What 50 Cent and I have in common

After I gave birth to Chicky, after all the bits were tidied and the craziness died down, I was offered the dinner menu showcasing the hospitals finest foods. And by "finest" I mean food of the institutional variety. Flavorless, cardboard meats, Jell-O, and crusty chocolate pudding. I was all over that menu like a starving dog.

I ordered a hamburger. The perfectly shaped patty, which in no way was formed by a human hand, was just like the ones I used to get in high school. I slathered it in ketchup from packets, and on the side was a small mound of almost colorless, thick-cut french fries. I slathered them in ketchup too.

While others held my new baby I took my first bite of that rubbery burger.

Then I took another bite, and another, stopping only to press a fry into my mouth. I finished that burger in no time, along with the french fries. I ate every last bite. It was the best thing I had ever tasted.

About halfway through my meal it occurred to me why I had enjoyed that meal so much. It had nothing to do with my misty water-colored memories of high school cafeteria lunches spent fiddling with my boyfriend's class ring on a chain around my neck while I nibbled on the same meal. It was because for the first time in 9 months I was able to eat something without fear of throwing it up. I could enjoy it, unlike all the other meals I had consumed since my OB-Gyn put me on Zofran five months before. I could savor every chewy bite and swallow without fear. It was pure heaven.

My prescription for generic Zofran was delivered to me Wednesday afternoon by one of my lovely girlfriends and it seems to be working. A little. I only have to run for the bathroom once or twice a day, but more importantly I have the desire to eat. Sometimes. The drug is not perfect.

I cannot even tell you how much I appreciate all your suggestions on combating morning sickness. Some of them helped a little bit, and that little bit meant a lot to this mama. But the problem with most of the remedies was that they relied heavily on eating. Eating is something I cannot do when I'm this sick. I can't force myself no matter how hard I try and if I do manage to choke something down it will immediately come right back up, every time. In a 48 hour period I consumed nothing more than half a package of Ramen noodles and a popsicle and nothing else. I almost passed out in the grocery store because I was so hungry and dehydrated.

I'm a strong believer in that life gives us what we need and what we do with it after is up to us to decide. At my most jittery, most desperate time I noticed a bottle of Vitamin Water in my refrigerator and a little voice in my head said, "Hey, I could drink that." And I did. And I really believe it kept me from going to the hospital. The funny thing is, the bottle had been in my fridge for a few days and for some reason I didn't notice it until then. My husband left it there before he left on his trip on Sunday.

Now, I know I'm all woozy and weird due to dehydration and little food for over a week and I'm not so crazy to say that Vitamin Water saved my life. But drinking that already watered down liquid was key to keeping me well. It could not have been any other sports drink or juice. It had to be Vitamin Water. Even now, with the drugs, it's the only thing I can drink. It's almost as satisfying as that hamburger.

Some of you have left me comments saying that you too went through this. Most of you told me that you also needed Zofran to maintain a somewhat normal life. The problem with this type of pregnancy-related sickness, whether or not you're officially diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, is that most people don't believe you're really as sick as you are. They'll sympathize, especially if they experienced some tough bouts with morning sickness themselves at times, but they'll be skeptical of your stories. And that's okay. I don't want you to understand because that would mean you had gone through it yourself. I don't wish that on my worst enemy.

So I hope you'll excuse me for waxing poetic about something as ridiculous as a flavored water. Without it, I wouldn't be able to take my Zofran. And without my Zofran I wouldn't have been able to even take a bite of that crispy chicken sandwich from McDonald's that I just ate. It wasn't a religious experience like the hospital hamburger, but it made me happy.