Brian and I made big batch of chili this week. Today I packed up six quarts of it for the freezer, and as I did, I remembered last summer. I was so scared and anxious and hopeful about the little one growing in my belly. As much as I wanted the baby (now Kathleen), I couldn't bring myself to do nothing baby related. I couldn't clean and set up the nursery. I got as far as looking at cloth diapers online but wanted to throw up at the thought of ordering them. I couldn't organize clothes or find the car seat. I couldn't buy anything baby related.
Instead, I stocked my freezer. This was baby-related as I wanted meals on hand to make things easier once the baby came, but we would have to eat no matter what so I could fill the freezer and pantry without feeling like I was preparing for the baby. I got meat from a local farm CSA and stockpiled meat from the supermarket when it was on sale. I marinated chicken. I made lasagnas and stuffed peppers. I froze quart after quart of tomatoes. I blanched and froze green beans. I picked strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and peaches. I froze berries and made jam. I filled bags with homemade multigrain waffles and banana oat muffins. It was what I could do.
***
To my babylost mama friends who are pregnant again (there seems to be a big batch of you right now), I am so happy and hopeful for you.
I wish you healthy, happy, living babies. I hope you have safe deliveries and easy recovery for mom and baby. And I hope, that somewhere in the midst of anxiety and sadness, you are able to find some joy in the pregnancy itself. It's something I wish I had been able to do, to embrace the possibility more rather than the fear. Peace, love, and strength to you all.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Food for Thought
I think I'm heading into something of a food kick. Reader beware if you are hungry. After my last post, I went to bed thinking about food. Namely about food we ate while Henry was in the hospital. There was too much hospital and restaurant food, but there were also many meals made for us.
Kim made me mac and cheese with squash, enough to put some in the freezer. Tina made me raspberry brownies and when asked for her recipe confessed she was afraid to send them to me because I am a good baker. Amy made 5-layer squares with excellent precision (the key to a good 5-layer square is careful distribution of ingredients and not skimping on the chocolate). Carol and David made Guinness beef stew, which we made later; it's time consuming, but hearty and very tasty. We got homemade salmon chowder and shrimp and corn chowder. My dad brought in fish chowder from The Causeway, a milky, rather than thick, chowder with mounds of fish and potato in it. We had turkey dinners and meatloaf, lasagna, and pork chops. Our friends and family were good to us.
And when meals were in short order, our favorite thing to get was burritos from the place across from the hospital. Despite the sad connotations, I'd still eat one of their summer burritos (mmm, mango salsa) with pork any day. Usually we'd grab breakfast there, though. That's where I became partial to breakfast burritos.
Breakfast burritos were one of my two cravings when I was pregnant with Kathleen. I had a breakfast burrito nearly every day. On my laziest days, I'd simply wrap a scrambled egg in a whole wheat tortilla with shredded cheddar cheese and a little salsa. On a more ambitious day, I'd add black beans, avocado if I had it, or chili and sour cream (I have been lucky to not suffer heartburn during my pregnancies). My burritos were smaller and not nearly as well wrapped as the ones we used to get when Henry was at the hospital, but they were quick and tasty and a fairly balanced meal.
Thinking about my cravings during my Kathleen pregnancy brought me to thinking of my cravings/aversions during my Henry pregnancy, but it's almost lunch time here, Kathleen has turned herself 180 degrees on the floor and is suggesting she might like to eat whether or not I'm hungry, so that will have to sit for another time. To lunch.
Kim made me mac and cheese with squash, enough to put some in the freezer. Tina made me raspberry brownies and when asked for her recipe confessed she was afraid to send them to me because I am a good baker. Amy made 5-layer squares with excellent precision (the key to a good 5-layer square is careful distribution of ingredients and not skimping on the chocolate). Carol and David made Guinness beef stew, which we made later; it's time consuming, but hearty and very tasty. We got homemade salmon chowder and shrimp and corn chowder. My dad brought in fish chowder from The Causeway, a milky, rather than thick, chowder with mounds of fish and potato in it. We had turkey dinners and meatloaf, lasagna, and pork chops. Our friends and family were good to us.
And when meals were in short order, our favorite thing to get was burritos from the place across from the hospital. Despite the sad connotations, I'd still eat one of their summer burritos (mmm, mango salsa) with pork any day. Usually we'd grab breakfast there, though. That's where I became partial to breakfast burritos.
