I am just days away from entering my second trimester. Everyone says that once you enter the second trimester of your pregnancy you are all filled with happiness and pure glee at the idea of having a baby because you can finally eat food without barfing five seconds later or falling asleep in your plate of spaghetti (which also, may or may not be covered with chocolate sauce. Just sayin’.) Needless to say, I was super excited to get through the first part of this experience and on to the good part where it is all unicorns and gumdrops and stuff. I desperately wanted to be able to stay awake past 7:30pm and watch an episode of “The Walking Dead” without vomiting on My Beloved. And I desperately wanted to eat something doused in tomato sauce without feeling, only minutes later, as though I had swallowed a fireball.

And I will tell you, I have definitely noticed some changes. I definitely can stay up past 7:30 now. In fact, I will stay up until 10:30. And then I will sleep for 4 hours until my bladder is on the verge of explosion (which is evidently, common) and I wake suddenly just before I get to that part in the “pee dream” where I am actually ON the toilet and starting to go, saving MB from, yet another example of how my body betrays me (and essentially, him) on a daily basis. After I have relieved my bladder, I will return to bed, where my 27 lb cat will insist on sleeping ON.MY.FACE. Because, he has decided, it appears, that he now has to be by my side (or on my face) every waking second of every day. (I think he does not trust me to gestate.) I will, for an hour, try to avoid eating my cat’s tail or being elbowed in the face by my beloved for one hour at which time, I will leave the bedroom and assume my position on the couch. Watching re-runs of “Three’s Company” at 3 in the morning. I will not fall back to sleep before work because I will be starving and making lists of things I will devour tomorrow as soon as it is an acceptable time to start devouring things. I will “wake up” at 5:30 and report to work. Where it is unacceptable to devour things. And where I will be miserable and full of hate for ten straight hours. I will accept that pregnancy takes you from normal to narcolepsy to insomnia in a matter of days and I will contemplate homicide.

I miss sleeping, internet. Does this get better again?

As for the eating. I noticed that, during the first trimester, there weren’t a whole lot of ridiculous cravings or anything. I did not eat peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, as my grandmother did. I did, however, find that McDonald’s McDoubles are the stuff that dreams are made of. (Dreams not of the pee-dream variety, mind you.) I did not, but could have easily eaten several McDoubles, several times a day and felt fine about it. Because I wouldn’t have had to kill anyone. (Note to significant others of pregnant ladies, If the lady says McDouble, FIND A McDOUBLE. For the love of GOD.) I wanted chocolate sometimes, which is unusual but, I guess not too unusual for most people. And if I said, “Sandwich!”…well, MB knew what to do. But mainly, the urgency was because being hungry is very painful when you have a parasite sucking the nutrients out of all of your meals. Seriously. This shit hurts.

Things haven’t yet changed too much. The only real difference that I am starting to notice is that I can eat things that are a little more acidey and I think I might even be able to do the hot sauce thing. I haven’t tried yet, because, I rather like to feel as though I have a normal, content esophagus, but I am gonna do it soon. I just may need a pep-talk.

In the meantime, is it weird that I feel that I might actually need to eat a bratwurst? Like, immediately?