You guys. The time has arrived. It seemed so far […]
You guys. The time has arrived. It seemed so far away when I first found out I was pregnant, so long ago at only 5 weeks’ gestation. It felt like I had forever until I entered my third trimester. At that point, I still had to make my way through the tumultuous first trimester with its glory of nausea and every-10-minute bathroom trips. I hadn’t reached the second trimester, that beautiful time of renewed energy and starting to actually look pregnant to the outside world! Certainly, it would be eons until I reached the third trimester, my last 12 weeks, when I would have to do what was best for my baby but what would be a sad day for me: going back on the MSPI diet and giving up dairy and soy (read: Week 21: Total lack of will power).
Well, that moment has arrived—and it happened much quicker than I expected. Now that I have entered the final third of my pregnancy, it is time to bid adieu to my dear friends: cheese, butter and many other delicious things. In order to commemorate this occasion, I have decided that this week’s post will be a farewell letter to my faithful friend, cheese.
If you’re reading this letter, it means the inevitable has happened. The day has arrived: I have reached the third trimester of my pregnancy and must end our relationship. We’ve had a good go of it, haven’t we? Remember when I enjoyed you in your cheddar and havarti form with crackers while putting up Christmas decorations? And there was that memorable cheesy potato casserole at Christmas dinner that was oh-so delicious. How about all of those football parties, where you came dressed in your favorite slow cooker, liquidy and ready to pair with tortilla chips? And how could I forget the Swiss cheese mushroom burgers from Runza? Those were some of our best days …
But now, my dear friend, I’m leaving you. And I have to let you know that it’s not you—it’s me. More accurately, it’s the sweet baby growing inside me and my desperate desire to avoid exposing him or her to the disaster that not being able to process milk and soy can create in a tiny tummy. You remember how painful your time with Baby Olivia was, and I know you can understand my not wanting to repeat those fateful weeks. Sadly, it means I must say goodbye.
I hope you can take comfort in the fact that I want to stay friends. I will still feed you to my husband and my daughter. After all, my husband could not function without his Kraft Singles, and Olivia loves a good grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. I will still allow them to play with your cousin, yogurt. Please know I will be thinking about you. Sometimes, I may even yearn for the days we were together. But until I find out whether my new child can handle you or not, my memories is all I will have. Those, and my dreams.
I wish you well. I hope you will continue jazzing up pizzas and decorating charcuterie plates. Until we meet again …