Lactation Smoothie

So I had tried the lactation cookies; they were really yummy.  But I feel kind of wrong eating cookies for breakfast, even if they are Paleo, and not bad at all for you.  So I needed something that I could eat in the morning to help give me protein and energy for the day.  Browsing through Pinterest (what else), I happened on a recipe for a Lactation Smoothie from one of my favorite blogs to follow: Diary of a Fit Mommy.  I love that blog, even if she does make me feel shitty about myself sometimes because of how quickly she lost all her baby weight ;)  Annnnnnnnyway, there was a recipe for a lactation smoothie.  So I thought to myself, why the hell not.

 It was full of all kinds of good stuff, easy to throw together, and although very calorie dense, very nutritionally dense and kept me full for about 6 hours!  And I couldn't even finish the whole thing, there was so much potassium and protein and all that jazz :).  However, if you do feel like saving the rest for later, be aware, you will need to add more liquid to it since the flax meal makes it kind of gelatinous after awhile.

Here ya go. One awesome sauce, delicious lactation smoothie.  I think I might have another one today.....wait, we're out of bananas.  Damn.

Seriously, go make this.  Like right now.  Seriously.  It's fucking awesome.

Gluten Free Peanut Butter Lactation Cookies :)

Pinterest is God, I swear.  Almost like Google is God.  There's always an answer for what you're looking for, and pictures to boot.

I've had lots of problems with my milk supply fluctuating, pretty much since it came in.  Broden had tounge and lip ties and so wasn't able to pull as much milk as he needed to to help my milk come in properly.  Combine that with the stress of a sick baby and PPD (postpartum depression) and you've got a recipe for disaster.  I was either engorged all the time, or not producing at all.  Or one would be engorged and the other completely dry.  It was miserable.  I was miserable, he was miserable.

Lactation tea helped quite a bit, and so did tweaks in my diet to help provide the necessary fats.  But something just wasn't there.  On a whim at Babies R Us, I decided to buy a couple of their lactation cookies.  I was doubtful, but willing to try anything at this point.  Seriously, if there had been a witch doctor offering to balance and increase my supply in exchange for my soul, I would have done it without hesitation.

In fact, I need to make another batch of those bad boys as I have noticed a significant decrease since I ran out (aka ate them all).

The texture is very dense because of the coconut flour, and can tend to be a bit spongy.  I would recommend letting them bake a bit longer than the dictated 10-12 minutes, but that might have also been because of the altitude I'm living at.

Ok, without further ado, the recipe for Peanut Butter Lactation Cookies!!!!

First, mix 1/4 cup flax seed meal with 1/2 cup water, and let it set while you get the rest of the ingredients together, and preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Next gather together your dry ingredients:  1 cup coconut flour, 1/3 cup rolled oats, 1 tsp baking powder, and 2-3 Tbs of nutritional yeast (use brewers yeast if Gluten is no biggie).

Mix well!

Next, add in your wet ingredients and mix well.  Wet ingredients:  1 cup peanut butter or other favorite nut butter, 1/2 cup of favorite non-dairy milk (I love almond!), 1/2 cup raw honey (if vegan, use maple syrup or agave nectar), 1 tsp vanilla.  And I threw in a handful (or two) of organic dark chocolate chips as well. Who doesn't love chocolate?  If you don't, then you're a commie...this is 'Murica, dammit! LOL

Mix well, until dough starts forming.  Coconut flour has a tendency to absorb absolutely everything, so if you're not getting a dough, go ahead and add more non-dairy milk, 1-2 Tbs at a time, until you get the desired consistency.  Then make balls with the dough, about 1" in diameter and place them on your cookie sheet. These will not spread as they bake, so make sure to press them down with a fork in the criss-cross design.

Bake for about 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown.  These do not crisp up after cooling, like traditional cookies do, so don't be afraid to go a couple minutes longer.  Let them cool, and chow down, Happy Momma!!!!!!

NOTE:  These are full of fiber and protein, so be aware you may end up with a tummy ache if you eat too many of them at first!  However, these are paleo, Gluten Free, dairy free, and can be vegan if you want.  So eating more than you might normally will not hurt you like eating traditional cookies full of sugar and flour will!  

Enjoy the cookies and increased supply ladies!

Peanut Butter Lactation Cookies (Gluten-Free, Dairy-free, Vegan!)

Author: Healthful Mama

Prep time:  10 mins

Cook time:  10 mins

Total time:  20 mins

Serves: 24

Ingredients

• 1 cup peanut butter (Feel free to substitute another nut butter.)
• ½ cup raw honey (Substitute agave nectar for vegan preparation.)
• ¼ c. flax meal
• 1 cup coconut flour
• ½ cup rolled oats (be sure to choose gluten-free)
• 1 tsp aluminum free baking powder
• 2-3 tbsp nutritional yeast (use brewers yeast if gluten is not an issue)
• 1 tsp vanilla
• ½ cup non-dairy milk

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Combine ¼ c. flax meal with ½ c. water. Allow to rest while you prepare the other ingredients. The mixture will be ready when the flax has absorbed most of the water and is almost gelatinous.
3. In a large bowl, combine coconut flour, oats, baking powder, and brewer's yeast.
4. Once the flax mixture is ready, add it and all the remaining ingredients to the flour mixture.
5. Stir well to combine. Add more milk in tablespoon increments, if necessary. (Coconut flour has a tendency to soak up all the liquid.)
6. Once a dough has formed, roll into 1" balls and place on cookie sheets.
7. Flatten each ball with a fork before placing in the oven.
8. Bake for 10 minutes. Allow to cool.

Notes

These would be delicious with chocolate chips added! Be sure to choose dairy-free chocolate.

