Echoes.

I don’t really know what to say or how to talk about what is going on.
It’s nothing horribly bad.
No one is dying, no one has cancer that didn’t already have it… that I know of.
I’m just struggling.
Struggling to eat, struggling to drink, struggling to breathe, struggling to sleep, struggling to work.

I’ve been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum.
My luck, I suppose.  I’ve developed something less than 2% of pregnant woman get.
I can’t win the lottery but I can vomit up my baby.  And it’s frustrating.  People assume you just have bad morning sickness.  You’re overreacting.  “Just eat a cracker.”

Just eat a cracker?
I haven’t eaten anything in days that I’ve been able to keep down remotely… don’t you think I’d give ANYTHING to be able to eat a fucking cracker?

The HER foundation put up this handy dandy little chart – dunno if I’m going to be able to get it big enough to read, but click on it if it’s not.

Tuesday I got IV fluids at the hospital, next Tuesday I have another appointment at the doctor’s office – a place that I fear I will NEVER LEAVE at some point.

I feel like I’ve got some sort of wasting disease – I’ve never been so miserable in all of my life.