You may be aware that hyperhidrosis is hereditary.  Or you may be like I was and be blissfully ignorant of this sobering fact.  By the time I learned of the possibility that my children could inherit my hyperhidrosis, my family was complete.  Believe me, more than complete– we have five kids!

I have received messages from a number of people (mostly women) who are really struggling with their fear of passing hyperhidrosis on to their children– existing, future, and in utero.  A few people questioned whether they should have kids at all because they would not want their kids to suffer as they did.  One expectant mother told me she lay sleepless in bed many nights after learning her child was a girl and being convinced that a girl would have a harder time living with hyperhidrosis, should she be afflicted with it.

What could I say to these worried parents and would-be parents?

I felt for them, of course I did.  Strangely, I did not share their fears.   My oldest children clearly did not have it; two of them are teens and still showing no signs of HH.  I did not give it much thought; perhaps this is because no one else in my family had it when I was growing up and suffering in isolation and shame.  It isn’t as if hyperhidrosis runs rampant in my family.

So, my response to these anxious folks was sincere and sympathetic, running along the lines of… “Your child, if she has hyperhidrosis, will have something going for her that you did not have: a mother who understands and will advocate for her…” and “…Educate yourself on every possible treatment and find a good doctor who understands how to treat hyperhidrosis…”  You know, the best advice I could think to give.  From my ivory tower.

Until Movie Night.

Cuddled on the couch, watching Alice In Wonderland with my girls… My husband was away with our three sons.  I don’t know about your sweat patterns, but to me, a hallmark of hyperhidrosis is sweating during an exciting movie.  It must be the whole adrenaline, fight-or-flight response mechanism.  I touched a bare foot during a chase scene.  It was slick.  Checked hands: wet.  Hyperhidrosis.

Suddenly, all my well-meaning advice-from-on-high meant nothing.  I cried my eyes out and felt like a hypocrite. The irrational and overwhelming guilt made the tears fall faster.  She will have to live with this because of ME.  I GAVE THIS TO HER.  The fact that it was simply genetics and thus out of my control and not actually my fault meant absolutely nothing to me.

After awhile, I began to think back on all the little signs I had willfully ignored:  the clammy hands a few random times, the moist socks… I had told myself, “Kids tend to be sweaty…”  And this is true.  I do think sweaty hands and feet in young children can be normal and not a sure sign of hyperhidrosis.  I may well be mistaken about my daughter.  I would love to be wrong, of course.

Since that night a few months have passed and I have watched for more episodes.  There have been a few.  Happily, a few times I expected to feel sweat, there was none.  I even have admitted to myself that another one of my children can have clammy hands once in awhile, and I am trying to accept the possibility that he may have it too.

Since the initial shock, I have gained a sense of perspective.  I have reminded myself of the advice I offered to others, and have tried to be OK with it.  I have attempted to quiet the guilt.  My head knows it is not my fault.  My heart wants to blame someone, and it may as well be me.

Someday, if my children are diagnosed with hyperhidrosis, they may be angry with being dealt a sweaty hand.  They may want to blame someone: me.  I must anticipate this and understand.  Before I find myself in this position, I must forgive myself, accept it, and get ready to be their best weapon.