After throwing up all my dinner, half my lunch, and my prenatal pill, I retired to bed last night. Not a fun night. Plus, I was worrying about my self-diagnosed infection. Husband says I'm a hypochondriac. I told him that wasn't nice. However, he still brought me ice water like I asked him too and rushed to my side when I was throwing up (even though I told him he didn't have to, he said he just wants to make sure I'm all right). I married a wonderful man. : )
This morning I was woken up by a phone call from... a nurse! She was going over my lab results and (surprise!) I have an infection. I need to go pick up some prescription drugs (which are safe for the baby), and take a few pills a day for a week. The infection should clear up in a few days.
Yay! Maybe I'll actually start to feel better, and pregnancy really isn't this bad? Perhaps my infection was just making me feel worse, and when it clears up I'll start to feel at least a little more normal. One can hope.
Feeling a little more optimistic and motivated, I am going to take a walk now.