Baby brewing is a strange business, and already it’s leading me to do things that I never ever thought I would do. Because I honestly never thought that I would ever eat another package of Ramen noodles* ever ever ever again. And yet in the past month I have not only consumed one, but many packages of Ramen, much to my own chagrin.
I pride myself on eating well. I try to eat locally. I buy organic whenever I can. I prefer homemade to store bought and pre-made. Yet here I am eating Ramen because I can’t manage any cooking processes more complicated than opening a plastic package and pouring hot water into a bowl. Though the Beard cooks for me almost every day, some days he’s at work. Left to fend for myself, I know that if I didn’t eat the Ramen, I wouldn’t eat anything at all. It’s a matter of survival really, and come the zombie apocalypse you can bet I’ll be the one eating all sorts of nasty things in order to survive. It’s in my nature.
During the worst of the nausea puke fest of “morning” sickness, food stopped looking like food. I would look down at a plate of salad or chili or noodles or whatever—foods I normally would have enjoyed and inhaled—and it would look like it was something absolutely inedible, like all the food in the world was suddenly made out of stone or wood, just a ruse to fill my plate. Eating became an enormous hassle, and when I discovered that I couldn’t stomach big meals anymore (that is, normal-sized meals to the rest of you) and that six or so small meals a day would result in a lot less indigestion and mildly less nausea, I started to feel desperate. Eating was all just so much work. I started talking to my food. “Well hello there darling. You look delightful. Meet me again out by the bushes in half an hour?”
Which brings me to the waste. I don’t even want to think about all of the food I’ve thrown away in the last two months. Not counting all of the things that ended up regurgitated in the bushes, there were plates and plates of perfectly good food that I simply could not eat and, once they eventually turned, was forced to throw away. Meal after meal lovingly cooked by the Beard, and nothing but a burgeoning compost heap to show for it. If I could only manage to stay awake past 10 pm I could go dumpster diving and at least stop throwing out heaps of money at the same time.
Yesterday I didn’t throw up once. I enjoyed eating, and, despite massive indigestion, did so with abandon. I took my vitamins and didn’t throw them back up. I didn’t look at people enjoying their dinners with envy and wonder and disgust. It is the first time I have had a completely puke-free day since mid June (on a good day I average in at six visits to the bushes, on a bad day the number approaches fifteen). People have told me about morning sickness lasting until the fifth and sixth months, or (and I don’t even want to say this for fear of a jinx, but here goes) the full nine. Excuse me while I Google knot tying. I want to get this noose right the first time.
And yet this is a normal part of pregnancy. Doctors have no fucking clue what causes it exactly, but the general theory is that the hormonal overload over-stimulates the part of the brain in control of vomiting. That plus the fact that the digestive system slows down, your sense of smell speeds up, and that your mouth starts making inordinate amounts of spit, and ta-da, you have the wonders of morning sickness. Still strikes me as a stupid way to spend the first part of a time when you want to be eating the best you can, but considering all the shit a pregnant body has to cope with, I suppose I can forgive it. Superheroes, after all, do not exist.
Today the nausea returned, and after lying in bed all morning (and most of the afternoon) nibbling on mixed nuts and dried fruit, I dug out a package of Ramen and put on the kettle. I am not entirely sure than anything in a packet of Ramen qualifies as real food, but I have to admit, since finishing the bowl, I’ve been feeling better.
*For those from Germany, Yum Yum, and for those from everywhere else, cheap-as-fuck instant “soup” with noodles requiring you to “just add hot water.”
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