Hate-hate relationship

I think the one thing that has defined the different stages of my pregnancy and I suspect will do so till I pop is my ever changing relationship with food. First, there was the total and utter disinterest and then revulsion of food. Then, there was the total emptying of the contents in my stomach which made me totally miserable and I still get sensory memories of it whenever I sniff Indian spices or parmesan cheese. Thankfully, that was over by about 13 weeks and I could finally start eating with relish. And eat I did.

I discovered a penchant for anything spicy. The more it felt like the top of my head was going to blow from the heat and the more tears I shed because the food was chiili hot, the better. The offspring seem to defy all the pregnancy books that tell me that I should eat non-spicy food as spicy food inhibits digestion. I ignored all that since I could eat it, I enjoyed it and it stayed down well.

Until the last week. Well, actually over Chinese New Year, I discovered that I didn't like food again. Initially, I put it down to the copious amounts of food that met us everywhere we went. But it didn't go away. I had absolutely lost interest in food. I was always at a lost of what to eat. There were no cravings, except for the Milo with chocolate ice cream one which Packrat wisely vetoed because it was late at night and he really didn't want his pregnant wife bouncing off walls in the middle of the night.

In the last two days it got even more severe. My tummy started acting up. On Thursday, it was upset, as if I had eaten something wrong and it was pissed off at me. On Friday, there was a massive amount of acid in my stomach making me feel extremely uncomfortable whether standing up or sitting down regardless of whether I was eating something. It also led to heartburn which was absolutely unfunny. I couldn't tell Packrat what I wanted to eat and I felt perpetually full even if all I did was stare in the direction of the kitchen. It's ten at night now and I can still feel the effects of lunch.

The books tell me it's because the hormones have slowed down my digestive system so that I can absorb more nutrients from what I eat. Plus the fact that my rapidly growing uterus sits higher up in my stomach cavity and is probably infringing on the space that had been formerly dedicated to the digestion of food. In retaliation, my digestive system is acting up and poor me suffers. The offspring don't really, I think because I still try to eat despite the disinterest in food. Especially because of the disinterest in food, I eat properly. I eat what I have to and nothing more.

And that is sad for me. I used to get great joy from eating. In fact, I looked forward to eating. Much of Packrat's and my relationship revolves around food. We have nostalgic eating places, on date nights, we pick special eating places to go to, we experiment with cooking strange foods, we think grocery shopping is therapeutic- it's all about food and suddenly, food brings me no joy. In fact, I hate it now, when I have to figure out the next meal.

I hope this doesn't last although I have a sneaking suspicion that it will since my belly is going to do nothing else but grow larger and larger. Well, I guess it's my natural defence mechanism against putting on unnecessary weight since there really isn't any space or desire for junk food.

What a sad day it is.

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