A love letter to moms

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Dear Mamas,

It's been a tough week to be a mom.  Some of you have felt demeaned, criticized,  attacked, and angry.  So many of you have had your decisions questioned from every angle and your choices, whatever they may be, held up for public scrutiny.  This is wrong, mamas.  What we do for our children and our families is not a matter for public opinion; it's a matter of what feels right in our hearts, what works for our families, and ultimately, what gets us through the day.  Maybe on your journey, you've had to make choices you weren't thrilled with, even though it was the best choice available to you at the time.  Maybe you would do things differently now.  Or maybe you're lucky enough to feel great about all the decisions you've made.  (If that's the case, can you share your secret?)  But I suspect that, like most of us, you are carrying around some of that Mommy Guilt.  It's an epidemic, and no wonder, considering the way that everyone around us seems to feel free to critique our every little decision.

But I'm going to ask you to stop carrying that guilt around, starting today.  I know, it's hard, mamas, because what if I'm doing the wrong thing, or not enough, or too much, or the right thing but too much?  And it's hard when the world expects so much of us: be sexy and slim, six weeks after baby's born and for ever after.  Be happy with your children, all the time.  If you're not happy, you're not doing it right.  Work full time and stay home full time, too.  Be a good mom and a good wife, every minute of every day.  Make all your family's meals from scratch, and all their clothes too, while you're at it.  Be present and loving and supportive of everyone's needs and wishes, ignoring your own, one hundred percent of the time. Whatever you're doing, it's not enough.  That's the message we get day in and day out, from parenting magazines to Time magazine to everything on Pinterest.

But what I want to tell you is that that Mommy Guilt, if you have it, is weighing you down.  It's making you sad and tired from carrying it so long.  It's heavy, and you need your strength for all the hard work you do.   It's time to let it go, mamas.  We have better things to think about, like the truth.

And the truth is this:

You are beautiful and radiant.  There is a light that shines directly out of your heart onto every person that you love.  They live in that light, and they feel its warmth every time you smile at them or tell them you love them.

You work hard at everything you do because you love your family fiercely, wholeheartedly, completely.  And they love you back, each in their own wholehearted and fumbling way.

Whatever kind of mom you are is mom enough for your family. And then some.  They are lucky to have you, and they know it (whether they say it or not).

You are a lucky, lucky mama.  You are part of a sisterhood of mothers, a club that we all are members of, whether we are with our children every day or whether we are separated from them, whether we breastfeed for many years or just for a little while or not at all, whether we have many children or are just longing and wanting to have them.  We mamas have to look after each other.  We have to lift each other up and send each other love, because it's becoming more and more obvious that the rest of the world is just not going to do it.  We have to defend each other and support each other, even though we may sometimes not agree about what is the 'right' way to do things.  When we disagree, we need to do it respectfully and try not to get defensive of our own choices just because someone else doesn't choose the same thing.  It's time to model for our children the way that we want them to communicate with others.  We are a sisterhood, and it's time we started acting like it.

Because mamas, we are strong.  We fight fiercely for the good of our families.  We are kind and nurturing and supportive and protective.    Think what we could do with that kind of energy if we turned it loose on the world.  Live in love, mamas; it's what we do.  We are love.

Turning the corner

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So, uh..... yesterday's post was kind of a Debbie Downer, huh?  It's been a rough week.  But I wanted to first thank you all for your warm and encouraging responses.  It's so amazing to know that I can post about difficult things and be supported by wonderful, kind people.

And I also wanted to update and say that I think we have turned a corner and things seem to be getting a bit better.  Emmett was able to nurse for every feeding last night with minimal screaming, and for most of the day we've had fairly normal feedings. He still has the weird mouth sores, but we are fairly sure that they are a reaction to the gentian violet, so they should clear up soon.  And he's breathing better, even though he's still kind of mucousy.  And best of all, he gained an ounce since yesterday, which is a big deal because, as of last night, he had only gained 2 ounces since last Monday.  So things are still difficult, but not quite as difficult as they have been.  And I think (hope) that they will continue to get better.

