As my husband and I celebrated the end of our days of raising toddlers, we quickly realized that our compact home was no longer suitable for our growing children. The small house had worked well for three little ones but was now too cramped for our school-aged kids. Excitedly, we set out to find a new place, eager to discover where our family’s next chapter would unfold.
However, my anticipation was abruptly interrupted by a strange sensation. My skin turned clammy and my head spun. I felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over me, accompanied by intense salivation. In the back of my mind, I recognized this dreadful feeling all too well, yet my conscious mind resisted the truth.
There was no way! It was statistically improbable! Oh no, could it be? I was pregnant, despite being on the Depo-Provera shot for three years.
The unmistakable nausea I experienced with each pregnancy had escalated over time, which had been one of the reasons I chose to avoid further expansion of our family. But here I was, unexpectedly entering the fourth pregnancy with all the grace of an unprepared Hunger Games tribute, anticipating the inevitable morning sickness.
Unfortunately, the odds were not in my favor. I struggled with a hereditary condition called degenerative disc disease, which gradually deteriorates my spinal structure. Fortunately, I lived in Michigan, where medical marijuana had become a legal option for managing pain. I had obtained my license and had benefitted from it—until now, as there was a slight chance that some THC could cross the placenta.
When I reluctantly informed my OB-GYN about my unexpected pregnancy, he responded with concern. He prescribed Zofran, an anti-nausea medication, along with prenatal vitamins and new medications, as my marijuana use was no longer an option. He wished me luck, hoping that my first trimester would end the relentless sickness, but we both knew that was wishful thinking.
As the days went by, the morning sickness intensified, living up to its name as an outright misnomer. I found myself frequently kneeling before the toilet, pleading for relief. My daily routine revolved around searching for remedies—old wives’ tales, myths, and any supposed miracle cure I could find to alleviate my suffering.
At my second appointment, I had lost seven pounds, which was not unusual. My doctor increased my Zofran dosage to the maximum limit, holding onto hope that by the end of my second trimester, my nausea would subside. However, it became clear that I was not experiencing typical morning sickness but rather hyperemesis gravidarum.
By my fourth appointment, I had lost a total of 14 pounds. Sixteen weeks in, I was still battling constant nausea, forced to stick to a liquid diet. Even protein shakes and smoothies became intolerable. My doctor grew increasingly concerned, moving my 20-week ultrasound to 18 weeks and ordering additional tests. The results confirmed his worries: intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR/SGA).
With three children depending on me and no family support, I knew I had to act fast. It was time to change the odds. The only solution I hadn’t tried was medical marijuana therapy, a method that had previously helped me with nausea. I was determined to avoid a lengthy hospital stay and ensure my unborn baby’s well-being.
After some consideration, my doctor reluctantly agreed to let me try marijuana. He advised me to avoid methods that could deprive my body of oxygen for too long, such as bongs or gravity hits. So, I went home, rolled a joint, and experienced relief for the first time in 20 weeks. The kitchen no longer felt like a battlefield where food could threaten my very existence.
I was cautious about how I consumed cannabis, opting for low-THC strains known for alleviating stomach issues. Over time, I adjusted my routine, smoking small amounts without holding my breath as was typical. I rolled three joints a day—one for each meal, carefully selecting strains like White Rhino and Grape Ape to minimize any potential impact on my baby.
Despite the stigma surrounding marijuana use, I was steadfast in my decision. I had educated myself on the topic, understanding the risks and benefits involved. The health of my unborn child was my top priority, and the relentless sickness had threatened that.
Eighteen weeks after starting cannabis, I had gained 28 pounds. One day, while helping my child with an accident, my water broke. After six hours of labor, my daughter was born healthy at 6 pounds, 3 ounces, without any complications related to my cannabis use. I couldn’t have felt prouder of my body and the miracle plant that had played a role in my pregnancy journey.
My daughter is now a vibrant, joyful 4-year-old, and I am endlessly grateful for the cannabis that helped me navigate through the challenges of hyperemesis gravidarum. Though the odds seemed stacked against me, they ultimately favored my beautiful miracle baby.
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In conclusion, medical marijuana provided the relief I desperately needed during a challenging pregnancy, allowing me to care for my family and nurture my unborn child.
If you’re seeking reliable information about pregnancy, this resource from MedlinePlus is an excellent guide.