If you don't want to hear some whining, don't read this.

I am trying really hard to not whine about all that is going on in my life. I will mention it briefly and that is about it. However, today I am at the end of my quickly fraying rope. I have decided that hyperemesis is not for the weak of heart, or body, or soul. I am afraid I am hoplessly week at all three.

I started throwing up at week seven and haven't stopped since. I am at 17 weeks. I have been throwing up for 10 weeks straight. I have gone in for numerous IV treatments, I have battled insurance companies for the correct dosage of the only drug that seems to work for me, only to be declined time and time again. We have had to resort to crossing the border to obtain said medication. I have had my kidney's shut down. I have even started contracting at 14 weeks because I was so dehydrated and my body was just trying to get rid of what it sees as a "parasite" invading my body. I have thrown up pieces of my throat because it was so raw and the stomach acid has just been eating away at it. I throw up an average of 10 times a day with the record being 19 times. Then the headaches come because of the dehydration and the massive amounts of medication.

I missed out on an annual "girl's weekend" because I never know what smells or sights will send me running to the bathroom. I need this every year to regain my composure and come home refreshed. I don't get to spend time playing with my girls because I am so exhasted all of the time. I have had to depend on others to nurture and care for my children. My relationship with my poor husband is still great even though I can't stand the smell of him or the sound of his voice or even the way he breathes. He still loves me after all of that.

Then the depression and anxiety comes. It is usually a given for HG patients. They will end up with panic attacks or depression because an ending seems to not exist. I am being medicated for both. The nurse at my doctors even told me that they recently had to commit an HG patient to a psych ward. Then due to the sheer amount of pills I am taking, I want to throw up whenever I see one.

I have developed an irrational fear of food. I know that my body needs it, that this baby needs it, but I look at it and see nothing but misery. I can understand the hatred that girls with @norexi@ and Bu!imi@ have for food. I think I am a little more understanding of eating disorders. My fear isn't a fear of becoming fat, just a fear of becoming sick.

Then you have the people. The people who don't believe that you actually have a disease. The people that say it is all in your head. That you just need to refocus or that question how sick you really are. The people who insist that once you are in your second trimester that it will all go away. The people who don't understand that a good day is a day that you can shower and not throw up in the shower because the smell of water...yes, water...makes you hurl. Spending 10 weeks with your head in a toilet will make the smell of water foul. People who can't understand why you aren't excited about the impending birth of your child. People who don't understand that you are in basic survival mode and to think about anything other than what will happen in the next ten minutes is pushing it. People who don't understand why you can't make it to every event that comes along. People who say hurtful things or who tell you they totally understand even though they only "felt nauseous" or threw up "once a day". That somehow that is supposed to make you feel better.

I know I have been blessed. I have a wonderful family that has rallied around me in my time of need. I have a husband who has been bending over backwards to help me. I have a mom and sisters who are always willing to take my kids. I have friends who have stepped in and nurtured and played and had my kids all but live at their homes. I am really lucky. I know that. I know this IS the depression talking and the fact that I am sick all over again after having a fairly decent week last week, it has just made me more depressed. I know there are women who have it much worse than I do and I am grateful for all of the help I have received and the blessings that have been such a huge part of getting me almost halfway through this trial.

I guess I just need to put it out their into the void. Cyber brownies if you made it this far. But someone else will have to cook them. I can't even crack an egg with out running to the toilet.