There’s a force of nature that’s called the first trimester of pregnancy, that puts everything else that was normal about your life, on hold. It’s a constant feeling of wanting to wet the taste buds with something..anything that might mask (what I think is the taste of) the hcG hormone. And a prioritisation of napping without meaning to.
It’s different for every woman. And I didn’t have it as bad as many.
But writing, and most other things kindof ceased to exist, the only thing on my mind was homemade food, napping, and the dos and don’ts.
Another pesky thing that took over, is something I’m not supposed to eat sneaking its way into every meal eaten out: “The ingredient list did not say it had mayonnaise, why is this egg not well cooked in the ramen when it normally is, why wasn’t I told the lamb in the burger would be cooked rare, or should I not have assumed it would be well cooked? This fish is on the high mercury list, may I please have an alternative? Yes, vegetarian will do…”
Life seems to become this capsule, of things taken for granted becoming an issue – even how to take a shower becomes controversial: at what temperature does warm become hot? How long a shower (in warm water) is too long?
No, it isn’t just about no alcohol, soft cheese or raw fish consumption; a certain sense of ‘am I doing this right?’ takes over, and I don’t think I’m the paranoid sort…or am I?
It’s also a period of feeling isolated, since no one has the responsibility of growing-this-thing-right but you – that’s a hard concept for other halves to grasp, except it’s not a concept at all but constant practical dilemmas in everyday things.
Some nurturing with cooked meals at home doesn’t go astray, except they don’t cook it the way you want right now. Mum’s cooking is sorely missed though is prime real estate in another country…
Anyway folks, I wish it upon all of you, and none of you.
Yet, these are merely annoyances, and yes, I know it will all be worth it, and it’s probably not as bad as I make it sound, and we should be allowed to vent without seeming ungrateful.
Because I am grateful, oh yes I am. This kid is growing in the right place after all 🙂
small ways to Be More 