The First Four Weeks (Labour and Birth, Part II)

Be forewarned.....a lot of gross stuff and TMI.  Labour is real, gritty, and dirty.  If you don't want to hear about or read about the not so warm-and-fuzzy side of labour, don't read this post :)


This took awhile to write.  Not only did I have to go back in my memory to piece together the events and my recollection of them, but I had to deal with the associating feelings.  And a lot of those feelings were painful, raw and dredged up things I wasn't aware of, or had moved past for the moment.  I also had to decide what was truly important to write, and if it would be too much for the general audience. But hey, you guys are big kids, you know what you're getting into when you read something from me.

So to catch up, the last place I left off was practically falling through the entry way, ignoring my midwives greeting and pleading with them to let me get in the bath.  

So let's continue from there.

After I asked for the bath, they said they would, but had to do an exam first to find out exactly where I was at.  I had already dropped to the floor to have another contraction, and the student midwife dropped down on the floor also, to moan with me and to tell me to keep it low so I wouldn't tighten up and make the contraction worse (for those who haven't gone through it, when your water breaks you lose that little bit of cushioning you had to help buffer contractions, and they increase in intensity by 100% after that).  I knew she was trying to help, but in my mind I wanted to smack her and tell her to get out of my face, so I'm glad I was in the middle of a contraction so I didn't do that, she was a really nice lady.  I managed to crawl into the exam room and get no further than the doorway.  The midwives tell me they can do the exam right there, which I gladly agree to.  First the master midwife examines me, and I have a contraction while she is still fist deep.  Thank God she has the wherewithal to hold still while I have that one. Next comes the student midwife.  Let's just say there is a definite difference in the experience between those two exams.....I tell myself to not kick her, she's just doing her job and it will be over soon.  

"You're at 8, and plus 1! You're almost there, hold tight."
"Grunt, nod, pant.......aahhhhhhhhhhrrraaaaaaawwwwwwwwwaoooooooaaarrrrrrrr....gasp gasp gasp...raaaaaaaaaaaaooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Now I'm crawling up the stairs on all fours.  I have no strength left in my legs, and feel as though my back is about to be broken in half from the midline.  The climb is eternal, then I still have to make my way into the bathroom and have assistance to climb into the tub.  I have no idea how many contractions I have had, how many I am having.  No idea of how long it has taken me to make that trip.  I hear D behind me and am so relieved he is there finally, and am also mildly aware that I am embarrassed and shy to have him see me in such a state.  Then another contraction hits, and I don't care. I am being swallowed by the pain. They're coming every two to three minutes now, instead of three to four.  In my mind I keep telling myself to hang on, to stay on top of the wave, to surf the wave.  All the things I would tell a client that I was assisting in birth.  They all fail me.  Each time another one hits, I am engulfed in a pain that I am afraid will never end, I dread each coming one, and am aware that I am getting no rest in between sets.  As I continue trying to keep my head during each one, I am only mildly aware of what is going on around me.  I look down and see blood filling the water.  I panic when I pass my mucous plug because of the force it is pushed out of me, and watch the waters turn into a literal bloodbath.  I have a thought of joking that D should get in and join me, but the joke never makes it to my mouth as I am swallowed once again in excruciating pain. 

More time passes, my body starts pushing on it's own.  My roars turn into what I remember thinking sound like demonic roars and sounds. It is interesting and slightly alarming all at the same time.  People comment that we picked a good mix of music, and that it's such a nice change of pace from the ocean waves that they normally have to listen to for 16 hours straight.  D responds, saying we'd go crazy having to listen to that, and besides it's not like I'm paying attention to the music anyway so they might as well listen to something upbeat. I tell D to go take a break, then when he comes back I order Sue to go take one as well. They've been on their knees by the side of the tub for who knows how long, keeping me company.  I apparently also was convinced at one point that I had pooped in the tub.  Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy and keep telling me that, no, I did not poop (it was the back labour pressure and my mucous plug still expelling that made me feel like I had).  I still don't know if I believe them. D tells me his parents are downstairs, he probably shouldn't have told me that while I was having a contraction. "What the FUCK are they doing here!" (For the record, I absolutely adore his parents.  I think, at the time, I thought they were going to want to come check on me or something, I don't know.  Sorry Brenda.) D tells me they are going to stay downstairs and I calm down again. Dammed Irish temper, at least it's quick. 

 I am checked again, and the student tells me that my cervix is swollen, and that baby is back to posterior. Dread washes over me. Having been a doula myself, I know that a swollen cervix usually means it's not going anywhere and that c-sec is probably imminent.  I am so dehydrated I have no tears but I cry, a dry defeated cry that only ends when another wave of pain threatens to send me over the edge.  I lean my bloody naked body onto Sue's shoulder and tell her that I'll take the epidural, I'll take the c-sec and transfer.  I cry and tell her I'm not prepared, that it's over, that I can't do this anymore.  She leans in and tells me that while a c-sec would feel better right now, it won't in the long run, and that I know this deep within me. The midwives come back with homeopathic pills to help with the swelling, and another pill to help with the back pain.  I ask for the nitrous oxide.  I am cold in the water and ask for it to be warmed. I am told baby's heart rate is raised and so I have to have it cooler to help lower it again.  More bad news. I feel like I'm falling and will never be able to get back up.  I am told to pant through the contractions now, so that my body will stop pushing and try to help the swelling go down.  Thus begins the longest, most painful, and hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.  I pant painfully during each contraction, with the pain so bad that I am trying to crawl away from it even though I know there is nowhere to go, no escape, that I have to just keep moving forward to get through the 7th circle of hell.  "No!No!No!No!No!.......No push!No push!No push!"  This is my mantra, the instinctive words that come out to help me exhale and pant, the smallest distraction I can muster to try and move away from the pain that is threatening to tear me apart at any second.

