Up then down then up again

bleh.

sorry for the lack of posting lately, all.


I was feeling pretty good for a while (had nine whole days without puking.. hooray!) then I pretty much crashed this weekend.

3 times saturday, twice on sunday, nothing yesterday, and already once today.

I keep telling myself that the meds are (must be.. HAVE TO BE) working in at least SOME capacity... cause I'm taking some high-potent shit, folks! I imagine the mess I'd be if I wasn't taking any meds, and that brings me some solace.

I'm also keeping in mind the fact that the baby seems to be fine and healthy, and all the people out there who, for whatever reason... can not get or have trouble remaining pregnant. The fact that I personally know of some couples in those situations helps keep me in check, I think.

but nonetheless... the puking and midnight acid wake-ups eventually take their toll... physically, mentally and emotionally.

so I feel at a crossroads. I'm not looking for the sympathy vote or anything... cause to be honest, when people start doling out pity for my puking, I feel like a shmuck. Shmuck because of the people that can't get preggo, and shmuck because it's just puke for crying out loud... it's not like the baby or I am dying, you know?

and the over-concern from my mom can be stifling. I often fear mentioning my puking to her because I know she worries. and I'm not going to take that away from her, cause now that I'm a mom to Rhena, I TOTALLY GET IT... no momma ever wants to see their baby (no matter how old the baby is) be sick.

but yet... I feel the need to say when I have my 'sessions', because they truly do take away my energy, even if for a little while. and when the energy goes... that means shit doesn't get done. like the e-mails, and phone calls, and blog posts, and visits. and cleaning and cooking, and folding the damn laundry, too.

so hear me when I say.. I'm not looking for pity. a little pardoning of my dust, messy bedroom, lack of blogging, and lack of being in touch, maybe.... but not pity.


oh.. and my breath. I know, I know... it's awful, and I'm sorry. I've really been trying to keep the house-of-acid at bay, but I know my throat smells like George Washington's ball sack. Just keep some gum or tic tacs handy if you plan on seeing me any time soon, ok?