I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum when I was pregnant. It took me 5 visits to the doctor to get a diagnosis.

• In the weeks after my positive pregnancy test, I was vomiting up to 20 times a day.
• I couldn't even keep water down. Everyone's suggestions were futile.

I'd been told morning sickness could be difficult, but mine seemed a bit more severe. Within three weeks of my positive pregnancy test I had lost 17% of my body weight and vomited anywhere from five to 20 times a day.

Cheery suggestions from friends, coworkers, and family included nibbling on crackers in the morning, trying ginger chews, and eating protein when I felt nauseous. But I was way beyond keeping food down; I couldn't even keep water down.

My symptoms were dismissed as morning sickness

When I went to my first OB-GYN, a week after getting my positive pregnancy test and losing 10 pounds, I explained that my morning sickness seemed a little worrisome. "Oh, yes, morning sickness is a doozy, isn't it?" she casually quipped.

In that dismissal, I understood it wasn't my dwindling health that was a problem but my pain tolerance. "This must be what all women endure," I thought, self-loathingly. "How can I be so fragile about such a ubiquitous experience of pain?"

So I shut up, walked out of the office with my little plastic bag, and vomited on the drive home.

Within two weeks I was bedridden. I started working from home between bouts of dizziness and restless sleep. My urine had turned orange. My husband, who had to work from home to take care of me, grew more worried. He brought me to urgent care, where the attending physician, slightly exasperated, waved alcohol swabs under my nose to stop me from vomiting in her office. She explained that morning sickness was nothing to worry about.

I was sent out with a generous handful of alcohol swabs and a suggestion to "try ginger." The second I got out the door I started vomiting on the sidewalk.

It was after my third visit with a new OB-GYN — a third placating demeanor, and a third conciliatory instruction on where I could buy ginger chews — that I started to feel like I was going mad. It was a true "Twilight Zone" experience.

While most women I knew gained weight in pregnancy, I had lost 30 pounds by this point. I knew I was malnourished, but I feared most deeply that my baby would have some permanent repercussions. As the instinct to protect grew in me and I continually faced eerily dismissive doctors, I realized that if anyone was going to figure out what was wrong with me, it would have to be me. So I took to the internet.

I read countless peer-reviewed medical journals spanning over a hundred years. I pored over Reddit feeds. And finally I found something that sounded like what I was experiencing: hyperemesis gravidarum, a debilitating disease thought to affect up to 2% of pregnancies that until the 1950s, when intravenous fluids became widely available, was a leading cause of maternal death.

When I brought my research to my next OB-GYN, there was almost an eye roll.

After four OB-GYNs had found my symptoms unremarkable, I became convinced that there was no recourse: I would have to keep going down the road, growing increasingly ill and risking my baby's health, while the medical community watched.

Finally, a 5th doctor gave me a diagnosis

On a visit to the ER, the attending physician listened to my symptoms and gave them uncharacteristic weight. "Why didn't you come in earlier?" she said. "You have hyperemesis gravidarum. Hasn't anyone told you that?"

It was such a gratifying diagnosis that to her came easily — through a urine test to measure my ketones and a brief look to chart my weight loss.

While HG has no cure, mitigating measures include regular infusions, medication, and persistent fetal monitoring.

While my symptoms changed only mildly after the diagnosis, my emotional health was rejuvenated. I was not weak. I was not dramatic, unintelligent, or hysterical. I was a very ill woman. But finally, I was going to be OK.