I am taken out of the tub and agonizingly crawl to the bed so that I can lay on alternating sides to help flip baby back to position.  I am shivering from cold and pain, and aware that I'm not fully here anymore.  I'm not sure where part of me is, but it's probably hanging in limbo with Little Man as we work through this.  I'm given water and gladly suck it down since the nitrous oxide is giving me dry mouth.  The gas isn't really doing anything to help the contractions, but gives me the feeling of doing something to help and so I hold onto it as though it were my last life line before falling over the edge into the warm fuzzy darkness that is slowly closing in on me.  Voices fade in and out, jolting me out of whatever place I have managed to get myself to, and brings me back to the pain.  I am fading, I feel it.  I don't care anymore, let the darkness take me.  Just let me get the baby out first and then I will go willingly, I silently tell whatever is watching me.  The air feels heavy with the presence of those not human, it's a comforting feeling.  Sue asks if I would like to pray. "Nuh" is my response.  The contractions are coming harder now, I am feeling pressure all through me and around me, my eyes fly open and I see someone has put my miniature totem pole on my pillow.  I stare at it blankly while panting and grunting through contractions, gathering whatever last bit of strength I may have in me.  I am given gatorade which I suck down before quickly returning to the nitrous oxide.  Soon I am having to grab at anything I can during contractions, where I feel like a bowling ball is going to break apart my hips and my pelvis. Poor Sue, I can feel my nails digging into her and I try to loosen my grip. Soon after that, screams start erupting from me unwillingly.  I smack Sue's arm repeatedly in desperation and to get her attention.  "Big!  Big Pressure!  Ball!  All over!" Another contraction takes over and I roar and scream.  Then the fuzziness comes back over me. I hear Sue quietly talking to the midwife, telling her something is different, something is happening.  I guess the midwives don't think my swelling could possibly have gone down that quickly and they leave again.  I'm still trying not to push even as I feel the ball come down and go back.  

Another grunt followed by a scream.  I feel a warm pop and somehow in my haziness know that the head is out.  "Get the baby, GET THE BABY!" I feel the blanket thrown back and keep my leg lifted so I don't crush his head.  My eyes are still closed. Sue yells at D, "Dustin, get the midwives!  Now! Go!"  I hear Sue close to me, "Don't push just yet, pant still."  Everything is a blur now.  I hear the midwives quickly giving each other directions, feel him turned inside of me, and am told to give one more push.  "Take your baby, take your baby!"  My eyes flutter open for the briefest of seconds so I can see to grab him and instinctively roll over on my back to place him on my chest. I can feel how little he is, how slippery and vulnerable. I am still in labour, it feels almost like being in shock.  They start the one minute APGARS.  "Heart rate 125, respiration low. Wet lungs."  They start blowing on my baby.  Barely any sound comes out of him.  "Shake a leg buddy, it's your birthday", I quietly say to him.  Everyone in the room is quietly encouraging him.  "Don't let him die" I say.  Logically I know he's ok, but for some reason, that's what comes out of my mouth.  He is moved off my chest after cutting the cord so they can keep working on him.  I am told to push out the placenta.  All I can think is, he's not breathing well, why are we worried about the placenta? I feel the plop of my placenta and suddenly it's all over. Right around that time, he starts making the noises we all are waiting to hear.  I'm still in shock so I have D hold him and the next time I open my eyes I see D with his shirt off so he can do skin to skin with Little Man.  I have never loved him more than I do at that moment.  

Things start slowing down, and slowly start becoming clear again.  It is 10:30 in the morning when I get up to go take a shower. Little Man was born at 9:47.  Roughly eight hours of hell. D's parents come up and we quickly find as many towels as we can to cover me with so that I'm not hanging out naked when Jerry gets up there to meet his grandson.  Little Man is weighed and measured.  I leave D with him while I take a shower, as I am covered in dried blood and am pretty sure I have never smelled worse in my life than I do at this moment.  I am surprisingly talkative and energetic. I gladly take my son when I come back and just stare at him for a bit. It is all very surreal.  He's absolutely beautiful now, quiet and content, with his hair all curly and messy.  I know others might not see him the way I do because of that whole primal bond thing, but to me, he's absolutely amazing. 

Two hours later, we are on the highway, headed back to Ogden.  I sit in the back with Broden.  He snoozes in his car seat, obviously zonked from all his hard work.  I reach over to play with his fingers, and in his sleep he wraps his tiny little hand around my finger.  We hold each other all the way home.

Our doula, Sue.

Hanging out in Nana's arms.

Home at last :)

The First Four Weeks and Labour (Part 1)

Well, here we are.  An incredible, and incredibly intense birth, postpartum depression and infections, tounge ties, painful nursing, laser surgery at 2 weeks old, starting runs, applying for school, offer falling through on first house 5 days before birth......it's been a whirlwind!  

For today, we'll start with the labour and birth, up to getting to the birth center.

My little man, now 5 weeks old!!  Please excuse the exhaustion, we are still working on

 "doing our nights"

So, labour.  Huh.  Where do I start.  What would I want to hear about, if I were a reader?  Well, personally, probably everything because I just like to hear people's stories.  but I'll try to just put in the big details and some of the funny bits I can remember through the labour haze.

First off, I have decided the term "false labour" or "pre labour" is utter and complete bullshit.  I'm throwing the card on that one.  Those terms make it sound like it's just a teensy bit of discomfort that can be laughed off, like a tiny sneeze.  And maybe for some women, it is.  For me however, I coined it with the term "work up".  That's a term from my Navy days to describe the tedious and arduous tasks of readying the crew and ship for deployment by making gradually longer trips out to sea. Those trips become very boring, monotonous, and painful, messing with your mind and just wishing simultaneously that it would all end and that you could also just get out on deployment to get this thing going.  That, my friends, is truly what "pre labour" should be called.  So anyway, my "work ups" were starting to get pretty bad.  I would have a night where I had contractions every 5-7 minutes for a few hours which would keep me up, then they would just stop completely for a few days.  Then I might have just a couple, and then nothing.  And then another bout of the hours long ones during the night.  I was completely exhausted, and slept most of the day.  I forced myself to go for at least 3 miles every evening, was still climbing the mountain (with Dustin, just in case something happened), was taking evening primrose oil orally and vaginally (that was entertaining in it's own right), having uncomfortable sex, eating the hell out of spicy beans and rice, and gritting my teeth in pain while Dustin pressed on acupressure points in my legs and feet to help things along.  I was only 37-38 weeks when we were doing all this, but my "work ups" were so bad and I was so exhausted, I knew I needed to help this along before I was completely worn out and then had to go through labour on top of it.  (NOTE:  it is not recommended usually to start trying to induce labour until after 40 weeks.  However, I had the go ahead from my midwives since I was in so much discomfort and was exhausted)

