My mentality through hyperemesis

I wanted to die. Not kidding. I hoped to spontaneously die. I didn't have energy to take my own life. But I didn't want to live to see another day. It was a dark time. I had this mental image that I was drowning. And up above the water I could see the faces of family and friends looking at each other, shrugging, shaking their heads, and not being able to save me. No one can help you feel better with hyperemesis. There was no relief in baths or medication or food. I laid on my stomach to keep from heaving every second of every day. If I was upright, I was fighting/choking down the vomit. It took all my energy. I missed church, I slept in and woke up to the boys already gone to school, I missed end of the year performances, and anything and everything else. I hired a house cleaner, but fired her because it was too much work to tell her what to do. THAT is pathetic. Family and friends did cooking, cleaning, and laundry if Dave didn't have time. I did nothing. 

Every once in awhile I would feel a little hope break through. Maybe once a day. I would say, "I will do this for you baby. I CAN do this for you."  Then I would cry with guilt for how poorly I was handling my sickness. I cried all the time. It was truly the hardest time of my life.