After two consecutive miscarriages, I was so excited on MLK day in January 2019, to see those two pink lines that indicated I was pregnant again. I thought I had dealt with the hardest part of pregnancy, just getting pregnant but that was wrong.
At week six, I began feeling nauseous, I told myself this was normal as all the apps said I would feel this way. By week seven, on Valentines Day, I began vomiting. Nothing that was suggested for nausea remedies helped and I began throwing up many times a day. I was in my 3rd year of teaching at the time, I would remember waking up and throwing up twice before I even got to work and trying to sneak into the hallway to throw up. At my 8 week appointment, I remember crying to my mother in law, begging her to take me to my appointment because I was so sick, I couldn’t drive myself. By week 10, my students noticed the drastic difference in my appearance and were worried I had something contagious so I told them I was pregnant. When I was focused on my students, I didn’t throw up as much. However, when I got home I couldn’t eat, I would just take a large bucket to my bed and throw up until I fell asleep. I knew if I was awake, I would throw up. I struggled to take my thyroid medication and my prenatals. I was taking promethazine suppositories I got from my mom and wearing a sea band.I was worried about what would happen to my baby. By week 13, I went to my friend’s bridal shower wearing a dress I hadn’t fit in years, gray skin, with 30 pounds lost. After the bridal shower, I began throwing up violently, my throat felt like it was on fire. I looked at my husband and said “I think I need to go to the hospital”. We went to the ER, I was terrified because I had never stayed in the hospital before. I was admitted to the Antepartum unit in my local hospital. I was put on a liquid diet and given anti-nausea medications (zofran, promethazine, diclegis and a banana bag. I was discharged after 3 days. I was put on diclegis once during the day and twice at night and told to stop taking the prenatals. I became functional, but I threw up every day until I delivered my oldest, Kara, in September 2019.
14 months later, Kara was walking and growing up. I had learned some things about HG, though only my primary OB ever told me I had it, and knew it had an 80 percent recurrence. My husband and I thought we knew what to expect this time so we could prepare and it wouldn’t be so bad. However, we couldn’t be more wrong. The symptoms started like clock work, nausea at 6 weeks, and at 7 weeks vomiting again. This time I vomited every time I was awake and moved. Even if my stomach was empty, I threw up. I was admitted to hospital in the general population for 3 days then was discharged, while I was in the hospital someone called and asked if I was interested in using a zofran pump for treatment and I agreed. A week or two later the vomiting continued day and night with the pump. My husband had to wheel me into my doctor’s appointment because I was so weak I couldn’t walk. My OB got me signed up for IV home fluids and a nurse set up my IV showed my husband what to do to change my IV bags. I had to request a leave of absence from work because I could no longer function and I couldn’t bring my IV to school, and I was still throwing up. I began refusing to eat and was living off the sustenance of IV fluids only. My husband eventually admitted me to the ER again, they gave me some meds, gave me some water and said “well, you didn’t throw up so it’s time to go home”, and I got back in the car with my Mom and threw up. My mom said, “Do you want to go back there?” I refused. I told my OB I would not go back to the hospital unless they admitted me to antepartum. He agreed and when I was admitted he talked to me about getting a PICC line. Because it was COVID times, I had to go alone to get the procedure. It was extremely scary. The first week I was in the hospital they couldn;t get me to stop throwing up, and I wasn’t allowed anything except ice chips, which I still threw up. I had lost 40 pounds at this point and I was being considered for a feeding tube due to severe malnourishment. The doctor finally decided to go past the maximum dose for the anti-nausea medications and I was on a rigorous schedule of 6 different medications every 2 hours until I stopped throwing up. They got me on TPN through my PICC line (feeding tube through IV) and gave me the nutrients I needed. The second week in the hospital they finally let me see my 15 month old, I remember crying because I hadn’t seen her in a week. Because of COVID, I had no visitors except my husband. I remember feeling so alone and feeling like I was going to die. Even seeing food on a commercial on the hospital TV made me want to throw up. During that second week, I was slowly able to eat food again. Then since my body had gone so long without real food, I had severe gas pains and threw up all over again due to the pain. Eventually, my body adjusted and I was able to remove the zofran pump, PICC line and leave the hospital. I stayed off work another two weeks to give myself some time to recover and was on a strict 2 hour medication schedule just to function. I was eventually able to return to work but it took until about week 18 for me to be able to function again. If I didn’t take my medication, I would go right back to vomiting all over again. This continued until I delivered my son, Luke, in August 2021.
At this point, I knew I was done, I could not go through this again. I was dealing with severe postpartum depression, so much so that I was taking antidepressants, and when my period was late 8 months later, I took a pregnancy test and my heart stopped. I was pregnant again and I knew what was coming again. I cried and wrestled with emotions of wanting to terminate my pregnancy because I just couldn't do it again. My family was like, “think positive, it may not happen again”. But like clockwork week 6 nausea, week 7 the vomiting episodes began. I felt so embarrassed telling my boss that I was pregnant again and that I was probably going to struggle with HG again. I spent a week in the hospital, things got better for a while but then the symptoms came back into full force and the medication wasn’t working. I spent another week in the hospital. I had gotten a new job in between hospitalizations, but was told my old job wouldn't cover me anymore because I couldn’t make it to work on my last day, why? Because I was in a hospital bed attached to an IV. Finally, I figured out promethazine worked best for me and it became my primary medication. I felt so weak all the time and it took me almost 25 weeks to feel more “normal”. I finally felt like myself again when I delivered my youngest daughter Cecilia in December 2022.
Now 16 months later, I struggle every day with coping with HG. I feel sick when I think about the foods I could only eat when I was at my worst. I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety and major depressive disorder. I made my husband get a vasectomy because I fear becoming pregnant again. HG robbed me of the joy/excitement pregnancy should have brought us. Instead, I spent most of it alone, fighting for my life, and my children’s. I share my story because a treatment needs to be found. My doctor was mostly supportive, but I came across many doctors/nurses who were not. I even remember once in the ER saying, “I have HG”, and a nurse saying, “Have you actually been diagnosed with that?” Women and babies globally deserve to be heard and listened to. No one deserves to have to suffer with HG.
