I haven't blogged in exactly seven weeks.
I've been pregnant for all of them, plus another five.
The last few weeks have passed me by. I'm tired, I'm nauseous. I have heartburn and indigestion. I love crackers and lemonade. I hate cilantro. And the smell of our kitchen bugs me no matter how hard I clean it. Which isn't very hard, because I'm not too fond of the smell of cleaning stuff these days, either.
My meals have mostly consisted of some form of carb with some form of cheese or protien. I have to gag down most vegetables but, fortunately, fruit still tastes great and I snack on plenty of it at work and at home.
I'm trying like mad to eat brain-boosting foods - I go through at least one can of sardines a week at work, and walnuts are an almost daily snack.
But most days, all I want is a grilled cheese sandwich. Or a slice of pizza. Plain cheese pizza. Light on the sauce. A foldable, New York-style slice.
I'm headed into the second trimester later this week, and I look forward to eating cilantro (berp) again soon. (Though I may never eat chicken again, and I don't find that idea tragic by any means.)
But for now, I'll take a quesadilla, please. Hold everything but the cheese and tortilla.