I am really trying to be positive.

I mean it only took us what seemed like an eternity to finally get pregnant. Not to mention, a bit of heartache…and some drugs.

But truth be told, there really has not been much for me to complain about.

I haven’t puked. Oprah doesn’t come close to squeezing a tear from my eye. Plus, the thought of chocolate rarely even crosses my mind.

Despite the long list of drugs that are now off limits, as well as delicious foods such as soft, crumbly cheeses and deli meats, there is little to be missed from my pre-pregnancy days.

Well…except one thing.

Coffee.

Oh how I miss my bitter, caffeinated friend.

Every morning Dadisodes turns on our pot to drip hot, steamy brew. The aroma arouses my hypersensitive canine sense of smell and lures me downstairs in a semi-waking state.

But not a drop can cross my lips.

Not while pregnant. I’m too much of a wuss to risk it.

So instead, I turn the kettle on for the only alternative I have during these 9 months of rehab.

Blasphemous decaf.

Like sucking on an alcohol swab… for an alcoholic.