Feed Me, or I Will Hurt You

I will start by saying that there's a special place in hell for people who lie to hungry pregnant women.

The last 8 weeks of my life have gone something like this. I feel nauseated, I eat & feel better, I then feel nauseated again. I am essentially like a rat in a maze desperately looking for my next snack. I have no shame at work, I will stuff my face with pretzels in front of anyone. At home a piece of cheese is only steps away. The hard part is traveling. I have taken to carrying a plethora of snacks in my bag. Pretzels, dried apricots, mini Cliff bars, hard candies, apples, yogurt, basically anything that will fit in my bag and my mouth.

In the last week or two it's morphed into more of an eat or you will become horribly nauseated. This is a vast improvement over my previous situation however it has escalated my need to eat since I know what's coming. I now become angry and violent if I do not get food, immediately.

Last weekend I was on my way to my sister's house with my mother and sensing the onslaught I said "Oh, I need to eat something." to which my mother responded, "I'm sure your sister will have food". I did not believe her and so I called my sister and said, "Do you have something for me to eat or should I stop on the way to your house?". She assured me she had food.

We got there and she had nothing. Then she admitted she lied. Who does that?

The following weekend my sister had a housewarming party. The house was literally packed to the gills with food. I say to my mother on the way there (since we had to arrive 3 hours early), "Oh, I need to eat something." to which she typically tried to tell me that my sister will have something for me.

See, this is where the similarities between me and the rat end. I knew they were lying to me. So when we got there and there was no food because no one had picked anything up yet, I was not surprised. I stole a car and found the nearest fast food place and ate glorious french fries. Carbs are super awesome, especially when they're greasy and covered in salty goodness.

Later my mother told my husband that she thinks the reason why I don't feel well is because I'm not eating well. Fortunately I have a very wise husband who defended his crazy pregnant wife and told his mother-in-law that, in fact, she is eating quite well and that is not the cause of her not feeling well.

This is a strange, new and rather unpleasant phenomena in my life - my mother has turned into an expert. She has informed me that her pregnancies (30+ years ago) were wonderful and therefore there must be something wrong with me that I don't feel like dancing around in a mumu relishing in my pregnant beauty. Oh, and apparently because I am miserable this is the equivalent of "being mean to her grandchild" and I need to cut it out because the kid can sense it.

You know what I think? Not driving me to get a sandwich and giving me crap about it is much meaner.