blueberry pineapple smoothie recipe, but first...

The intent of this blog post is to give a smoothie recipe (scroll down if that's all you're looking for), but first...

A lot is changing in my life right now, or has changed in the last year plus. A lot of that has to do with this little dude.

I had always said that "I want to be healthier and fit for the sake of my children because how can I convince them that something is good for them if I'm not living that way?" This same sentiment applies to basically everything. If I spend no time in prayer, how can I convince my kids that it's important? If I spend no time caring for the poor and underprivileged, how can I convince my kids that it's important? If I spend no time reading instead of watching TV...etc etc etc. It's not about faking it to try to get them in line. In fact, it's the opposite. If these things are actually important to me, then they'll be showing up in my life; I won't have to tell my kids what I believe is important, they'll see it as they watch me live my life. This is not about a facade and then it's also not about seeking perfection, which is very easy for me to resort to. There must also be grace, getting a donut on a rough day, and a lot of confessing my shortcomings--which are also things I want to live out with my kids. 

So, this journey of seeking to put rubber to the road of what I know is good for us and then actually doing it is multi-faceted. One of those facets is seeking manageable and repeatable ways to make healthy eating and living choices. There are two main ways I'm seeking to do this. The first is something I'm going to be spending a lot more time with in other blog posts because a) I have a baby who is probably only content for another 15 minutes in his exersaucer and b) I'm not knowledgeable enough to even write a coherent post. I have recently started what I will call an "Oily Journey" into essential oils through Young Living. And when I say start, I really mean I just started--I just opened my starter kit box last night. I am planning to use this blog to help chronicle that journey, but I may start a new blog altogether for that. All of that = TBD.

The second way I am seeking to make easy, daily changes is smoothie making. I feel really late to this game, but here I am nonetheless. Making smoothies will not be just about meal replacement for weight loss/management, but a way for me to make sure I am getting a well-rounded intake of vitamins, minerals, etc. in a time in my life where it is impossible to do so through thorough menu planning/cooking. I am also a firm believer that although taking vitamins/supplements are a good thing, it is so much better for you (and more enjoyable) to get these things through real food.  For now, I am getting a lot of my research done through this book: 

It is called More Smoothies for Life by Daniella Chace. I chose this book because it seemed to fit best what I was looking for while in Barnes & Nobles one night--recipes as well as explanations of the ingredients--and it had good reviews on Amazon. There might be a better resource out there, but this is where I have chosen to start. 

With all that being said. Here is my first smoothie. Well, first as a part of this journey. (I have got to get into a thesaurus to find more words for the word "journey.")

BLUEBERRY PINEAPPLE SMOOTHIE

Frozen blueberries

Frozen pineapple

1/2 cup-ish cottage cheese 

1 cup-ish milk

2 tbsp ground roasted flax seed

2 tbsp wheat germ

4 drops liquid stevia

I didn't use any measuring tools except for the tbsp with the wheat germ and flaxseed. I just sort of put it all together until it seemed like a good texture for me. The flavor is sort of granola-y because of the wheat germ and flaxseed, which I like since I had it as a breakfast smoothie. Now, a little bit about why I chose these ingredients:

MILK: I needed a liquid, and because it has calcium

BLUEBERRIES: well, yum, but also because of antioxidants and phytochemicals--I didn't know that word until I started reading this book. According to Chase, phytochemicals are "naturally occurring plant chemicals" that are having studies done revealing that they can at times be more powerful in preventing or healing diseases than "pharmaceutical agents" (p. 2). 

PINEAPPLE: again, yum, and for vitamin C and the enzyme bromelain, which possibly reduces inflammation in the body (p. 286).

COTTAGE CHEESE: a non-powder form of protein--it has 14g of protein in just a 1/2 cup

FLAXSEED: omega-3 fatty acids & magnesium; good for inflammation & releasing toxins (p. 118).

WHEAT GERM: vitamin E and CoQ10; has cysteine, which is "an amino acid that plays a major role in removing heavy metals and environmental toxins from our bodies" (p. 32). note: I was unable to get this at Trader Joe's, which surprised me, but I found it at Target with things like oatmeal.

STEVIA: calorie free, natural sweetener; at some point (not in this book but online, so who knows?) I read that stevia can help with regulating blood sugar and cholesterol 

life at the moment

making lists that never get done
rewashing a bear thirty minutes after i finished cleaning it last
changing blow out diapers
tripping on laundry piles
wiping crusty noses
working around dirty dishes
checking temperatures
recommitting to new routines and habit
forgetting to disinfect the humidifier
napping too little
putting in last minute sub jobs
realizing we haven't read all week
sleeping through the alarm for the gym
spending too much money
rolling eyes at the stack of unopened mail
sitting as a luxury
embracing the beauty of a snuggle in the midst of the mess

Laundry List
by Marjorie Maddox

“The ordinary acts we practice every day
at home are of more importance to the soul
than their simplicity might suggest.”
—St. Thomas More

Shake out doubt.
Sliced mustard seeds
gather in creases of what you believed,
once. Find them. Remember the feel
of soft, the soap-smell of calm,
and smooth the fabric ridges.

