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Hyperemesis Drama

What is hyperemeis gravidarum? That is the question I get the most these days. The simple definition that I tell most people is that it is extreme morning sickness. But that is by far the biggest understatement I've ever said. It feels almost like a lie.

So what is hyperemesis? It's feeling like death. It's a living hell. It's breathing and existing, but simultaneously not. It's being burdened with the largest amount of guilt. It's watching life move on without you. It's not being able to do what you enjoy. It's quite a lot like depression in that way.

But how do I really feel? My days often go like this: I wake up, I swallow whatever pills that I need to take in the morning, I pray that they stay down because the moment I leave my bedroom and step into the front room I am overwhelmed with the smell of my apartment and I can't stand it at all.

I sit on the couch while Daniel gets Nathan and himself ready for the day, He leaves for work by 9am because I spend a half hour telling him how miserable I am and how I want him to stay home because I can't do this alone another day, I complain that I've become the biggest whiner in the history of whiners, Daniel finally leaves, I attempt play with Nathan which ends up with me in a bucket or huddled against the couch praying that I won't throw up and that Nathan won't poop.

I change poopy diapers and throw it out on our balcony. I congratulate myself if I haven't thrown up yet, Nathan then begs me for signing time (he signs for it), I turn it on while feeling the guilt that he spends hours a day watching it (I'm sick of watching signing time), he watches me for most of the episodes because he likes me to sing and sign the songs and most times I try to do my best.

I try to put on a smile for my son. I end up crying with how overwhelmed I am with not being able to play or care for my son the way I should. I feed Nathan and try not to throw up while giving him foods then I bathe him because I can't stand the smell of food on him. I sit for an hour asking him to let me change his poopy diaper again but he refuses to let me change him without chasing him. Chasing him makes me sick.

I attempt to put him down for a nap which can take multiple attempts and when he is finally down he sleeps for half an hour and wakes up screaming. This kid has never been a great napper. I kiss his injuries, I hug him, I sing to him, I try to make life as normal as possible, I suck it up all for my son, and when Daniel comes home late I cry again.

When Daniel does come home I either sit on the couch trying not to talk (talking, movement, and light makes me sick) or enclose myself in my bedroom which means I am not seeing Nathan play and interact. Daniel does all the chores, errands, and care for Nathan when he is home. At night I gag down my cocktail of pills and try to sleep but I also worry about what the next day will hold.

A zofran day is nearly the same thing except I can play with Nathan just a little bit more. I can talk just a little bit more. I drink a little bit more. But zofran days have their own added bonuses of debilitating migraines and constipation (which is hard to fix when you can't eat or drink and stool softeners decide to not work very well). I go days off of zofran to help me feel better in those ways, but then I am not able to move or talk without being sick. I can't win.

I've decided that my next baby I am begging for iv therapy. I should of had that for this baby. I should be going to get iv fluids a couple times a week at least, but my experience at urgent care was so negative I can't bring myself to go there again.

Next to the guilt of not being able to care for my family is the feeling of inadequacy when I realize people think I have normal morning sickness. It seems like I am the only one who can't handle life and pregnancy. Even after I explain how I have felt for the past 15 weeks they still don't understand. No one can unless you have gone through this. I get a lot of "how are you feeling today" and "hope you feel better soon" like it's a cold. I get sick of telling people after this long that it isn't getting better. This question makes me feel like I am asking for attention or sympathy when I say I'm still not feeling well. It makes me feel like I am weak. I am NOT asking for attention. I am an introvert. I prefer to be alone, so it is so hard for me to ask for help and have people around all the time. Trust me, this is no where near attention seeking. I feel guilty asking for help.

Meals mean leftovers, which then means I can't go near the kitchen till they are gone or watch while it is being eaten. Though it is a double edged sword because meals feed my son and husband! I appreciate the meals we have received.

There are those who have come to help with Nathan for an hour or two here or there and I am grateful, bonus points to those who don't make me feel like I am useless and uplift me instead! I love those who have dropped by (with a text or call) and given me things I need without me asking! The beauty of doing service for someone without being asked! Seriously it makes my day and makes me feel loved! I've felt isolated and alone and like a nuisance so any help from people without me asking is welcomed.

I'm praying I will begin to feel better by the beginning of January. I need to come to terms that this pregnancy is harder than it was with Nathan. I need to come to terms that I am alone in this other than my wonderful husband, the few people who have shown compassion, and our Heavenly Father.

Daniel asked me if I would change anything we did. No. Every pregnancy was planned for. All five of them. It hasn't been easy for me constantly being pregnant and losing babies. It's not easy not being able to enjoy the pregnancies that do become successful ones. My body is tired. My heart is tired.

