It is with mixed feelings that I write for HG awareness day. On one hand, though it has more and more been acknowledged as a real disease that affects a good number of women (and their families) in recent years, it has a long long way to go to outgrow the common perception that it’s nothing more than bad morning sickness. And so, I want to help spread the word about HG, raise awareness, so that women afflicted by this evil have a shot at getting the support they so desperately need.
On the other hand, as I read through the notes that I took near the end of our last pregnancy to remember the harsh reality of the symptoms associated with HG, I am overcome with anger and anguish. Jessica told me just minutes ago that she thinks she has PTSD because of HG, and she’s realizing this as she’s facing the stories of HG sisters posting their stories on Facebook. I think I am traumatized as well.
Jessica wants to rip HG’s head off. I want to beat the crap out of HG, beat it to a pulp, until it’s an unrecognizable mangled mess on the floor. But we can’t. This oppressor has no face, no body, nothing to target. No sniper can take it down, we can’t fight it with our buying power, we can’t legislate it out of our lives, or use political influence to pressure it into reform. Disease is unlike any other form of oppression in the world in that there is no hope of rescue, short of a miraculous medical discovery or an act of God. Because the oppressor is inside you. Indeed, the oppressor may just be a part of you. Your body fighting something inside your body.
And so it is with Hyperemesis Gravidarum.
It wasn’t so long ago that HG didn’t even have a name. When we were expecting Earth Baby, the common belief of nurses and doctors was that Jessica was bringing on the symptoms herself because she just didn’t want to have the baby. They saw her as a nut case, making herself sick to the point of such severe dehydration that her organs were starting to shut down, forcing herself to throw up 20+ times a day while making it look like she couldn’t control it, putting her husband through the sadistic torture of watching his life-filled, passionate, driven, loving, life-cherishing wife whither day after day until she lost weight, health, passion, ability to walk, coherent thought, drive, and the will to fight my desire to take her to a hospital where I thought she would get the help she needed. Only to be told that they thought it was all in her head and she just needed to want to have the baby and everything would be fine, or just get it over with already and abort it.
Our awareness of HG has come a long way. Thank God. Because, difficult as it was this last time with Sugarbaby, we were able to keep Jessica hydrated so that she could keep working, living, and loving through it all. Home care was a daily routine, and it was hard, and there was still a toll taken on our family as our kids watched as IV after IV had to be placed every 2-3 days and their mommy was sick. But she was still here. She didn’t die inside and become a shell of herself, with toddlers pretending to throw up with her because that’s what they saw every day. Not this time. This time I kept my life-filled, passionate, driven, loving, life-cherishing wife and our children kept their loving mommy.
And even still, I’m traumatized. Here is something I wrote near the end of our last pregnancy, trying to give an idea of what HG does to an expectant mother:
“HG is all consuming, drags you down and takes everything away, food, drink, energy, clarity, motivation, but it leaves you with emotion and time so that you feel everything that you’re missing out on, until it’s just too much work to deal with the emotion and that’s taken away too, leaving you numb. And as you react, draw in, withdraw because it just takes too much energy to communicate your frustration and disappointment, HG takes away friends, family, relatives, even the well-intentioned ones until all you have left is time. Time to wait. And as the energy is sucked out of you, HG takes work, hobbies, and finally even your means of mental escape.”
I’m afraid that even over a year later, I still don’t have much positive to say about HG. Actually, I don’t believe I’ve said a single positive thing about it, have I? Thinking on it again today, I’m right back to that visceral desire to give HG a body and obliterate it.
If only I could.
~ Jeremy
It comforts me in some strange way to read this along with the many post on Facebook.I cant even look at the name of this disease without cringing…my memories include dragging myself to the kitchen for a popsicle that I would throw up on the way back to bed…wanting so desperately to die. Many migranes from dehydration and then the wonderful hospital stay from Nov. to Feb…leaving my husband with a preteen, 6 dogs, two cats, a full time job in the military, a soccor team to coach and online classes to complete. I didnt even feel bad for him at the time…I couldn’t feel anything. I felt like nothing more than a vessel to grow this baby that was killing me…I remember an amniocentesis to check lungs, but there was no fluid, and then those glorious words,”lets deliver this baby”. Slept thru induction, one push and poof. Just like that no more nausea. I dont think I could make it thru that again…so six times? Your wife is of another realm. …Bless each of you, but especially her. ?
I have been one of those nurses desperately looking for a vein. I’ve seen the devastation of the mothers and family. One of the most important (my opinion) is reminding them “it’s not their fault!” Constantly reminding these women they aren’t alone, trying to be with them. Helping husband and family with their emotional feelings, constantly reminding them that HG is something NO ONE wants to be having. It’s like a 24/7 hang over with no end in sight.
It brings me comfort to know I am not alone. I am pregnant for a third time (we suspect it will be my second HG pregnancy) and I am scared. My last pregnancy literally drove me insane. My first OB told my family I was bulimic and needed help because it was not possible to throw up through zofran. She told me it was due to the fact I didn’t want her. Even though I had support from my husband and family, I felt alone. I lost 60lbs, most of my teeth enamel, and still suffer from PTSD. As much as I hate the fact that others suffer as well, I thank you for sharing and making it public. I don’t feel so alone this time.
Thank you…this encompasses my thoughts perfectly.
Also it is thanks to your dear wife, I had the courage to take medication and get hydration…I still met so much ignorance that I didn’t get enough and didn’t get help until I had lost the will to fight for more care, but we made it.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing. Having HG is one of my worst fears, even though I’ve never experienced it, I still fear that someday it could happen. But it is reassuring to me to know that there is more help and support out there than ever before and it’s reassuring that I could make it through it.