Nausea, paranoia and pickles

(Retro blog from Week 8)
  Let me set the scene. It's evening time. The house is settled down. My teeth are brushed, my sleeping shorts are on, my alarm is set. I've gone to the bathroom that one last time, hoping to prevent that horribly annoying 3 in the morning visit to the toilet that takes 30 seconds but is often just enough to interrupt your sleep and make you more tired the next day. I just slipped into the covers on the most comfortable bed I've ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. I turn to the love of my life and my lips form to say, 'Good night baby. I love you.' When the look on her face stops me in my tracks. It's not a look of pain, or anger, or even fear. No this is a look of apology. What did she do, you ask? Nothing yet. It's what she's going to do. 'Baby, I want chips and French Onion dip. Pleeeease baby.' While the plea at the end is never necessary, my wife always likes to tack it on for good measure. And just like that I'm out of my comfortable bed, into the first pair of jeans and shirt I find, and in a freezing cold car on my way to Marsh.
  I have watched a thousand movies in my life. Several of those have made fun of the cravings pregnant women get. I used to think the writers were talented to make these scenes so funny. Little did I know, they probably have had babies and what you see on the screen is a direct representation of what they have gone through. Yeah, I would have never believed it until I experienced it for myself. I have a cabinet full of pickles. They're so important they have made a cameo on my wife's Facebook page. They have not found their way into a bowl of peanut butter or ice cream (yet), but the pickles are running the show right now. Truth is truly stranger than fiction.
  The thing about the pickles though, the most important thing, is that they help my wife with her extreme nausea she feels all day every day. And the only relief she can get is very temporary. She has developed intricate tactics and strategies to keep herself from throwing up. She has developed her instincts to go against the urge to let it go and you'll feel better after. Of course, most of those tactics and strategies take place while lying in the bed, but they are effective strategies nonetheless. But every now and then there's nothing she can do except make a trip to bathroom. As a person who loves to do things for others, who for some reason always has an urge to help, it KILLS me that I can only sit back and watch my wife suffer. I hate it. I know it's normal and natural, but it gets me every time. I have to constantly tell myself not to keep asking 'What's wrong? Are you ok?' Baby moods are different than other moods. They are liable to snap at any moment so there's no reason to urge them on. I'll talk about this subject later...
  On the same theme as that but a different subject, one thing I have noticed is that things are amplified when a woman is pregnant. For example, Tanisha and I are a bit on the paranoid side. Now? Every sneeze and I'm thinking 'Should we call the doctor? Is that normal? That sneeze sounded really violent. Doesn't she have to tense her stomach when she sneezes? Does tensing your stomach hurt the baby? Maybe we should just go ahead and go to the hospital.' Tanisha has her own share of fear too. However, her biggest concern is not her health, although she does pay close attention to that subject. No the thing I hear about the most is twins. And it doesn't help that every freakin' body likes to make jokes or comments about twins. All of a sudden everyone is Nostradamus. 'You're going to have twins, I have a feeling about it.' 'Do you have twins in your family? You just look like you're going to have twins.' Needless to say Tanisha has been to every Web site to research everything she can about a twins pregnancy. All I have to say about it is: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!