Suddenly, my standard cravings for eggs, kale, and sweet potatoes completely vanished. In their place was assaulting nausea that kept me hunched over on my bathroom floor for hours, and bedridden for days. I would throw up over and over again until it felt like this baby was the only thing left in my body.I could barely sip water, my body physically rejected prenatal vitamins, and I hadn't seen an actual vegetable in weeks. I couldn't prep fresh food, let alone eat it. At one point, I literally had a friend come over to take all of the produce from my fridge because the thought of it sitting in my house made me want to vomit.In a moment of nauseous desperation, I begged my husband Tim to get me tater tots – a food I hadn't desired in years. I was shocked when the crunchy bites of potatoes actually seemed to help settle my stomach. It turned out that the only foods I could safely keep down were not-so-nutritious fare like white rice, toaster waffles, and pizza. Tim did nightly runs to our local Thai joint and the neighbourhood grocery's freezer section. Like my little pregnancy handmaiden, he would crack the door to our darkened bedroom, prop my head up on a pillow, and gently set a plate in my lap. With each spoonful of take-out sticky rice, I could feel the unrelenting sickness slightly lessen. A few bites of these processed carbs were the only things that allowed me a brief moment of relief.After weeks of being stuck in bed and only stomaching food typically associated with picky kindergarten boys dressed like Spider-Man, guilt set in and I became seriously wracked with food shame. I panicked over every soothing bite of processed starch, like I used to when I was a dieting fanatic. I felt like a total food and pregnancy failure. It suddenly struck me that I wasn't as "over" my food rules as I thought.Formerly "bad foods" I'd come to terms with, like cereal, suddenly became the evil enemy again – and they were the only things I could keep down. I felt terribly that I couldn't fit greens into my breakfast, I wasn't hitting my daily water quotient, I skipped most of my regular workouts, and was basically living on salted carbs. Even though I was actually losing weight, I always feared that tomorrow would be the day I gained 25 pounds all at once. I'd believed these obsessive habits were behind me, but I wasn't so free, after all.I scavenged the internet and frantically texted friends, looking for something or someone to tell me this was normal. I worried that I was hurting my own health, or, even worse, the baby's. In actuality, I was just giving my body what it so clearly needed. I was simply afraid to trust myself because what I needed didn't seem "right" or in line with what I was accustomed to craving.After suffering for weeks in shameful silence, I finally called a dear friend in tears, confessing to how I was feeling. Shockingly, she told me she had felt the same way — and that it was all going to be okay. Greatly relieved, I reached out to other friends, my doctor, and my midwife. All of them confirmed that subsisting off of processed carbs to survive first trimester sickness is pretty commonplace. My midwife reminded me multiple times that my baby was getting everything it needed from my body's reserves and encouraged me to just eat whatever I could. My doctor also pointed me to studies indicating that my sickness was actually a sign of a healthy pregnancy and the increased cravings for carbohydrates could even be beneficial to the baby. She added that the guilt I felt was also very common, but rarely discussed. My experience and the experiences of the many women I've talked to since affirmed this sad fact.