So, Saturday June 28th was a nice one.  Not too hot, and Dustin unexpectedly decided to not work overtime that night so we decided to go for a hike up the mountain.  I was grumpy and in pain, and was hoping that getting on the mountain might perk me up some.  Dustin has the quality about him where if he feels it's too quiet or if I'm not in a great mood, he just talks about random stuff I have no interest in, just to fill in the silence.  On the way to the trail, it finally got to me and I just snapped at him through my teeth, "I am in pain, I have a head in my vagina, and I've had diarrhea for 3 weeks straight, JUST STOP IT!!!!!"  He fell back a good 20 feet and stayed there for almost a half hour before deciding that my inner wolf was not going to bite him. Poor dude. I love him.

The rest of the day seemed off, but was normal.  We painted some furniture, cooked some food, watched some tv.  I kept feeling jittery but exhausted and took a nap while he mowed the lawn.  While waking up from my nap I had a vision of fireworks surrounding my labour, and assumed it meant that I would be in labour around the 4th of July, the next weekend.  I could not be more wrong.

That evening, we were watching a movie, and all of a sudden we started hearing fireworks, which was odd since it was too early for anyone to be doing them.  Looking out the window we saw a huge fireworks display going on a few miles away, and like the little kids we are, smashed our faces up to the window with giddy smiles to see them.  "A free show!" I exclaimed, feeling truly happy for the first time that day.  After awhile, my ADD kicked in and I was tired of watching them.  Also, I was just zonked and ready for bed, even though it was quite early for me.  I don't even remember if I said goodnight to Dustin, and just headed for the comfort of our memory foam top and soft sheets.  I was out before the first episode of "American Dad" was over.

0130, or 1:30 am for you non-military types.  Ouch.  Ouch, owwww owowowowowowwwww......breathe breathe breathe....ok that's gone.  Wait.......ok, go back to sleep.  I hear Dustin come in the room to go to bed.  Owwwwww owowowowowowwwwwohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...........damn this one is lasting awhile...God make it end quickly, please, I need some sleep, I'm so tired.  Ok, it's over.  I open my eyes to see Dustin paused, halfway into bed.  "Was that one?"  "Yeah, but I think it's ov...." I didn't get to finish my sentence because another one hit, leaving me moaning and rocking back and forth on my side until it was over.  Dustin went to go turn on the coffee pot while I tried to convince him that it was probably just another bout of do-nothing contractions.  While in the middle of that sentence another one hit. Good guy that he is, D already had the contraction timer going and informed me that those were 2 minutes apart.  I decided that getting in the bath would be a good way to slow them down and see if they really were the real deal. 

30 minutes later D is on the phone with our doula, Sue, who is listening to me have contractions and trying to convince me that this is probably real and that I should probably stop trying to convince myself that it was another round of work ups.  I conceded that it would be nice to have her here, since the contractions were every 3-4 minutes apart, and very painful (back labour had commenced, since as I would find out later,  Little Man decided to flip back to posterior last minute that day apparently).  In between contractions, I filled D in on what to pack in my bag and make sure we had everything in Broden's bag which I had prepared two days earlier just on the off chance something happened soon.  As each contraction progressed, my moaning got louder, the back pain increased, and soon even being on all fours was so painful I didn't want to deal with it anymore.  I started wondering when the hell Sue was going to get there, I really needed to see her face, just know that she was there, and to let D have a few minutes to get his stuff together and have a cup of coffee (He told me later that he was so relieved to see her when she arrived, he really needed that cup of coffee apparently lol).  As I'm labouring still in the tub, Sue asks if it feels better when she presses on my back during contractions, I grunt and nod.  She tells me she can see him pressing up next to my spine during each contraction.  Great.  Back labour is confirmed. Fml.  Time passes, contractions increase.  Phone calls are made to the midwives who tell me to labour at home as long as I like.  I just don't want to have to make the hour long drive at that point because the pain is so intense.  Then Sue is asking me if my water broke.  "I don't know, I'm in the tub..............I thought you were splashing the water around."  "No honey, that wasn't me."  "oh.......well maybe my water broke then"  "Yes, I think it did, do you want to call the midwives?"  "I don't want to bother them again." Sue, trying not to laugh: "Honey, I think you need to give up on the idea that this isn't happening, your water just broke, you need to accept the fact that you are having this baby, and judging by the length and intensity, having it sometime this morning"  

 Fuck, I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready to finish being pregnant, I was just getting used to it, just came to terms a couple months ago with everything.  Now it's all being thrown into the air and the reality of it all comes crashing down around me, as though the breaking of the waters also released any denial I still had that I wasn't having a baby, really grounding me to the Earth and saying "Ok, time to move to the next step in your journey."

With legs shaking, I get out and have to have Sue's assistance in getting dressed, all the while apologizing for being naked (i'm not sure why I do this, but several times throughout labour I apologize profusely to everyone for having to see me naked).  D gets our dog ready to go to his parent's house, and I practically crawl to Sue's car, worried that I'm waking the entire neighborhood with my moaning that is now becoming a roar each time, with me praying to God to end each one quickly, to be merciful and take the pain, saying prayers I didn't even know I knew, and apparently even throwing in some Jewish words that I didn't know I knew either.

