From zero to twelve... in 3 months. Life with Hyperemesis Gravidarum

Disclaimer: I've been holding off for nearly 3 months to post this one... get comfortable, its a long one!

Pink line fever...

Sometime in February, a good week before I was even due for my next period, I had a 'feeling'. I believed that I was pregnant. I told my husband this premonition and he looked at me like I was finally losing the plot. Sure enough, as I stockpiled my upcoming 'pee-on-a-stick' pregnancy tests, I began the internal dialogue with myself about when was the earliest that I could take a test and possibly get an accurate result. For anyone who has been trying to fall pregnant for longer than 5 minutes (or TTC - 'trying to conceive' for those who have ever googled or been anywhere near an online forum regarding trying to have a baby), they are familiar with the craziness that ensues in the week leading up to your period due date. Sane and logical people provide a very valid argument regarding this time. They normally suggest waiting until after your period is 'late' and THEN taking a pregnancy test. Wouldn't that be more accurate? And if your period comes on time then you don't even have to worry about what a negative test would mean? Pfffttt.. Amateurs. No, those on the TTC bandwagon prefer to torture themselves with early tests. Negative results that fill you with disappointment closely followed by the reassurance that as it IS only early that there is still time for the test to be positive. Yep. It is a crazy train, and most of us jump off and on it at some point, unless we somehow just happen to fall preggo at a drop of a hat or without even remembering that it was a possibility for that month. I envy those people. They save a fortune on pregnancy tests.

So five days before I really should have been testing, I caved and peed on a stick during a break at work.. just to see. After the obligatory twisting and turning of said stick on different angles, underneath different lights, and finally under the bright light of my treatment light and magnifying glass, I was convinced that I could see a very very faint second line. (For those unaware, the majority of pregnancy tests suggest 2 lines for a positive result, 1 line for a negative). I showed my husband that night only to be told that he could not see anything and maybe wait a few more days and try again. Hmmppff! I knew that a fellow TTCer would have seen it, but didn't have one on stand by to thrust a test under their nose. So the next morning I headed straight for the pregnancy test stash. Another line, faint but definitely easier to see with the naked eye than yesterday. I triumphantly showed husband again, expecting excitement and glorification. Nope, can't see it. Wait and see. What? Really? Deflated, I headed to work, stopping off at the chemist to get a digital test that brings up word results rather than lines to stare at. Ah I told you so. I took a picture of the little screen that displayed the word 'Pregnant' and sent it to my husband. Not even he could deny it then. We were back in the ball game!

     Solid proof for husband...

As I've mentioned before, an unfortunate side effect of multiple miscarriages is the consideration of falling pregnant as merely another 'roll of the dice' rather than a guaranteed baby to take home at the end of it. Having said that, you have to be in it to win it, and I refuse to be anything other than happy and excited about this new development. Every day that I am pregnant is an opportunity for us to have a baby and another step forward. Fifth time lucky? I hope and pray for it everyday.


Four to six weeks

Preliminary blood tests show all things going to plan so far. The GP quickly writes a new referral back to the specialist Perinatal Unit at the local Women's hospital. I am very fortunate to be under the care of this amazing team. An initial appointment sets me on the path of VIP treatment for this pregnancy. We are throwing all we can at it to help little beanie stick. Extra hormones, blood thinner medication, extra early scans and countless blood tests keep me well within their radar. Words will never be able to fully express how impressed I am with all the women in this unit. They just get it. The main obstetrician overseeing me was the woman who originally looked after us in the ER department during our last miscarriage. She is brilliant, caring, and truly allows me to believe in my heart that it is possible to have a baby one day. I think she herself wants to help me deliver and hand me a newborn baby one day for her own version of a professional victory. I am so glad to have her on my team.

The early weeks are an interesting adjustment to pregnancy. It is incredible how early the food/taste cravings and aversions begin to kick in. For me, it was not so much a burning desire for a particular food that would force me to get up in the middle of the night and head for a 24 hour food store. Instead it is a thought bubble about a particular food, usually very specific, that appears in the back of my mind and does not go away until I have it. I probably had more of the aversions down pat. When a certain food is mentioned, presented, or within my smell range, I very quickly know if I DONT want it. I also seemed to have developed an unhealthy emotional attachment to eating the foods that appeal. I am lucky to eat KFC maybe twice a year, and usually only at the back end of a monstrous hangover. I equate pregnancy as feeling permanently hungover so I guess this qualifies. I feel like popcorn chicken one afternoon. Badly. So I drive off course to a drive-through, get precious popcorn chicken in hands and proceed to drive home in chicken bliss. Unfortunately a combination of an opened box on the passenger seat next to me, with a need for sudden breaking when a car speeds through a roundabout, spills the rest of the popcorn chicken onto the floor of the car. I cried. Im not kidding. Actual tears of disappointment rolled down my face as I pulled over and frantically searched for any remaining edible survivors. Pregnancy is weird.

