I really love the people I work with. Everyone kinda has a family mentality about everyone else. From the two ladies I was working with in my previous role, to the two folks I’m working with now in my new role, to our boss and his boss, and just everyone in our whole department.. Everyone is awesome.

And of course, I’m treated kinda special right now, what with the big ‘ol bump getting in the way of everything.

So while I did get some quizzical expressions about the logic of being present at the sales meeting this week (unfortunately most of the flak went to my boss and his boss for letting me come), everyone was extremely nice to me and for the most part kept their hands to themselves and left the belly alone. [If you’re wondering why I went to the sales meeting – I started a new role and am interacting with a LOT of names new to me, and thought it a miss to not go start off on good footing in person instead of via email.. that and this only happens once a year.]

However, a week of rich food… an endless supply of rich food..  did catch up with me. In one way it was easier on me because I didn’t have to gorge at three big meals, I was able to snack throughout the day. On the flip side, when food was presented it was so delicious I had a hard time stopping myself and would be on the verge of overeating. But yeah, it caught up with me one night. I spent the majority of the night either tossing and turning, or in the bathroom waiting for my body to decide what it wanted to do about it. And my stupid body was terribly indecisive. I thought about taking matters into my own hands but felt horribly guilty about that so suffered through it instead.

I found that if I propped myself up with every pillow in the bed I could sleep for stints of time, but needless to say the next morning was rough.

I went through the breakfast line and added various bits of food to my plate, trying to decide what looked like it might be palatable, but in the end the only thing that didn’t make me feel sick was fruit. So I nibbled a bit on that then went off to my next meeting.

Later in the day it was time to head out to the airport, and they had prepared boxed lunches for us but I couldn’t stand the thought of a sandwich or potato chips, so passed. At the airport we sat down to eat a quick lunch and again, nothing looked appetizing so I got a plain ceasar salad, much to my boss’s chagrin. He was starting to be really worried about me because I hadn’t eaten all day.

This is where the family part comes in. He and my co-worker both have families and have been through this stage of life before, so were sympathetic to what I was going though, which turned into not letting me roll my own suitcase, and other silly worryings over me. However, while my boss was starting to get frustrated with my obvious lack of care for the second person inside me, my co-worker understood what it feels like to actually be pregnant and not feel well so helped keep him in check.

At the second airport (for the layover) we sat down to dinner and I still didn’t want to eat. I had ordered some hummus and pita chips on the plane as those were much easier to eat and more desirable than anything else I’d found, so I felt justified in not needing a big dinner. But my boss at this point was really worried about me so said something like, “at least drink a milkshake!” to which I perked up.. that actually sounded pretty good and like it wouldn’t feel gross to eat!

But alas.. the restaurant didn’t have milkshakes, nor would the waiter go out and buy ice cream to make me one.

After we got up to leave we went on a hunt for an ice cream place. Someone said there was one nearby so we went looking (airports aren’t always laid out in the most logical fashion) and did in fact find a TCBY… that was closed (it was pretty late by this time).

The guy was standing there cleaning up and my co-worker and boss asked him if he could open up for just one more. The guy looked tired and like he was literally about to walk out and simply shook his head. My co-worker yelled out, “but it’s for a pregnant woman! She needs ice cream!”

The guy looked at me, and hesitatingly said, “only if you have a credit card.”

He gestured to the cups and flavors for me to tell him what I wanted, and handed it over with, “I can’t let a baby starve..”

Someone else paid for it and I ate my frozen yogurt (or most of it anyway) while they felt relieved that I wasn’t starving my fetus. I did start to recount what I had had that day to eat – typically I track everything I eat on an app so that I know that I’m both getting enough calories and also not too many, but this week it was way to hard to keep track of all of the different things to eat. My boss had apparently taken careful note of what I’d had, and how little it had been, and was genuinely worried. I think it would have been easier if we hadn’t been together all day long.. the rest of the week I saw much less of him, but I was also feeling good and eating well every other day.

So yeah, they’re awesome. I’m a little worried about what it’s going to be like when I get back from maternity leave though… I’ll have to get used to not being special.