I wish I can just flush my head down the toilet.

This is the nth time I've been to the toilet to puke. Since I found out that I was pregnant, all the excitement seems to dwindle little by little every time I flush tons of saliva and morbid food particles down the john.

"God, help me . . . " this is all I can mutter with every breath I take to try to keep it down. It drives me crazy that I have to feed myself so that I might have some "ammo" to throw up later.

There are times when I just want to scream my head off. I am confined to a bed, can not do the simplest of things that would at least make my life the tiniest bit interesting. It is freaking hot, my neighbor's roosters are killing me. . . I just want to take them by the neck and pluck out each feather with a tweezer.

My mother says to suck on lemon candy, my aunt says ice chips, my weird sister keeps putting liniment on my back and my brother whose a nurse says this is normal - I know he's frantically searching through his books for better answers.

To make matters worse, my husband says "You're just pregnant, and you'll get through this." AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!! When? When? When? When?!!! It was like saying - You just have a cold honey, get over it. I hate him so much right now. I want to claw him.

I wouldn't be surprised if the toilet bowl starts talking to me. I spend more time there now. Besides, I caught myself talking to my dog, Elmo, yesterday, telling him to bite everyone that I hate right now. First on the list: Bill.