The second trimester (not semester, as I keep mistakenly saying) is in full swing. According to the baby books I am reading daily, it’s time to start putting on 1/2 a pound to a pound a week – oh what a weird concept!!! For those of you who have been reading me for a few years, you know I work hard to keep the poundage OFF, so the concept of gleefully adding 20lbs in the next 22 weeks is foreign to me.
The weight gain is a weird adjustment. I log in to the What to Expect (When You’re Expecting) site daily to see the progress of the BSparl and because it helps me keep track of how far along I actually am. I’m now in the 16th week of my pregnancy and the site says the following:
“It’s hard to watch yourself gain weight during pregnancy, even when you know there’s a wonderful reason for it. The challenge, though, is to try to embrace your body’s new shape and think of every pound you put on as a sign of good health for you and your baby. As long as you eat right during pregnancy (minimize junk and maximize nutrient-dense foods) and get regular exercise, you’ll be fine in the long run. Remember, every woman is different and gains (and loses) at her own pace.”
Eating right has been a little bit of a challenge because what I’m craving is changing hour to hour, it seems. Earlier in my pregnancy, I could have devoured an entire fruit stand in a week, craving anything with a high volume of vitamin C in it. Kiwis, orange juice (yes, with pulp!), blackberries, and raspberries by the fistful. Healthy choices, right? But now, with about 7 lbs on board already and closing in on the fourth month of BSparl, my tastes are turning towards less … diabetes friendly options, shall we say.
Like the other night.
“I want a McDonald’s cheeseburger, like you read about.” I said this to Chris from the safety of our home, away from the tempting glow of any golden arches.
“Really??” He knows I’m not one for fast food, especially McDonald’s.
“Yup. It’s twisted.”
The thing about that craving is that it didn’t go away. No sir … that one was on board for 72 hours, until Monday, when Chris and I were coming back from an errand and I knew there was a McDonald’s around the corner.
“Dude, I’m caving.”
He grinned. (He finds this whole thing amusing, from the potbelly to the bizarre things I want to eat now.) “It’s time.”
While he waited in the car, I ran into McDonald’s and ordered a cheeseburger from the lady behind the counter.
“One cheeseburger, please!” I think I looked euphoric. I must have.
“One cheeseburger, happy lady?”
“One cheeseburger for the happy lady!” she said, punching the order into her register and calling back to the guys in the back.
“Cheeseburger coming up!” A minute later, the cheeseburger I’d been craving slid down the counter and was tossed into a paper bag.
“Cheeseburger for the happy lady!”
“Thank you!” (Everyone speaks in exclamation points at this McDonald’s, apparently. And there’s nothing wrong with being the “happy lady,” in my opinion.)
I went out to the car, my face glowing with pregnancy cheeseburger happiness. Chris was already laughing at me, but I can’t care. This is part of the process, I guess, all this very odd food stuff. I bolused 3.5 units for this culinary disaster and ate it in one gulp. An hour later, 109 mg/dl.
I swear BSparl was in there, clapping his little hands, the whole time.