Andrias's Birth, Part 3 -- The birth

Monday, February 8th.  I had consistent contractions all through the night.  They were frequent and rhythmic enough to make me think they might be the real deal.  I felt them through my sleep.  But they weren't the least bit painful (hypnobabies working?) so I wasn't sure if I should call my midwife.  By morning they had stopped.  Turns out, I had actually been listening to my hypnobabies tracks all night, and I believe I accidentally listened to the "Baby Stay In" track too.  OOPS!  Maybe Andrias was trying to come Tuesday morning!

By Wednesday night, I was worried that the baby was going to prove my prediction wrong that he'd come 1-2 weeks early.  Can't have that!!  He only had one day left!  So I went for a walk and did what you do to request that baby come out now.  I even asked the baby directly.  Baby, I love you, and it's time now.  I'm ready and I want you to come.

At 4a.m., Thursday the 11th, I woke up to pee.  Things were a little... shall we say... moist.  Then in the bathroom, there was a... um... gush.  And when I stood up, another, and tried to walk out, another... I made it over to George, woke him and quickly asked him to call our midwife before I ran back to the bathroom in time for several more gushes.  I guess that would be my water breaking! (It didn't break until baby came out the first time.)

George handed me the phone and Sena, my midwife, asked all sorts of detailed questions before asking me if I was having any contractions. 

"No," I sighed.

I knew what that meant.  The clock was ticking now.  I had 24 hours to make serious progress or I'd have to transfer to the hospital.  Sigh.  She told me to go back to bed and sleep as much as I could.  I went and laid down and popped on the hypnobabies tracks on my iPhone.  Within minutes I was having a contraction.  Then... another.  I knew it could be a while till I was in 'real' labor, so I tried to relax through them and sleep.  But I didn't sleep and they kept coming.  I finally woke George up again at 6 to time them.  Yep.  One minute long, five minutes apart.  Things were rolling!

We called Sena, we texted my sister JoAnn who we'd asked to be present to handle food prep for all of us, and to entertain and possibly remove Regin if needed.  George went and woke my mom up and told her the haps.  And guess what?  I decided I no longer cared about the number of people in the house, and we asked my mom to stay.  Funny how things change when you're in the moment but I knew that was a possibility and I felt strong in my right to make that decision.

The timeline after that was a blur.  We have no clock in our room, and I was in full labor, so I never left the room.   In the first hours, it was manageable.  I would walk and walk and then when another contraction hit, I would drape myself over George and we'd stand there together as he coached me through relaxation. 

I tried listening to the Hypnobabies tracks, but there was enough commotion and distraction that I didn't really hear or listen to them.  I couldn't really put myself into hypnosis every time because I hadn't practiced the unguided hypnosis enough.  And what I had practiced was mostly with me being totally alone, fully reclined, in total silence with hardly any sensory input.  I couldn't get myself in that state in the throes of labor, so I relied solely on George's ability to help me relax, which we had practiced several times during the Hypnobabies course.  And it really worked.  Unlike my friend Teddi, who had managed to get all the practices in, I would absolutely describe it as pain, but the pain with George's relaxation cues was manageable, without them I thought I was going to die.  He had a script he recited, and he'd begin reading it every time I indicated that a contraction hit.  If he delayed even by a few seconds, it wouldn't really work and I'd be in tremendous, earth-shattering pain again.  For some reason, if I lay down, I was in the worst pain of all, and if I sat, it was pretty darned uncomfortable too.  So I, the woman who had spent most of her pregnancy sick in bed with various colds and flus, the one who'd had trouble eating for months, the girl who was terribly weak and generally out of shape, walked miles in a circuit around our bedroom for hours and hours, stopping every few minutes for an intense workout called a "contraction". 

You know, in hypnobabies, you avoid use of the word contraction because of the fear and pain pregnant women associate with the word.  But when you look at the word after having birthed, it doesn't seem strong enough.  It sounds like little squeezes, like the painless, prelabor contractions I had that I called "The Squeezies" or like a bicep you're flexing and then releasing.  It doesn't remotely convey the pain, the sweat, the grunting, the moaning, the crying out, the howling, the begging, the pleading that it induces when you have one.  But that came later.  In the early hours, I was able to face each contraction, with George's help, calmly, quietly, internally, and relaxed.  It was intimate and graceful, though still painful.  My mom downstairs thought we were sleeping that whole time because it was so unbelievably quiet.

When my midwife, Sena, arrived, labor changed.  That happens.

As hands off as midwives can be, there is still a kind of performance pressure a birthing woman feels, or at least this birthing woman felt, when someone shows up to watch you and make sure things are happening as they should.

The way a midwife makes sure is very different from how a doctor would make sure, or so I've been told as I've never birthed with a doctor's assistance.  A doctor will make you undress and put on the infamous and barely there gown (and why they should call something so ugly a 'gown' I'll never know, some marketing spin there I think), then you'll be connected to machines, monitored with boops, beeps, and moving graphs, and your feet put up in stirrups while the doctor looks at you and gives you internal exams to see where the baby is and how dilated your cervix is.  I think in most cases during labor you're not allowed to eat or drink.  The doctor also has a lot of other patients to see, so he's off checking on other moms a lot, or if there's some other conflict, you have a different doctor.

Your midwife, is your midwife.  Obviously conflicts can occur, but she schedules very few births per month to try and eliminate the possibility.  And you've been seeing this woman, and not her nurse practitioner or other assistant (in typical US, assembly-line medical care), for 1+ hours once a month, then twice a month, then once a week throughout the pregnancy.  You know each other so well, she's almost like family by the time baby comes.

At that time, the midwife comes in (to your home) when you've told her you'd like her to come (or the birth seems imminent), sets up her equipment around your room, puts her oxygen tank over there, rearranges your nest to include her bag of tools in easy to reach places over here, makes sure she knows where you have put the towels and basket of birthing goodies you've gathered, and then asks you how you are doing.  Actually that's not true.  She asks how you're doing before setting up.  Then she leaves you alone as needed, because she knows you will labor better without someone hovering, or she stays in the room if you need it.  She's there 100% for you and only you.  She gives emotional and comforting support, she gets you food and drink to keep your energy up, and does her best to encourage you.  Occasionally she will request to listen to the baby with her little device, and she'll check your dilation and whatnot, if you request.  It's all on your terms.  Plus, you're in whatever clothes you want, whatever position you want, in whatever place you want... you can even deliver in your edenic backyard garden pool if you want.  It's your birth, your way.

