This is the best pregnancy I've had to date. Although I certainly do not feel even close to 100%, I can actually eat. Nothing really sounds good, but at least I can eat and that makes me one happy camper, considering I am a big eater. I still want to throw up but it isn't right there in my throat potentially causing me to spontaneously vomit at any given moment. This is mainly in part to the constant stream of nausea medication I've kept in my body. I've learned that when I don't take it on weekends (simply to save the pills since they cost an arm and a leg per pill) that is when I throw up. Nights are not very good either, but I'll take that to feeling badly all the time. Of course this stream of good luck makes me wonder in the back of my mind if the baby is still alive. I haven't had an ultrasound in almost two weeks, so you just never know. This isn't consuming my mind, but I am confident I will feel this anxiety daily.
Which brings me to another reason I cannot complain. I'm sick to read of a fellow blogger's latest loss...her 7th to be exact. Her repeated second trimester loss has me waking in the middle of the night, stopping in the middle of the day, wondering what she is doing. Knowing the physical things her body is going through right this minute. Knowing that her body has no idea she doesn't have a baby to hold. Knowing the devastation and the tears that just won't stop. I do not know her, have no idea what she looks like, and will never meet her, but I hurt for her. Unfair doesn't even begin to describe the situation.