know that our hopes for an amazing, energetic, euphoric pregnancy could possibly not happen. Not even close.
Before my first pregnancy, I was in the best physical shape of my life: just post wedding- a fit, tiny 95 pound thing who loved my daily workout, and enjoyed all the foods I wanted to eat. When I took that positive pregnancy test, excited for the wonderful journey I was about to embark on, nothing could have prepared me for what was actually going to come. The harsh reality that would trump all my glorious expectations out of the window.
Looking back, I am so glad that my husband and I spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a late honeymoon and embark on a Disney Dream Cruise. This trip would make the last moments I had before ever enduring this disease. We left the week after we found out we were pregnant, when I was still feeling good- amazing even. I maybe even had that “glow” for a week. Since our pregnancy was still so early and a secret to those in our lives, we took advantage and told every stranger we met on the cruise, and probably embellished about how far along we were (lol). We told our hosts/waiters (“oh, I can’t have that, I’m pregnant”), our dinner mates… we even did our pregnancy announcement there!
And on the last night of the cruise… the storm hit. And not a literal storm out at sea. The storm of vomiting and nausea. That final night, I would be woken up to the most violent, vulgar, and intense retching of all the contents of my insides (which was a lot, because all-inclusive equals eating my own weight). I remember climbing back into bed in tears, not believing what just happened. A part of me thought that I just ate too much, then remembered, this must be morning sickness. Okay, there it is and I’ll be fine. I’m fine. This has passed.
But that was not it for me. It was not just a first trimester condition like it is for most either. This nausea would stay with me day in and day out at all hours of the day all of 35+ weeks of this pregnancy. I would vomit a few hundred times for months straight. And again during labor.
I imagined having the most natural pregnancy, not daring to put one single bad or foreign thing in my body to protect my unborn baby. At about 15 weeks, my husband and I along with my parents were out at one of my favorite restaurants. I was sobbing while we were waiting for our table, because I was so hungry and just wanted to feel normal, I just wanted to be okay. I simply just wanted to eat. My doctor had prescribed me Zofran, an effective anti-nausea medicine but warned me of it’s controversy that it has been shown to be linked to babies born with congenital heart defects. This hit me so hard because in my profession, I work with the heart. I was lying across my mom’s lap, crying in public, in the middle of this restaurant when she told me that the benefits of this drug has outweighed the risks at this point. I hadn’t kept any food down for weeks. Not even water. I was losing a ton of weight and worrying her. My mom was a physician, so I always take what she says to heart. She begged me to take it, and to pray because the risk of anything happening to my baby was so low. She assured me that by taking it, I would be doing what was best for my baby. She (we didn’t know the gender at this time yet) needed the nutrients and so did I. With so much hesitation and fear, but with no other option then to starve myself and keep vomiting stomach acid, I finally took the medicine. And pretty much instantly- it worked. I got some relief. I was able to eat an entire basket of sweet potato fries, and for the first time in weeks, I was happy.
Now, this drug was not a cure. Not even a little. It merely took the edge off. It gave me the ability to eat… to a point. The impending weeks of my pregnancy, I would have to figure out, by trial and error (meaning more vomiting), the drug regimen that would give me the most optimal relief, and it was meticulous. I had to take the meds the second I opened my eyes in the morning, and exactly every four hours if I wanted to get through my day. And even if I didn’t vomit, the nausea was still there.
Yes, I tried everything. Ginger tea (really, any form of ginger), saltine crackers, soda water, Preggo Pops, gatorade, golden milk, peppermint… and though I was so appreciative of all the suggestions I would get daily, yes I tried it and no, it didn’t work.
Hyperemesis is easily the most physically taxing, exhausting, debilitating thing I have ever been through in my life. And going through it for the second time has really took a toll on my mental health. When finding out I was pregnant with baby #2 I had all the faith that this time would be different- that I would have that magical pregnancy that I see and envy everyone else having. I wanted it so bad. I still do. I thought I could bypass this by being extremely positive; I kept telling myself it was mind over matter. So when week 6 hit and I dry heaved at the toilet, I knew that I was in for round two of this horrible disease. And I mourned. I mourned the perfect pregnancy. Again. And I cannot help but be in a deep depression that instead of staying fit and eating healthy, doing all the things I normally do for self care and wellness, all the things that make me happy, even as basic as eating my favorite foods, I cannot do because I am simply too nauseous. And I hide it. I hide it well. I push through my days without most knowing there is anything wrong with me because I have to. I have a toddler and husband to take care of. I still have to work to help provide for my family. I can’t afford to baby this disease.
But the reality is, I write this blog post at 24, almost 25 weeks of my second pregnancy- having to take multiple breaks to lie down and wait for the nausea to subside enough for me to sit up again. I call this my normal pregnancy. For whatever reason, I was made to be in the 1% who carries this disease, every time. I question, why me? All the time. It makes me afraid to have more children in the future. This is my truth. This is my story.
I shied away from ever talking in depth about this, because essentially this ended in happily ever after for me. I got my beautiful, healthy baby girl. Nine months of nausea and vomiting was a small price to pay for this gift of her being in my arms since her birth to today. And I pray that is the same end for this little one in my belly. I feel like I don’t deserve to “complain” about going through this. For some, this disease ends in fetal fatalities or even death of the mother when not treated in time. Others are hospitalized for weeks, or even their entire pregnancy for HG. I don’t ever want to belittle that. Or belittle those longing who cannot even get pregnant. I don’t want to belittle cancer patients who endure years and years of nausea and vomiting due to chemotherapy. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do.
However, this year’s theme for International Hyperemesis Awareness Day is “Raise your Voice; Hear Us!” And I’m here to say that no matter what you are going through, it’s okay not to be okay. And it’s okay to say something about it. It’s okay to be sad that you’re going through something, even if you know it could be worse. It’s okay to validate your feelings. Because if you do, you will find out that you’re not alone. To all the mamas mourning a perfect pregnancy, especially in quarantine during this global pandemic, even without any debilitating symptoms… I see you. And I feel so so deeply for you.
I personally feel the most comfort from mamas who also went through the same thing, so if you have or are suffering from HG, or are feeling discouraged while being pregnant in this pandemic, please reach out and tell me your story. I am here for you.
All my love,
