My emotions aren't the only thing that baby D has altered. For the first three months, I was devastatingly (if there is a word that is more dramatic please let me know because this still doesn't seem to quite explain my desperation) hungry, but as soon as food would hit my lips I would want to run to the nearest bathroom. It seemed like a cruel trick from God.
Finally I realized that if I just made myself eat something bland, my nausea would subside a bit and I could make it through the day. Carbs became my new safety blanket. Plain bagel toasted with a dab of butter? Yes please. And so this (or some similar version of it) is what I continued to eat day in and out, for 3 meals a day. Vegetables were out of the question. Meat, especially chicken, might as well have been outlawed in our house for weeks. Watermelon was my only fiber. A lack of fiber-rich foods and iron-loaded prenatal vitamins...I'm sure I don't need to go much further for you to understand that it was a very miserable household.
Let's skip the details of the "dark weeks" as I have come to remember them, in which I was basically a miserable shadow of my former self ... and move on to the second trimester. This is a time of so much promise. Everyone assured me that things would get better. "Just make it to 14 weeks" they said and it will all go away. Through my tears and groaning, I tried to believe them, but I just didn't think there would be an end. But there was!
Miraculously, my "morning" sickness became manageable and I was able to pull myself from my bedcover cave and actually shower, get dressed, and eat real food, like a normal person. I even ventured to the grocery store without needing to make beeline for the restroom at every sight and scent. I actually started wanting more than just plain spaghetti noodles with butter and salt and actually enjoyed the meatsauce on top. I tentatively tried salads, vegetables, and even Chinese food without much incident. However now that I finally have my appetite back, I can confidently say, I HAVE MY APPETITE BACK. (Enter me crying for pizza at the grocery store). I must eat every hour or two. Let me rephrase. I MUST eat every hour or two. I don't eat a huge meal each time, but there better be at least something waiting in the fridge for immediate noshing or else this crazy women appears out of nowhere. I have to bring snacks with me if I leave the house just in case there's a meltdown. It's like I have two personalities. The mommy in me is packing snacks for the toddler in me that will throw a fit if I can't get immediate food gratification.
I have about 22 more weeks to go, so I can only imagine what more is in store for me (and my dear friends and family...so sorry in advance). I'll tell you what, this was not was I was expecting when I first heard the phrase "eating for two," which sounds just like getting an extra dish of ice cream after dinner. Yeah right!
Thanks for reading my thoughts about food and the destructive behavior that I have succumbed to because of it.
P.S. No fetus was harmed in process of this turmoil. I maintained contact with my doctor at all times who assured me that the little guy/gal is growing just fine, but did prescribe me special pre-natal vitamins just in case.
