Days later, I was staring into the calm, clear waters. My body shook and writhed yet again, but I had nothing. Everything I had to give up, had already been given. I flushed the commode and pulled a cool, damp wash cloth off the edge of the sink, something which had become a mainstay in the downstairs bathroom. I leaned back against the cabinets and fished through a drawer for the saltine crackers I had stashed nearby. Slowly, and carefully, I began to break off tiny pieces, letting them dissolve on my tongue. I knew that if I made a false move, or moved too quickly, I would lose it all again.

Slowly, I raised myself up, making sure the blood didn’t rise to my head too quickly and then carefully walked into the kitchen for some food.

What should I eat? Or, which item would be least likely to elicit a violent response from my body? Hmmm…maybe something from the BRAT diet? Bananas? Toast? Ah, yes. We’ll go with that.

Bananas, Toast, and Orange Gatorade. Not quite the image of a balanced meal, but it was the most my body would handle.

Occasionally, a craving would set in, and we would jump on it, not knowing when the next time would come that I would eat that well again. All too often, the food would make it in front of me, only to be pushed away as I scrambled to the bathroom. Again.

I watched in horror as my weight began to drop. I had carefully increased my weight pre-pregnancy to 105lbs, and was quickly losing it. I grasped my stomach as a sharp pain ran through my stomach. Then, more. Dizziness blanketed my body, and I was forced to sit down, lest I fall. The pains greatly diminished once I lay myself down on the couch, but the nauseousness never left.

****

The brick patio felt cool and moist from the morning dew under my feet. I shuffled across the neatly lined red bricks, and into the edge of the wet, sparkling grass. Glory (the Yorkie – a breed of dog) pulled at her leash, testing the boundaries. She ran back and forth, giving only a slightly tug on the leash as her 4 pound body bounded across the yard.

“I could use that sort of energy, “ I thought.

The pinky of my right hand felt a sharp pain, and then began to tingle. I looked closely at any signs of a bite or sting, ready to squash the attacker. Nothing. Not even redness. The tingling spread throughout my hand, one finger at a time until it had reached my thumb. My palms felt cool and wet, clammy even. My head began to pound, and it was if I could keep up with my very own pulse by listening to the pounding within my very own ears. Darkness began to blanket my eyes, almost in a pixellated way – tiny black dots, always falling.

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