I couldn’t acknowledge HG Awareness day.
May 15th
May 15th is Hyperemesis Gravidarum Awareness Day and I couldn’t say anything about. I didn’t even bring it up to Sam. Any time I would think about saying something, anything that came to mind, would just make me cry because I still feel robbed.
We’ve been starting to plan trying to conceive another baby so I’ve been reliving Killian’s pregnancy a lot recently trying to accept that that may very well be my future again. There’s even a possibility that it’s going to be worse next time.
It took me almost a year to be able to eat sausage and it took me almost 2 years to be ok with smelling and eating onions. If I vomit, I get flashbacks and have to fight off panic attacks. But I also tell myself “you can totally do this again” as I’m puking in the toilet from food poisoning or a stomach bug trying to talk myself into another pregnancy.
I hated being pregnant.
Yep, I said it. It was a horrible experience because it was nothing but people telling me to fucking eat ginger and saltines and “to be mentally strong.” Bitch I was bedridden for weeks, vomiting up blood and urinating myself every single time I vomited. I lost so much muscle mass and have permanent nerve damage on both hips because I was laying on them so much. My metabolism is shot and I’m still trying to fix it. I lost my job, I lost friendships, and I even deleted family members from my life because no one was taking the time to educate themselves on what I was diagnosed with.
It sucked.
It is not something I would ever wish on anyone. Not even an enemy.
It is a small (but ever-growing) group of people that form a very deep bond when finding out the other had HG. It’s an automatic understanding of the hell the other person went through. Of what their family went through. And a deep appreciation that they are still alive and functioning.
When I was pregnant there were two people who passed away from HG complications (both during their postpartum). One was from organ failure due to the dehydration because no one listened to them. And the second was a suicide, we were told it was from antenatal depression from the isolation HG had that compounded after birth and she didn’t seek help (I mean why would people when doctors consistently tell them they’re fine, it’s nothing/normal).
HG is still serious
Even still to this day, and I wish more people knew about it. I wish more people would realize that severe debilitating “morning sickness” isn’t something that’s “normal.” My safe drink the first trimester was Rootbeer. I can’t tell you how many times I would have a few sips, and then vomit up the soda syrup, JUST THE SYRUP. That’s not normal.
IV fluids are life savers. Zofran pumps are godsends. Every HG survivor has their own concoction of meds that worked or took the edge off for them.
We need help cleaning our house and cooking food for our family, because we legit can’t do it for them. Sitting up can even trigger a vomiting episode. We need our community, we need to feel like we’re not being a burden, and we need to still feel loved.
We don’t want to be gingered and told “be grateful, at least you’re pregnant.” Because at the end of the day, we want to be heard and supported.