As my husband and I celebrated the conclusion of our child-rearing journey, it became clear that we needed more space. Our cozy little home was ideal for three toddlers but ill-suited for the school-aged children they had become. Excitedly, we hopped into the car to explore new houses, envisioning the next chapter of our lives.
However, my enthusiasm was swiftly overshadowed by a sudden and familiar sensation. My skin turned clammy, my head felt foggy, and a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Deep down, I recognized this feeling instantly, yet part of me resisted the truth.
This couldn’t be happening. It was statistically improbable! But, alas, I had to face the facts. I was pregnant—unexpectedly conceived while relying on the Depo-Provera shot for three years.
Each of my previous pregnancies had been accompanied by increasingly severe morning sickness, a major deterrent in our family planning. Now, I found myself confronting a fourth pregnancy, feeling like an unprepared contestant in a twisted version of the Hunger Games, awaiting the inevitable arrival of my fate.
Unfortunately, my odds were not promising. I suffered from degenerative disc disease, a genetic condition that weakens my spine and causes chronic pain. Fortunately, I lived in Michigan, where I had obtained a medical marijuana license for pain relief. However, I knew that using marijuana during pregnancy carried risks, as even trace amounts of THC could cross the placenta.
When I broke the news to my OB-GYN, he simply shook his head in disbelief. He prescribed Zofran, an anti-nausea medication, along with prenatal vitamins and additional medications to replace the marijuana I could no longer use. He optimistically hoped that the end of my first trimester would bring relief—but deep down, we both knew that was unlikely.
As the days went by, my morning sickness escalated, proving the term to be grossly misleading. Waves of debilitating nausea forced me to kneel before the toilet, pleading for mercy. In my desperation, I scoured the internet for every home remedy, myth, and supposed miracle cure to alleviate my suffering.
By my second appointment, I had lost seven pounds, prompting my doctor to increase my Zofran dosage to the maximum. Just three weeks remained until my second trimester, and according to most studies, the relentless sickness should subside.
As it turned out, I was anything but ordinary. I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, a severe form of morning sickness that wreaked havoc on my body. By my fourth appointment, I had lost a total of 14 pounds. Sixteen weeks into my pregnancy, I could barely keep anything down, relying solely on a liquid diet. Even smoothies and protein shakes quickly became intolerable.
My doctor grew increasingly concerned, pushing my 20-week ultrasound to 18 weeks and ordering additional tests. The results showed intrauterine growth restriction; my baby was small for gestational age. With three children depending on me at home and no external support, I knew I had to act swiftly.
Then, I considered an option I had previously avoided: medical marijuana. It was a remedy I had relied upon for various ailments, and I believed it could help me avoid a lengthy hospital stay. After some discussion, my doctor agreed to let me give it a try, with the stipulation that I needed to gain five pounds within four weeks to avoid hospitalization. He advised against methods that could cause prolonged oxygen deprivation, steering me clear of more extreme consumption techniques.
After returning home, I rolled my first joint in weeks, and for the first time in 20 weeks, I felt genuine relief. The kitchen transformed from a battleground into a place where I could actually prepare food without feeling nauseous. I could finally experience hunger—something I hadn’t felt in months.
I made sure to approach this responsibly, using low-THC strains specifically bred for nausea, like White Rhino, Grape Ape, and Sweet Island Skunk. I wanted to minimize any potential exposure to my unborn child while still obtaining relief.
Of course, societal stigma around marijuana usage during pregnancy lingered, and I faced judgment from those who were misinformed. They shared outdated fears about its effects on fetal development, questioning my capabilities as a mother. Nevertheless, I stood firm in my decision; I had educated myself thoroughly and was aware of the potential risks.
Eighteen weeks after my doctor’s approval to use marijuana, I had gained 28 pounds. Shortly after reaching this milestone, my water broke while helping my 3-year-old. After just six hours of labor and an hour of pushing, I welcomed my daughter into the world at a healthy 6 pounds, 3 ounces, with no complications linked to my marijuana use.
Today, my daughter is a spirited 4-year-old filled with enthusiasm for life, and I remain grateful for the plant that helped me navigate through such a challenging time. The odds may not have been in my favor, but they certainly worked out for my miracle baby.
For those seeking information on pregnancy and home insemination, visit this excellent resource for guidance. Additionally, check out this link to learn more about home insemination kits, which can be an invaluable tool for many families. If you’re interested in exploring options for self-insemination, you can find more about the baby maker home intracervical insemination syringe kit combo here.