I seem to be afflicted not only with morning sickness, but with a sort of general malaise where I could not be bothered to do anything in the kitchen. The thought of preparing food, much less cooking it or eating it, leaves me cold (and dry heaving). I’ve spent the last couple of days living on toast because I can just about muster up the energy to stick a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.
None of the foods I usually eat are appealing to me in the slightest and I’m kind of worried that I’m going to end up dumping a fridge worth of fresh food because I can’t bring myself to cook it. In an ideal world I’ll have a spinach salad for lunch with some pine nuts and a toasted wholemeal pitta, but I accept that it’s far more likely that come lunch time I’ll be reaching for the bread again.
I am not loving the morning sickness. I’m trying to be graceful about it and accept that it’s a good reassuring sign that things are progressing well but I resent feeling sick from first thing in the morning to last thing at night. I feel especially anxious about it today as my husband is returning to work after a week’s holiday and I shall be alone with the children to organise their evening meals and putting them to bed. It’s possible he will come home to find me lying on the sofa while the children eat dry cereal.
I’m getting a total tizzy worrying about nutrition and about how much crap I’m eating. I do have an appalling diet at the moment. I’m torn between wanting to relax and eat what I fancy until the sickness lifts, and knowing that I should be focusing on eating right and not blowing up like a balloon. It doesn’t help that Miss Size 8 over on the birth board has come out with the latest gem that she supposes since she’s so tiny it’s fine if she puts on a bit of weight. gah!