I am pregnant. Today I received word that my blood tests came back normal and my 14 week old in utero offspring appears to be healthy. I finally, finally, feel free to admit to the world that yes, this is happening: a baby in November (24 to be roughly exact). Not one to tell people the instant the home pregnancy test showed up positive, I stewed all through the first trimester in curious anticipation: Will it work? Conceiving was not a cheerful expedition–it took well over a year and was fraught with infertility fears. Thus my caution to broadcast the news too early and risk public devastation (something I thought had occurred at 8 weeks, sending me to the clinic, only to learn that thankfully everything was fine). I did, however, write multiple blog entries in anticipation of being open and out. I’m going to be frank about this, you guys….so here is the beginning of the this very strange chapter:
TRYING NOT TO BARF, Part 1

barfbook. A week or so before I found out, before everything became heightened, before my senses truly kicked in, I checked out “Eat This, No That” from the library. This is a well laid out book, straight from the talk show circuit, almost like a kid’s place mat at a restaurant: full color pictures of what to eat and what not to eat. Going to Ruby Tuesdays? Pick the steak, green beans, and sweet potatoes versus the Panko crusted chicken. (I admit: I took this book home largely because my husband is a visual learner).

“Eat This, Not That” is also totally barf-inducing if you’re a little bit pregnant. Just walking by the book sitting on my counter and catching a quick look at the glossy picture of a Big Mac versus a Whopper was enough to make me want to vomit. It got so bad, I had to turn the book cover-side down every time I ran across it. At some point, I tried to read it, through clinched teeth with the rational that it was library book…I needed to return it soon! How could I not educate myself (with large colored photos of sodas, sample bags of good and bad chips, and a lecture on corn syrup) if I couldn’t even get past the sensational cover?

“Ha ha,” I said, swallowing the urge to barf down, “This means our kid takes after me and doesn’t like Big Macs!” But even a quick look at the chapter on fruits and vegetables induced nausea. That day a sandwich made with raw yellow peppers went down horribly wrong, and now every time I look at yellow vegetables I want to slam the fridge closed. Am I really that sensitive? I haven’t actually VOMITED…just spent my days in a strange nauseous haze. Some women will tell you it’s because you’re hungry…that’s it. You’re hungry and instead of turning your hungry sensors on, you have your barf sensors turned up instead. But I’ve eaten, with wild hope, while nauseous and it leaves me about the same.

And yes, just writing about this damn book is making me feel queasy.