I experienced Hyperemesis Gravidarum in all three of my pregnancies.
My first started with nausea and constant vomiting from around five or six weeks. It lasted about a month, and I thought I’d made it through the worst of it—until I went to my 12-week scan and found out I’d had a missed miscarriage.
I couldn’t quite believe I had lost my baby. And then to think I might have to go through that all over again—it was overwhelming.
Eventually, we got pregnant again. And again, HG reared its ugly head at around six weeks. The nausea and vomiting lasted until about 22 weeks, and after that, I was still being sick every other morning right up until birth. It was incredibly tough, but I thought I just had to get through it. I carried sick bags everywhere. I couldn’t tolerate water. I barely ate. I didn’t know there was help—I didn’t know how to ask.
Then came my third and final pregnancy. This one was the worst by far. The nausea and vomiting started at four weeks. That’s how I knew I was pregnant. It was relentless—every day, for the full pregnancy.
This time, I reached out to Pregnancy Sickness Support. I was desperate for help. They offered advice on how to keep fluids down and explained how to approach my GP. Thankfully, my GP was brilliant—she prescribed medication straight away. And it helped, to an extent. It stopped the constant vomiting, but not the nausea. Not the daily struggle. And not the triggers.
Anything could set me off. Looking in the mirror. Watching TV. The smell of food. Once, I had to run out of a supermarket because I was completely overwhelmed by the sensory overload and nausea.
Even with medication, HG robbed me of a healthy and happy pregnancy. I also developed gestational diabetes, which meant forcing certain foods to manage my blood sugar—whether I could face them or not. I completely lost sight of myself, physically and mentally. My body shut down. I went into survival mode. Some days, I just tried to get through an hour at a time.
I’ve made the heartbreaking decision not to have any more children. My body can’t do it again—physically or mentally. It’s like I’m allergic to pregnancy. Sadly, I know I’m not alone in that. Three of my cousins have had HG in every pregnancy too—some were hospitalised and on drips throughout.
Every pregnancy is different. Every person’s HG is different. But for me, it meant being housebound. It meant not being able to care for my eldest child. It meant losing connection to who I was as a mother, and as a person. The first two times, I didn’t even realise I could ask for help. I didn’t know to speak to my GP. I was scared of medication after the miscarriage.
But the third time, thanks to PSS and my amazing GP, I got the support I needed. The medication didn’t take it all away, but it gave me a little breathing room. And PSS helped me feel heard, validated, and understood.
I lost weight. I lost confidence in myself. I was anxious.
It was an awful, dark time – the worst in my life.
Even now, two years later, I still panic if I feel sick. I dread vomiting. My memories of pregnancy are tainted with sickness and trauma—and it’s not something I can ever fully explain to people who haven’t lived it.
The lack of understanding is everywhere. Sometimes even in your own family. But through it all, Pregnancy Sickness Support gave me guidance, empathy, and community. I’ve since recommended them to so many others, because I know how vital that support is.
Thank you to Parminder for sharing her story with us. If you want to help others like her, please donate to our small but mighty charity here.