Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

This is not a very happy post. I have been crying for a few minutes after watching a video about women who struggled with hyperemesis gravidarum (HG). What got me crying was when the doctors said that before IVs and anti-nausea medication, most women with hyperemesis died. I cried even more when they talked about how some women resort to therapeutic abortion because if they didn't end their pregnancies, even with the help of modern medicine, they would die. 

My hyperemesis was bad. Really bad. Looking back I realize that I should have done things differently. Since I had been looking forward to being pregnant and having a baby for so many years, going through this unrelenting nausea and vomiting was a huge slap in the face. All the things I wanted to do, the things that normal pregnant women do, to prepare for a baby never really happened. My home birth never happened because of the HG of labor. And then all the neat things I wanted to do after I had the baby didn't really happen either. All the photos of me smiling during my pregnancy are a thick mask that hid the deep pain I was feeling in so many different ways. 

I refused to surrender completely to the HG, so I forced myself to be thankful at times that I A) could get pregnant in the first place, B) was able to keep this baby growing and healthy week after long week, C) did not miscarry, and D) had the most loving and supportive partner, family, and midwife. I think I said way back when that Dave had to pretty much stop working entirely to take care of me. Instead he had to be there for me 24 hours a day for almost 8 months, then every few days until the birth, during the birth, and a few weeks after. I'm not saying his job was harder than mine, but I know it was probably heartbreaking to see me like that for such a prolonged period of time.

So after thinking about this for months now, it is pretty obvious to me that I have been suffering severe post-partum depression due to the post-traumatic stress of my horrendous pregnancy. I'm not exaggerating one bit. My pregnancy was a cruel and vicious cycle of being nauseated, gagging, vomiting, becoming dehydrated, not eating, losing weight, herniating my esophagus from the vomiting, extreme pain from the esophageal damage, then more nausea and vomiting from that. How in the world could a normal, healthy woman be excited about having a baby when she is experiencing this EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY except when she gets the rare opportunity to sleep for more than four hours at a time? She doesn't. Period. Pregnancy becomes evil, unnatural, mind-altering, conflicting, and traumatizing.

When I think about my pregnancy, I get the chills. When I see other pregnant women, I remember my pregnancy and at times I become instantly nauseated. I was in Target today and I saw about five different pregnant women pushing their carts; some with their partners, some by themselves. All of them were very peaceful-looking and smiled as they looked at the itty bitty newborn clothes and teeny tiny socks. I got so nauseated from thinking about my pregnancy that I almost threw up in the aisle. My mom and I were heading out the door and I glanced over at the bathroom that I frequently threw up in on my rare trips to this Target during my pregnancy. I had to take a deep breath long enough to walk quickly out the door and get some fresh air. It was almost re-traumatizing just thinking about that time again. I guess seeing all the seemingly normal, happy women triggered this intense reaction in me, coupled with being in Target; the only place I went during my pregnancy because they kept their bathrooms and toilets spotless...when you're throwing up a lot, you quickly memorize which places have clean facilities.

The strangest thing to me, disturbing almost, is that I would like to have another baby. I am willing to go through all this again, albeit with earlier medical intervention, so that Evelyn can have a little brother or sister. I do want to adopt at some point, but I feel as though my body is demanding another child before I wave my white flag. I have decided that for a thousand medical and emotional reasons, I would absolutely not become pregnant again if I have HG with the second baby. I have heard it can be more tolerable the next time around because you have an idea of what works and what doesn't. And having some sort of reference can be an excelent coping tool. 

Evelyn is waking up for her first night feeding and her sweet little "mew" cries make my heart melt. Of one thing I am absolutely certain, she was worth it.