The day before my positive test, I found myself unable to eat the salami sandwich Kenny had made or me for lunch. I felt like I was just being a brat and wasteful, but I had to go to Jimmy John’s to get something that sounded nice and calm instead. I confessed my betrayal to Kenny minutes after the positive test.
As I mentioned earlier, the nausea* kicked into gear about two days after I found out I was pregnant. Kenny was a little excited when it began because it was further assurance I was in fact pregnant. That, and he hates me.
It took some time to figure out how to handle the whole eating thing. Eating hurt but not eating hurt more. Sometimes eating was impossible. I would try to think of the one thing that sounded like a good idea. One night, I asked Kenny to make fried rice. Fried rice seemed fairly bland and it would still have some veggies and protein in it. We were almost out of soy sauce. I suggested he use some fish sauce to supplement---which was of course a completely terrible idea. While standing about 6 feet away from it, I smelled it and knew that I absolutely could not eat that meal. So Kenny made a wonderful meal I ASKED FOR, and when he added an ingredient I SUGGESTED, I could no longer eat the meal. Poor Kenny. This happened a few more times. One night I was sure I could eat fajitas. We went to a Mexican restaurant a block away. The fajitas seemed really expensive so I ordered enchiladas. After my first bite, I discovered that innocent seeming chicken was a terrible, terrible thing. Soon after, it was agreed that the word chicken would no longer be spoken in our household and if Kenny felt the need to use the word, he would replace it with the word rainbow.
All of the books suggested eating some dry toast in bed before getting up. But really, who wants to eat dry toast? We tried an English muffin with butter. I did not get to keep that. I tried crackers, but ugh, first thing in the morning? We finally discovered the magic food that I could eat: Lender’s bagels with cream cheese. I get one delivered to me every morning in bed because Kenny loves me. Leroy throws a fit because he wants to steal my bagel. I do not let him steal my bagel. Bagels are also the food that I get when I fail to keep a meal. Bagels are wonderful and glorious and I’m fairly certain that the baby will come out covered in cream cheese and lightly toasted.
Overall, meat (except for pork—Fetus does not keep kosher, loves bacon) and vegetables were the most difficult to eat. For a few weeks there, I’m pretty sure my diet was 75% bread product + cheese flavored product. I could eat almost anything my 8-year-old self would have eaten. That’s not a huge list of items. It includes PB&J, fried bologna, Kraft macaroni, hotdogs, and chocolate milk.
For the past 2 weeks I have been feeling soooo much better and eating soooo much better. Except for a few relapses here and there (designed to keep me humble I’m sure) there is sunshine and nourishment once more.
*I shall call it nausea for morning sickness is a terrible name for suffering that lasts all day.