t’s 11:37 P.M. and as I finish off the second of my Carl’s Jr. Six Dollar Teriyaki Burgers, a 16-ounce Shasta Strawberry soda, and a large bag of orange Circus Peanuts (those neon-orange colored, chemically flavored candies with the texture of packing material), I still fight the growing realization that my wife is not the only one dealing with food cravings due to her pregnancy.
Cravings – the more strange and exotic the better – are one of the most storied aspects of a woman’s pregnancy. Ask any father to retell a story in this regard and you will hear tall tales of anchovies spread over ice cream, pickles with whipped cream, and mango slices dipped into chocolate. The facts show that food cravings usually fall into a few categories: sweet tooth, salty, spicy, and those of the puckered mouth (sour) variety.
These cravings usually affect about 85 percent of all pregnant women and can fall anywhere from the strange (see above) to the middle-of-the-road. However, recent studies are leading us to believe that it is not just women who find themselves slave to these cravings.
Couvade (from the French word meaning “to hatch”) Syndrome is the name for the phenomenon where men suddenly experience backaches, nausea, and the food cravings of their pregnant partner. Although there is no medical diagnosis, studies have proven that this condition does exist, and as much as I hate to admit it, my late night trips to Carl’s Jr., sudden weight gain, and emotional mood swings seem to support this theory.
Without explanation, I suddenly find that the thought of cola makes me want to vomit, while I have an unquenchable thirst for anything strawberry – candy, milk, and frozen yogurt. Trips to the local “have-it-your-way” ice cream shop have us ordering extra large cones with mountains of strawberry ice cream topped with gummy bears (red ones only!). I can’t eat enough peeled cucumber slices – doused with Italian dressing and Parmesan cheese – and the smell of pineapples makes my mouth water. But none of these “minor” cravings compare with the Big One: midnight trips to Carl’s Jr. – with a stopover at the drugstore for orange Circus Peanuts and strawberry soda – that usually hit me with the force of a 7.9 earthquake three to four times a week.
At first, I thought I had the Circus Peanuts part figured out. My grandmother used to give them to me when I was a small child and I thought that the impending arrival of my son conjured up thoughts of my own childhood. But with all of these other cravings that have been heaped on me, I am now stumped for any reason other than the fact that my wife and I are now like two crack addicts desperately in need of our next “fix” at the neighborhood ice cream parlor. As I pop another handful of Circus Peanuts in my mouth, I wonder how normal this really is.
