My pregnancy was a true ordeal. After 3 unexplained miscarriages, a new positive test, although I didn't believe in it anymore!

 

Convinced it would end in another miscarriage, I tried not to pay too much attention. 

 

I work in geriatrics and had the option to be removed from work upon knowing about the pregnancy. This time, I chose to wait for the "safety" of the third month. During these three months, the first nausea appeared—mild and "reassuring" considering the progress of my pregnancy. I made my rounds with little "poop bags" for easier handling.

 

On the very day of my 12th week of pregnancy, the vomiting worsened—first bloody vomits. I called an on-call doctor (Sunday evening), who reassured me, saying it was "normal" to bleed as I vomit a lot; I probably injured the esophagus. And the nausea was normal given that I was pregnant; it should stop soon...

 

Every month, I timidly mentioned it to my gynecologist that I continued to be ill, that I couldn't eat, and most of the time, I couldn't even drink. He said my weight was stable, my parameters were good, there was no need to worry. Everyone around me repeated that I was pregnant, not sick. I ended up isolating myself. Even my husband, who lives with me and sees me daily, said he understood because he had ulcers when he was younger and vomited as much as I did 🤦‍♀️…

 

I stopped talking about it much; I preferred to be alone than to hear "the joys of pregnancy," "try fennel or ginger," "you're pregnant, not disabled."

 

I continued to drive my husband every morning (4 hours) and pick him up every evening (15 hours) from work... every day, the traffic, and my Tupperware... Even while driving, eventually, you get used to it; you just wait for a straight line to vomit. And that continued until May 8th (due date was June 4th), Mother's Day, when I decided to go to the hospital. I was painstakingly finishing my daughter's room with my mom.

 

That day, I thought I would die. At least a week without eating, barely drinking, I didn't even have bile left to vomit, but my body was still experiencing the mechanism (but nothing was coming out), the pain was excruciating.

 

I went to the hospital and was received with a lot of compassion by the midwife. She had a very gentle and maternal look towards the young girl I was. My parameters were good, the blood tests too, except for a slight ionic imbalance. I obviously vomited the medicines they insisted on trying to give me, the water they tried to make me drink.

 

They kept me on rest for 48 hours, with IV and Litican. I was feeling better, not vomiting anymore, but my entire upper digestive system was burning.

 

48 hours later, it was Danette and crackers. And obviously, it didn't pass—Litican orally too, a sip of water too, my saliva too... always accompanied by a bottle to spit, I felt drained.

 

3 days later, they suggested inducing my labor, except my daughter was not 2.5kg, and she would have to go to the Kangaroo Unit. I refused. I preferred to wait until she was safe.

 

2 days later, on May 13th, at my request, I was discharged with Litican IM at home. I didn't see the point of staying longer at the hospital; they couldn't help me more, and I wasn't vomiting anymore, which was something. Even if I still couldn't ingest anything and drink very small amounts very rarely.

 

On the 19th, during the routine check-up, the gynecologist informed me that she was finally out of the preterm risk, and we could induce labor on the 25th at 1 am.

 

I continued to vomit until D+2 (less, though) after delivery, and it took me a very long time to re-feed properly.

 

Regarding being an ambassador, I wanted to help other mothers. I was very alone, and my pregnancy was really difficult; I would have liked to find support, and I would like no other mother to go through this... I am not a scientist to find a miracle drug, but at my level, I can act and support other mothers, raise awareness, that's already a lot...