My midwife told me that since I wasn’t vomiting  much, there was nothing to do but wait it out. Yet with each passing day without eating and drinking, I was getting weaker

As Told to Faigy Peritzman

I thought I was ready. I had five beautiful children, the youngest then two and a half. I was grateful for my blessings, and loved my life, but I deeply wanted another baby. I’d spent the last year doing everything I could to prepare for this pregnancy. I’d had hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) in all my previous pregnancies, so I wasn’t naive. I knew what I was getting myself into.

I’d worked with a naturopath to make sure my body was the strongest it could be in advance of getting sick. I prepared emotionally and spiritually as well, working on my emunah and positivity, building reserves to get me through a tough few months. I was running a home business, which gave me the flexibility to cut back my hours if I needed to. I was scared, but my desire for another baby was stronger than the fear of what pregnancy did to me. I was ready. Or so I thought.

I didn’t even need a pregnancy test to confirm positive results. Several days into the pregnancy I was already consumed by debilitating nausea. HG and I weren’t strangers, and I’d been expecting this, albeit not quite so fast. But I quickly realized that my symptoms this time around were much more severe than in any other pregnancy.

If someone has never experienced HG, she cannot imagine the horrific suffering it brings. While most women experience morning sickness, HG is a disease that cannot be measured by the same yardstick. It’s impossible to quantify the agony of the illness, the complexity of the symptoms, and the toll it takes on the woman and her family for months on end. The depth of the suffering is indescribable.

The closest comparison to HG I’ve heard of is food poisoning. It causes severe nausea and purging until the body rids itself of the toxins. That lasts weeks, at most. HG causes that level of suffering for months. And this time, the illness was attacking my body before I even had time to process that I was actually expecting.

I’d taken a medication for HG in previous pregnancies, which had helped somewhat. But this time around it wasn’t working. I was deteriorating quickly, and I was scared.

Women with HG are affected by both nausea and vomiting. Some can’t stop vomiting, and every bit of food they manage to eat is immediately expelled. Others may not vomit continuously, but the nausea affects them so severely they can’t get anything into their system to begin with. I was experiencing the latter, so although I wasn’t throwing up endlessly, the intensity of my nausea was so strong that the very air I breathed was sickening. The smell of food made me retch, and I couldn’t be on the same side of the house as the kitchen. I couldn’t handle anyone coming near me, as breath and normal human scents made me feel like I’d faint. This meant my children had to stay far away from me, which was awful for us all.

I felt like I was drowning.

My midwife told me that since I wasn’t vomiting  much, there was nothing to do but wait it out. Yet with each passing day without eating and drinking, I was getting weaker and weaker.

Worried about my condition, my sister went searching online for ideas. She came across the Hyperemesis Education and Research (HER) Foundation, a global organization that supports mothers and families, and guides healthcare providers. It’s the most up-to-date source of research and information on HG. They informed my sister that there definitely were medications that could help me despite the minimal vomiting, and they urged me to go to a doctor who specializes in high-risk pregnancies.

I took their advice and switched to a well-respected doctor who put me on more medication and gave me daily IV infusions, which were critical for my dehydrated body. Thankfully, I was able to receive these infusions at home, sparing me from the trauma of ongoing hospital visits.

Even with these changes, I was still incapacitated by the nausea. I was completely dependent on those around me. I couldn’t move from my bed. I couldn’t speak, so I communicated my needs by texting and pointing. I couldn’t be left alone, so my husband had no choice but to stay home to take care of me.