Oh, what a difference a day makes.

ps: We're still living partially off of our freezer stash, but I have been cooking now and then.  So you can expect some recipe posts soon.  Tonight I made meatloaf 'cupcakes', which I can't wait to share!

Wearing me down

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Every time someone asks me how I'm doing, 3 weeks out from having a (beautiful, adorable, squishy, and wonderful) new baby, I tell them that I'm actually doing great.  It's kind of surprising.  Physically, I'm healing well, my milk seems to be plentiful, Emmett seems to have a peaceful disposition and his mother's love of sleep, and Owen and Jonah are totally in love with him.  Not to mention that Dr. Daddy has some much-needed time off now that he is DONE WITH FREAKING MEDICAL SCHOOL (!!!!!), and we now know where we're going to be living for the next 3 years (Boston area, here we come!).  So life is good, right?  All is well.  And it really, really is good.

But.

It's hard.  It's hard to have a new person to worry about, especially one as tiny and helpless as a newborn.  It's hard to think about leaving this area just when we were really starting to throw down some solid roots.  It's hard to imagine all the work we need to do, now that we are moving in less than 2 months and haven't even thought about starting to pack yet.  It's totally overwhelming to try and find an affordable apartment in a nice area north of Boston.

And on top of that? Emmett and I have been fighting thrush, which is no picnic.  I think we've got it on the run, but it has involved more prescription meds than I usually like to take.  But part of that is that I panicked.  Completely and utterly panicked about having thrush.  I kept having flashbacks of what it was like to nurse the twins and be in such excruciating, unrelenting pain for so. many. months, and I just... freaked out.  I found myself in the doctor's office, sobbing to the nurse practitioner about it.  So Emmett's been on Nystatin and I'm on a lengthy course of diflucan, and then we decided to do gentian violet as well, just for good measure.  Which means we had four days of purple-stained baby, purple-stained mama, copious purple, stainy spit-up, and just general purple, disgusting fun.

And then?  Emmett and I got a cold from Owen and Jonah.  I was better within a couple of days, but Emmett has had a lot of trouble clearing the mucous enough to breathe properly.  He snuffles and snarfles all night long, which means none of us get very good sleep.  He wakes frequently with trouble breathing and spits up gross, thick mucous (which is good, because I'd rather have it come out than stay in, but still. Gross.) He has been having trouble nursing because he's so stuffed up, latching on and then popping off repeatedly, complete with coughing and sputtering and choking.  It's awful.

Not to mention that the lactation consultant figured out that he has a really shallow latch, which makes my poor breasts pretty darn sore.  And it's really hard to work on proper latching with a baby who can hardly breathe at the breast.

And you know, I was dealing with all of this okay.  It's been a really, really difficult week, but we've been weathering it.  Until last night, when every time I tried to nurse Emmett, he started screaming like I was trying to murder him.  This morning he nursed okay, but again with the screaming this afternoon.  And then we noticed (now that the purple is wearing off) that the inside of his mouth is all red and covered with sores.  We think he is screaming whenever anything touches the inside of his mouth because it's sore.  It certainly looks sore.  The poor kid; he must be so uncomfortable, and my biggest method of comforting him is only making things worse.  Turns out, there are few things more panic-inducing for a nursing mom than a baby who refuses to take the breast. (the baby has to eat! my milk supply will be decimated! how will I calm him or put him to sleep?! Just for starters.)

I'm pretty sure I could handle any one of these issues individually.  Maybe even two or three at once.  But all of them?  I'm feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, and frustrated.  I just want my baby to feel better. I just want to feel better.  I want to know why all of this is happening, all at once.

But.

