It seems that everyone who finds out I'm pregnant wants to know what sort of things I've been eating. The most common question I get by far is "so, any crazy cravings yet?" and because I'm socially awkward I usually just say no, not really and the disappointed questioner goes off to find someone more interesting to talk to. And there I am, left wishing I could really sparkle with some story about the tuna fish-raspberry jam-banana-onion ring panini I just had to get up and make at 3 am.
But once I stop and think about it, removed from the pressures of simple conversation, I realize that I have been eating some strange things the entire time. The trouble is, when people ask me about crazy cravings, I immediately think of the weird pickles and ice cream combinations that we've all heard about on every sitcom that has ever gotten desperate enough to get one of the characters pregnant (i.e. all of them). I haven't craved anything like that, but I have craved specific food. I would say they are more like obsessions than cravings. To wit:
In the beginning, it was breaded chicken products. Chicken fingers. Wendy's chicken sandwiches. Anything that combined batter and some semblance of chicken breast, I had to have it. I think that I must have had some form of breaded chicken at least 10 times during the last two weeks of September. It was chicken fingers and Dr. Pepper at a baseball game that gave me away to my first friends to find out. I remember calling Husband as I drove home from Pilates to tell him that I was going by Wendy's for a chicken sandwich and I was powerless to stop myself. And of course there were the hospital chicken fingers, from the week my grandfather was in the hospital. I took this picture with my phone to show my husband that yes, I was having chicken fingers AGAIN.
After the chicken obsession came the ramen phase. I had to have some form of noodles and broth at least once daily. When the noodles that came in the cup o' noodle or the ramen pack ran out and I had leftover broth, I put leftover spaghetti noodles in my bowl and ate them, too. The ramen obsession culminated with our supposed-to-be-romantic anniversary trip to San Francisco, which I spent curled in the fetal position in the dark hotel room due to a sinus infection. I sent Husband out on a noodle hunt with the aid of Urban Spoon, and luckily he was able to secure me some form of noodles and broth from a nearby Thai place.
By the time the noodle phase ended, I was feeling a little bit more like a normal person than a newly pregnant woman, and my food obsessions petered out. The one thing that has remained: a serious downgrade in the quality of my diet. I'm supposed to be eating vegetables and whole grains and growing the baby's brain, right? That ain't happening. All that I want is fast food, ice cream, cookies, more fast food, and pizza.
Under normal circumstances I am very much a whole grain, lean protein, local fresh produce kind of girl. These are not normal circumstances, however, and I CANNOT go to bed without a giant bowl of ice cream and at least two oreos. We have had pizza Friday night for the last three Fridays and I can tell you I have no intention of stopping that trend anytime soon. Husband has noticed the surge in junk food purchases when I grocery shop and actually felt the need to tell me I didn't have to try and finish off said junk food without him seeing it.
So there you have it. No outlandish concoctions, just a bunch of junk, and a husband who is worried I have become some sort of Secret Eater. I'll update here though if I do start going for anything crazy.