Conversations with My Children: Keats

Keats: I like to eat, eat, eat.
Me: Apples and bananas?
Keats: Steak!
Me: Kale and squash?
Keats: How about some lamb burgers?
Me: Whole wheat avocado toast?
Keats: Listen lady, you're growing a fetus here. Now hand over the protein and iron.

Pickles and peanut butter. Midnight runs for chop suey. (Thank you, Lady and the Tramp.) Throughout written and visual media, pregnancy cravings have become such an expected part of the process. Yet I remember hearing somewhere that they are a figment of the American imagination. A license to indulge, so to speak. It seems rather ironic given the extensive list of foods that are verboten while pregnant. Soft cheeses? Nope, Listeria infections. Raw or undercooked meats? Parasite risk, no can do. Raw sprouts for your sandwich? Only if you want a side of Salmonella! The list goes on and on. One can hardly blame a pregnant woman for having unusual food asks when conventional eats are out.

During my first pregnancy, my normal desire for fruits and vegetables intensified. I lovingly referred to my growing child as my "California baby": healthy, fresh, and expensive. My husband lovingly referred to us both as "zoo animals." In the interest of my growing child, I dug into organic berries and crisp salads to my heart's content. It was the healthiest that I had ever felt, aside from the near constant nausea.

With my second pregnancy, all of that went out the window. My interest in "rabbit food" waned; in its place was a carnivorous and hedonistic appetite. Proteins and fats, which were previously a garnish to the rest of my plate, now featured as the base of every meal. Cheese? Yes, please. Red meat? I will eat! Avocado? How about no?

The other dietary changes that I made were intentional: my husband and I chose to introduce a diverse array of foods and intense flavors in utero in hopes of avoiding a future picky eater. Looking back, it may have just been an excuse to eat out as much as possible at all of our favorite haunts: Mr. Max (Japanese bar food), Mughlai (Indian), Boulevardier (French), Whiskey Cake (farm to table), Hanabi Ramen, and the now defunct Bird Cafe. In light of the pandemic, I am incredibly thankful that we took those opportunities to meet friends and nourish our bodies and spirits. But that is a post for another time.

In comparing both of my pregnancies, I can't help wondering if the food cravings are actually our body forcing us to listen to its needs. In the case of housing Keats, it needed energy to produce the placenta that lasted him past 41 weeks without any sign of aging. It needed nutrients to let my baby grow to nearly eleven pounds. (I wish it would have warned me about that part!) In the end, it produced an amazing tiny human who chases developmental milestones like a cat with a bug in its sights.

On some level, I'm slightly ashamed of the changes to my diet over the course of nine months after many years of healthy living. And yet, I'm in awe of what my body was able to build because of it. Perhaps it knew better than I did all along.