Control the Cravings
Pregnancy cravings are serious business. Just ask any prego you see at McDonald's dipping a golden, freshly deep-fried fry into her vanilla triple thick shake. Nevertheless, respect the cravings, ladies. Out of control as they may seem, a pregnant woman will eventually learn to control this newfound power. And yes, it is a power. All husbands who have had to travel the state in search of the perfect set of Snowballs snack cakes at 2:30 in the morning can attest to that.
My lesson in learning to "control the craving" came early in pregnancy. It was a beautiful, sunny day and my husband and I were taking the back roads home from San Antonio to Copperas Cove, Texas. Somewhere along the way my husband looked at me, rubbed my still-flat belly, and asked if I was doing OK. "Sure. You?" I responded. "Great. Just wanted to know if I could get you anything," he said, flashing back a sympathetic smile. Hmmm. An open door. This comment made me realize that I had my never-gone-through-a-pregnancy-before husband in the palm of my hand.
"Well," I said, "I have been craving one of those packaged pickles. You know, the ones that come in a bag surrounded by pickle juice." "Comin' right up!" he said cheerily. A few minutes later our car was parked in front of a small-town convenience store. My husband went in as I sat in the car, anxiously awaiting my first craving command. Then, the worst thing possible happened: He walked out empty handed. Ditto at the next six stores.
It wasn't his fault: These stores were not properly stocked with pregnant-woman items, but at the time, I didn't think like that. Instead, as we approached the seventh store, my husband asked, "Are you sure you still want a pickle?" Some nerve he had to dismiss my craving. My response was kind of like the scene in Teen Wolf where Michael J. Fox's eyes turn red and he says to the clerk, "Give me a keg of beer."
I soon had my juicy pickle, and believe me, I ate every last bit of it. This is the part where I learned to "control the craving." I happily turned over the empty package, tummy satisfied, and to my horror, the nutritional facts informed me that I had just eaten for eight. Bet not too many folks out there knew that those stinkin' pickles serve eight people.
From that point on, despite the fact that people told me that I was eating for two, I steered clear of eating for eight. The cravings did not subside throughout my pregnancy, but this experience opened my eyes to how much I was eating. Pregnancy cravings are, indeed, serious business. Soon-to-be daddies and convenience stores beware.