Well. After seven years of silent heartbreak, trying to conceive, we are now finally pregnant. The significance of it is beyond words. My doctor, bless him, who was thrilled, said "Yes I know all pregnancies are precious. But this, you, this is medically precious."
So I am thankful to God. This is right. This life inside of me, is a gift. All the love I feel for that wonderful man I get to call my husband, is all bundled up into that life.
There is, unfortunately, a but. Starting from week 6, I started developing symptoms of hyperemesis gravidarum. Never even knew such a thing existed. But then, I've never paid any attention to anything pregnancy or maternity related in my whole life. So what is HG? I started off by describing it as 'an extreme form of morning sickness', but very soon realised that that was a gross understatement. Women kept saying to me oh how I had that too, I couldn't eat this or that, here's a tip on what can make you feel better {insert various home remedy} and although the nausea was terrible, chin up, it goes away, by week 12 you'll feel great. Multiple versions of that. They are all well-meaning, I know. Showing their empathy, but it only makes me feel terrible because I end up getting annoyed with them all because I just want to scream to them NO it is NOT the same and you DON'T know what it's like.
I can't tell you what it is because even the medical profession seems to have problems defining it. I have pretty much all the symptoms described in Wikipedia, except for hallucinations. Now wouldn't that be fun. What I can do is I can try to describe to you how I feel.
Imagine feeling very nauseous and on the verge of vomiting. I wake up in the morning and this is the first thing that hits me. But I don't actually vomit, not yet anyway. The feeling just stays with me all throughout the day. The whole time. Not a single respite. Add on to that an extreme sensitivity to so many triggers, mostly smell and some sights as well. I can smell things that other people can't. These things I smell can instantly kick-off a retching mechanism. When strong enough, vomit follows. It's horrible either way. The bedroom, the toilet, the kitchen. I take one step into these places, I retch. My husband - his smell that I once used to adore, now makes me go into instant vomit mode. We've tried with cologne, without cologne, new cologne, new soap. I retch. Add further on top of all that the fact that I cannot eat, barely drink. I am so hungry, sometimes when the food is in front of me I want to just gobble it all up. Frustratingly, they taste bland in my mouth, and as soon as I swallow, all the pleasure of eating is gone immediately, replaced by discomfort. So eating has to be forced, and I have not had tasted anything pleasurable since week 6. This is now week 14. All that I have been feeling, has been present (to various degrees of discomfort) for eight weeks. No breaks. I have been nauseous for eight straight weeks. Now, you tell me you know what that is like. During the day, I simply can't focus on anything. My attention span is about two minutes. My work is piling up, people are demanding this and that and I just can't do anything. Somehow, in between all of this, I have to manage a company, and work on at least three different projects at the same time. I have lost about 5 kg of my pre-pregnancy weight, which is not good, but luckily I was somewhat above my normal weight at the start. My doctor, in an attempt to offer some words of comfort said to me, "good thing you had some weight to spare at the start of it all". Couldn't help but laugh at that. At least I can still see some humour in life. Good thing I adore the guy, if someone else had said that I would have flipped. The dehydration apparently is a factor on my moods too. There are times I just start to sink down into depression and just sheer hopelessness. The worst thing though, is having to feel guilty. Everything feels terrible but there is that nagging voice at the back of my head that says I can't complain, how horrible it is of me to complain when this is all about being pregnant and that is something I should be thankful for. It's as if I have stripped myself of the right to feel bad, all self-imposed of course. By about 7 or 8 p.m. each night, the physical discomfort increases significantly and all I can do is lie down and try to watch whatever is on television. The nausea increases until midnight when I will finally have my vomit marathon, which gives me just a little bit of relief, for about half an hour after which I inevitably (and I must say gratefully) fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Then I wake up the next morning. And repeat.
There. All my hopelessness and negativity summed up in that one long paragraph. I need to get it out. It's hard when people who care, who truly are concerned, ask me (sometimes on a daily basis), how are you feeling today. And I have no answer that I can give them, unless I give them that truth that is that paragraph-ful of pessimism. I hate being so negative. I hate this vibe I currently have around me. People ask how I'm feeling and I am starting to run out of adjectives equivalent to 'horrible'. A little bit of hope is that things are not actually getting physically worse, I am the same pretty much everyday. But the same, like this, for eight weeks straight, is taking its toll. I know what you're going to say. It's what I would say. Hang on in there. It'll pass. I know that. But right now. It's horrible.
The only thing that I can accept now, is validation. Luckily H understands this. Just to be acknowledged that what I am feeling is real to me. To have others know that there really is nothing that can be done. Not ginger, not crackers by the bedside, not anything. So please spare me the tips. This is not morning sickness. My other source of validation (and some comfort) is the website helpher.org where the ladies in forum are those who are going through or have gone through exactly this. They understand. I read their stories and I get my validation.
As I was writing all that, a friend was chatting with me on Skype. Asking me how I was, and I told her a summarised version. She's HIV-positive. She's been living with HIV for a long time. How rotten I felt to be complaining to her and feeling sorry for myself. So naturally, everything's diluted down. Hide behind some poor attempt at humour. Tell people yeah I'm coping, yeah it'll be over sometime. Fake optimism.
This is why I am blogging this. I need my outlet for all the truth that is so negative.
As for my baby. I love you. I do. You are going to be worth every single day of this.