The drive seems interminable and eternal.  I'm in the back seat, sprawled out with one leg up over the seat and the other down on the floor mats.  I get a brief period where I feel relief and doze for a few minutes (Sue later will tell me that she was worried when I got quiet since she knew that meant I was coming to transition and she was NOT going to be delivering on the side of the road lol).  Finally, finally we pull into the midwives parking lot. I feel both a sense of dread and relief, and am more glad than ever that we hired Sue, and wish I had half an ounce of sense available to me so I could tell her that.  Instead, I have two more contractions in the 30 feet from the car to the front door.

The first words I say as soon as we step through the entrance are: Please let me get in the bath!!

To be continued, in part two, coming next week!

Race to the End, Much?

Damn, my ADD really seems to be kicking in this past month......I'll blame it on the nesting instincts though that have me so distracted and unable to focus on anything.

Although I've had a lot going on to keep me occupied.  First, I've been trying to put together a business plan and get a small business loan to open a home daycare. I'm trying to open said daycare in the home we are currently under contract on, and set to move into on July 3rd.......and my EDD (estimated due date) is July 7th........yah.  We'll see how that one plays out!  Plus, we are trying desperately to find someone to take over the lease on our rental house since we did not expect to be closing so soon and are in the middle of our lease!  It's been one hell of a crazy ride the past month!

It's Got Potential!!!

On top of all that stress, my body has been quietly actively gearing up for labor, Braxton Hicks contractions have become the norm, morning and night, and I've even had a few bouts of actual contractions that lasted most of the day without any real progress being made.  Since I've been going to the chiropractor to help flip my little man, my body has both relaxed and become more effective at the same time, if that makes any sense lol. So, I don't feel Little Man is stressing out nearly as much as he was which is great, but at the same time now my body is going "OK! Things are working effectively, let's start getting this show on the road!"  It's been interesting, to say the least!

I'm trying to convince Dustin, that after all this craziness, I deserve to have a margarita ready and waiting for me as soon as I deliver.........I'll get the yes. I alllllllllwwwaaaaaaays get the yes. (To quote Barney Stintson)

Lots to come!

Why are you bothering?

If you hate someone, why do you bother following them?  Can't you create enough drama through speculative gossip?  Especially if you never really liked said person, why bother?  You probably have a very full life already, why bother getting yourself irritated?  Are you going to go tattle then?  Cause someone pain by telling them things that they already know and that both parties are trying to work past?  What's the point?  Do you think it's going to make you feel better, to try and dig up some dirt or something?  Go back to living your life, you don't need to relish in gossip.  

You know who you are. 

An Open Letter to My Angel Baby

To My Angel Baby

I never knew your name.  I never heard your cry.  I never heard your heartbeat, felt you kick and flip.  

I didn't know you were there, didn't even know you could come to me.  I felt the pains of my uterus expanding to grow new life and thought it was my PCOS again.  I'm so sorry, my baby.  I had nausea and exhaustion, cramps and bigger boobs,  but thought it was the stress of school and your father and I having to move so quickly.  We loved each other, you should know that.  You were conceived in love, my baby.  

I went to the OB/GYN. She asked if I wanted to do a blood test to make sure I wasn't pregnant.  I felt a pull telling me to check, but dismissed it as....... I don't even know what.  But I told her I didn't want to waste her time.  She did a pelvic exam on me.  She said I was pink and looked like I was almost ready to start my period.  We didn't know that you were there.  I'm so sorry, my baby.  She gave me pills to help me force ovulate and start my period again since it had been so long.  I'm so sorry, my baby.  

Your father redeployed early, voluntarily.  I waited until after he left to start the pills so he wouldn't have to spend his last few days stateside with me cramping and having PMS.  Sometimes I wish he hadn't left.  Maybe I would have taken a few more tests, maybe I would have gotten a blood test.  Maybe he would have taken me to the hospital when the cramps and bleeding were so bad and we could have stopped it.  Who knows, my baby.  

It took 10 days after I finished the pills for the cramping to start.  I wondered what was taking so long.  I should have gone to the doctor.  When the cramps came, it was the worst pain I have ever felt.  I moaned and contracted for hours, instinctively working my way through the pain like I was in labor.   I remember thinking that something was wrong, something wasn't right.  It shouldn't hurt this bad, it shouldn't last this long.  But I was in too much pain to drive to base medical.  I couldn't move, couldn't call anyone, couldn't think about anything other than working through one wave of pain at a time.  I'm so sorry, my baby.

The bleeding came the next day.  Painful, thick, exhausting.  I don't know how I made it through teaching classes or going to class that day.  I was depressed, far more so than I understood.  I didn't know why I was so depressed.  Your father and I were fighting, I told him we were done, I didn't understand why.  Our friend died, it made me so sad in a way I didn't understand.  I didn't know you had been there, that I had lost you.

I found out I was pregnant in October.  I was laying in bed, cramping.  I had been throwing up all day.  My boobs were bigger, I was exhausted.  And then it hit me: I knew these feelings.  I had felt them before.  Back in Washington, back in January and February.  I knew then.  I knew you had been with me.  I cried all night long.  I cried that I had accidentally killed you.  That I was a doula, and hadn't recognized the symptoms in my own body.  I cried for the loss of you, of my marriage to your father, of the recognition of what had happened.  It was a grief I can never describe, a gut punch to my center, my core.  I cried for the next 4 months, almost every night.  I didn't sleep.  I fell back into depression.  I couldn't love your half brother inside of me; I resented myself so much that I couldn't bring myself to focus on him.  I hope he knows I couldn't help it.

I talked with my aunt (your great-aunt) Nancy.  She was the first person besides your half brother's father that I had told about you.  She connected and channeled for me.  She said that this had happened for a reason, that you said there was no reason to be sorry.  That you had charted yourself in knowing this would most likely happen, to help me understand loss and grief.  I cried. 