Thing is, though I absolutely adore my midwife, I was laboring better and more comfortably before she arrived.  And though she was mostly out of the room and out of the way and she spoke in whispers to keep the quiet and make her presence less intrusive, the pain became much more difficult to bear once someone interrupted the calm, came into my space, and began to take note of what was happening.  So, for this reason, even though Sena was UHmazing and I'd recommend her to anyone, I do think I'd reconsider unassisted birth in the unlikely case that I ever had another.

-----

Things were progressing quickly this time.  It was only a couple of hours from the water breaking that contractions were regular and quite close together.  But then, after a few more hours, it became apparent to me that nothing was changing.  It continued at the same intensity, and I even felt a little, almost "pushy" but the giant lump inside me was staying exactly in the same place.  I began to ask Sena to check to see where the baby was and what was going on.  There was a lip of cervix in the way.  Ugh, that again.  She tried to help pull it aside, but that was painful and I hated it.  I began to feel defeated.  Sena reassured me that things were moving quickly and efficiently but I felt like something was stalling the process and I was becoming angry about it since I'd worked so hard to make sure I wouldn't have the same obstacles this time as I had with Regin's birth.  I was shaking with fatigue, but I kept walking and walking.  I spent some time in the bath.  I tried different positions and sat a little on the birthing ball otherwise known as my exercise ball.  But mostly I walked.  I went back to the bath, I cried out, I screamed, I moaned and wailed.  I got angrier and angrier every time George delayed when beginning to recite his relaxation script as he had been doing every few minutes for who knows how many (15) hours.  I began pushing in the bath.  I pushed and screamed so hard, my throat quickly became raw.  And then... I wanted out.  I wanted to get on the birthing stool, which I hate, because I wanted this to be done.  I wanted rest for my trembling legs, and I wanted the position that would expedite birth.  We put it in almost the same spot that it had been put for Regin's birth, the spot where Regin had then taken his first breaths. 

I still had no idea how long this had been going on.  No clocks were around to tell me, but I saw the light in the windows change from morning to midday, from afternoon to evening.  Sena kept telling me things were moving along and his head was just there.  But I still felt like I wasn't getting anywhere.

During all this time, I never once asked to go to the hospital.  I never asked to be knocked out.  Outwardly I was in screaming pain, but somewhat in control and just working.  Inwardly I was having an entirely different dialog with myself:
"What the f**k is wrong with me?"
"What do you mean? You're in labor!"
"Why the heck do I insist on doing this the hard way?"
"It's better for you and the baby..."
"Pah!  F**k that!  I'm done with this s**t.  So done.  Sc**w home birth, natural birth.  Give me the fecking drugs.  Hell... next time around, if I do this again... Not only will I go to a hospital like a normal person, but I'll probably deliver the baby in my sleep with a planned c-section.  This s**t is for the birds."

I was saying all of that to myself up until the very last moment, when on the birthing stool, again in the same place, I birthed my second child.  I squeezed and pushed so hard I was actually worried about popping blood vessels in my brain.  I screamed and screamed and pushed and felt the ring of fire as he crowned, and with all that remained of my might, I pushed some more, and I felt him pour out of my body.  And then the most amazing thing happened:  I held him.

Everything melted away when I held him.  He was beautiful and I was strong, and I immediately felt, "Oh that?  That wasn't that hard.  I could do that again."  His head was squooshed and badly mishapen, but I didn't see it. He was beautiful and I instantly loved him.  He cried and my voice immediately changed to sooth him.  Ohhh it's ok Baby, that was hard, huh?  It hurt a lot and it was scary.  Poor baby, I know... it was hard for me too. 

It was hard.  It turns out it was a lot harder than it usually is.  There was a reason my fast-progessing labor had taken so long.  Turns out, not only was he posterior, but my baby had decided to present his brow first.  That's the rarest of presentations and the most difficult.  Hmmm... rare and difficult, he's like his mamma already.   Most literature will tell you that the brow presentation is not even feasible.  Unless baby's head is very small or Mamma's hips are very wide, baby just CANNOT come out that way.  I don't think either of us is unusually proportioned and he's definitely not small.  But somehow, we did it.  And we loved each other right away. 

My mom and sister came in, and with joyful tears I told them it was a boy.  And then I told them I had gotten just what I wanted:  that rush of hormones, that instant love, that connection with my baby.  Everything I hadn't had the first time, everything I had grieved the loss of with my first birth, I had now.  And I wept, and everyone else did too.












 

After a short while I birthed the placenta, which is relatively uncomfortable in itself.  I had hoped to let the baby crawl to my breast by himself as I'd seen babies do in videos.  But after more than an hour, I decided to give him a little help.  I lifted him to my breast, he opened his mouth, and clamped it onto me.  Ouch!  I forgot what that was like!  But I was thrilled that I didn't have to wrestle a nipple into his mouth, he latched himself on.  

I was still on such a high when Sena was examining my war wounds that as vulnerable as I could have felt with my legs draped over chairs, and someone sitting right between them, looking, checking, etc., I was chipper and chatting away and laughing.

That's how it was; with happy tears and laughter, Baby and I began a new life together and a family of four was born.

To be continued.
Part 4 -- Babymoon, coming tomorrow...

Andrias's Birth, Part 2 -- The preparations

I prepared as much as I could this time around.  

I prepared for the pain...
After hearing of the success my friend Teddi had using Hypnobabies with her daughter's birth, about which she said she "wouldn't exactly describe it as pain", I decided I would use it too.  I ordered the home study course and jumped in.  Sadly, the course is a smidge on the highly-ambitious side for mothers of small children.  There is a daily, 40-minute practice of self hypnosis using provided audio tracks, there are 5 daily, 5-minute solo practices, and there are 20-minute sessions every other day with a script your spouse reads to you.  On top of all those, there is a 40-minute track of affirmations to listen to daily (which, by the way, is an AMAZING tool for putting toddlers to sleep), plus a large packet of materials to read, plus time you're supposed to spend doing visualizations and such.

