From roughly week seven of your existence, food has been a pretty epic component of my existence. Given that I have been trying pretty damn hard to build a strong foundation of vitamins, minerals, nutrients, and whatever other good stuff I'm supposed to be ingested, both for your healthy growth and mine, keeping an eye on what I eat was just smart to begin with. Add to that, your father and I are both pretty avid foodies, which means that I had a lot of dietary interests and habits that were going to need negotiating.
I figured I would pursue a well-balanced but diverse diet of not only favorite foods, but also those with substantial nutritional value...then morning sickness struck. As I've previously ranted, and will likely continue to well past your thirtieth birthday, NOTHING - literally none of the "normal" remedies - made my nausea even a teensy bit better. Saltines, ramen noodles, store-brand "Creamy Wheat," beef broth, and sometimes, if I was feeling really bold, green grapes became the only foods in my diet...and by in my diet, I mean in my stomach for up to forty minutes before making a rather drastic reappearance. Even after my midwives opted to medicate me, I still had to tread incredibly carefully or face another tete-a-tete with the porcelain gods. Sometime in the last few weeks, however, things have started to resolve themselves. Now I can think about food again without retching despondently! I can eat food that is not just beige! I can look at a menu at a restaurant, a grocery store, or even our fridge, and WANT things!
Sadly, with all silver linings come a cloud. With my newly reclaimed dietary freedom, I've discovered a few foods for which I am rapidly developing a desire to shiv nuns in order to obtain (some off-limits, sadly), but also a few items that I would sooner see launched into the sun than put on my plate. I give you my second trimester bottom to top five list.
#5: Eggs. If you have ever wondered what the single most hideous thing is that a human being can regurgitate, the answer should be obvious. (It's eggs.) One of the first days I was REALLY sick, back somewhere around week seven or eight, I thought it would be a good idea to make myself an egg and cheese quesadilla for breakfast. About twenty minutes later, I realized how utterly, painfully, gut-wrenchingly wrong I was. I've had a few small breakfasts containing some of your father's excellent cheesy eggs - heavily tempered with something bready and safe - but I'm still wary, and often just don't want to go there.
#4: Coffee. Seriously? Coffee? This coming from a former five plus cup a day drinker: how the HELL did I lose interest in coffee? I still drink a small cup most days (yes, judge away), mostly because the caffeine actually does kind of make me feel better, but the smell does nothing for me, the taste is just...meh...and I take little to no pleasure from it. It doesn't make me sick, but it sure as hell makes me feel weird for losing touch with my former partner in crime.
#3: Pickles. I'm a stereotype. I've been really digging pickles since I could stomach more complex foods than a saltine, and daaaaaaaaaaamn are they easy to eat. When your Uncle Cameron was visiting, he and your Dad picked up a gallon jar of kosher dills for me, and I have put a serious dent in them. They aren't one of those "I MUST EAT THIS ALL THE TIME OR I WILL CHEW THE ARM OFF ONE PERSON FOR EVERY MINUTE I DON'T HAVE ONE IN MY MOUTH" foods, but I am pretty damn fond of eating a few of them off a paper towel at any odd hour of the day.
#2: Tomato sauce. Okay, don't get me wrong, I've always loved red sauce; this is nothing new. If it's covered in tomato sauce, I can more or less eat something I have no room left in any of my vital organs, and still want to eat more of it as soon as some has digested. Things have escalated since you came along, Batman. My one "holy crap, I'm a crazy person" pregnancy eating moment to date was catching myself standing in front of the open fridge, three spoonfuls in to a tomato sauce-only snack. I'm mildly concerned that I might start hunting for justifications for
#1: Sushi. I love sushi. Really, truly, I do. There are few foods in the world that I get quite as excited about as I do about sushi (bacon notwithstanding, though I've become oddly ambivalent towards bacon in the last few months, which is weird), and it has been one hell of a strain to resist shoving roll after delicious roll into my face any time I am confronted with the opportunity to do so. My hormone-addled brain has also decided to define "opportunity" somewhat loosely, as I have several times now found myself standing in front of the sushi case at the grocery store contemplating how quickly I could down a spicy tuna roll before the dude standing five feet away making more sushi would notice and start chasing me down for shoplifting. I've discovered the magic of many rolls that I previously neglected for more tuna- and yellowtail-filled specialties, such as eel and avocado, a glorious assortment of pickles, and any of those fancy rolls filled with a crapload of tempura-fried stuff. I miss my tuna, but that's why someone will be appointed "sushi retrieval specialist" right before you're born so that I can inhale at least two spicy tuna rolls as soon as the cord is cut.
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