A New Perspective; From The Husband

You hear a lot from me, so I asked the Husband to write something as well. Because he's seeing all the crazy stuff happen. I figure, maybe you'd like to hear from him. See we're very different, you'll see once you start reading his writing. I kinda write how I talk and don't go back, he is very logical and it takes him some time to figure out just how he wants to say things. I love him for it. :)

Ladies and Gentlemen without further ado I give you, Blair Jaques' perspective on Hyperemesis Gravidarum, me being sick, and how he felt about it all.

As most of you know, my wife was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I don't need to tell you about it, she's done that. She's told you what it's like. But she's only told you from her perspective.

Now I'll tell you mine.

It's horrible.

Now don't get me wrong. Where we are now? This place is a far better place than where we WERE at, earlier in her pregnancy, with no idea of what was going on and no idea of how to make it better. Now that we know what IT is, things are looking up. Actually, things are absolutely amazing. And I'll be honest, what you'll read in this post, all the negative...I can say with confidence that THAT, is all in the past. Yet the very fact we went through it at all is what forms the basis for my attitude today.

But let me start over.

I wake up in the middle of the night to hurried movement. My first thought is Ellie! and I sense more than see my wife running to the bathroom. To say that the sound of her vomiting is at first a relief shouldn't seem so strange to you. Ever since losing our first child, irrationally, instinctually(call it what you will) my first thoughts of any sort of distress run along the lines of "Oh God, is Ellie alright?". I couldn't bear to lose her too, and I still think this way. At every little alarming noise Maddie makes. Now, Maddie being sick is not a fun sound. I don't have much experience with the whole 'being-around-people-who-vomit' scene, but I know that it is not fun. It sounds like everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is in the process of being disgorged.

Unnecessary? You bet.

It is at these moments I am entirely helpless. There is no control. None, whatsoever. I can't grab a sword and behead the dragon like all the pretty fairytales. This story ends with the castle burning down, the Wicked Witch taking the throne and the dragon eating your Prince Charming.

What you read isn’t even scratching the surface of what I see every day. I see her at her worst, and I see her at her best. But it’s the worst times that drive me so high up the wall. And down as well. There were times of depression where it felt like we couldn’t do anything for days.

I am the man of the house.

This isn't supposed to happen.

I'm supposed to be able to take care of everything.

These are all ideas I have in my head because I was raised to be responsible, raised to be a protector, raised to be a father. And my parents didn't fail in that.  But it’s a humbling experience to see my wife crouched over a toilet, knowing I can do nothing to help. If I can’t physically take the pain for her, I can do things around the house to make her day easier. The less she has to do, the better off she’ll be. At the same time I try to encourage her to do whatever it is she CAN do, however small. Even if that means she picks up ten pieces of laundry, then she needs a nap. Or shopping on line for two hours for baby clothes, and then needing another nap.

What I’ve come to realize through all of this is that we must take each day as just that. So, day by day. That’s how we do this. And that’s what I tell myself, until I’m okay with it, and it’s bearable. But that isn’t how I think any more. I remind myself every day that I’m a Daddy, and my little girl is going to be in so much trouble for putting us through this mess…well, I’m sure that the first time I lay eyes on my Ellie I’ll forget all that.