Sorry.  That's just not feasible for the mother of a toddler.  We even hired a friend to come over and hang with our son a few times so I could do more of the practices.  On a couple of good days, I doubled up on practice, but I never did more than a handful of the 5-minute sessions.  Too bad.  I think those were maybe the most important.  For the 40-minute sessions I had to be alone, uninterrupted, and laying down, or it didn't work for me.  And even then it often didn't work.  So I shrugged and decided to just listen to the tracks at night while I slept and not beat myself up over it.

Turns out, the Hypnobabies was a huge help with my pregnancy.  Within a few days of regularly listening to the tracks in my sleep, my severe anxiety that had plagued me daily (through both my pregnancies) disappeared!  And it was truly severe.  I had been begging and pleading with doctors for weeks for help.  My DO suggested herbs and homeopathic remedies, an OB I saw twice wanted to put me on some heavy anxiety drugs, and I was so desperate, I was actually considering it, but thanks to the Hypnobabies, I ended up not having to!  The anxiety I had been bawling about simply melted away.  AMAZING!

I prepared for the baby...
I shopped my butt off a little this time.  I bought a bunch of organic clothes even though we've got baby clothes coming out of our ears from Regin's old stash which is still in perfect condition.  We got a new organic mattress, new wool carpet, and my dad built us a bed big enough to accommodate four people.  I knit for the baby, I reread (skimmed) some baby care books, I set up our changing station.

I prepared our older son...
I read him story books about home birth and having a baby in the house.  I tried to get him interested and excited about the idea, but didn't push it.  I talked to him about the baby in Mamma's tummy, and he talked to me about the baby in his.

I prepared our house...
George, my mom, and I cleaned, cleaned, cleaned.  My mom has been laughing at me ever since for making George get on his hands and knees and scrub the floor molding, while I was up to my elbows in the fireplace trying to get rid of 9 years of dust.  And we (we hope) rid our house of mold (and I stopped getting sick all the time, YAY!), and we installed a house humidifier (ahhhhh...).



I planned for the midwives...
I made arrangements for my sister to come for the birth to:  make sure things went smoothly in the house, see that I and the birth attendants would be fed (including weird foods for my food issues), and ensure Regin was properly entertained and occupied or removed, if need be.


I made my desires clear...
I wanted to be alone in our room with George as much as possible and I wanted no excess people in the house, which sadly included our mothers for me this time around.  During all the preparations, I had a third-trimester midwife reshuffle which was emotionally difficult to go through and I even considered unassisted birth because of how strong my instinct was to birth alone.  Further, I told myself repeatedly that this time I wanted labor to start in the morning after a full night of restful sleep.  (Can we please make sure that happens?)

I'm sure all the prep was excessive and unnecessary, but I think in some way I was trying to feel like I was doing what I could to gain a feeling of control and readiness after the loss of control and the unpreparedness I'd felt last time.


To be continued.
Part 3 -- The birth, coming tomorrow...

Six months old today and ready to share his story!

Six months ago today I was in a lot of pain.  I was walking circles around our bedroom, stopping every few minutes to get through another contraction.  I labored and birthed at home.  After 17 intense hours, our beautiful boy, Andrias entered our arms.

We're halfway through our first year, and so much of his personality has been coming through.  I can't believe in just a few short months he'll be entering his toddler years, and making his way toward independence.  For now I'm trying to enjoy every day of his babyhood, and today I find myself reminiscing about his birth.  So I thought it only fitting to finally go back and finish writing his birth story.

It's super long... no big surprise there, when have I ever written anything short?  So I decided to put it up here in installments over the next few days.  Here's part one.  Enjoy!



Andrias's Birth, Part 1 -- The scary back story (i.e. Regin's birth)

To understand my experience this time around, I think you have to understand a little bit about my last experience, which is the one I was hoping not to repeat.  (If you want the original account, I wrote my full birth story here on the blog and a retrospective on it three months later.)

With Regin I was completely unprepared.  I was naive and didn't think I needed any preparation.  I was completely, 100% unafraid of our planned home birth, or at least I thought I was and I thought that being unafraid would help make the pain less severe so that was really all the preparation I needed.  When it came down to it, the pain did scare me.  Not the idea of it.  I thought I was going to be so ready for it because of the years of dysmenorrhea I'd had.  But when each wave of pain hit me, my body tensed up and fought it.  I said "no no no no no," as it hit and I begged and cried.  I was weak and powerless against it all.  And I hated being told I was doing great because I was doing nothing; it was being done to me.  This unbelievable force was acting on my body, and the force was torturing me every couple of minutes and would keep me in excruciating pain for up to three minutes at a time.  Do you have any idea how long three minutes is?  I can say with certainty that I do.  And the pain towards the end was so severe I actually asked George to knock me out so that I could be taken to the hospital. 

So much for my beautiful and empowering home birth.  So much for not needing preparation. 

To add to it, George's father was fighting a losing battle with cancer when labor started which he ultimately lost during the middle of it all.  That devastating news, as well as other things like an ill-timed, though wonderfully soothing bath slowed my labor down greatly.  By the end of it, it was nearly 48 hours long, I'd missed two full nights of sleep, and I was well into the third night when Regin was born.  Further, we weren't really aware of all of my issues with food (hypoglycemia & allergies) or how to handle them.  When Regin finally arrived, I was blinded by pain, completely fatigued, totally sleep deprived, and in the middle of what was probably a major hypoglycemic crash.  I was so weak I had to be fed and my brain snapped.  I didn't know what was going on anymore.  I didn't have the rush of joy and love that women get when the hormones are doing all the right things.  I didn't even know what this hot lump of flesh was that was handed to me, and whatever it was, it certainly didn't come from me.  I was for a long time unable to look at the first photo of Regin and me together because I could see my fear and confusion reflected back at me in the photo.

Love and bonding was slow in coming.  It took weeks if not months.  I was fond of my boy from the beginning, but not bonded.  By the time the affection had finally grown to the point where I was mad with love for him, I cried and cried with the grief I began to feel for the moment he and I didn't share when we first met. 

The physical pain lived on in me too.  My body took a while to recover, breastfeeding proved to rival birth in its level of pain, and I willed myself to hold on to the memory of my labor pains.  The memory was so strong and clear that I could literally feel them when I thought about them.  I wanted that.  I wouldn't let go of them.  I wanted to remind myself of how intense and, sadly, how horrible my experience had been. 