Claim denim and flannel as rosary,
then fold and refold both
like church bulletins.
Remember to separate
thick from thin, light
from dark, whole
from holey.

Discard completely
the permanently stained, but save
for next week’s pre-wash treatment
your favorite ways to wear
the dirt you’re drawn to
even on wash day,
even mid-cycle of such
necessary ritual cleansings.
Put everything away
in its own neat compartment.
Pray for what you’ve done—
the diligently muddied, the scrubbed—
and left undone—wine on the sheets,
under-the-bed socks.
Most importantly, rinse and—
even when it resembles chore—
repeat.

the times really have changed

I reread an old blog post yesterday. I wrote it a little over a year ago, just a few weeks before moving back to Greenville; here's a selection of it:

"This idea of 'interim' has been on the forefront of my mind because I've realized that this is the way I've been viewing this stage in my life. It's an 'in-between,' a transition between college and where I actually 'want to be.' While in Chicago, though, I was encouraged by a local pastor who shared these words, 

'be fully present

deepen your roots

no matter the timeline'

It doesn't mean to not plan ahead or to 'settle,' especially if you know you are called to prepare for something beyond what you already have, i.e. grad school, buying a house, having a family, etc. What it does mean, though, is to be living fully in every moment, considering what you can do for the neighbors around you now and how you can cultivate community and culture in the city you currently live in. It's scary to consider trying to plant roots even if you know you might be transplanted--being vulnerable and building relationships when you know you might leave is really hard and sometimes counter-intuitive--but your presence won't mean much if you stay packed up in your own little world, meticulously planning what your life will be like rather than fully living in your life now. Be a gift to those who are in your life now. This is real life. This right here. Be fully present. Deepen your roots. No matter the timeline."

Fast-forward. We now have a 3-month old, own a house in Greenville and are prayerfully considering joining a new church plant. Talk about some deepened roots. This post isn't supposed to be a cheesy "Just wait; something great is right around the corner!" kind of message. When I wrote the post above I had no freaking idea what was about to happen over the next 15 months. (Read my blog post from yesterday to get one chapter of that story.) I'm writing this post because I just happened to read what I wrote last August and was encouraged to see how God has been cultivating trust and joy and hope in my heart even in the midst of the most painful experiences of my life. I went from needing to be taught to stop obsessing about "the future" to needing to look to the future every single moment, but not the future of 5 years from now, the future where "He will wipe every tear from [my] eyes."¹ My mantra in this season has been, "This is not forever." At one point this phrase might not have meant much, but now it gives me hope, and that hope enables me to be fully present, deepen my roots, and love others where I am right this moment, because I can rest in trusting that the hard days will one day end and the good days are only a foretaste of what is to come.

¹ Revelation 21:4, ESV

redefining normal, pt. 1: postpartum depression

Normal. The word can hold a pretty heavy punch. There's something about the word that can strip away the urgency of what you're feeling. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes it's not. As I began to see doctors the first weeks after Nate was born I kept being told, "What you are experiencing is normal." But you don't know what I'm thinking, became my inner monologue. You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was thinking. It seemed absolutely impossible that what I was feeling, which I later learned was postpartum depression, could ever be considered “normal.” But it was. When I call postpartum depression “normal” I’m not trying to trivialize it or generalize it, and I’m certainly not trying to strip away its urgency. I’m saying that if you have postpartum depression you are normal because…

you are not alone

you are not to blame

you are not a lost cause

So that we’re on the same page, the CDC defines postpartum depression symptoms as: Trouble sleeping when your baby sleeps (more than the lack of sleep new moms usually get); Feeling numb or disconnected from your baby; Having scary or negative thoughts about the baby, like thinking someone will take your baby away or hurt your baby; Worrying that you will hurt the baby; Feeling guilty about not being a good mom, or ashamed that you cannot care for your baby.¹

One of the most terrifying and destructive qualities of postpartum depression is thinking that you are the only person experiencing what you are experiencing. According to the CDC, however, “8 to 19% of women reported having frequent postpartum depressive symptoms.”¹ That’s a lot of women. That means you know a lot more women who have experienced postpartum depression than you might realize. If it's so common, then, why aren’t we talking about it? Because talking about depression makes people uncomfortable. Because we don’t have (or at least don’t always understand) an explanation for what we’re experiencing. But mostly because we’re scared. We’re afraid of what our feelings mean, and we’re fearful of receiving judgmental reactions. Even though I’m convinced I should share my story and have shared it at least in part with many people, typing these words still makes me uneasy. I’ve been writing and rewriting this post for over a week. I'm afraid of what people will think when they read it. Will they think I don't actually love Nate? Will they think there’s something wrong with me? Will they think I shouldn't be a mom? Will they think they shouldn’t ever become a mom? Will they think...will they think...will they think...?

