The Devil’s Drink

Apparently pregnancy puts some incredible demands on the body, one of those being on the number of red blood cells it requires. And, a body needs a lot of iron to make a lot of red blood cells. So, pregnancy-induced anemia is quite common. In fact, I think the actual statistic is that “one in five pregnant women will get anemia during pregnancy.” Seeing as that I’m about as pale as they come and not particularly good about eating iron-rich foods {like dark meat poultry, liver, or dried apricots}, I’m consistently the “one in five” by this point in the 40{ish}-week long journey. Of course, this is of only minor concern, because the solution is simply to take an iron supplement to get the iron levels back up where they need to be.

Well, the problem with this whole iron issue comes in when you have an aversion to swallowing large pills. And, by “large” I mean bigger than an M&M. Of course I can take the occasional Tylenol, Advil, or what not in the tiny pill form, but I’ve basically made it through life so far by taking the chewable and/or liquid version of everything else. Chewable vitamins, gummy vitamins, liquid cough syrup, liquid Benadryl, etc. have all been friends of mine at one point or another.

So, I just assumed I could start some liquid iron this week and go on with life as normal. Little did I know that anything {and I do mean anything} could taste so horrid.  Maybe the fancy packaging should have been my first clue…

The instructions say that the “iron souffle” as the Spouse kept referring to it, should be mixed with water or juice before being ingested. So, on Saturday I confidently poured my cup of juice, dropped the “souffle” right in, and took a generous gulp of what can only be described as the most stomach-turning drink I have ever put in my mouth. Immediately all I could think about was how if I ever need to induce vomiting in myself or anyone else, this would be the drink of choice. The taste is indescribable really.

All while I was trying to get through this whole iron ingestion process, the Spouse {who, incidentally, is a pharmacist} was looking on with concern… wonder… maybe a hint of sympathy. And, as he sniffed the souffle cup, he asked with genuine curiosity, “Does it taste like it smells?”

All I could say is that it tastes like something one should never ever drink. Think in terms of metal. Like maybe if you could melt a flagpole or a fence post into a liquid and then serve it up over some ice {mixed with a little juice or water, of course}. It is pure punishment in a cup.

So, I’ve decided that this might be the point at which I rethink my aversion to swallowing large pills. Surely with a little practice sliding M&M’s and Tic-Tacs down my throat, I can graduate to something the size of a… nickel? And, if all else fails, I guess I can start eating liver and kale. One thing I know for sure: if I close my eyes and think about the taste of that iron souffle, a little liver starts to sound strangely appetizing.