When you sum it all up into one word, my first birth experience was one of trauma.  Home-birthing women don't like to use that word.  We birth at home in part because of the trauma stories we hear about in the medicalized environment.  Truth is, birth trauma isn't necessarily iatrogenic; of course it isn't.  Even having the exact birth you want, regardless of environment, can still result in trauma.  Not all births are happy -- even when you have all ten fingers and ten toes accounted for and functioning fully.  Although I must say, I'm still glad I birthed at home.  I still believe in the reasons that compelled me to choose home birth and if I had gone through the same thing in the hospital, I don't imagine it would have gone any better.  Plus I would have been in a colder environment and if I'm going to go through something that hard, I want to have the comforts and familiarity of home around me.

Regin's birth also had permanent effects on my health.  I have never been the same.  My hypoglycemia rose to a new level of sensitivity (and worsened still after a half marathon I did later that same year), and I've yet to get it under control.  Although we'd never planned to have an only child, the trauma I (we) went through, plus the effect it had on my health made us think I might not be able to handle more.  When I found myself pregnant again last year I was terrified.  It took me some time to come to accept it, and when I finally did, I knew I would do everything in my power to make sure my experience this time would be different.  And it was.

To be continued.
Part 2 -- Preparations, coming tomorrow...

More Popcorn & Coke for everyone!

Funny that I chose the name "Popcorn and a Coke" for my movie blog given that I'm hypoglycemic and can't consume either of those things. Well, I didn't know it then, and I definitely had my share of popcorn before I knew that it was hurting me. Anyway, I am totally off-topic.

Just wanted to let you all know that I am hereby and officially reviving the old movie blog. Let's see how it goes. You can check out my latest posts on the actual blog or you can follow me on Twitter.

So far, so good.  It's actually kind of unbelievable the kind of fast connections you can make on Twitter.  Within a few hours of starting my account I was being followed by the likes of Moviemaker Magazine and I got an invitation to a local film event tonight.  If I want to attend "professionally", I can also get VIP seating for next week's Film On The Rocks.

None of that is really as exciting as it sounds, it means very little to be followed by someone in many cases.  But there seems to be some opportunity here to gain access to some kind of success that I didn't have access to before.  Mostly I'm just excited to start the blog again.  I really miss it.  These other blogs have sort of taken precedent by default when I became a parent with all the associated family news and photos.  But P&C was my first blog-love, and I hope I kind find time to bring it back.

By the way, I also have a personal account for Twitter.  I don't want to advertise it publicly, so let me know if you want it and I'll email it to you.

Cheese crisps

I have finally perfected this snack! I have tried variations that use alterntive flours, but have found 100% cheese comes out best.


Sliced cheddar, monteray jack, pepperjack

Make sure they are fairly evenly sliced. Put them on baking sheets covered with parchment (very important. They become absolutely welded to the sheets themselves or to aluminum foil.)
Bake at 350 F until done. Monterey/pepper jack (left) will turn brown when done, cheddar (right) will not. But basically they are done when the cheese is no longer gooey. Remove from sheets, cool, eat! They are perfectly crisp!

I have experimented with a few cheeses. Some work, some don't. Mozzerella definitely doesn't work.

Coconut Pancakes

So some of you have wondered how the coconut flour has been working.  Well... It's tricky, but some things have turned out pretty well.  Particularly my cakes, muffins, and these coconut pancakes.

I got the recipe from the coconut flour cookbook I found on Amazon, and I tried variations where I used dairy substitutions for the oil and coconut milk, and I have to say, the most moist, delicious, and fluffy versions were when I stuck with all coconut.  I add ground vanilla bean, and I substitute the sugar with xylitol and/or a smidge of honey and they come out great!  Everyone in the fam loves em.  Especially when made into peanut butter (actually sunflower seed butter) and jelly (fruit-sweetened jam) sandwiches.  Regin asks for those daily.

Shrimp curry with noodles.

So these kelp noodles have turned out to be trickier than I originally thought. For starters, they have this faint smell that I really dislike. Once they're all sauced up, you can't tell, but when I'm cleaning and cooking them, the smell affects me like I'm pregnant, and I want nothing to do with them. Bummer. But again, it's really faint.


Second, they have a really bizarre texture that can be cooked off, but though I have prepared some 5 or 6 batches now, I still can't figure out how I get it right when I do! At first I doused them in oil and cooked them with a bunch of other stuff and no problem. So I thought it was the liquid. So I boiled them in water first the next time. Didn't work. No matter how long I boiled, they still kept they're crunchy, rubbery texture. Even tried adding a bunch of oil and nothing, that is, until I added the sauce. So the next time I cooked them in the sauce, which really didn't work. So now I cook them in water first (with some oil) and then drain and cook in sauce. Works fine, but I am not sure if there are steps I could be eliminating or should be adding.


On to the shrimp curry...


I found a Thai curry paste at the grocery store that doesn't have any sweetener (yay!), and basically you just add it to coconut milk which I always have on hand now since I use it a lot in my cooking. So for this dish I add the coconut milk and paste to the noodles, mix around, add whatever vegetables I want (here I've been adding frozen, whole spinach, and canned, roasted tomatoes), plus whatever cooked meat I want (in this case shrimp). Some xylitol for sweetness, which I could skip if I'd cooked some onions down in the pot first. Then season as needed, add a little turmeric for color, and it's done! For added crunch and freshness I add julienned cucumbers, zucchini, or toss some bean sprouts on top. Some sort of chopped nuts would be good too.


It's pretty good, though a little bitter. Is it the paste? The noodles? I don't know! The second time I added some lemon juice to counteract the bitterness, which worked, but then my dish was sour which is not very 'curry'. But both times I made this, the leftovers were way tastier, though also mushier.


So, these noodles aren't exactly simple to work with. I guess I have to just keep experimenting, because it's great to have noodles again!


By the way, they also do fine with pasta sauce and cheese, maybe some sausage. Mmmmmm...

