Online Reporter
Noleen Lesedi Makhurane
“CONGRATULATIONS ma’am, you are pregnant!”
I had prayed to hear those words for so long, but at that moment I couldn’t even fake a smile because the nausea tormenting me was unbearable.
What I believed was food poisoning turned out to be a three-week pregnancy. I was sent home with pills for morning sickness and told it would get better after the first trimester.
But deep down, I knew something was terribly wrong.
On my drive home, I felt guilty for not jumping in excitement after hearing I was pregnant. My body simply was not coping. My mouth had a metallic taste and I kept chugging soda water like my life depended on it.
By four weeks, my mouth was cracking, my eyes were popping and I looked terribly ill. I stopped working and locked myself indoors because every smell and almost every person triggered my nausea.
The vomiting became unbearable.
I could not keep food or liquids down and soon I was going for weekly IV drips. At my five-week appointment, my gynaecologist finally told me I had a rare pregnancy condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG).
HG is not morning sickness.
It is a severe pregnancy condition that causes extreme nausea, dehydration, weight loss and repeated hospitalisation. Some women suffer so badly they cannot even keep water down.
My HG journey became a nightmare. I was constantly dehydrated and admitted into hospital for IV fluids far too often. Smells, light, movement and even turning too fast would trigger vomiting.
My whole life revolved around nausea.
What hurt even more was how normalised my suffering became. People kept saying: “All women go through this, stop being a cry baby.”
Others told me it would end after the first trimester, but it never did.
The second trimester became worse and I was hospitalised again. By the third trimester, I developed a severe vitamin B deficiency because I could barely eat. My body became so weak I could not walk properly until I received injections.
Imagine struggling just to walk to the toilet.
I hid from people because I did not want to be judged. I only left the house for treatment.
Mentally and emotionally, I was exhausted. I felt trapped inside my own body while grieving the pregnancy I thought I would have.
Financially, it drained us because of endless doctor visits and treatment. Thankfully, my mother and my gynaecologist stood by me and kept reassuring me that my baby and I would survive.
HG took away joy, energy and control, but it also changed how I see life, health and motherhood.
So please, before calling pregnant women dramatic, weak or lazy, pause.
Some women may not even know they have HG. Every pregnancy is different. Some women have easy pregnancies while others are simply trying to survive.
HG is not “just morning sickness.” I am not an HG warrior, I just survived nine months of hell.