Things started changing after that.  I started paying attention to your brother more often, then eventually, every day.  I told him I was sorry for being so sad, for making him sad.  I told him what had happened, I could feel him listening, forgiving.  It hasn't been easy, and it's far from over.  Finding out that I miscarried you after finding out I was pregnant has traumatized me.  I've had no one to talk to, everyone just wanted me to be happy about your brother.  But I'm going to counseling, and I will heal and be a good mom to your brother.  I love him, I love you.  I can feel him kicking me and flipping around as I type this, making the laptop bounce every once in awhile, him telling me it's ok to be sad, but reminding me to come back to now, because he needs me.  I have tears and sadness as I write this, but I'm ok, it's ok.  

I know when I'm in labor and pushing out your brother to come meet us you will be there.  I do not know you, you have chosen not to make yourself known to me when I request to talk to you, but I feel you, feel your energy and your spirit.  You are probably wise to not talk with me, it would probably send me spiraling.  But I know you are here and will be there in the room next to Broden as he enters our physical plane.  

Thank you for having been with me, however short the time.  Thank  you for this gift of grief and growth, because through difficulty we emerge stronger and with more understanding and empathy.  Thank you for being one of my spirit guides now, and for staying around Broden to help protect him.  

I'm sorry, my baby.  

I love you, my baby.

Love, 

Your Mom.

A radical doula

I am a doula.  I love babies and birth.  Like looooooove birth.  It is one of the most awe inspiring, spiritual acts that you could ever witness.  I am a hippy "liberal" for lack of a better term.  I believe in peace and am distraught by the amount of joyful violence and how it is seen as "necessary" by most people. This is why I don't understand people who deem invading and conquering as appropriate, shooting people as ok, and love watching videos of people getting their ass beat.  However, mention abortion or the rights of a mother over that of an unborn child and all hell breaks loose.  These same people whom embrace war will accuse someone of being a murderer, of commiting genocide.  Seriously people?  These people who think drones are necessary, that it's ok to spend billions on weaponry that never see the light of day, who have become desensitized about children being murdered in war, who scream about any new taxes that will help impoverished children, want to make sure that baby can be born, no matter what happens to the mother.  No one cares what happens to the baby after it's born.....they all say adoption is the answer.  Which their taxes pay for, which they don't want to keep paying because they can't afford it, but don't support raising the minimum wage either.  So many children are left in orphanages and in the foster system....is that really any way for a child to grow up?

Then there is the fact that so many women have been duped by men with no medical background or experience into believing that this is all their fault.  That women are the only ones to blame for having sex, that women are the only ones to blame for getting pregnant, and we are the only ones to blame for abortion.  They act like this isn't some heart wrenching decision for almost all women who make that choice.  Then they persecute them, jail them.  Then they say "stop getting pregnant" and take away our birth control while simultaneously allowing Viagra to be paid for by insurance and handing out condoms like they are candy.  So it's ok for the boys to have sex, but they can't be gay so they can only have sex with girls.  The girls who are burned at the stake for having sex and left without any way of trying to protect themselves.  And we think this is normal.  This is not normal, and it is not ok.  We are taught in school that it's our bodies, that we must never let a man take advantage of us, never let us feel that we don't have a choice to say no.  Then they turn around and tell us that a bunch of men are going to decide what we can and cannot do with our own bodies and that it is law.  If that was another country we would be invading them to rescue the women from such "sharia law", provided they have oil of course.

I say these things not to try and dissuade anyone from their thinking, but to get them thinking.  I am pro-choice.  The statement is simple.  I believe it is your choice (and father if applicable) whether or not to have an abortion, or have and keep the baby, or to put it up for adoption. Belief on a moral stance does not dictate law.  You are still a person, a human being.  It seems like the media has allowed women to believe that they are nothing more than dangerous incubators that babies must be rescued from, and the government and medical community act accordingly thus keeping this belief alive and well. There are more murders with guns, knives etc every day than there are of abortions.  Yet if you were to believe the media and the conservative groups, it would seem as though women are simply flocking to abortion clinics to keep having sex and not dealing with the consequence.  And people believe it.  Why?  Why is sending our troops to die for oil ok, but not allowing a mother who cannot feed this next baby to make a decision she feels is in it's best interest.  

I won't lie.  When I found out I was pregnant I thought about aborting.  But I felt the same pull as I did when I saw my dog at the ASPCA; that there was no choice, that that was my dog and she was coming home with me whether I wanted her or not.  And she has been the best thing in my life.  But that was MY choice.  What is best for me may not be best for someone else.  And vice versa.  I'm not the mother of 5 who just found out she and her husband have gotten pregnant again, just as they are about to be foreclosed on.  I'm not the single college student who forgot her birth control, and now the father is claiming to have no ties with.  I'm not even the coke addict who realizes that she can't beat her addiction and doesn't want to bring another human into that life, that environment.  

I'm not them, how can I judge them?  

Who says sex is only for college educated, well-off married couples?  The government and conservative groups apparently.  Women are shamed and shunned if they are unmarried and having sex.  But boys will be boys.  

How is any of this ok?  How is any of this considered normal.  Simply because we live in a patriarchal society where men have no consequence of birth, they have deemed it the women's burden to bear.  If the shoe were on the other foot with men giving birth and having to need contraception I garauntee the laws would be a complete 180.  

And people wonder why I'm a feminist.  Because of shit like this right here.  

Pregnancy progress photos

Was looking through my photos and realized I had enough finally to make a progression!  I have been absolutely TERRIBLE about taking pictures this whole time.  I should probably get better about that lol

 

In all acuality, I am really glad I at least have these photos.....although can't wait until I'm skinny again.  I should probably stop eating the Cadbury Egg that's in my mouth lol.

F*ck It

Hello exhaustion.  How is it that one day you are up and at it, checking everything off your to-do list with enthusiasm and the speed of Super Woman?  You get everything done, make your to-do list for the next day, get to bed on time, actually sleep....and then.  You get  woken up just an hour earlier than your body needed, and it's allllll downhill from there.  I did get the laundry folded.  But sat down to start on the cloth diapering how-to  bog and lost it.  Just felt all energy drain from my body and the fatigue settled over me like a rain cloud rolling over the mountains.  Even my pregnancy tea isn't helping, and that usually gives me a nice kick much like green tea would.  

