Hyperemesis gravidarum is such a difficult road. I knew it would be hard, but I really underestimated things.
I really feel like I am winning the physical battle against HG. I’m able to eat specific foods: Tostitos corn chips, my mom’s potato casserole (potatoes, cheese, and sour cream), baked potatoes, artichokes with ranch dressing, McDonald’s cheeseburgers no onions extra pickles, cheesy-bread from Topper’s Pizza with lots of ranch dressing, the occasional salad with ranch dressing, and most recently egg noodles with a little butter and a lot of Parmesan. That is really, really good.
I’m having a harder time getting fluids in. Up until recently, if it wasn’t frozen and sour it wasn’t going to work. Frozen cranberry juice is how I start my morning, then I suck on ice cubes the rest of the day. I’m getting, on average, around 30 oz of fluids a day. I’m only barely staying ahead of that central line, which I want to avoid if at all possible.
I’m not throwing up that much. Maybe once every 4-5 days. I’m nauseated a lot, but less than I expected to be. I just feel weak all the time. Getting up and doing anything is very difficult.
The emotional battle, though, I feel like I am losing. Sometimes I think of myself in the past tense. I used to love to travel. I used to be an active and involved mom. I used to love, love, love eating food. I feel like I am forgetting the person I used to be and I wonder if I will remember how to be that person when this is all over. It’s harder and harder to get out of bed. It’s harder and harder to take a shower. Friday, I just lay in bed filthy. Mom is doing her best to encourage me and get me moving, but I know she’s frustrated. Is there such a thing as pre-partum depression?
Let me be very clear. HG causes depresssion, not the other way around. No amount of fresh air, getting up and moving around, showering, or thinking positive will make this disease go away.
I don’t feel like a pregnant lady. I think we HGers have more in common with cancer patients than pregnant women. Granted, our illness isn’t terminal assuming we have proper medical support. But with all the stuff we have to deal with: IVs, PICC lines, running out of veins, arms destroyed by needle sticks, central lines, TPN, NJ feeding, and just the intensity and length of the sickness. It’s not fair.
Saturday, I talked to the fellow that does our yard. He knows I’m sick, and he asked how I was doing. I admitted that I was feeling pretty defeated, and he said something that really touched me. He said, “Don’t let the Redeemer’s fire burn you up.” Does this mean I will be stronger and braver when all this is done? I don’t feel that way right now.
I’ve been trying to hold images in my head of things that remind me of this: the phoenix and the sacred lotus that rises out of the mud to blossom and now the fire in a forge.
But more and more I feel like I’m just sinking.
I have another doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. I think she will ask me if I want to go on steroids. I wonder if those will get me through the next couple of weeks and into the part of pregnancy where I don’t feel like utter crap.