A Hypoglycemic/Organic Meal

Wild Buffalo Burgers, Baked Curry-Seasoned Broccoli, Butternut "Fries", and home-made ketchup:

Cucumber-Tomato Salad with Lemon-Olive-Oil Dressing:

Banana-Coconut Flour Cake Topped with Apple Butter and Whipped Cream

That last one is super iffy for a lot of hypoglycemics, including me. But I have it only on occasion. It's made with 100% coconut flour, bananas, a small amount of honey, and eggs. It's topped with home-made whipped cream with no added sweeteners.
I got the recipe for the cake from this muffin recipe and modified it a bit. I reduced the honey, put it in a cake pan, and extended the cooking time. I've made this cake three times now (this first time pictured here as well as two layered versions for birthdays), and I've since made a lemon cake from coconut flour. I've found it important to put a piece of parchment paper down and thoroughly grease the pan before the pouring batter. I added a thin smear of apple butter on top (under the cream) and it gives it a nice little acidic kick. I also put it between layers on the layered versions. The apple butter I used is not sweetened, other than with apples.

YUM!

NOODLES!!!

One of the things I never get to have that I really love?  Noodles.  Being grain free pretty much makes them impossible.  I've tried some substitutes:  spaghetti squash, enoki mushrooms.  I have read about others: cooked bean sprouts.  Well today I received another box of food goodies in the mail: kelp noodles!

OK, I also thought they sounded kind of gross; they're raw and ready to eat and made from kelp.  I imagined dark green twisty strips that were about linguine size and tasted like fishy shoe leather (I had a bad experience with a seaweed snack once).  But the promise of noodles made me order a batch anyway.  What I received was something that was virtually indistinguishable from fine rice noodles (think ramen but translucent and of a more angel-hair gauge.)

I know you're probably thinking, "yes, but what about the icky taste?"  Well, I have a higher tolerance for odd flavors now with my odd diet, and I had put fishy shoe leather out of my mind, so I was still excited and quickly dreamed up a quick stir fry recipe.  I threw in eggs, spinach, tomatoes, chunks of leftover meat, oil, soy sauce, etc., and ended up with this:

I suppose I should have highlighted the noodles more in the photo,
but if you look at the pale, translucent strings in the center
and the bottom center of the picture, those are they!

Turns out... the noodles are perfectly noodley.  They are white, fine, and have no weird seaweedy flavor!  They barely have any flavor.  They bathe themselves in the flavors that surround them, just as they should.  I did have to put a whole lot of oil on them for them to not stick together in one massive clump, and I had to cook them for ages to convert that weird chewy/crunchy/rubbery texture to a more palatable consistency.  But I did it, and it was good, and hubby went back for seconds and thirds, so it must have been OK.  Actually it was better than OK.  It was a bowl of stir-fried noodles!

These noodles have lots of good qualities beyond being noodley.  They have zero grams of carbs (or protein or fat for that matter!!!), very little salt, and are only six flipping calories per serving!  WHAT?!?!?  They're mostly made up of water and fiber I guess.  And of course they contain the nutrients of the sea.

If you're wondering where you can get you're own kelp noodles, wonder no more!  You naturally just set a course for kelpnoodles.com in your address bar and you will arrive at the site of the Sea Tangle Noodle Company.  You'll know what to do when you get there.

Updates and stuff!

I have been so quiet since we got back from Thailand, I know.  I'm sorry.  I know you're as tired of hearing the word as I am of saying it, but my HYPOGLYCEMIA (shhh!) has been completely out of control since we returned from our trip and I honestly haven't been up for much, including photo editing and blogging.  I haven't even taken notes for the past few weeks, so when I hit this spot in my travel log, it'll go something like this:

"Weeks x-z, did stuff.
Weekends, wanted to do stuff but stayed in.
Saw some doctors and stuff somewhere in there."

Anyway, I finally hit a rock-bottom crash and I've decided.  That's it.  I am going home.  I can't be home alone with Regin and going through these crashes.  No more feeling guilty about leaving and what I should and haven't done, no more thoughts about other travel plans.  It's all done.  I need some family TLC and I really can't make the most of my stay here in this state anyway.  I was waiting on my results from a glucose monitor that I was hooked up to for three days, but then I thought, why am I waiting?  Whatever I learn from the results I can take back and use it for whatever help I get in the States where I have more people around me for support.  Anyway, I'm supposed to get those results tomorrow.

So cross your fingers for me that it goes well!

No travel plans are set.  It'll be asap.  As soon as we can wrap a few things up here and get a flight out, we'll be on our way.  If there's time, we'll have a little going away/birthday party (I'll be 31 on Friday) before we go.  The plan is for George to come with now and then he'll have to go back to Penang for a bit after the holidays.

I'm looking forward to seeing you all again very soon now!  I'm a little nervous about the weather we're heading into and whether or not I've lost my tolerance for cold.  I'm online looking for warm clothes for Regin that can be delivered to my parents' place since he has only summer stuff.  Come to think of it, we don't have much warm stuff either.  I suppose we should look for a few things for us too!

Lots of love and see you soon!
xoxoxoxo

A clean bill of health?

I had a whole series of blood/urine tests last week, then an ultrasound for some abdominal complaints on Saturday.  I brought all the results back to our doctor (yeah we're still with the same one.  It's just too much trouble to find a new one at this point.)  She goes through each line nodding, saying, "good... good... cholesterol good... nothing wrong on the ultrasound... kidneys look good... liver... pancreas... ."  And then she looks up at me and says, "you're in great health!"

Funny.  I don't feel like I'm in great health, which is exactly what I told her.  She then mentions things about stress and such.

There seems to be a common theme here.  She, the endocrinologist, and the dietitian all seem to think I could do with some psycho-therapeutic help.  While that may be true, it's not what is causing my issues, and if we're going to examine the causal relationship between my hypoglycemic symptoms and my psychological issues we would have to conclude the opposite:  the latter will be resolved by treating the former, or, put another way, the latter IS from the former.  My psychological issues are, by and large, symptoms of my hypoglycemia.

It's not unusual for doctors to dismiss hypoglycemia symptoms as psychological.  After everything I have read and researched I believe that, in truth, not just mine, but most psychological problems should be treated as hypoglycemia!  This includes anxiety, depression, alcoholism and criminal behavior, even schizophrenia!  The list goes on and on.  And then there are lists of "physical" ailments that are linked to hypoglycemia. 