The uterine pain also isn't helping.  Starting to think I have developed Symphis Pubis Dysfunction, I'll probably have to call my midwife about that. 


Soooo, do I sit her and try to get another hour sleep or so?  Maybe I'll try to at least knock out a couple more things from the to-do list before I just completely give up today lol.  So yeah, apparently it's F*ck It Friday.

Look at that tired face!!!!!  Thank God I'll be putting on makeup later lol!

Wednesday Workout April 2

Hola!

Last week sucked.  I was going through a growth spurt (well, he was, but you know what I mean) and was in pain and had NO energy.  I tried going once, and ended up doubling over in pain on the treadmill, so took my happy ass home for lots of liquids and a nice warm bath.

I'm back at it this week though.  I forgot to post my monday workout, and honestly can't remember what I did. Eh, oh well.  So here is today's.  I took it at a moderately easy pace since I'm still feeling those twinges of 'ouchness'. 


Cardio:

Treadmill- walk at level 2.5, speed at 4mph.  Keep pace for 15 minutes.  Then for next 15 minutes, alternate running at 5.8mph for one minute, and walking at 4mph for one minute.  

Toning:

Side to side bends with Shoulder Press-  50/20 x 3.  Hold weight in each hand, and keeping core tight and glutes tucked under, lower weight to left knee, then back up, and down to right knee and  back up. Complete all 50 reps, then go straight into Shoulder Press for 20 reps.  10 second break between sets.

Side Lunge with Lawnmower- 20x3 each side.   Step into deep side lunge on the Left, making sure butt is back and thigh is parallel to floor without going over toes.  Take opposite arm with weight, lower weight to left foot and pull up and across body (like starting a lawnmower).  Complete all reps, switch sides.

Sumo squats with Kettlebell Swing- 15 x 3.  Step into wide stance. Lower down into squat while simultaneously swinging kettlebell up.  Make sure to lower butt and not lean forward, keeping chest up, core tight, and back straight.  Use glutes to push back up, lowering kettlebell.  


Make sure to stretch your back when your done!  


Now I think I'm going to go enjoy a smoothie.  Check out my recipes HERE :)

Smoothie Recipes!

I freaking LOVE smoothies and juicing!  They are quick, easy, and if you do them properly, a full meal and quite healthy!  I know if you go to a smoothie joint, you can get some crazy concotions, complete with protein powders and such, but these can also add up to a whopping 800 calories with some of them!  You don't need that in  your body.  If I'm going to consume 800 calories, I'm going to have a full Indian meal, complete with naan, mango lassi, and lots of basmati rice!


I've been living on smoothies lately since they seem to be helping my heartburn quite a bit, and are so easy to make up.  Throw in your base, some fruit, some liquid and call it a day.

Below are some of my favorite smoothies that I've been making on the regular.  I don't put in protein powder, but you could with any of these for an extra boost of protein, or use them with a meal replacement like Shakeology.

I have found that smoothie making just isn't an exact science, and it's best that way in my opinion.  Some days you will want to experiment with an extra ingredient, or more of a liquid, or less ice.  All these recipes are simply bases to start, then add and subtract as you like!  Make it yours :)

Chocolate Peanut Butter Smoothie

Use either 8oz of Bolthouse Farms Chocolate Protein Plus or 1 large banana with 1 tsp of cocoa powder and 1 tbs of whey protein (If using banana, make sure to use a liquid base like almond milk)

3 Tbs peanut butter

Throw into a blender or NutriBullet and blend until creamy. Add in a bit of crushed ice to make it thicker and colder.

Banana Smoothie

1 medium or large banana

1/3 cup of yoghurt or Greek yoghurt.

dash of cinnamon

1/4 cup of almond milk (or whatever milk product you prefer)

drizzle of honey

1 tsp ground flaxseed meal

Put all ingredients into blender, and blend until well mixed and smooth

Good Morning Smoothie

1 orange, peeled and cut into slices

2 large strawberries, sliced

1/2 banana, sliced

1/4 cup of orange juice

1/4 cup of pomegranate juice

ice to thicken

Blend until smooth.  If too thin, add ice to thicken

Strawberry Banana Goodness  

1 large banana, sliced

3 strawberries, sliced

1/3 cup of Greek yoghurt

1/4 cup or more of pomegranate juice

ice to thicken

Blend until creamy and smooth

Dreamcicle Smoothie

4-6 oranges, juiced (1 cup of orange juice or 2 oranges, sectioned will also work)

1/3 cup of Greek yoghurt

drizzle of honey                                                                          

a couple drops of vanilla extract

Dessert in a Glass

5 strawberries

1/2 cup almond milk

2 Tbs almond butter

ice to thicken

Super Green Detox Smoothie

recipe link here

Diets and Eating Disorders: The Pregnancy Roller Coaster From Hell

This has been on my mind for some time, whether to write this or not.  I try not to get ultra serious on here, and try to keep it positive.  But I really do think this is something that needs to be talked about more often.  Eating disorders are terrible.  There is no "better" or "worse" type of eating disorder.  One is not more serious than another, they all suck, all ruin lives.  And then you throw in pregnancy.  Your body is out of control, your hormones are out of control, and all you can do is watch almost as a passenger does as your body expands and proportions itself to make room for your new little human.