I am grateful for this little baby growing inside me everyday. I think of my friends who have struggled more than me everyday and feel awful for complaining. I know the gift I have.

We just need love. Help us to feel loved. That's all we ask, because right now I feel like I am drowning.

12 weeks and miserable

I’ve been asked a couple times lately about whether or not I’ve been blogging this pregnancy like I did with Nathaniel. I haven’t, but I should because I put these blog posts in my journal when I don’t get the chance to write. And today I looked back at my blog posts from my last successful pregnancy to gauge when my hyperemesis became livable and was saddened to see that I didn’t post progress till 18 to 20 weeks pregnant (while still being medicated).

But if I hadn’t blogged I wouldn’t have remembered when my silver lining might return (though every pregnancy is different). I read back to when I stopped progesterone with Nathan, confiding my worries for miscarriage and my hopes of feeling better off the hormones, but it seems the same as last time, I still feel like hell.

This pregnancy is different though because I was high risk through most of the first trimester due to my ectopic pregnancy last June (2015) and my miscarriage history. The moment my pregnancy test showed an inkling of a positive I got an appointment with my new doctors. These doctors recently had three patients with rupturing ectopic pregnancies this past summer, so when I mentioned that word, they began game planning on my care. They took my blood every two days for a while to monitor my hcg. They also threatened many times with removing my right tube if my pregnancy was located there again. The first blood draw resulted in a mere 7 (barely considered pregnant). The doctor called and told me he was trying to be optimistic, but he was worried about chemical pregnancy or ectopic. He said if the pregnancy ended in miscarriage I would get a full work up to see what was causing my problems, so even if this pregnancy turned south, I would have care provided and plans set in place.

My next blood draw my numbers were 35, more than doubled in two days! Things were looking up. My next blood draw after that my hcg was 260! More than doubling again! So a week later we scheduled my first ultrasound to determine the location of the baby.

I always get nervous for ultrasounds. I’ve not had many happy ones. I’ve seen my babies with strong heartbeats, only to lose them shortly later. My only happy ultrasounds were with Nathan and they felt foreign AKA normal. The day of this ultrasound I was stressed. I cried. I snapped at Nathan (it was not a good mom day).  I cried some more because of mom guilt. I kept saying “I don’t want to know if this pregnancy is in the correct spot or not, but I need to know, but I don’t want to know!” I was a mess.

The baby measured a week behind, but was in my uterus. So happy, but sad news since all the babies I’ve lost to miscarriage have measured behind (but I have a severely retroverted uterus and even with a transvaginal ultrasound it was still difficult to get measurements).  The next ultrasound was scheduled and I cried again before that appointment, but our baby (measuring 6w6d) had a heartbeat! This bean still measured behind, but was catching up. The next ultrasound was at 8w5d and the baby’s heartbeat was 170! He was still behind but not by much and my fears were lifted a bit. 

Since then I’ve had IV fluids, thrown up more times than I can count, and feel absolutely miserable. I recently went off my progesterone hormone supplements (which is a worrying time for me).

Today I checked for my baby’s heartbeat on my home Doppler. I was greeted with a beautiful sound. I am extremely sick with this baby, more so than I was with Nathan. I can’t get up or move without feeling sick, but to hear that little ‘thump thump thump’ was music to my sick and tired ears. I've also felt this baby since 9 weeks (small, barely noticeable flutters). Since 11 weeks (the time I was in Washington to visit family) I have actually been woken up with a strong (but rare) kick or two. And in the past few days I feel taps off and on all day. I love feeling the baby early!

I have been given dates for my due date ranging from June 1^st to June 4^th. I’ve chosen to go by the latter date in order to give my baby more time to grow at the end of my pregnancy just in case there is talk of induction. So going by that date I am 12w1d. 

Update and Ectopic Pregnancy

Let's get personal.

We have had many trials since his birth. I had a recovery that is still ongoing (fistula from 4th degree tear). Nathaniel had a tongue and lip tie that ended up giving him horrible silent reflux (he would swallow all his spit up down so he was gaining weight but miserable). Doctors kept telling me he was fine because he was gaining weight like a champ and ignored my plea that there was another underlying problem. My heart was set on a breastfeeding relationship. After 3 months of breastfeeding him a few times a day and pumping the rest, Nathan eventually went on a food strike (breast and bottle) because he was in a lot of pain from the reflux. Scared that he wasn't eating we finally got answers at a pediatric dentist and got his frenectomy done a couple weeks before we moved across country. He completely refused to breastfeed during the day by the time he re-learned how to eat. We still breastfed at night until my husband started work and we made the emotional decision to bottle feed from there on out because it was easier for Daniel to feed our son a bottle at night while I pumped. I have been exclusively pumping since. I still get emotional thinking about the time we spent breastfeeding. It was a stressful time, but cherished. I learned that bottle feeding my son breast milk was still beautiful and bonding. Watching him grow because of my milk has been rewarding, no matter the way he is being fed.

