I am about a month out of my hyperemesis gravidarum pregnancy now, which is hard to get my head around. I’ve got lots of questions swimming around in my mind.
Did that really just happen? Was it as bad as I remember?
I think the mind shrouds experiences like that in a kind of fog. I know it happened. I can go back here on my blog and read about it. But it just seems so far away and unreal. Maybe it’s the mind’s way of protecting itself.
Could I have done anything differently? Did I do anything wrong?
I did so much research going into this. I have to feel confident that I did the best I could and got really aggressive treatment. Even with all of that, it was bad.
I still remember that Friday night with the nurses holding me down and trying to get a needle in me and the auditory hallucinations making me think my daughter was there crying for me. I remember the ER doctor telling me that they were going to put a PICC in and start me on TPN and then 24 hours later another doctor telling me there was nothing wrong. The night nurse taking my blood pressure so hard that all my needle sticks from earlier in the night started bleeding again. I remember fighting for a PICC and having the hospital doctors blow me off. Those three days haunt me. What if I’d fought harder? What if my regular doctor had been in town? What if I’d left the county hospital and headed up the road to the private hospital? Would my care have been better? Would they have given me what I needed right then instead of putting it off until it was almost too late?
Did I really survive that?
I remember my mom walking in the door after flying all day and turning right around and taking me back in to the ER because my IV line clotted off. I remember sitting in triage so scared of the IV stick that I was shaking. I remember looking as hard as I could at a buckle on my mom’s shoe so that I wouldn’t have to see the needle that Trauma Nurse Andy was getting ready to put in. I remember my mom hiking up and down the stairs to my bedroom bringing frozen cranberry juice and rehydrating me drop by drop.
And then it stopped.
And I felt guilty.
And then it came back a little. And I felt guilty. Because for so many women the 3rd trimester relapse is really bad, and mine was controllable with a doze of Zofran in the morning and a Nexium at night. It wasn’t that bad, but I still hated every second of it.
And then, suddenly, it was over. And I had a baby in my arms.
Am I normal again?
I think so. I still eat smaller meals. I think my stomach shrank. I can take prenatal vitamins, which is kind of exciting. I don’t have to take 12 different pills on schedule throughout the day anymore. I can enjoy my food. Even foods that I liked when I was pregnant taste better now that the hyperemesis gravidarum is gone.
And more than anything, I’m happy.
Was it worth it?
Absolutely. Both of my daughters are miracles. They are amazing people. I can’t even express how worth going through HG they are.
Would I do it again?
Absolutely not. After Cricket was born, while I was waiting for contractions to begin again so I could deliver the placenta, I was already asking my midwives to recommend someone to tie my tubes.
As much as I might want a 3rd child, there is no way I can survive HG a third time. The disease has made the decision for me. That’s kind of sucky.
Here are some raw numbers for you:
- Starting weight: 139 lbs
- Lowest weight: 127 lbs
- Final weight: 185 lbs
- Total weight lost: 12 lbs
- Overall weight gain: 46 lbs
- Max Zofran dose: 39 mg/day (that’s above the usual max dose of 32 mg that the manufacturer recommends)
- Worst day: Friday, February 18th
- Day I got my PICC: Tuesday, February 22nd
- Day my PICC failed: Thursday February 24th
- Day I turned the corner: Tuesday, March 15th