Diana was unfit to eat when she got home from work today, so I made myself a little whole wheat pasta with Alfredo sauce (yeah, it's like putting chocolate syrup on your salad), along with a glass of Riesling. (Thanks, Jennie!) It was delicious.
The pregnant woman still felt sick thinking about pretty much any food except fried chicken, so I kinda knew where that was going. Then she settled on making some quesadillas. We didn't have sour cream, and were almost out of milk, so it looked like a little grocery store run was in order. Sadly, the fried chicken was long gone. I picked up a few other things too, mostly that I didn't need, like the Doritos I was craving (well, baked anyway), ice cream, chocolate Redi-Whip and Weight Watchers ice cream sandwiches because they're only two points. Wait, who is the pregnant one?
Once I got back, Diana settled on Cheerios. This has to suck for her, being a foodie and all. And unfortunately, even being married to the Husband of The Year doesn't help make it better. We had a close call last night too at the Lizard for dinner.
Meanwhile, I'm still having sympathy digestion issues too. I've been exposed to entirely too much medical information lately, and it freaks me out. I'm getting better about trusting that her body is doing all the right things, and that the creature inside is too. But when I think about the complexities of the body and all of the potential for it to malfunction, I get freaked out even by my own body. Like what was really going on with that rash? As I said to the OB on our last visit, there's so much information that I've self-diagnosed at least four kinds of cancer for myself over the last ten years!
Another visit tomorrow, and hopefully the ultrasound will be from the outside. After that, I'll have a little lunch and go see the Tarantino flick. Nothing like some film violence to lighten the mood.
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