Hunger. Hunger like you wouldn’t believe. Now, I’ve never been one to let myself get really ravenous, I tend to take care of business well before it hits that crisis point (and that’s because when I’m hungry, I’m crazy), but this is a new and truly voracious appetite.
Nothing seems to satisfy the gaping maw that is my mouth.
I got really hungry around about the start of the second trimester, and then things calmed down again, but for the last week or so, I would describe my appetite as frantic. I’ve nearly been in tears – honestly on the verge of weeping – if there’s been any sort of delay between the onset of these hunger pains and their satiety. And the expression is literal, because it is painful – there’s an actual gnawing, as though Baby J were a Pac-Man from the old video game, chomping his or her way through my insides. I’ve only just eaten lunch, and before lunch I had a mid-morning banana, and at breakfast I had a big bowl of porridge (and the all-important glass of OJ), and apparently none of this has had any impact whatsoever, because I feel like I am STARVING.
The other night, I had to have a pre-dinner bowl of muesli and yoghurt because I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew Llew was still an hour or so away, and I was never going to make it. That’s what this feeling is like right now – I am in the grip of it, and it is consuming me, because I have evidently failed to consume enough. Wait a second. I need to stop writing right this second and go and get something else to eat.
Okay. Now I’ve had an apple, but I keep putting down the core and picking it straight back up again for another round of shredding… okay, what’s left of it is actually coming apart – I’m through to the pips. I don’t think it’s going to work. I’m still hungry. And hunger makes me feel wild.
Despite all the eating, and despite what Dr F’s scales said, I don’t actually look all that huge. I mean, I have a big baby bump, as you’d expect, but the rest of me looks… kind of… normal. Dr F didn’t believe me when I told him what the scales said, and made me hop on again so he could double-check, and as he said, I’m not even puffy. Not yet, anyway. I’m sure a lot can change in ten weeks. But currently I look about the same, except I’m carting around 12 kilos of extra tummy (although the Guest Breasts must take some credit too, since they’re easily double their normal size). That’s right, count ‘em: T-W-E-L-V-E – and that’s according to my scales; if we’re to believe Dr F’s, you can make that fifteen (neither of us think his scales are accurate, but that could well be wishful thinking). And there’s still ten whole weeks to go! Jesus! I shudder to think where I’ll be at the end of this, but all I know is, when you’ve gotta eat, you’ve gotta eat. Speaking of which… I need an apple chaser before I take off my arm…
Let’s see how I go with a treat… a warm date cookie and a glass of milk – will that take the edge off?? Here’s hoping.
As for other symptoms/evidence of my current tenant? Thumping great kicks these days, which are both strange and wonderful, and make me really impatient to meet the little person behind them. Nosebleeds – or at least bloody mucus when I blow my nose (nice). Indigestion – this seems entirely unrelated to when or what I eat; I think it’s just crowded in there, and my digestive tract sometimes lodges the protest hours and hours after the fact. Ridiculous bladder behaviour: it’s back. Sore legs at night – don’t ask me why, but I think I’ll call them ‘bed legs’ from now on. Insomnia – although that’s largely about discomfort now. Oh, and a brand new one hit me before sleep the other night: a horrible shooting pain, kind of like what I imagine a heart attack might feel like, except this one stabbed me on the right side rather than the left. This was the first genuinely unpleasant thing I have felt. It was even a little frightening. I really hope that’s not what contractions are like.
Anything else…? Um… my skin is a lot better, as Annah predicted. I wouldn’t call it perfect, but it’s a big improvement, although that’s also seasonal, I know. The blessed humidity is back, winter is over, my skin is rejoicing and so am I. Oh yes, my vision: I have excellent sight ordinarily, but my right eye is currently weaker. No question. My friend L tells me this is another usual side-effect of pregnancy, and not to even bother going for an eye test – because I’d like to make sure it’s not a new, permanent problem with my sight – until after Baby J’s arrived and I am back to “normal.” She says there’s no point, it won’t be accurate, and I’m inclined to agree.
I’m sure I’m forgetting any number of things, but while I have happily been describing this as a trouble-free pregnancy, and truly believe it to be, and feel extraordinarily fortunate for that, it’s interesting to realise that there are in fact a list of things happening that aren’t really much fun. They just don’t seem to add up to anything worth worrying about – it’s all just stuff, small stuff that happens when you’re growing a small person. No complaints (and I think the cookie and milk did the trick).