It's hard to write about Hyperemesis because it's a complex condition - and rare, too - so the information out there is hazy. Professionals aren't sure what causes it, relating it to a number of things but it is one of those rare conditions brought on by being pregnant. I was told that it could mean I was pregnant with twins or a girl - neither of which was true ;) - and I was told it could last indefinitely, for the duration of my pregnancy.
When I was pregnant with Roman I was very sick, but not like I have been this time around. I felt 'well' in my last pregnancy whereas in this one I do not. I haven't thrown up in weeks but I have definitely been suffering with serious nausea and stomach ache. At the worst point of being ill I starved for three days and I didn't care. I became so averse to food that the thought of putting in my mouth, chewing and then swallowing food made me feel sick. Anything to do with food made me feel sick. I had to avoid reading blogs and going on Facebook (when I could do these things) so I didn't have to look at food pictures. It was so bad all I could do was sleep and throw up.
I truly do not want to go through this again but there is a threat that it will return and I'm terrified of that - with an 80% chance of going through it again if I get pregnant again. The worst of all this has definitely been not being able to fully recover when I need too and having to look after Roman. When you're child free and sick you think you have things tough, I certainly used to, but having to run after a toddler who thinks the fridge is ripe for the picking when you're sick is just awful. I wouldn't wish any of this on my worst enemy (if I had one.) When I started getting sick his sleeping went right out of the window: there were nights he was still running around until 2am and then getting up at 6/7am (and I am eternally grateful to my sister, who was sick herself with sinusitis, who came over here to look after me who crawled into Roman's bed during one of these insomnia spells.) This was without a nap during the day. It drove me mental and made me think I was crazy for having two children who could be so taxing to my poor, sick body. His sleeping calmed down but he went through a strange period of needing one of us near him to fall asleep...it was all so sudden and totally different that it really knocked me off my feet. I felt unprepared, unequipped and unworthy of being a mother. I didn't have the strength or energy to cry, so I didn't cry, but it all felt so hopeless.
All I could do was get on with things, carry on in whatever state I could manage and hope it all worked out in the end. I didn't once ask for help. I know. It's bad. I'm bad. I'm terrible at asking people for help because I'm worried they'll resent me, think I'm weak (again, slap on the wrist) or that I'll feel let down in some way. I know the worst anyone can do is say 'no' and that most probably won't resent the help they give but my paranoia seems to think otherwise. Everyone who did help, did so of their own offering, and with their own insistence. I tried to fight through every single day but it was tough living off thin air and almost uncontrollably falling asleep with a toddler to look after, too. I'm fortunate in the sense that Bryan wasn't away as much as most husbands are and that when Roman was really suffering in the sleep department that he'd take him to Young Men's activities and have him running around, tiring him out - and as any parent with sleep troubled children will tell you: those kids have endless energy