What Baby Wanted, Baby Got

When pregnancy cravings become too strong to ignore

J.C. Anne Brown
Human Parts
Published in
4 min readFeb 22, 2024


Image: Pexels/Snapwire

“What do you feel like for dinner?” asked my husband as he opened the fridge. He was — and remains — the resident chef between the two of us.

The year was 2010, and he had, in fact, just completed an eight-week culinary course at a nearby community college, much to my delight. And for someone like me who possesses the capability to muck up a pot of boiling water, I was in awe of his unyielding quest to hone his skills in the kitchen.

Not only did I dislike cooking, I straight-up sucked at it. This was extremely unfortunate for obvious reasons, not the least of which was that I was expecting my first child and was ready to pop. Rubbing my nine-months pregnant belly, I stood on my tiptoes and peered around my husband’s arm to peek inside the fridge.

There wasn’t much to work with.

Yes, my husband knew his way around the kitchen. But I doubt even MacGyver and Rachel Ray could have joined forces to make do with a half-carton of almond milk, a jar of artichokes, a few sticks of unsalted butter, and a questionably safe head of iceberg lettuce.

A trip to the market was definitely in order.

“I want — no, need — steak,” I replied to my husband. I raised a hand to my mouth to ensure that I wasn’t salivating at the mere thought of a succulent piece of red meat.

My husband turned around so fast that I thought for a second he might have suffered whiplash. His expression seemed to say, Finally! Please tell me you’re serious!

I was.

“I. Need. Steak,” I repeated.

Some background: For nearly five years, leading up to this point, I had been a vegetarian, and while my eating habits made me feel amazing, being married to a granola-munching wife was, quite understandably, a less than ideal living situation for a meat-loving mate.

Being the dutiful husband he is, however, he made a habit of concocting a myriad of delectable meat-free creations during the course of our then-four years of marriage: Vegetable lasagna, homemade French fries with a hint of sea salt, and ratatouille, to name a few.