GET THE PICTURE PEOPLE!  IF YOU WANT TO BE IN GOOD HEALTH AND STOP SUFFERING FROM THAT/THOSE _________________ (headaches? phobias? chronic fatigue? aches and pains? bronchitis? heart conditions? cancer? -- yes I have read about links with ALL of these to hg) STOP PUTTING CRAPPY FUEL INTO YOUR BODY!!!

It is so hard on me to see people putting crap in their bodies every day and dismissing any concerns about how their diets can put them in my shoes.  When I tell many of you that I have HG, most of you say, "sucks to be you!"  When I suggest that you may also have it (though not as severe) and that you should also change your diet you say, "no way!  Are you nuts?"  Yes.  I am nuts.  But regardless of that I have a hard time not taking your refusal personally.

I know you love and enjoy all of those foods and drinks you won't give up.  Believe me, I know how hard it would be (is) to stop.  And, realistically, I wouldn't want to give them up either.  But your refusal and immediate dismissal is like telling a mother of a drunk-driving victim that there is no way (how ridiculous!) you'd give up drinking and driving.  There are, of course, some obvious, major differences, but bare with me while I explain.

First, it says to me that you don't take your own health seriously, or the impact it has on others, or even that there are very limited ways in which you're willing to improve your current health issues, which I guess is all normal, but it also says that you won't do anything you can to avoid being in my situation, and by extension (at least in my crazy mind), you wouldn't save me if you could.

But there is little I can do to convince you all isn't there?  I mean if it were absolutely proven that my issues were actually caused by some other illness and I could go back to eating anything I wanted, wouldn't I?  I have to just let it go just like all the other things I get riled up about.  And besides, I'm getting off topic a smidge.


Back at the doctor's office...
OK so I'm annoyed that she's not taking my hypoglycemia as a legitimate complaint and that she doesn't see it as evidence of compromised health, but I have to admit, it's an awfully sweet feeling to hear that I'm otherwise doing so well.  And it was fun to think it proof that there is nothing wrong with the high protein, high (saturated) fat and high calorie content of my diet.  Proof also that mainstream nutrition information is totally bogus. 

Then George whacks my head out of the clouds with a big old baseball bat.  Maybe, for example, my cholesterol was even lower before and it's now on the rise.  We'll have to wait for future blood scans to decide anything so bold as my diet being the true ideal.

But you know, I did get the ultrasound for a reason.  When I ask the doctor about my stomach complaints, she decides it must be gas.
"Do you have a lot of wind?"
"No."
"I think it's wind."
???

How We're Doing Update

I just updated our "How We're Doing Right Now" with the following:

December 1st, 2008
We finally started traveling in neighboring countries, or 'country' rather, a few weeks ago.  We went to Thailand and had a nice time.  Since we got back two weeks ago, my hypoglycemia has been out of control.  I've been to see a doctor, a dietitian, and an endocrinologist.  I have had all sorts of tests and further tests and things are planned.  I have mixed feelings about whether or not they can help me.  For one thing, hypoglycemia is completely unheard of in Malaysia.  Add that to the fact that I am still struggling to feed myself using what's available to me locally, and I'm starting to feel like it may be time for me to consider cutting my trip here short.

There are so many things here that I have come to love, and I'm afraid I will regret a decision to leave early, but my illness affects everyone around me, and I simply can't let it go on the way it has.  At least not without trying as hard as I can to make sure everything has been investigated and everything tried.  Poor Regin has been stuck at home alone with an angry and not-fully-functioning mamma, and George has had to miss work to come home and take care of me when it's gotten really bad.

Some days I'm not sure if it's because of the illness that I want to go back or if it's because visiting Thailand has released me from my need to stay (because I haven't totally wasted my time here now that I've officially traveled), but I can tell you that I am absolutely through dealing with things like ants taking up residence in my kitchen scale, cockroaches wandering in and out of my mixing bowls, and geckos pooping on our clean silverware.  These things can be resolved with some fumigation, but that's hard for a toxin-avoiding ecophile to agree to. 

George is already talking about places we'll live in next (after some time in Colorado).  Naturally, with his Miami upbringing, he wants more of this kind of climate.  I don't.  I don't want to live somewhere where I have to choose between losing my sanity and pumping my world full of nasty chemicals.  I am also having some trouble with the lack of seasons now.  There are no cycles or feelings of conclusion and beginning.  Life is an endless, ongoing stream of consciousness with few mile-markers to let you know how far along you've come.  I suppose that must be part of why it's so hellish to live in the far north with six months of day and six months of night.  So I suppose places like that would be out for me too.  Still, they seem so romantic to me now as I close my eyes and dream of vast landscapes covered in snow and ice.

Crushed with defeat

There's a not so fun thing about hypoglycemia: extreme excitement over foods I can eat often leads to enormous disappointment when it turns out I can't.  Sometimes those new foods turn out to be triggers for a hypoglycemic crash.

I crashed (big) yesterday after having flax foccacia toast with breakfast.  There are other possible contributing factors, but the bread is the most likely cause.  I was totally depressed until I decided to either get some real medical help here real soon or go back to the States for help.  I mean in the next week or two.  I can't wait until February to fix this.  Obviously I'm not that successful with self-treatment.  I know I'm generally better, but I should be pretty much symptom-free if I'm eating right and that's just not the case.

Furthermore, after a year, I should have a better handle on what I can and cannot eat.  For instance, I can't for the life of me figure out what the real, biological difference is between a grain, a nut, and a seed.  And it therefore seems totally illogical that I can't have the first one, but I can have the others.  Are grains not also seeds?  And did the fact that I had a blob of fiber for breakfast, thereby making breakfast less protein-heavy, cause my crash?  Are there more carbs in flax than I thought?  Or was it the baking powder in the recipe which probably has some corn starch in it?  If I use baking soda and cream of tartar instead, can I eat the bread with breakfast?  Or is this bread fine as long as I eat it later in the day when I can tolerate things better?  Should I be eating anything that I have to schedule like that?  I mean isn't it bad no matter what, even if I can better tolerate it at certain times?

I need to attack this more aggressively, because not only do I suffer, but everyone around me does too. And it's really taking its toll on me for sure.

