In a “recent” post I wrote about feeling nauseous. It was a veiled reference to morning sickness. In what was both completely unexpected (and terrifying) and somehow something I completely knew was happening I found out I was pregnant.
The day after I found out I developed morning sickness (bok choy was unfortunately the innocent bystander, and months after, it still doesn’t go down well). I don’t think it was a severe case. I only threw up a few times. Mostly I just felt sick and extremely tired most of the time. I was able to eat, but cooking was beyond me and thinking about food was just simply not something I could do with any enjoyment. Cravings would come crashing in at unusual times, but they moved quickly. I missed food, not so much the eating of food, which was still occasionally enjoyable (hot buttered rolls will never taste bad to me), but thinking and reading about food. I realize I spend a lot of time thinking and reading about food.
Pregnancy hasn’t really changed that, if anything it’s given me a healthier relationship with food. Food now seems more like a necessity than an indulgence, and the guilt that sometimes comes along with eating has pretty much vanished regardless of whether I’m eating a bowl of organic fruit or an ice cream sandwich. Both feel equally necessary somehow. There are some new concerns. The warnings against eating raw milk anything, raw meat, raw fish, cured meats or drinking alcohol abound. I try not to be a panicky kind of person. I figure people have eaten these things for centuries; I have never gotten sick from eating any of these things, and some, like raw meat (steak tartare style) are seen in some cultures as beneficial for pregnant women. Very moderate drinking (a 1/4 glass of wine now and then, a sip of beer) seems reasonable and extremely unlikely to cause problems. So I’ve stolen a sip of beer here and there, toasted with a sip of wine once or twice, nibbled at cheese I knew was raw milk (raw milk is healthy damn it – you can taste the meadows in it!), eaten a tiny bite of Kebe Nayeh at the urging of a friend’s mother (her husband is an obstetrician, I figured she knew what she was talking about!) and gazed longingly at a slice of Serrano ham. Each of these choices was based on my fundamental feeling that food is healthy and good and that fear is not.
But it’s funny how this pregnancy thing works. I don’t quite know how I feel about what’s developing inside me, but I’m terrified of harming it. So often hours or even days after a well thought out, risk assessed eating decision I’ll find myself overcome with panic, feeling somehow like I’ve done something terrible. This is by far the worst thing about being pregnant.
On the up side I don’t have to clean the kitty litter!