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What its like to suffer Hyperemesis Gravidarum

Updated on March 28, 2016

My pregnancy struggle with Hyperemesis Gravidarum

I was 18 when I found out I was pregnant, it was scary and exciting all at the same time. I hadn't finished high-school, I had 1 credit left that I needed in order to graduate. I didn't drive ( I still don't but its a work in progress); my partner and I were living in a 1 bedroom apartment; where, and how were we going to raise a baby? Neither of us were very mature at that point in or lives. I made sure to measure out my options, adoption, keeping, letting someone in my family raise our baby until we were ready to be parents, etc.
Around the 4 month mark of my pregnancy I began to get very sick; the night the constant puking started is one I don't know that I will ever forget. I had, had a nice supper and visit with my mother, who later dropped me back of at my little apartment where I began a movie and waiting for my partner to get off work. It was an hour after I had gotten settled onto our futon in the living area when I began feeling an uncontrollable nausea, I threw up for 3 hours before my partner had come home to find me absolutely miserable and going back and forth from the living area to the bathroom. It of course wasn't long after he'd gotten home that we went into Royal University Hospital, in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan; where we spent the rest of the night, we were eventually discharged and almost immediately upon getting home I was throwing up all over again, so this time we called my mother who met us at St. Pauls Hospital as we all thought it would be quicker to get in, by this point I had gone 24 hours with out sleep and was beginning to puke up stomach acid; the nurses, and other staff members at St. Pauls were far more helpful than those at the Royal University Hospital. We proceeded to spend the next 4.5 hours in the hospital, and of course no one gets much rest in hospital settings so I was not only tired but growing very grouchy.
My mother offered to let my partner and I get some much needed sleep at her house which wasn't very far from the hospital; it was an offer I couldn't refuse, it sounded so nice to be able to sleep, and not just sleep but sleep in the house I had spent much of my life and felt most comfortable at.
Unfortunately that was not my last hospital visit. I proceeded to puke almost everyday of the week for at minimum 14 hours; at which point I would be taken back to the hospital where they would ask the same questions at least 3 times by at least 3 different people and have my electrolytes checked and would then be placed on saline solution via IV; and several hours later sent back home where the vicious cycle would start all over again.
By my 6th month of pregnancy I had gone through 3 types of anti-nausea medication; I was growing lonely, more depressed than I had been before pregnancy, bored,stressed and just plain miserable. I couldn't stand bodily contact, heat of any kind, cold of any kind, food, couldn't eat at a restaurant without having to leave shortly after arriving due to feeling ill. I lost friends because I couldn't commit to hanging out, I lost friends who didn't support my pregnancy, I eventually shut myself away, and for the first time in my life I felt truly alone,I did not want to leave the house; because the majority of the time I spent out I would find myself throwing up in a parking lot, in the sink in my prenatal doctors office,or anywhere I was at the time. There was rarely ever time to get to somewhere private, So I would find myself feeling embarrassed that Id thrown up in public. I spent the majority of my pregnancy at my grandparents farm, an hour away from any hospital (not the safest idea); but out there I felt okay most days, lots of fresh air, it was quiet, no one I got in the way of, I didn't have to feel like I was a burden there.
But inevitable I grew very sick there too, and was again brought back into the city and back to the hospital, where I spent the entire night, on IV and thinking that this was NOT what I had planned to happen with my life, at least not at 18. I couldn't work as no where even in my dreams would hire someone who couldn't make the commitment to be at work. So I was stuck at home, while it felt like everyone else was out living lives, having fun, even those among-st me that were pregnant as well seemed to be having a far better time of it than I was.
My partner and I began struggling to keep our relationship afloat. I was miserable and no longer wanting to sleep next to him as the body heat would make me sick, so I ended up not living with him but saw eachother almost everyday.
It seemed like my pregnancy lasted forever, and like it was never going to end; but it did. It ended and so did the throwing up, but it didn't end without leaving its toll.
I struggled, and still struggle to this day with an undiagnosed, uncategorized eating disorder. I struggle occasionally with what I call phantom smells that remind me of times, when I was puking and it makes me feel nauseous all over again. I struggle to have the bond I want with my son, as I didn't get to bond with him the way a mom with a smooth pregnancy would, he is my whole world and I wouldnt want it any other way, I just wish I had been able to start bonding with him before he was born.
at 8 months pregnant I went into labor, my son was delivered via cesarean at 1:03 a.m November 3rd 2013, he was 3lbs 13oz, and just perfect.
Somehow my son made it through 8 months of his mom being sick and not getting enough nutrients; he is my miracle. And I am so lucky and so proud to be able to call myself his mom.





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