I had a majorly irrational pregnancy moment today. It all started with a craving: eggs.
I wanted eggs, and I know that there are arguments about whether pregnancy cravings are purely psychological or scientifically based, but I am telling you now: this morning, I wanted eggs.
And not just any eggs, McDonald’s scrambled, delicious eggs.
These eggs were at the forefront of my mind. Sure, I wanted some pancakes and sausage too, the whole little platter deal they do, but above all–I. Wanted. Eggs.
These cravings do not strike often, but when they do, there is nothing that will stop me from obtaining what I want. It is like this magnetic force within me and can be quite scary.
My husband generously offered to go get us breakfast. ‘Perfect honey, I have other stuff to do. This is wonderful,’ I thought, ‘he will get my eggs.’
I hopped on my computer, did my weekend writing, and waited eagerly for his arrival.
Twenty minutes rolled by, and I heard the door, ‘My eggs!’ I thought, ‘finally!’
My husband strolled in, and he was proud of himself. “Here’s your ketchup, your pancakes, your sausage, your syrup, and some extra napkins,” he said handing it all to me.
“And my eggs?” I looked in the bag, I looked under the bag, I looked behind the bag, but I could see no eggs.
My husband was quiet.
“Did you really forget my eggs?!”
I am not sure what he said at this point for my mind was so caught up on eggs. I think he might have been quiet or maybe he said something like, “Darn it!” Honestly, I cannot remember.
I am telling you, I was irrationally thinking about eggs.
Finally, he said he would cook me some; this of course was a sweet gesture, and despite the craving being for McDonald’s eggs, I appreciated and accepted this offer.
One problem. What was the one thing we were out of? EGGS!
This was the tipping point. I got up and snagged my keys and purse.
My husband thought I was crazy, and I agree, I was.
“Are you really going all the way back there to get eggs?” he asked.
“Yes, you don’t understand! That was the one major thing I wanted, and I know it is insane, but it is on my mind, and I need to go get them.”
You could tell my poor husband was feeling bad, and so then I started to feel for him: “I am not mad at you. I know you tried. I am just very angry at the situation, and I know it is crazy, but I have to go!”
And with that, I huffed out of the house to go get my eggs.
Fast forward fifteen minutes later to Mcdonalds:
I am in the drive-thru line: “Hello, how may I help you, do you want our special of chicken tenders?”
‘No!’ I think to myself, ‘I just want some damn eggs!’
But I held my composure until I realized I had completely lost track of time.
“Umm, are you still serving breakfast?” I asked.
“No, we just stopped serving, ma’am.”
At this moment you know what I thought of? Romeo and Juliet. Yes, I know this sounds like a weird connection, but I had just taught my students a lesson on how one major theme in Romeo and Juliet is fate versus free will.
In that same class, we had a long discussion, in which we talked about what the quote “star-crossed lovers” meant.
We finally came to the conclusion that it meant that their love was doomed from the start, and it just wasn’t meant to be.
This was what was happening with my eggs. The universe was toying with me, but I remembered that we also spoke about the power of free will and how you can take destiny into your own hands.
I took a breath, and I pulled the pregnancy card. It was a desperate moment in time.
“I’m pregnant, and my husband went to get breakfast, and he forgot the eggs. It was an accident, but I need those eggs. Are there even just a couple left? I will pay extra.”
The lady laughed. “You’re in luck,” she said, “we can do that for you.”
I told her how grateful I was through the rusting speaker.
When I picked up my eggs at the next window, the lady said with a smile, “It happens. You ain’t’ the first one honey.”
I found this hilarious, and it made me feel a little less fanatical, although, by that point, I was well aware that I was not thinking rationally about these eggs.
When I got home, I told my husband all was well. I made sure to tell him that I did appreciate his efforts, but for the duration of the pregnancy, he might want to write a list.
We ended up laughing about it, and I told him that I was well aware that the egg craving had taken me straight to crazy town.
Then, I sat down and busted open the most delicious, fluffy, beautiful eggs that I have ever seen and all balance was restored.