I have bulimia and body dysmorphic disorder.  I have the type of bulimia where you binge and then starve.  Thankfully, I have always hated throwing up, and so couldn't bring myself to start traditional purging after eating.  However, I have been known to abuse water pills, and diet pills that encourage your body to "go to the bathroom" several times a day.  My body dysmorphic disorder is severe.  I have days where I break down in tears just from seeing my reflection.  I have had that both prior to pregnancy and now.  Those days are terrible.  I cry and fall into depression, it's all I can think about.  All I can do is poke at my hips and love handles, stare at my waist and plan my next gym routine.  All that goes through my head is that voice that I have come to know as both a comfort and a terror all at the same time.  It tells me I'm disgusting, pathetic and fat.  It tells me that I will never be good enough and that Dustin will leave me because I'm getting too fat.  Disgusting is the most common word that is replayed over and over in my head on those days.  It's said so much that it almost becomes a meditative mantra.  The voice calls me such names, that if I ever heard a person calling themselves or another those things, I would lash out at them.  F&%king disgusting fat ass pig, for example.  

That was really hard to write that.

In pregnancy, this can quadruple.  Seeing thin, beautiful women who've clearly had 3 children, is a trigger that I must battle with daily.  Every time I see them, I simultaneously want to hide at home to shame eat an entire pizza (or cake, or pie, or bag of pirates booty), and want to hate those women with all my might.  It's not their fault that they are thin after having children; they may in fact, be struggling with their own body issues.  But all I can see is them flaunting their thinness in my face. I construe vicious and passive aggressive comments in their faces and looks, when none may in fact exist.  

I have given up self-criticism for Lent, and I do think this is the hardest Lent I've ever had to complete.  I have to ask for forgiveness and solace every day, and I'm pretty sure if I was a devout Catholic, I would be spending all my time repenting with "Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee......."  

With the constant barrage of "ideal" images we contend with every day, it's no wonder that more than 65% of American women between the ages of 25 and 45 struggle with eating disorders (www.psychcentral.com).  This number does not reflect the percentage of women who are pregnant who may be struggling with body issues or eating disorders.  Many women are unconsciously told by others that they need to get over it.  People, usually other women who have possibly gone through the same thing, say the same trite statements formed in what they see as positive encouragement.  Telling a woman to go ahead and eat, she's eating for two, it's time to quit complaining and focus on her baby, or even worse they are just told to stop.  To stop focusing on their body, to stop 'complaining', to stop worrying and enjoy watching their baby grow, to worry about making sure their baby is gaining enough weight.  This can make a woman who struggles with eating disorders or body disorders feel that they are even more of a failure.  That in addition to trying desperately to control their body, that they are failing to provide a nurturing, nutritious environment for their child.  Can you imagine the toll this can take on a mind that is already feeling like it may crack at any moment?  Can you imagine feeling that not only are you a failure at being thin, but that you are already a failure at being a mother?  I do not think anyone says these things with the intention of being hurtful, but unless the time is taken to truly understand the psyche of the mother, those statements of supposed encouragement can truly lead to the undoing of an already fragile emotional stability.

Even though American women are encouraged to gain anywhere from 25-35 lbs during pregnancy, weight and subsequent weight loss are the main topics of pregnancy.  Women are constantly told what to eat, when to eat, how to eat. They are told to maintain their gradual weight gain, to not gain too much. Obviously, there are many legitimate health reasons for these precautions: Gestational diabetes is rampant, as well as obesity, too large babies, respiratory problems for both mom and baby, etc.  We all want to be healthy, not only for ourselves, but our babies as well.  And we worry ourselves sick thinking we are not providing for our children.  But do we really need such an emphasis on weight? Ask any woman what's on her mind during pregnancy, or what the first thing she wants to do after giving birth.  Most often the answer will be A) How much weight she's gained, and B) How soon she can get back to working out to lose the baby weight.  

The way that this is beaten into women is troubling. Magazines, doctors, and well-meaning family members all give advice through caution and judgement.  Sometimes too much judgment.  The media especially is very unforgiving when it comes to women's weight and birth.  They are judged if they gain "too much" and are told to lay off the cake and go for a walk.  If they gain "too little", a woman is deemed selfish, putting her own needs before the baby.  The media is never satisfied, always looking for sensationalism, and we are caught in the cross hairs.  The same is true for after birth; if a woman takes "too long" to lose weight, she is frumpy and lazy.  If she loses weight "too quickly", again she is deemed as selfish, putting her vanity before the needs of her newborn.  And we fall for it!!!!!!  We allow the media to put us all on the defensive, to make us feel like we have to compete with each other, have to have excuses or rather "not" have excuses for why we have or haven't lost the weight.  We are so insecure with ourselves that we see a poster of a very fit woman asking "What's your excuse" and immediately go on the defensive of why our reasons are so much more valid.  I get it, the thin women make me feel like shit too.  But I take it as she is trying to say, "If I can do it, so can you."  

But I digress.

More needs to be done to validate a woman's very deep and complicated relationship with her body and her Self.  I'm sure many of us feel that we are being encouraging by telling the pregnant woman to just forget about it and enjoy eating.  Maybe we do that because when a woman comes forward with concerns about her body or her eating, it reminds us of our own very real struggles, and we aren't ready to deal with it.  Maybe it comes from passed down conditioning, decades and generations of women since the 40's being conditioned that having concern for her own body is selfish.  Maybe it comes from our own discomfort at letting a woman feel anything 'negative' about pregnancy.  Whatever the reason, we must start not simply listening to what is being said, but validating it.  Real, true validation.  Acknowledge that not only is she allowed to express concerns, but that it is ok.  That she is in a safe space to do so, embraced without being patronized.

My midwives have put me in touch with a therapist, and I am very grateful.  I haven't found the courage yet to contact the therapist, that is a huge step that I know will open many wounds and force me to confront and deal with the negative side of me.  It's a scary thought to deal with all of that, plus admitting that your body has come to find a comfort in abusing itself.  But I will do it.  And so can any other woman who needs help.  If you feel like you have nowhere to turn, that no one truly understands or comprehends the thoughts in your head, please, contact me.  I will listen without judgment and try to find a way to help you and get the help that is needed. 

 I am here for you, because I am one of you.  And I love you.