When I was pregnant with my first child and in the throes of morning sickness, I was immediately consumed by a desire for what I called “white food”. White bread, mashed potatoes, ice cream, and particularly, breakfast biscuits from McDonald’s. I could not get enough of those stupid Sausage Biscuits. I had them every morning for two weeks straight. Basically, if it was a totally useless carb, I was on the hunt.
But I had some guilt. I was a die-hard whole grain girl. I knew that what I was eating was completely void of nutritional value, but anything else sent me straight to vomitville. So, I got to know the fine folks at the drive through window—and then one night I had a dream. A dream that I’d given birth to a loaf of Wonder Bread…and I was PISSED. But not because my bundle of joy was bread, but because it didn’t come sliced.
As an addled first timer, I called Rachael and recounted my dream and my nutritional guilt. In true Rachael-style she said something like, “DUDE. Let it go. You won’t feel this lousy forever and you’ll stop wanting garbage for breakfast.”
She was right. I did feel better eventually and the crazy train to carbland slowed…a bit.
Fast forward three years. Two pink lines on a home pregnancy test confirm that another bundle is heading to our household. I felt great for two weeks between the positive test and the arrival of the morning sickness.
I spent those 14 days telling myself that this time would be different. That I knew better. That I was healthier than I was the last time I got pregnant and I could beat those cravings.
I was right. This time has been different.
Now, if I could just get Wendy’s to deliver my Frosty and Biggie Fries I’d be all set.