    Yoghurt & tomatoes... Dinner sorted

Growing nausea by the day, although as yet no vomiting, combined with emotional weirdness and an unshakeable mood of irritation that sometimes makes me wonder if I'm going to give my husband a hug or punch him in the face dictates the early weeks of being pregnant. If only this was the level it stayed at. No, no, that would've been way too easy...

Six to Eight weeks...

Welcome to spew-ville, vomit town, chuck city, whatever you want to call it. Like clock work this unpleasant side effect kicked in just prior to the 6 week mark. It began slowly at first and a complicated game of food jigsaw puzzle ensued to establish what could and couldn't be eaten at any given time. What level of fullness did my stomach need to be to reduce the chance of vomiting, and what was the latest intolerable and tolerable food for the day to get by? My thoughts were consumed with this process, that I likened to trying to win a game of chess or Jenga. My initial 6 week scan went well, healthy heart beat and little beanie growing to size. The doctors welcomed my sickness with some reassurance that it really isn't just an old wives tale that sickness is linked to better pregnancy outcomes, it is a sure sign that things are happening in there. Great I told myself. I can manage this.

By the end of the 7th week however, my wheels were starting to wobble. I arrived at work on the Friday morning, spewed my heart out in the garden strip next to the car and realised that it was going to be impossible to get through a working day. Reluctantly I headed into reception to report my illness and headed back home. I remember how defeated I felt. I'm not sick, I'm pregnant! I was disappointed in myself for not battling on. It had been a long week and I was exhausted, vomiting was ramping up and I was beginning to feel its effects. I put it down to that. I had already been prescribed some anti nausea and stronger anti emetic (stop throwing up tablets) from the obstetrician. I think she had potentially foreseen what was yet to come. Come the 8th week, I tried the anti-nausea medication during work. No good. Unfortunately it enabled just enough of the queasiness feeling to dissipate to reduce the warning I had that I was going to throw up. This merely resulted in the failure to get to a toilet/sink in time. No thank you. The stronger tablet rendered me feeling just as awful, if not worse, but could just stop the vomit from surfacing. As I felt like a space cadet on them, and am required to handle sharp instruments all day as part of my job, I tried to avoid them. How quickly that would need to change.

      So scarily true...

Eight weeks +... Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG)

So the silver lining about being this sick is that I've never been this sick during the previous pregnancies that I have lost. The dark cloud about this scenario is nor have I ever been this sick in my entire life and apparently its a level even worse than most pregnant women are expected to put up with. Winning... As I hit the eight week mark, my wheels well and truly fell off. I struggled through to only the Wednesday at work, and haven't been well enough to be able to go back since. The level of chucking was getting ridiculous. I was now completely unable to keep down anything. No food, no liquids. Not even water. Vomit count was in excess of 10-15 times per day and I was completely unable to function through a normal day. My 8-9 week scan happily showed a healthy growing baby, with a strong heartbeat and on target for the pregnancy stage. It is this news alone that keeps me going. It is during this consultation that I was diagnosed with a condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG for short). Many like to follow what Princess Kate Middleton wears and replicate her dresses and cute outfits. Me? That's clearly too mainstream. No, I like to copy the insane level of illness that the poor Princess suffers while she is pregnant, whereby she has spent weeks in hospital also suffering this illness of HG. Look at me, trying to replicate royalty. Get over yourself Kylie, this you didn't really need to copy.

I found an online definition of HG so as to better explain it. Apparently it is another level up from severe morning sickness, not that I would ever discount what any woman has been through with any level of morning sickness. It is rough. Also, statistics show that only 2% of pregnant women suffer from this condition. Yep, that sounds like me. I am no stranger to being part of the low percentage bracket. I am that girl that still has a loss after a heartbeat is heard and the risk of miscarriage drops below 5%. I am that woman that has miscarriages beyond 3+ occasions, putting me in the 2% range of women who experience recurrent miscarriage. It is only fitting that when having a pregnancy that is the highest chance I've ever had to make it and stick, that the off-set is to fit in a small percentage bracket just to make the experience that much more difficult.. Ahhh if I could laugh without throwing up, I would...


"Hyperemesis gravidarum means excessive vomiting during pregnancy. Hyperemesis, or extreme nausea and excessive vomiting, occur in about 1% of pregnancies. This condition causes uncontrollable vomiting, severe dehydration, and weight loss for the mother. However, hyperemesis gravidarum rarely causes problems for the unborn baby. Women with this condition will start to show signs of starvation, including weight loss. Hospitalization is often required. Intravenous fluids with substances that help the body conduct nerve signals (electrolytes) may be given to correct the dehydration and excessive acid in the blood (acidosis). Anti-nausea or sedative medications may be given by injection to stop the vomiting." (www.medical-dictionary.com)

Yep, pretty glamorous huh?