I'm lucky in that I have two older children who have taught me perspective.  I remember when things were so difficult during their first six months that it felt like things would be like that forever; like there was no end and we would perpetually be dealing with the same problems.  And now that they are four and we are dealing with a whole different set of problems, I know better.  And so I keep reminding myself: this, too, shall pass.  I won't be in pain forever, Emmett won't be sick forever.  The weird mouth sores will clear up eventually, and he'll eventually be big and loud and driving me crazy like his big brothers are.  I am trying to remind myself to keep basking in the afterglow of his birth (which, yes, I will post about... eventually!), to enjoy this time with him as much as is possible, and to be present.  Just breathe, mama, just breathe.

Huge.

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Well, it's official: I'm huge.  For upwards of a month now, complete strangers have been asking me if I'm 'ready to go' any minute now. Heck, right before Christmas a guy at the grocery store asked me if I'd be spending the holiday in the hospital or at home.  It took me a full minute before I figured out what he was talking about.  So, you know, I get it, world: my belly is gigantic.  I'm like a planet.  Message received.

First of all, world, not every pregnant lady wants to hear about how big she is all the time. Seriously.  And also? The phrase 'ready to pop' should not ever, ever be used within hearing of a pregnant lady.  I think the next time a complete stranger says that to me, I'm going to look at them very seriously and say, "what are you talking about? I'm not even pregnant, you creep."  Because I hate the phrase so, so much.  Pregnant women don't 'pop', world.  We gestate, and then we birth.  It's the damn miracle of life.  Now please, let's talk about something else.

But actually, I wanted to write a little bit about the size of what's IN my belly, and not just the (gargantuan) size of my big old pregnant belly.  It looks like we are probably going to have a large baby.  I've been measuring a few weeks ahead of schedule for some time now, and my family doctor was concerned enough to order an ultrasound to make sure I don't have polyhydramnios, a potentially dangerous condition where there is too much amniotic fluid.  Of course, I completely freaked out when she mentioned this, but I went to the ultrasound, and of course, everything is fine.  She even called me this afternoon to chat with me about it.  My fluid measurements were well within the normal range, and baby looks healthy and active and all that good stuff.  And still definitely a boy.

"But", she said, in a tone usually reserved for handing out terminal diagnoses, "he is measuring quite large. Our estimate looks like about 7 pounds now, which puts him at the 95th percentile." "Uh huh", I said, waiting for the bad news.  "So... uh....I'll just let your midwife know about that, and see what she thinks, and we'll go from there."  "Okay.  Thanks for the call!"

And first of all, I have to just say here that I LOVE that she is supportive of our planning a home birth, and that she takes the time to call my midwife and that they share medical knowledge and test results.  Seriously, it's awesome.  But she seemed genuinely surprised that I wasn't concerned about how freaking huge my baby is.  And every time I mention, in passing, that it's looking like we'll have a pretty big baby, people seem to feel the need to reassure me about it.  I have often heard, "oh, he won't be that big; don't worry".

But the thing is? I'm not worried.  Really.  In fact, I'm kind of excited to have a big ol' chubby baby.  And that's because: 1. I genuinely believe that my body won't grow a baby that it can't birth.  I mean, I kind of feel like I had to have been given this big, strong body and these giant hips for a reason, you know?  I'm a larger woman, and Dr. Daddy is a really tall guy, and as I have been told since the moment I emerged from the womb, I was a freaking ten-pound baby. And also the only all-natural birth that my mother had.  2. So far, everybody looks healthy and happy.  No GD, no other problems that would cause me to worry.  Just a well-fed baby. 3. We did the tiny, skinny baby thing last time. The boys were born 5 weeks early, and they were both right around 4 pounds.  They didn't even have butt cheeks when we brought them home, people. Seriously.  And you know what?  It wasn't that fun.  We worried constantly about weight gain, milk intake, weak suck, etc. etc.  It was stressful.  So this time, I'm totally okay with having a nice, chubby, healthy, full-term (and then some, even) baby.  And 4. Those ultrasound estimates can be (and often are) wildly inaccurate; there is a two-pound margin of error in either direction.  Two pounds.  Which means my baby might actually be about 9 pounds right now.  Or he might be 5.  Who knows?  Nobody, that's who.

