So far, I haven’t had any of those weirdo cravings immortalized in bad TV sitcoms depicting pregnant women… you  know, like pickles and ice cream (at the same time).

But I have noticed subtle changes in my senses.

My ability to smell disgusting odors is sharper–and, unfortunately, living in New York City, there’s no shortage of opportunities to get a whiff of something seriously foul.

And curiously, my sweet tooth has gone disturbingly, suddenly dormant. I’d be excited about this development if it weren’t paired with the imminent weight gain involved with carrying around a baby for the better part of a year.  I have also cut my coffee intake back dramatically, though not intentionally. No one was more shocked than Francisco when he gave me espresso this afternoon and I took one sip to be polite before leaving it to get cold on my desk.

Ch-ch-ch-changes, baby!


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