Nathan also suffered colic until he was 5-6 months old. He screamed and screamed. He wouldn't nap. He wouldn't eat. After the reflux/tie situation was fixed he was a happier baby and ate better, but still was colicky. I would shut ourselves in a dark bathroom, running the bathroom sink, singing hymns, sometimes crying with Nathan (who was mostly screaming at the top of his lungs), and bouncing/rocking/swaying my son to sleep. Those were hard times for me. Sometimes I would wonder why I wanted a child so badly if I ended up being such a bad parent, unable to take care of one baby. It was only after I found support from other parents with colicky children that I realized that I wasn't a bad parent, but instead I was amazing! When Nathan was asleep for a total of 20 minutes or less, I would pump leaving me with no true break for myself. I had heard of colic before having Nathan. I had heard the stories of what parents called "hell" and even the scary stories of parents/caretakers killing their babies (there were a few of those stories in the media at the time). I had heard the stories of colic, but didn't understand. Now I do. I empathize for those parents. I cry for them. It is the worse feeling when you do everything you can and still end up short.

Though Nathan's nap times were a struggle, I also found peace in those moment while I bounced him in the bathroom. Those were the moments I prayed the hardest, pled the most, and felt overwhelming love and support from our Heavenly Father. It was in those moments that I felt the most love for my beautiful baby boy. Looking back, colic was horrible, but twistedly wonderful because I grew as a person. I have incredible devotion for my miracle baby.

So it may have come as a surprise after reading those struggles that we had ended up pregnant 8 months postpartum (was due January 2016). It wasn't a surprise baby for us. During those bathroom moments I felt strongly that it was time to try for another. I pushed those thoughts away for months. We just had a baby! Why would we want another so soon! But personal revelation was relentless.

After much praying we decided to leave everything in God's hands. We got pregnant right away. But I had thought it was lost early on (chemical pregnancy). I was sad for the early miscarriage, but life kept moving. But then, a few weeks later I started cramping and bleeding and I felt strongly to take another pregnancy test. Positive. Daniel was putting Nathan down for bed and I walked in quietly, showed him the test, and cried. We knew we were adding a third angel baby because I need progesterone from the beginning of a pregnancy and that much bleeding has never been a good sign for us.

We immediately went to the ER and were diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy (a pregnancy where the baby implants into the tubes). We got a large dose of Methotrexate (chemo) and were sent home after spending most of the night in the ER. We were supposed to give talks the next day at church, but instead decided to stay home. It was an emotional couple months as I lost weight, my hair fell out, and I was fatigued. I barely was able to care for our son. My hormone levels went down about 1.5-2 months after the chemo injection. I was truly blessed that I didn't need multiple doses and/or surgery to remove my right tube, but the doctors always mentioned it on the weekly phone calls giving me my blood result tests (so, so many blood draws). They were never happy with my numbers. Eventually we did get the call that the baby was officially terminated. I was finally no longer pregnant. Even though I know that baby would never have survived and had we not acted that I could have died, willingly choosing to inject my body with poison to kill our baby was a traumatic experience.

I had to dump my milk during the first week of chemo. That was emotionally difficult as well, but I was blessed with a large freezer storage of milk. During that time we began giving Nathan a bottle of formula once a day, every other day in order to stretch our freezer stash out a bit longer. During this hard time we had some help and even milk offers and I am grateful for that. Everyone was well-meaning when they said how I should "live for my son" and "be grateful for Nathan," but they don't understand. It was hard coming to terms with the loss since we had to care for our boy. It was a couple weeks after the chemo that Daniel and I were actually able to finally sit and talk about what just happened. 

This ectopic meant that I am high risk for more life threatening pregnancies. It means I really could have a lot of problems building my family. I have decided that if we have one more loss that I will get the surgery done to check for endometriosis (highly suspected), but we won't know for a while since we have to wait to try for kids because of the chemo that was in my system. I am grateful we were prompted to try sooner than we were ready because if we had started trying again when we had originally thought and gotten the ectopic, then we would have to wait even longer to have another baby.

I love my son. He is my life and my light. He is my joy. He is my miracle and the proof that my body can bring a live child earth-side. I will never be able to show him how much I love him, because it is not possible. I don't quite fear the future. I have peace leaving everything to Heavenly Father. He has never led me wrong. I know He has mourned with me each time we have lost a baby. I know He rejoices with us as we watch Nathan grow.