Hospital and magical IV fluids


So, you know that you are more sick than you realise when you are at this 8 -9 week consultation and the hospital does not let you go home until they get you on IV fluids to rehydrate you. 8 hours and 3 X 1 litre bags of IV fluid later, I am finally discharged and allowed to go home. The following week we attend for another scan, mainly to appease my fears that I've never before had a baby's heartbeat survive past 9 weeks. All is well with the baby, but again not all is well with me. This time I only needed 2 X IV bags, mainly because I am taking higher levels of the powerful tablets to reduce my vomiting so I must keep some more liquid or food down for longer periods of time. The tablets reduce my vomiting from potential 20+ times per day of vomits to a more manageable 4-5 times. All goes wrong if you mistake the timing however. It doesn't fix the nausea or the terrible ill feeling either. Food and drink are still so difficult to stomach. I spend most of my days trying to determine what small amounts that I can put in my stomach, in the mushiest form, that I can handle coming back up the best. Yep, it is a joy. It all eventually comes up again, but it is a waiting game. Solid foods are almost completely off the menu as (beware of gross factor) they are too difficult when they come back up as they get stuck in the throat. Water is the devil for some reason. I have survived on occasional soup and sometimes juice. I am now expected to go back into hospital every few days for regular IV fluids. It is the only thing stopping severe hydration and further medical problems such as kidney and liver damage/failure. I am reassured that the baby is still getting what it needs, it just means that what is left over for me is next to nothing. 

      My lifeline... IV fluids

Hell hath no fury like HG in full flight

The constant retching is exhausting. My body does not recognise when there isn't anything left to throw up, so it will find bile and stomach juices at the depths of my stomach to scorch me with instead. Yes it is a special kind of hell that I think only those who have experienced it can truly understand. I've lost around 10kgs already, I lost 6kgs just in the fortnight between 8 & 10 weeks. Yes I had some weight to lose, but I do not recommend an HG pregnancy as an effective weight loss program. I am shrinking everywhere except for my bloated, beginning of baby bump in my lower stomach. I no longer own a bra that fits my ever expanding chest however. I'm living in sports crop tops and tracksuit pants. I have never felt more unattractive in my entire life. My throat/oesophagus is all cut up from the acidic mess that comes up every day, so I also regularly deal with throw ups of blood and the ghastly nastiness of a painful throat in between throw ups. Even though I know that puking blood in this case is not life threatening, it is something that I will never get used to.

I literally dream about food. I want to throw things at the TV when ads filled with happy people eating pizza come on. I wonder if I will ever be able to enjoy a whole meal ever again. I think my body is teetering on starvation mode, yet it is impossible to satisfy it with food. Food is the enemy. I never thought those words would ever be associated with me. Ever. 

HG is an isolating disease. Both physically and emotionally. It is simply soul destroying. I can barely stand without fainting, let alone leave the house or drive anywhere. I am just so tired and weak. I cannot attend any social engagements, barely get to work, attend classes at Uni, or do anything remotely constructive. I spend a long time staring at the ceiling or mindlessly at a TV that I'm not really watching. Although I have a good support network around me who are doing what they can to help me, they feel helpless too because there is nothing that really can be done to help anything. I've had to cancel every plan that I've had since the beginning of March. Easter weekend was supposed to be a road trip for me and the husband up to Port Macquarie, everything cancelled. I can barely sit in a car for 10 minutes, let alone hours. Its a lonely experience even if you are surrounded by people. There have been days when I have had to count minutes rather than even hours to get by. I would not wish this on even my worst enemy. Your whole life as you know it and sense of self disappears, and you are stripped back to a shell of a person during this time. A pale, depleted, grumpy mess of a person at best.

    Staring at my feet while in hospital...

I recognise that as HG is not easily understood, that well meaning acquaintances consider me in the throes of standard morning sickness, and that maybe I'm just not coping too well with it. Again, I take nothing away from standard morning sickness sufferers. I've been there before and its awful. I recently read though that comparing morning sickness to HG is like comparing a skinned knee to a broken knee. I understand that when people tell me how good it is that I'm sick because it means the pregnancy is going well,  how important that positivity is to them considering my history of multiple pregnancy losses. I have suffered morning sickness and still lost babies too, so I have perhaps been burnt by this concept abit. I do however cling to the concept that the majority of HG pregnancies result in a birth of a baby, despite the health problems associated with the mother. I also cling to the idea that if I'm truly copying Princess Kate Middleton, that I will wake up one day during the 2nd trimester and feel better. I know that the obstetricians and midwifes at the hospital, that I know mostly on first name basis now, wish this for me too.