Maybe I will only have meat and squash for a while and see what happens.  I'm also seriously thinking about looking into the cost of a personal chef for a month or so and calling it a medical expense.  I can't deal with food anymore.  It's overwhelming.  I have to eat so often and every single time it's a difficult decision for a foggy brain to handle.  Then add to that that I have to find creative ways to feed a picky toddler to eat.  I have to be honest and say that many times I just give Regin a piece of bread and/or cheese because my sad, slothy, hypoglycemia-addled brain can't manage to come up with something better, and my patience is so low thanks to my low blood sugar that I will do almost anything for Regin to stop whining, even if it's only been a few seconds since he started.  So much for the mom who was going to work so hard to make sure her son had good nutrition.  And the cycle continues.  He'll undoubtedly suffer similar health problems as a result.

This can't go on!  A change has to be made right away!

Will keep you posted.

The miracle of bread

I have a lot of catch up and photo editing to do before I can resume Penang and Thailand posts, but in the meantime I thought I'd another awesome food moment I had today.

The fun thing about hypoglycemia (if there can be a fun thing) is that suddenly food becomes miraculous.  Every newly accomplished recipe is a great victory and every new food I can eat is a gift from the gods.  I'm getting fat again because I have rediscovered junk food.  I don't have potato chips, but I have super-high-calorie seaweed crisps.  And now, in addition to almond flour bread, pancakes, and yes, crepes, I have flax foccacia!  And for the first time, I can have real sandwiches again thanks to this recipe!

It didn't look all that pretty in the pan.  I definitely have some not-so-nice visual comparisons to make.  But beggars can't be choosers, right?  I figured it would taste about how it looked, but I was already excited about how springy it was when I touched it.  It was like real bread!  Then I broke off a corner and ate it warm with butter.  It tasted like real bread!  And it's fairly fluffy too!  I'd actually prefer it to be a little denser, it's so fluffy!

Cut it up into 12 servings.  I was so excited to see how "bready" it looked.  See what I mean about miracles?  Are any of you ever this excited about bread?

George started craving brownies when he saw this photo.  Too bad.  I had a bad reaction to the Stevia I got from my mom, so I won't even be making carob brownies until I can try some natural stevia to see if it's better for me.

Very thick and fluffy.  Too thick for a sandwich. Maybe a bun?  George suggested I slice each piece in half for sandwiches.

Ta da!  I'm going to go out and buy some meat to put on this now!  Maybe some prosciutto!  MMMmmmm...

For those of you who don't need to make flax foccacia, you may want to try it anyway.  The taste is mild, even Regin and George liked it, and the health benefits of flax are tremendous.  Not to mention that this is one of the easiest recipes I have ever tried.  And fast!  I had bread (BREAD!) in half an hour (including prep time!)  Is all foccacia that easy and fast?

It was much less expensive than almond bread too.  I mean, I get 12 sandwiches from one batch, from one small bag of flax (two cups of meal).  I think the bag was a couple of bucks.  Whereas one canister of almond powder (that I get here in Penang) is $15 and that gets me a single loaf and that bread isn't at all sandwich-friendly.

Tips for flax:  always grind it yourself, a coffee grinder worked great for me; if it tastes strong or bitter, the flax is bad.  Fresh flax has a mild taste.  Also, it calls for sweetener, but I went without and it tasted fine.  If you are one of those who needs a hint of sweet in their breads (like American breads have) then I'm sure a little pinch of whatever would work fine.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands! [UPDATED]

I'm absolutely THRILLED to have found a copy of this book at one of the local book stores.

It has lots of almond-flour based recipes in it.  It also has lots of honey in it, which is a shame, but I'm hoping most of the recipes will still work either without honey or with Stevia instead.  Here's hoping!  Wish me luck!

I think I'm going to try and make almond-flour crepes for lunch today.  I have some sandwich makings to go inside as a wrap.  Wahoo!

I'm also excited to try this flax bread recipe.  I just have to get my hands on some flax that hasn't gone off.  Did you know that flax is bitter if it has started to go rancid?  That's why my pizza kept coming out bitter!

[UPDATE:  I made the crepes and had an almost normal lunch!  They were good, but they broke apart a little easily.  Maybe because there was no honey/sugar?]

Penang -- Week 30 -- Staving Off Anger

MONDAY - THURSDAY, October 6th - 9th
George is back to work after almost a week at home.  Ouch!  Not used to this.  Parenting alone again is rough!  Regin and I have a rough couple of days at the beginning of the week as we readjust.  I seriously need a day off from mothering.  It's so hard sometimes and when people tell you that you don't get breaks, it's so true.  But I never realized how hard that would be psychologically.  It's obviously seriously compounded by my hypoglycemia which gives me the heavy grumpies from time to time (read: almost every day). 

The hypoglycemia is really frustrating me.  I thought I was doing better.  My big weight loss tells me I'm doing better (improper diet causes hypoglycemics to store more fat).  But I'm still having daily symptoms.  They're not as extreme as they were, but they're still there and they make me feel pretty sorry for my little boy.  I did feel better after I gave up breastfeeding, but I must confess... I fell off the wagon.  I stopped for three days and then I nursed Regin again (just to see if I still could).  We took another two-day break after that and now we're back to nursing almost every day.  I had no idea how hard it would be to stop! 

I'm also feeling better since I gave up grains last week.  Baby steps I guess.

Thursday I am trying to pull myself out of those dumps and enjoy something from my culture.  It's one thing you're supposed to do to keep the homesickness at bay.  So I'm making stuff for Halloween.  I haven't seen any Halloween decor for sale here, and I don't expect to (heck, I haven't even seen a place to buy party supplies!), so I'm making everything from scratch with my limited craft stash -- I still haven't been to a craft store here.  It's fun to make the decorations, but I wish I had all my stuff here to go all-out.

I'm learning to bake almond bread and I'm SUPER excited about that.  Even though I'm not a sweet tooth, and I don't really miss the foods I've had to give up, the struggle makes me bitter.  When I go out to eat and struggle to find something on the menu and someone at the table next to us is pouring syrup over their ice cream I get really angry at my illness.  The idea that I can eat baked goods of any kind is such a relief!  Maybe no more anger now - and no slip ups with grains. 

By the way, I have a cereal substitute:  chopped raw pecans (sometimes other nuts seeds too) with milk.  Yum.

Another bright spot in my week:  Regin learned how to climb on his rocker by himself.  Sometimes he ended up sitting side-saddle, sometimes he fell off, sometimes he sat in it backwards, but he can get on it by himself and he is pretty excited about it!

