From April 11

(In Which I Basically Wanted to Die)

Today was hideous.

I had an epiphany when I was dry-heaving for, oh, 17th time, because my stomach doesn't seem to understand THERE'S NOTHING LEFT. Then I got really scared, because when I finally stopped all I could do was sit in the bathroom for a long time with my whole body shaking. I couldn't control it, just like I can't control the endless dry heaves. I was cold too, but that wasn't why I was shaking.

And I was scared too, because I was alone. Wonderful Husband needed to make an appearance at a memorial thing for a dear friend who just lost her grandmother. Thankfully the person in question is one of the few who know about my situation, so he was not forced to make up some ridiculous excuse for my glaring absence.

I sat there until I stopped shaking and then I went and wrapped in a blanket to try to get warm. But then I got too warm, which makes me throw up more.

And so it goes.

This better be worth it.

Oh yeah - epiphany. Maybe it wasn't infertility. Maybe I'm not cut out for this and my body instinctively knew it. Maybe all these years my body was trying to protect me from this hellish, no-way-out, please kill me now torture.

Nothing about this is happy. Nothing about this feels like I'm going to have a sweet, wonderful, beautiful child at the end of it. Nothing feels good and nothing feels right. Overnight, my life became about sleeping and vomiting and sleeping some more, with the (new this week!) occasional migraine thrown in for good measure. And what do migraines mean? Sleeping and... you guessed it, vomiting.