But you know what I know?  I totally know that my body can handle this.  And maybe I'll be eating my words later, but I kind of don't think so.  And if that ends up happening, so be it; it won't make anything better to be worrying about it from now until then.  Other women, much smaller than me and with narrower hips, have given birth to bigger babies.  It happens.  And as for making the birth more painful (which everyone seems to think will definitely happen), I don't really have much to compare it to.  It will be what it will be, and I'll be happy if I come out of it with a healthy baby.

So please, world: stop consoling me for growing a big baby.  Stop reassuring me (although I appreciate the kind sentiments), stop saying 'ouch' when I mention that he's big, and for the love of god, stop telling me I'm 'ready to pop'.  Please, please stop saying optimistically that maybe he'll come early; trust me, no one who's had a nicu stay with a previous kid is in a hurry to go back there.  Instead, next time you talk to a woman who is supposedly having a big baby, rejoice with her in her body's ability to grow a big, healthy baby.  Congratulate her and wish her a beautiful, peaceful, joyful birth.  Assure her that he's likely to be a strong nurser and (please god) a good sleeper.  Because wouldn't that be nice?

Grain-free stuffed peppers

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So, a long time ago I posted a recipe for grain-free stuffed peppers, and it was pretty good.  But it was made with quinoa, which is yummy but not really paleo because it's a pseudocereal.  Plus, I have since come up with a better recipe that IS paleo-friendly, so I thought I would share this one.  This is the one I posted about on facebook recently, that reminds me of the stuffing my mom used to make when she would make stuffed quahogs.  So for me, it was not only delicious but also nostalgic.  I think this summer we'll try to go clamming with my Grandpa (because that's messy and fun all on its own and the boys haven't been yet. And also, Grandpa is an expert at clamming), and then I'll make some grain-free stuffed quahogs.  (If you aren't from New England and don't know what a quahog is, click here.)

But in the meantime, this makes a great stuffing for peppers and also mushrooms. You can do small ones as a party appetizer (and people will never know you're trying to poison them with healthy food), or larger ones as a main dish.  I found some adorable mini-peppers at the store, and they are a perfect size for my little guys, so I'm going to make a bunch of those and also stuff some portobello caps for Dr. Daddy and me.

So here you go: have fun!  And, like most of my recipes, there is a lot of wiggle room to play with ingredients that you think would be good in here.  Go ahead and experiment!

Stuffed Peppers (or mushrooms)

1 lb sausage (I used bulk breakfast sausage, but any kind you like is fine. Sweet Italian sausage would be great, too. Alternatively, you could use bacon, but I would use less.)
1/2 onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1/2 red pepper, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cup almond meal
4 oz goat cheese (optional)
4 oz cream cheese or neufchatel (optional) (you could also just use more goat cheese. That would be excellent.)
salt and pepper to taste
10-12 mini-peppers or 3 bell peppers, gutted and sliced in half. Or some mushrooms, stemmed.

1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.  In a large saute pan, brown your sausage and then set it aside in a bowl.  There should be a generous amount of fat left in the pan.  (if you've used a leaner sausage and there isn't much, you can always add some olive oil.) Use that to saute your onions, celery, red pepper, and garlic until it's all soft and getting slightly browned.  Remove from heat.

2.  Add your sausage back in to your veggies, and then toss in your almond meal.  Mix it all together.  It should make a kind of a loose stuffing-like texture, and if you want, you can stop there and skip the dairy.  But honestly? The goat cheese makes it stellar.  Add in your crumbled goat cheese and/or cream cheese and mix it thoroughly with your impeccably clean hands.  They just work better than a spoon to combine it all.  Uh, you may want to do this in a bowl rather than in the hot saute pan. Just sayin'.

