I have already posted a brief hello here, but wanted to share my story of HG for those who are just learning about HG for the first time...
My story of HG is a long one, so I will do my best to keep it brief. Warning, it contains vivid memories of HG and the death of our infant son.
I found out on my 20th birthday in 1988 that I was pregnant with my first son. The first time I threw up, I couldn’t stop smiling, it all felt so real, so amazing to me. But it didn’t take long to get to the point that I was hospitalized. The medications available in 1988 were not at all helpful to me. I had reactions to all of them which were almost as bad as the HG itself. One made my eyes feel like they were literally on fire, I would sob with cool washcloths over my face, and felt sicker than ever. One made my head turn to the side and my eyes roll up in the back of my head. It was horrible. The only treatment I responded to was IV fluids, everything else made me feel much worse.
When I was hospitalized for a week, they had me in a room with a woman who had just had a mastectomy. The nurses would come in to drain her wounds and I could hear the suctioning sounds and threw up every time. We were right across from the nurse’s station, and they were making and burning popcorn all day and night. It was absolutely horrible for me. One time I asked for help b/c my emesis basin was full and I was still feeling very sick. My blood pressure was down to 85/46 and I was too dizzy to walk to the bathroom. The nurse said she was too busy and took the basin and left it on a shelf still full, across the room. I just had to turn my head and throw up down the side of the bed.
My next pregnancy was exactly two years later. I went to the doctor because I thought I had the flu, but it turned out I was pregnant. I spent twenty weeks very sick and untreated because the medicines didn’t help.
My third pregnancy was an unplanned delight, just 15 months later, but caring for two toddlers while being so sick was very difficult. I would put my two older sons in their play room with toys, while I laid in front of the door to make sure they couldn’t get hurt or leave the room. I just laid there on the floor with my small bowl I could spit into and dry heave into. I hadn’t had any fluids in weeks, so there was no need for a large bucket, all I ever threw up was bile and blood.
Twelve years later, in 2004, I remarried. My new husband very much wanted a child, and I warned him about HG and its horrors. We decided to try anyway. My three teenage sons were committed to helping me when I got sick. There is no way you can describe HG to someone who hasn’t seen it though. I really don’t think my family knew what they were committing to. The first few weeks I just had morning sickness. I felt ok at times and at other times, I felt pretty bad. But I had enough of the good times to keep myself hydrated.
Then at twelve weeks my world came crashing down. I went from throwing up just a few times a day, to throwing up non-stop. I called my doctor who said “If you feel worse tomorrow call me.” My husband was out of town for work, and I called him to let him know how sick I was. He made arrangements to come home early. I continued to throw up constantly for days. Every day calling the doctor and begging for help, every time I got the same reply, “Call tomorrow if you feel worse.” She had prescribed Zofran which was a miracle drug for me but she said I could only take 4 mgs every eight hours. If I had the miracle of holding down the Zofran, I would be sick again within just a couple of hours. This was unrelenting vomiting, standing at the kitchen sink vomiting over and over and over for hours. My legs were sore from standing, my chest was sore from heaving. My son urged me to lay in bed with a small bowl since it was only bile anyway. So I tried that but felt even more dizzy. At least my legs could rest though. Our insurance company denied my refill of Zofran stating that the regular dose of Zofran is nine pills every thirty days. I would cry tearless energiless sobs alone in my room, begging God for help. Finally my husband took me to the ER. The nurses there immediately hooked me up to IV fluids and called my OB. They came back into my room and said, “Your doctor is very upset that you let it get this bad, she said, ‘next time tell her to not wait so long to seek treatment.’”
At that time the insurance company decided it was cheaper to authorize the higher more frequent dose of Zofran than to keep me in the hospital, so I was given Zofran and sent home.
The next month of my pregnancy was spent very sick, yet surviving. I just kept repeating to myself that at the end of this horrible sickness I would have a beautiful baby to hold. I pictured my husband holding his first child, my teens holding their baby sibling, and my mother in law holding her first grandchild. I just had to keep it in perspective. Then December 20, 2004 I got the news that changed my life forever. We received the results from our amniocentesis, our precious son, Jordan, had a condition known as Trisomy 18. 80% of babies with Trisomy 18 are stillborn and 90% die before their first birthday. Our world seemed to crash down around us. My husband and I sobbed and sobbed for days. We did not tell our family this heart breaking news until January, not wanting to scare their view of the Christmas season.
The first phone call we did make was to our OB. We asked to come in that day for an appointment. We wanted to know all about Trisomy 18, and wanted to know all we could do to help our son beat the odds. He had a 10% chance of celebrating his first birthday, we wanted to do all we could to see him that day. That phone call pulled the rug our from under our very shaky legs. Our OB advised us to terminate our pregnancy. I told her that was not an option for us. I asked her what we could do to help our son. She said, “It is just a pointless nonviable fetus, you have Hyperemesis, there is no reason to continue this pregnancy.” I told her we wanted to come and talk to her in person. She refused to see us until our regular appointment that was scheduled a month away. She told us that she would not authorize anymore Zofran either. She said that it was an expensive medication and it wasn’t worth her office staffs’ time to deal with our insurance company for a pregnancy that should be terminated anyway. As I hung up the phone, I felt completely abandoned. What on Earth could we do? Our own doctor wasn’t going to help us, but we need a doctor. I really had no idea what step to take next.
We talked with some friends from church who agreed to pray for us. They urged us to find a new doctor. A friend from work made some phone calls and found a doctor willing to take us. We went to our next appointment with our regular doctor hoping to see a change in her attitude. She was even more cold this time, insisting that I needed to terminate the pregnancy and just get back to work. She discontinued my disability leave and continued to refuse to authorize Zofran. I felt like not only was she giving my son a death sentence but she was sentencing me to death too by taking away the medication that was saving my life. She was using the Zofran as her leverage to force me to terminate. She said it was not her job to care for sick babies and that if I wanted help for Jordan I should just find a good pediatrician. She refused to give us any further ultrasounds or fetal care, stating, “It is just going to die anyway.”
We scheduled an appointment with the new OB. We went in ready to fight for our son. I wrote our a list of demands we had for our care. When I finished fighting for him, we allowed the doctor to speak. He told us that his baby had been born with a fatal birth defect as well, and spent weeks in the NICU. He said that he would do anything he could for us. He scheduled two ultrasounds, a non stress test, and refilled my Zofran. I walked out of there with fresh hope for my son.
Just two months later, our son Jordan William was born alive! He was the most beautiful precious child I had ever seen. He was tiny weighing in at only 2 pounds 6 ounces, but so strong and beautiful. He squeezed our fingers and looked into our eyes with so much love. We were gifted with the miracle of 32 hours with Jordan before he went to be with Jesus.
Three months later, we conceived our second son, Joshua. My HG with him only lasted for about a month before suddenly I felt totally healthy again. I figured God had blessed me with health on our last pregnancy. I went in for my regularly scheduled appointment in my second trimester, and found out that he had died. Autopsy results later told us that he had Down’s Syndrome. Since losing Joshua, we have lost two more babies to very early miscarriage.
We have tried to conceive again for nine months now and have had no luck. It is such a difficult thing to try month after month, knowing that even if we get the desire of our hearts to be pregnant again, we have months of battling the horror of HG and the fear of loss. It seems our marriage has been plagued by two and a half years of grief, sickness, and death, with very little time for joy and rejoicing.
You can read more about Jordan at http://jordan.newlifeshasta.com/
