The Stinky Side Of Pregnancy
Immediately upon discovering that I was pregnant, and of course before any of those first dreaded (but expected) symptoms began, I promptly Google'd any and every symptom of pregnancy but somehow managed to ignore a very common one. Food aversion.
Sure, I knew that a lot of women could no longer eat some of their favorite foods because the taste or smell or both was no longer appealing but, rather, off-putting. But for whatever reason I did not consider the (realistic) possibility/probability that I, too, would become one of these women.
Nope. I refuse. I love food too much. I love smells too much. I love food smells too much.
And so you can imagine my immense surprise when the simple act of opening the fridge would send my stomach somersaulting and my mouth salivating as I held back bile, puke, and my pride.
THE FRIDGE.
As if morning sickness, pregnancy brains, extreme (note: EXTREME) exhaustion, irritability, lack of desire to cook/clean/read/watch TV/etc., were not enough, I now could no longer stand the smell of the fridge and all of the delicious contents hiding within its beautiful white walls.
Furthermore! My smell aversion to the fridge became (and has remained, quite unfortunately) so intense that if I am standing at the sink, on the complete opposite side of the kitchen and facing the other way, and someone opens the fridge behind me and I happen to not hear it, my nose picks up on that exceptionally offensive odor almost immediately. I will be shouting "Close the fridge!" before ever even turning around to visually confirm that it is, in fact, open.
It sucks.
Worse? Leftovers. Leftovers are easily the most offensive to my poor-and-exceptionally-sensitive nostrils. Once they are heated, however, the smell wafting off and out of them becomes much less terrifying, and slightly more appealing. After a bite or two my body concedes and agrees to allow me to eat (I personally think this is some strange agreement that my nose and my stomach have made in the personal well-being of babybean, and I am immensely grateful for that).
And so the daily struggle of surviving off of food from my fridge (such as leftovers and, my daily favorite, apples) has begun. The worst part is when I am home alone and there is no one to help me out of my seriously-annoying-super-dumb symptom: so I am left to hold my breath which, I recognize, seems very easy. But somehow even breathing has become difficult (preggies and mommies, I'm sure you remember this one) and, therefore, holding my breath for more than, I don't know, two-to-three seconds, becomes difficult and scary. I always leave the kitchen gasping for air.
Not cool, pregnancy. Not cool.
My life is a perpetual game of Pregnancy-1, Rachael-0. Silver Lining? The most beautiful and precious life in all the world is going to be in my arms in a few months.
And everything is worth that reality.