I have joined an online Hyperemesis gravidarum group for support. It has actually been really helpful. Rather than wanting to scream blue murder at standard morning sickness survival tips surrounding eating crackers, ginger, lemonade icy poles and eating small regular meals to battle vomiting and nausea (that would be great if we could actually eat or drink ANYTHING), I found useful tips within the world of fellow HG sufferers. Again, gross alert, you may need to block your eyes if you have a sensitive stomach. In this group I've found helpful and practical tips for where I'm at right now, for example, about which angle to hold your head when throwing up to help reduce how many capillaries you burst in your face and eyes each time. Yep, that is the level of wisdom I need right now. The other thing that is good to see is those who go on to have a baby and report that even if their illness lasted the entire pregnancy, it stopped the minute they had a baby in their arms. The struggles of caring for a newborn seem to pale into insignificance compared to this long road of pregnancy. This is what keeps me going. This is the bigger picture that is all too important. 

As I hit the 'safer zone' and scans reveal that bubba is growing well and going strong, I pray with all my might that I will head into some better days as I get into the 2nd trimester. I am sick of being a hermit. I'm still waiting for this 'glow' that people talk about during pregnancy. My glow takes on a greenish hue most of the time, and not a shade that suits me. As a person who likes lists, I embarked on coming up with a list of memorable moments from the previous couple of months of HG hell. It is more fitting to call it the lowlights reel, as just when I thought I had hit my real low point, I found another one around the corner to overtake it. Here are some, in no particular order:

• Sore knees. The unfortunate realisation that they are not from any other useful cause other than too much pressure on them while my head is in the toilet bowl for extended time periods.
• One night, while in desperate need to throw up, the household bathroom was occupied so I quickly went outside to throw up in the back garden. While still retching outside, no one had realised that I was out there so my mother in law had closed up the house, locked the backdoor and gone to bed, locking me outside. I ended up waking up my husband at the bedroom window to let me in but seriously considered just sleeping in the garden for a moment.
• Throwing up so forcefully that I sometimes pass out. My body doesn't always recognise that there is nothing left to throw up and keeps heaving. Unfortunately this makes it very hard to breathe and sometimes causes a pass out. Not fun and always a bit scary.
• Throwing up so forcefully that I have peed on myself at the same time. Ok, this has happened on more than one occasion. Its a new level of misery.
• Pulling a muscle in my back from chucking. If I didn't have a little baby bump starting then I'd probably have abs of steel from all the stomach heaving, unfortunately not so good on the back though.
• A nice warm shower, the one thing during the day that makes me feel human. Nope, since I have now managed to throw up during a shower, the last frontier of misery has now been surpassed.
• Water, believe it or not, is the liquid I am least able to handle. Comes straight up. Why? Because life is cruel. No, ice cubes do not work either. Some pregnant women miss a glass of wine, not me, I just want to be able to drink a full glass of water without immediately losing it. Big dreams that I hold for myself these days.
• I woke up one morning feeling better than usual. I thought I would test the medication waters by holding off on anti-throw up tablets for 2 hours... After the 5th throw up during that 2 hour period I am forced to concede defeat.
• Busted capillaries in my face due to the forcefulness of constant vomiting. Puffy eyes, headaches, bleeding gums, furry teeth, scratchy and painful throat, are all side effects of the strain of vomiting and retching. It is not fun. 
• I've been too scared to look too close in a mirror for nearly a month now. I can barely leave the house except to get to hospital so forget hair and beauty appointments, nice clothes, or the energy to follow any type of normalcy. I don't even recognise the woman in front of me right now.
• *Sigh*... that's enough, I'm depressing myself.

My desperation to become a mother is what keeps me as strong as I can be during this time. Although my body is being ravaged and depleted, as long as there is a baby growing and developing in there, I will find a way to hold on. It sounds abit corny, but I have a couple of newborn jumpsuits that I sleep with under my pillow each night. Sometimes I wake up clutching onto one of them like a toddler does to a security blanket. Sometimes it is this visual reminder that allows me to face another day staring at a toilet bowl or a ceiling of the hospital. 

  My 'security blankets'- yes they're blue which means I'll probably have a girl.. Lol

Another is the comforting hand on my arm, or head, or leg from my supportive husband. After particularly bad spew sessions that sometimes put my nervous system into overdrive and leave me shaking, trembling, and gasping for breath, it is only his comfort that calms me down and relaxes me. He sees the worst moments and the lowest points. He sees the times that things get the better of me and all I can do is cry, curled up in bed. I am so blessed to have this man in my life and by my side. I have never needed him more than I do I right now. Without him I think I'd totally fall apart. I want to give this man a child so badly it seems to fill my entire core, my entire being, with desperation, love and sometimes grief. We are hanging in there. This too shall pass. Every week gotten through is one to check off as gone for good. This small percentage girl is going to crawl through to a much larger percentage one day. The percentage of women who are mothers.