Broken Pieces Picked Up Forever...

[TwoIsEnough]

Dear Dr. Phil and Staff,

I cannot begin to thank you enough for publicizing Hyperemesis and opening up the world's eyes to a disease that is so often mistaken as exaggerated morning sickness, somatic complaints or an "in your head" illness.
I grew up always wanting to be around children, and focused all of my jobs as I was growing up on working with children. In college, I met my husband. The biggest attraction was the fact that he was so family oriented and he came from a put together family who strives on love, understanding and communication. We both wanted children so bad, and decided that we would begin trying as soon as we got married. Six years after dating, we married and begin trying. However, we had no luck for almost a year and a half. I was growing depressed and began thinking that the only children I would get to build a strong bond with were those that were coming in and out of my life through my career working for a major mental health corp. with children and their families.

To my surprise, I became pregnant in December 2003. I was elated and so was my dear husband. One week after finding out I was pregnant, what I thought was morning sickness began. In my mind this had to have been the worst part of pregnancy, because I ended up dehydrated and in the hospital at only five weeks pregnant. I was so overcome by anxiety and fear that I finally became pregnant, and didn't know if my baby would survive. I couldn't keep anything down, and I tried it all. In my mind, there was no way that a baby could survive on nothing...I didn't feel like I was going to survive.

I was given the diagnosis hyperemesis gravidarum, something I had never heard of. I will admit, I was guilty of telling people initially that I had the diagnosis, and it was "just really really bad mad morning sickness that was uncontrollable." The uncontrollable part was very true. I ended up in the hospital several times for IV fluids, and a medication (Zofran) was finally prescribed. I was not able to work, barely unable to function on a daily basis. brushing my teeth and showering wiped me out as I was so weak. Since I was not working, I began short-term disability, which was only a portion of my pay. My husband and I were faced with many fears of what was to come in every aspect of our lives.

I was sick for six months, and during the seventh month went into premature labor. I blamed myself for everything, and began fearing if my baby didn't live, this was my fault. I was faced with a day I will never forget when the hospital struggled to get my labor stopped and I was told there was not a very good chance of survival for my baby.

In August of 2004, my daughter was born, my little miracle. She is perfectly healthy and there hasn't been a moment that I thought it was not worth it. She was worth every episode that I had to endure, including the loss of my job as a result of only working four months that year and not making my "billing goal".

My husband and I wanted another child, then we would complete our family and my daughter would have a sibling. Fear and anxiety set in, and I was terrified to become pregnant again. I felt like a failure. I felt like I was cheating my husband of a completed family, I was cheating my daughter of a sibling. Thinking that I had severe hyperemesis the first go around, I decided that I could muster up the strength and willpower to face it once more, there was no way it could be worse.

This time around, I was pregnant within a month of trying. Excited, but panic stricken thinking I really wasn't ready for this. How would I care for my daughter, what about my marriage, what about taking care of myself, what about my job working with abused and neglected children. Deep down, I knew everyone would make it if I endured this awful disease again...but would my baby and would I?

By week five, I was once again hospitalized and I felt much sicker than with my first. I continued to work with my doctor and the hospital, and during week seven I had lost 8 lbs. in five days, and could barely maintain. My doctor determined to have a PICC line put in place, which turned out to be a failure due to dehydration and the inability to get through my tiny veins. They decided to use a regular IV and hydrate me for a few days and try again. My 32nd needle stick for that day came from an anesthisiologist placing a regular IV in my arm with the use of an ultrasound machine. IV sites do not work with TPN (total parenteral nutrition) for very long, and of course it failed. Three days later I was undergoing surgery to have a central line (Hickman catheter) placed in my chest. I feared surgery for the risks that it carried for my baby, but knew that it was much needed as well. I hadn't kept anything down in weeks, and as I lay there awake, but slightly numbed strapped to the operating table, tears rolling down my face, I begin to vomit. I couldn't move, I could do nothing. There I was, covered, and was totally helpless. That is when the helplessness really set in for me. I had no idea how dependent I was about to become on everyone around me.

My husband struggled, and continues to. He feels so torn between our daughter, myself, and his job (which he always puts last). He has been wonderful. This is the man that passed out the first trip to the hospital during my first pregnancy due to a fear of needles. He does it all now. He takes care of my central line site, he connects my TPN, he flushes the ports, in addition to caring for our daughter and every household chore. If I could find a father/husband of the year award, I would do whatever it took to nominate him and be certain he would get it.

I am currently 15 weeks, haven't been out of the house in eight weeks except to go to the doctor and the hospital. Washing my hair in the sink and taking a sponge bath are huge accomplishments for me. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't shed a tear. I want to be a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend, and an employee. I know that I am depressed, and working in social work I know ways to cope with depression, but not in this case. How can I help others when I can't even help myself right now?? Those cheated feelings are still with me, only in a different sense now. I feel that I have cheated my husband out of a wife, my daughter out of a mother, my job out of an employee, etc...I try to be strong for my daughter, but it is so hard to have her grasp my leg, tears streaming down her face begging me to pick her up, hold her and carry her and I have to tell her "mommy can't." I am too weak to hold my own daughter.

Hyperemesis is a life changing disease and the effects remain with those forever. Families spend years picking up the broken pieces, and still are not put back together. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that someone out there is willing to explain this horrible disease nationally so that women know there is support out there, families can learn, doctors can learn treatment options, employers can learn that jobs will be effected, and everyone can learn that this is a disease, not something that can be cured or go away with crackers and gingerale.

I apologize for the length of this letter, but I want people to know the physical effects and the emotional effects of this disease on not only the women going through it, but those surrounding her. I appreciate your time, your effort, and you understanding.

Thank You,
Lauren Brooks
Indiana