Let me tell you, it's no picnic being two months pregnant when you edit, write, or read about food for a living.
"Hm, shall I write about what I had for dinner? Because I'm sure the readers will be SO HAPPY to read about the sparkling water and handful of almonds I forced down just to keep from booting this evening."
And forget about trying to research or cook new recipes when just walking in the vicinity of the kitchen rams so many nauseating smells up your nose that you grapple desperately at the box of water crackers you now perpetually carry in your pocket. (Of course, that's only when walking the six feet to the kitchen from the bedroom doesn't make you collapse, panting on a chair after walking three feet.)
When my husband offered to buy me a pair of swimmer's nose plugs to ease my discomfort, my only response was to glare balefully at him and asked if he really needed to eat an apple so loudly at that exact moment.
I also developed a specialized and completely uncontrollable gagging noise. Something would set me off, and if I didn't manage to clamp my mouth shut in time to slightly muffle it, an otherworldly "BLEAURRRGAHHHP!" would issue from my stomach, esophagus, and mouth.