 

 

PANCAKES! PANCAKES! PANCAKES!

I used this recipe, and made these almond-flour pancakes this morning!

You have NO IDEA how exciting it was for me to have pancakes!  Yay almond flour and yay stevia!  Thanks so much Mamma for sending the stevia, and yes please on some more!

Recent Adventures in Food

We know that my diet is difficult with my hypoglycemia, but Regin also has his own set of peculiarities when it comes to food.  And though I know he doesn't mind the taste, I have a heckuva time trying to get his daily veggies in due to texture and other issues.   So I'm forever trying to find ways to make veggies more appetizing to him.  One solution I found was to make veggie smoothies.  He usually likes them, some versions more than others, but I'm not happy about the fruit juice/banana I have to use to make the smoothie sweet. 

Another solution I found was to cut steamed veggies with cookie cutters.

My first try was with sweet potato flowers.  Each had a dab of butter as the flower's center.  Regin loved them!

He went straight for the ones that still had visible centers first.  So... when I went to make veggie shapes again, and didn't have butter (or cream to make butter with), I dabbed ketchup for the centers.

He likes to explore the feeling of ketchup, but does not like to eat it.  Maybe that's why he's giving me the finger.

Another new thing we've tried is almond butter and jelly sandwiches.  I'm still too influenced my American fears to give him peanut butter even though it's probably fine.  But he's had almonds before, so I gave him almond butter (which is up to about $10 a teeny jar here!)  Another example of his texture issues...  It was all touch and no taste.

One important thing I've learned from all my research is that you can't assume that kids don't like something because they turn their noses up at it a couple of times.  Apparently you have to give it to them at least ten times before they'll start to accept and eat some things.  So I'm staying on with the veggies.  I refuse to be one of those mothers who feeds their kids crap because that's all they'll eat.  I know that can't be true.  It's not like kids in other cultures starve themselves rather than eating whatever rice and vegetables their mothers have prepared. 

As far as cooking for me.  I'm absolutely extatic, since having given up grain, to have discovered almond flour!  I have been making myself almond bread once or twice a week.  I've mostly used almonds I grind myself with a coffee grinder.  But those come out dense, heavy, and wet.  I've also tried store-bought almond powder which I have found in a couple of the tiny organic stores here.  That came out fluffy, almost like cake (using the same recipe)!  All I need is some stevia and I can have something baked AND sweet!  Haven't found stevia yet though, and no, I cannot eat artificial sweeteners.  They give an insulin response.  Besides, keep those yucky chemicals away from me! 

I've also tried combos of the almond flour with coconut flour, and some variations ended up like cornbread.  Yum!  But none of them will really hold as a piece of bread or cake.  Everything crumbles.  Time to try a new recipe perhaps.

Here's my cakey almond bread baking away in my tiny oven...

Ooh, I think I might make some more tonight.

Happy 18 months: NO BOOB FOR YOU!

I'm such a rotten mother.  Regin's 18-month birthday came and went (yesterday) and I didn't even pay attention.  There are no photos of him from the day, so no way to record how he actually looked on the day he became 18 months old.  Course, it's still the day of in Denver, so I will go ahead and pretend it's today!

To celebrate, I'm cutting him off from breast milk!  100%!  I've been sort of wishy washy about it, and cut back on the number of feedings, or feedings at certain times.  I believe breast milk would be beneficial for him still, and I had intended to go to two years.  But it's aggravating my hypoglycemia, and he needs a sane, nice, calm, happy Mamma more than he needs the nutrients in my milk. 

I'm soooo very hopeful that this will make a huge improvement in my condition. Please cross your fingers for me/us!

P.S. the photos are of him begging and whining for milk ("Meel! Meel!") earlier today.  I stood my ground.  No milk for you!

Penang -- Week 17/18 -- Potato Hangover

THURSDAY, July 10th
I decide to host play group again since I'm not hearing from the girls.  It's just Rachel and me this time.  Brandy is in the Cameron Highlands for a little break from the heat, and Missy is teaching a summer course at the International School.  It is so much fun to sit and chat with Rachel.  I really enjoy her.  Plus, I am SO excited because she (she's the linguist, you remember) confirms this theory I had about Malaysian English.  Let me explain...

So, I noticed way early on that they say "already" a lot, and at weird times.  For instance, whenever the maid at the hotel was finished, he/she would say, "Miss, I finish already," before exiting our suite.  I wondered what they were implying!  Were they wanting me to be impressed with the speed of their cleaning?

After some time I started realizing that it was whenever something was in the past tense they would say "already."  Knowing that Malay is an extremely economical language that doesn't have the same kind of verb conjugations (if any) that other languages generally have, I decided that "already" had to be something carried over from Malay. They must use some kind of word as a marker of tense since their grammar doesn't otherwise give them a tense.  Rachel says I'm right that they do that in Malay, and she is impressed.  Today I'm totally feeling like I should have studied linguistics.  It was (is) one of my many interests and definitely one I considered spending serious time on in college.

Week 18

FRIDAY, July 11th

We're invited to dinner with the Paz's and some of their family who are in town visiting.  It is SUCH a fun night.  We have lots of laughs over dinner.  I always get a kick out of Carmen and Fernando who are both terrific storytellers.  And their relatives are funny too.  We get to hear about the wild adventures the C & F have taken them on and what they think about their experiences here.  The restaurant is terrific.  An absolute haven for George and me who just LOVE this kind of stylish little spot that you only hear about through word of mouth.  It used to be a house and retains a lot of the history of the home, and yet it's this quietly modern place with personality, and cozy decor.  There is a little jazz club area too and there is a fabulous singer performing.  The food is also fabulous.  I have these amazing tuna skewers and George has the tradional Penang favorite -- Char Koay Teow.  On our way out the other two couples dance some hustle to some disco tunes.  There are only two downsides to the experience.  One -- the smoke, such a shame, but it really does affect me now.  Two -- I accidentally ate mashed potatoes (the menu said pureed beans) I now have a hangover-like feeling through Monday!

Afterward we go salsa dancing at our usual spot: Hai Nam Town

Other random photos:

Regin on the pot -- we're trying so hard to make it a positive experience for him again.  We still haven't regained much of the ground we lost when we moved here, but at least he's willing to sit there again and occasionally 'go.'