Dear Husband,

I get the feeling you’re taking this whole food aversion phase a little too personally. Here’s the thing, it’s not about you. It’s not about your food, your cooking. It makes NO SENSE that I don’t even want to see the raw hamburger meat (gag, typing that made me gag) let alone smell it…cooking, I GET THAT. It makes NO SENSE that, though I really wanted Mexican food yesterday, I can’t stand the thought of eating the black bean quesadillas you made tonight and instead REALLY want a bowl of noodles covered in soy sauce. I GET THAT. Can you just be okay with things not making sense right now?

And can you please, oh my God, please just stop suggesting random shit to eat? I have looked in the pantry, I have taken inventory of the refrigerator, I know my options, dear. And the reason why I’m not eating them, ANY of them? They all make me a shade of sick. So please, please stop making me recall this laundry list of various shades of sick by rattling them off to me.

Remember how before I was growing your baby I used to be able to feed myself? Hell, you would leave me for 2 weeks at a time for business trips and I managed to feed your son and myself the whole time. We were both well fed when you got home. The thing is – I CAN STILL DO THAT. I know you want to do your part, and stuff. I know you want to take some sort of active role in the growth and development of this fetus, and I know that means you take pride in feeding me. I promise I will give you all the opportunities to do just that as soon as the second trimester starts.

Until then, this is the rule. I will feed myself what I want when I want. I am politely declining any help from you for the time being. It’s not you, it’s not even me, IT’S THE BABY. Blame the fetus.

Love,
Your wife who is SO happy she was able to eat pad thai tonight instead of those bean quesadillas

8.5 weeks pregnant

Halfway through this post I laughed and remembered a very similar one I wrote around the same time during my pregnancy with Kendall, though that letter directly took issue with my finicky fetus.

8 thoughts on “It’s not you, it’s not even me, IT’S THE BABY.”

  1. This is so funny…reminds me of exactly how I felt and how my husband acted during the first trimester icks. But the good thing? He was traveling for the majority of those first three months which left me all by my lonesome to eat frozen pizza and saltines in between the four naps I took a day (which usually followed nights of 10 straight hours of sleep).

    So glad you got your noodle bowl tonight 🙂

  2. Husbands just do not get it. I do not think they are capable of really getting it. I remember my husband being so frustrated with me when I turned into a drippy crying emotional mess over nothing. I would stay up until all hours of the night crying and he would be all what can I do. And he’d suggest something that would somehow make it worse. I mean I get that I was a nutjob but that was just the way it was.

  3. This makes me laugh because I distinctly remember a craving for a McDonald’s cheeseburger. Only, the husband was slightly slow in getting me said cheeseburger. So by the time he got me the cheeseburger, I didn’t want it anymore. And I cried. And I think he put his hands on his head and stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  4. This is the perfect letter!! I once accused my hubby of cooking pig entrails b/c the house smelled so intensely NASTY. He assured me he wasn’t cooking anything. Then the toaster popped. I screamed, “LIAR!” Then burst out laughing and crying, b/c OMG, what could I eat if I couldn’t handle toast?

  5. omg until I read this post just now I totally forgot the time my husband steamed broccoli for me because I told him I was craving vegetables and I nearly puked on the welcome mat as I walked in the house. I couldn’t even come into the house until it had been thoroughly aired out.

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