I am writing this at 4:00 am.  I am awake because OF COURSE I am awake.  Pregnancy insomnia IS THE GREATEST.  But really, I’m up because my toddler was playing with my keys and somehow managed to program my car to start every 3 hours.  Apparently pregnant me can’t even sleep through a car starting outside.  You can’t make this shit up.

So anyway, I’m up, and I’m thinking and worrying and writing.  And I’m sad.  Because I it’s 4:00 am, and I’m hungry.  You guys, food is really getting me down.  Yesterday my husband thought it would be fun to tease me by showing me a picture of a box of donuts.  I am not even kidding – I almost cried.

I promised myself that this time around I wouldn’t stress so much about my weight.  I promised myself that I would try to eat healthy but not beat myself up for indulging.  Alas, food and I are not friends right now.

Yep, that's me.  (Source)

Yep, that’s me. (Source)

Before I got pregnant with my daughter, I looked forward to the caricature of pregnancy eating – happily stuffing my face for two, indulging in decadent treats, sending my husband out late for snacks.  When I actually got pregnant, that morphed into a desire to be the fit, healthy pregnant lady, eating huge salads and drinking water by the gallon.  But then reality hit.  I remember that little struggle with the scale, but back then I also had the luxury of being able to get the rest I needed, cook healthy recipes when I wanted, and exercise whenever I felt up to it.  In the end, despite eating ice cream every damn day, my weight gain ended up in the “healthy” range, and I wished I hadn’t worried about it so much.

Fast forward to pregnancy number 2… It’s been rough, man.  First trimester it was all about surviving.  Then 14 weeks hit and I just turned HUNGRY.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  I’ll get served a huge meal at a restaurant and, instead of bringing home half for lunch tomorrow, I’m cleaning my plate and polishing off the bread.  At home, it’s trip after trip to the fridge.  I’ve been intensely INTENSELY craving sweets like ice cream and pastries, but I’ve been a good little girl and not kept any in the house.  So instead I eat pickles and fruit salad and popcorn and iced tea and peanut butter and ham sandwiches.  I feel conflicted about cravings because, while it feels good to indulge them in the moment, I feel gross afterwards.  On the other hand, when I don’t indulge, I eat and eat and feel crappy about myself anyway.  I’m not sure which is worse.  No matter which way I slice it, I’m as hungry as a horse and mad as hell about it.  I never thought I would say this, but food is making me miserable.

I think that my struggle with food, my insatiable appetite, and quickly growing belly and booty are also very symbolic of two big fears in my life right now: change and lack of control.  When this baby is born, our lives will never be the same, and as a second-time mom, I know that I can’t really anticipate how that will go.  What will my baby’s personality be like?  Will he/she be a good sleeper?  Will he/she be able to nurse?  How will I cope?  How will my daughter cope?  It’s eating me up just thinking about it because I know that I have no control over so much of it.  New motherhood is a wave, and I just need to ride it out (and cry it out and wine it out).  Easier said than done, right?

Side note: My intuition tells me that I’m having a boy, and my crazy appetite seems somehow like more evidence to support this.  (There might actually be something to this: look here.)  I’ll know the sex of my baby in time for my next blog post, so I’ll let you all know!