Hormones running amok is not fun. Add in the big changes happening to her body and the mental pressure of making sure everything goes smoothly. It takes a whole lot of patience and a whole lot of love. Bless her husband for having more than enough for her because she is not loving the person that she is becoming at the moment.
The food does not taste right. The temperature is not stable. The air is too dry. She feels like crying. She feels like screaming. She feels like eating a whole truckload of food in one go.
The latter is what she says to him at one o'clock in the morning that has him putting on his clothes to run down to the grocery store.
She has her nail between her teeth and her feet bouncing in a choppy rhythm by the time he gets back. He has four, no five bags full of random food items that she quickly rummages through.
She goes through the bags in a hurry, trying to find that one thing that she cannot name earlier that can soothe that craving that kept her from falling asleep, only to come up empty.
"Where's the frozen cucumber?"
He looks at her like she had sprouted a second head.
"The frozen what now?"
The expression on his face is a mixture of sleep deprivation, confusion, and panic that comes across as incredibly frustrating and hilariously comical at the same time.
She does not know whether to laugh or cry because she knows how illogical she is being but her body is telling her that she needs that frozen cucumber like her life depends on it.
So, she does both. She laughs at the look on his face and cries over the fact that her brand new bottle of hot sauce does not have the frozen cucumber that should be paired with it.
And instead of comforting her, he desperately tries to hide his amusement. His attempt in holding back his laughter makes him look even more comical that it drives her further into her insanity.
It has been a long day.
"Stop making me laugh when I want to cry!" she accuses, shoving his chest. He barely budges and completely succumbs into his amusement. And his laughter makes her laugh, too. "You're so mean. You shouldn't be laughing at me!"
Despite the hilarity, he still finds the time to take some tissues and help her wipe the tears and the snot on her face. "I am not laughing at you," he says. "I am laughing with you, my love."
She buries her face into her hands to ride out the rest of her laugh/cry situation without his scrutiny. He does not allow it and wraps her in a warm embrace.
"Tell me," he implores, running a hand over the back of her head. "What is the frozen cucumber for?"
"I want -," she hiccups, sounding fragile and small. "I want something cold and spicy. It seemed like the perfect solution."
Upon hearing that, he moves to get something from one of the bags. She does not allow him to walk away without her, so they end up doing some awkward hobble to the end of the kitchen counter. He searches inside the paper bag and produces a small tub of vanilla ice cream.
And she feels as if the world is suddenly right again.
He chuckles fondly at the excitement on her face and reaches over to get two spoons for them both. She pours hot sauce on every spoonful she eats. It makes him curious, and so he allows her to put some on his.
"It's..." he stammers afterwards. "Interesting."
It melts her heart. How willing he is to do weird things for her, go down to the grocery store at an ungodly hour for her, and remain in good spirits despite the sudden spikes of emotion that she throws at him.
Without warning, she leans forward and presses a kiss on his cold lips. It startles him for a moment before his gaze turns soft. "What was that for?"
"I love you," she says by way of explanation, looking and sounding like the old her. "So, so much."
He leans forward and captures her lips once more, tasting like ice cream and him, and she finds another craving only he can satisfy. "I love you more," he tells her.