Breakfast burritos were one of my two cravings when I was pregnant with Kathleen. I had a breakfast burrito nearly every day. On my laziest days, I'd simply wrap a scrambled egg in a whole wheat tortilla with shredded cheddar cheese and a little salsa. On a more ambitious day, I'd add black beans, avocado if I had it, or chili and sour cream (I have been lucky to not suffer heartburn during my pregnancies). My burritos were smaller and not nearly as well wrapped as the ones we used to get when Henry was at the hospital, but they were quick and tasty and a fairly balanced meal.
Thinking about my cravings during my Kathleen pregnancy brought me to thinking of my cravings/aversions during my Henry pregnancy, but it's almost lunch time here, Kathleen has turned herself 180 degrees on the floor and is suggesting she might like to eat whether or not I'm hungry, so that will have to sit for another time. To lunch.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Devouring
I've been cruising through Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life. It's been sitting on the floor for weeks, but I just got a library reminder that it is due (today) and can't be renewed. Fortunately it is the perfect kind of reading for the time I have right now—brief stories plus recipes—and I'm whizzing through it.
I would have devoured this book last year. I immersed myself in books about food and gardening. And I cooked and I ate. People talk about not tasting food as a symptom of grief. Perhaps I had that for the first couple of weeks. But then I couldn't stop cooking. Gooey mac and cheese, hearty beef stew, warm oozy cookies, cheesy lasagna, roast pork with warm apples and onions . . . I sought comfort in food. Not simply eating, but eating well, making food, choosing food. I spent more than I should have on good wine and fancy cheese and local eggs and small-farm meat. I made up for months of hospital cafeteria food and restaurant meals. I read and I cooked and I ate and I savored. It was what I could do for myself—that and buy flowers all through the dark days of winter—and I had plenty of time to do it.
Time is at a bit more of a premium now, but I still find myself baking cookies or bread or muffins a couple of times a week. Today, my mouth has been watering for banana and chocolate, maybe Molly's recipe with crystallized ginger; maybe my friend Julie's banana's bread, which is one of my favorites; or maybe the banana oat bran muffins with chocolate chips that sound healthy but are deliciously buttery and best warm. I just wanted that combo of banana moistness and melty chocolate.
But I'm making myself wait, because I'm having coffee with friends tomorrow, two friends and their kids, a meeting I couldn't have done last year. A meeting that would have paralyzed me last year, exhausted me just thinking about it. The idea of being in a room with two moms who could talk about their three kids, two moms who were dealing with sleeplessness and feeding issues and discipline and growth spurts. Two moms and me, a mom who had known mostly hospitals and paralytics and procedures and then knew empty arms and aching heart. No, I wouldn't have done this meeting last year, just the muffins.
Muffins are good, friends are too. I'm looking forward to both.
I would have devoured this book last year. I immersed myself in books about food and gardening. And I cooked and I ate. People talk about not tasting food as a symptom of grief. Perhaps I had that for the first couple of weeks. But then I couldn't stop cooking. Gooey mac and cheese, hearty beef stew, warm oozy cookies, cheesy lasagna, roast pork with warm apples and onions . . . I sought comfort in food. Not simply eating, but eating well, making food, choosing food. I spent more than I should have on good wine and fancy cheese and local eggs and small-farm meat. I made up for months of hospital cafeteria food and restaurant meals. I read and I cooked and I ate and I savored. It was what I could do for myself—that and buy flowers all through the dark days of winter—and I had plenty of time to do it.
Time is at a bit more of a premium now, but I still find myself baking cookies or bread or muffins a couple of times a week. Today, my mouth has been watering for banana and chocolate, maybe Molly's recipe with crystallized ginger; maybe my friend Julie's banana's bread, which is one of my favorites; or maybe the banana oat bran muffins with chocolate chips that sound healthy but are deliciously buttery and best warm. I just wanted that combo of banana moistness and melty chocolate.
But I'm making myself wait, because I'm having coffee with friends tomorrow, two friends and their kids, a meeting I couldn't have done last year. A meeting that would have paralyzed me last year, exhausted me just thinking about it. The idea of being in a room with two moms who could talk about their three kids, two moms who were dealing with sleeplessness and feeding issues and discipline and growth spurts. Two moms and me, a mom who had known mostly hospitals and paralytics and procedures and then knew empty arms and aching heart. No, I wouldn't have done this meeting last year, just the muffins.
Muffins are good, friends are too. I'm looking forward to both.
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