3.  Go ahead and stuff your peppers and/or mushrooms and place them in a lightly oiled baking dish.  Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until the peppers and/or mushrooms are starting to get soft and the stuffing is just barely browned on the top.

Enjoy!

Lastly...

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Okay, now that it's taken me at least two solid weeks to get through my Paleo Breakfast Blitz, we are finally here at the last post.  If you're new to paleo, I hope it's going well for you and I hope you're seeing results already.  If you're not new to paleo, or if you're not doing the grain-free thing, I hope you've found some good, high-protein breakfast ideas.

And today, we're going to bring this whole week full circle and come back to eggs.  I know, I know: this whole theme week was an exercise in having something besides eggs and bacon for breakfast every day (although two fried eggs and two slices of bacon are how I start pretty much every day around here).  But there is so much more to eggs than just having a quick scramble on a weekday morning; there are quiches, frittatas, benedicts, all kinds of good stuff.  Even souffles, if you are feeling ambitious.  So here is a round-up of some of my favorites:

-Grain-free quiche with potato crust.  This makes a really good substitute for when you want a little something bready with your eggs.  Or just leave off the crust all together, which is what I usually do.  It makes a great dinner or a make-ahead breakfast, or an entree for a brunch.  People don't even notice that it's grain-free.  And you can throw in whatever veggies, meat, cheese (or not), and other seasonings you like.

-Quiche muffins.  Kids love these, since they're small and muffin-shaped and portable.  They make a great make-ahead breakfast, or something to take with you on the go if you have a hectic morning.  You could probably even freeze them to microwave when you need something quick.

-Breakfast burrito bowls.  These are an all-time favorite at our house, since we love pretty much anything Mexican-themed.  And the boys have reached the point where they think it's TOTALLY AWESOME AND AMAZING that they get to choose whatever they want to put in their burrito bowls and assemble it all themselves.

-Cheese-stuffed peppers.  Oh. my. god are these good, and they make the perfect complement to spice up your boring old scrambled eggs.

-Berry pancake souffle.  This recipe isn't mine, but it looks amazing and I am going to be making it very, very soon.  And it's kind of a sweet-treat breakfast without any questionable ingredients at all.

-Eggs in a basket.  With green peppers.  Awesome.  And easy.

-Don't forget about omelets, my friends.  There was a reason the omelet bar at the college dining hall was so popular.

-And lastly, what's a frittata?  It's basically a quiche with no crust that you cook on the stovetop, until the bottom is cooked.  Then you put it in the oven to finish it up.  Easy, impressive, and delicious.

So there you have it: breakfast.  I hope you now have more breakfast ideas than you will ever need, although there are plenty more out there.  And what will I do with all my spare time now that I'm not experimenting with breakfasts and daydreaming about poached eggs?  Probably cook something else.  Or, you know, get ready for this baby that's coming in a few weeks....

Surprise

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We have a really great landlord.  He grew up in the house we live in, and I think I remember him telling me that he was born here.  And he's been very good to us; he asks if we need anything, and when Dr. Daddy was away for weeks at a time, he let me know that anytime I needed anything I was more than welcome to call him, no matter how small it was or what time of day or night.  One day last winter, he even drove his plow to the hospital to pick up Dr. Daddy when he got stranded there.  Seriously, we are lucky tenants.

So even though it's technically not necessary, it felt courteous to let him know that we would be birthing at home.  But I found myself feeling really apprehensive about it; after all, if our landlord was extremely uncomfortable with the idea, I knew Dr. Daddy wouldn't go for it.  He's very polite like that.  I was really afraid that all my lovingly crafted plans for a beautiful home birth would go sour.

I should have remembered that others will always surprise us, and often for the good.  I just mentioned it to him, and he was really surprised for a second, and then he said, "That's great!  Really great.  I'm so glad you told me; if I was here when it was happening, I wouldn't have known what to do, if I should call 911 or what.  But I think that's great."

And now I can't remember why I was so nervous about that conversation.  Life is good.