The first two weeks of recovery were the hardest days of my life. We had to see a lactation consultant several times a week, we bought and moved into our first house, and I was readmitted into the hospital a week after delivery with a uterine infection. All the while, we were in a taxing cycle of attempting to breastfeed, pumping, supplementing with formula, and trying to sleep. I knew logically that difficulty breastfeeding wasn’t my fault, but it was impossible to shake the feelings of failure when I couldn’t do what I thought my body should be able to do. This feeling was only intensified while in the hospital the second time. I couldn’t feed him, comfort him, or get him to sleep. I felt so ashamed, and I believed that Nate would be better off with someone else. I couldn’t breastfeed, so what difference would it make if he were adopted by someone else? I had even convinced myself that Nate didn’t know I was his mom. I felt so disconnected from him, and it was devastating.

A couple of days after being discharged from the hospital the second time, one of the standard postpartum depression survey questions popped into my head. I have no idea why. There was no stimulus. I think I was washing bottles, and suddenly there was the question: Have you ever had thoughts of hurting yourself or your baby? No. But from that moment on, it was all I could think about. I was not actually contemplating hurting myself or Nate, but I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my head. The harder I tried not to think them, the more they swallowed me up. I felt extreme guilt and fear because I could not honestly say that I had never thought about hurting myself or Nate. I was in a constant state of destructive and obsessive self-analysis, trying to decipher the source of and remedy for the thoughts. At one point the thoughts became so strong and persistent that I began to believe I was schizophrenic. I had no other explanation for how my brain was behaving; it was as though my brain had a mind of its own. I would have anxiety attacks, fearing that one day I would simply lose control of my brain and do something awful. If I couldn’t control my thoughts, how could I expect to be able to control my actions?

I would think about women on the news who drowned their children in the bathtub. Due to those mental images, I was afraid of giving Nate a bath for weeks. If I didn’t understand how someone who seemed perfectly normal could do that, then how could I be trusted not to do it? This fear gripped my heart in a way that I had never experienced. I couldn’t enjoy being a mom, and I believed I didn’t deserve to enjoy it. I remember one night looking at Nate and crying, “I just want to enjoy being your mom so much. I just want to love you and take care of you. You are so wonderful and beautiful and loveable, so why am I not happy?” In moments like these I would feel so much shame and guilt. How dare I claim to love my baby if I’m having the struggles I’m having? The worst part was that I convinced myself that if I told my midwife or a counselor about my ruminating thoughts they would take Nate away from me. I was convinced that if I said them out loud, there would be someone from social services on my doorstep in a matter of hours.

After two weeks, I had lost all hope of ever feeling better, and if these feelings were going to be forever, then I just couldn’t do it. I finally decided to talk to someone—someone I knew wouldn’t report me to DSS. I told her as much of my deepest, darkest fears as I could stomach to articulate. Relief washed over me as she said, “Me, too. You are so normal.” This time I couldn’t respond with, “But you don’t know what I’m thinking,” because she did know, and she still told me I was normal. Suddenly, I had hope. I didn’t feel great or even good, but that small amount of hope gave me the confidence I needed to ask for help. Through counseling and medication, that hope continued to grow. Maybe this actually won’t be forever.

In the first few weeks, I didn't understand that depression and anxiety can produce thoughts that you just can't explain. I had to learn that I can’t control whether or not I have postpartum depression, and because I can’t, I have no reason to feel guilt or shame over it. The thoughts and fears are from hormones and chemical imbalances and are not a reflection of the truth. Realizing this condition is out of my control was at first a terror but is now a comfort. I can’t control the chemicals in my brain, and there’s no magic formula for ensuring I have a good day rather than a bad one; therefore, I can rest in the good days, being thankful for them rather than trying to analyze them, and I can rest in the bad days, knowing that they won’t last forever.

I can’t choose whether or not I have depression, but I can choose whether or not I wallow in the darkness. I can’t choose whether or not I have anxiety, but I can choose whether or not I speak truth to my heart rather than listening to the lies. I don’t know if the doubt will ever completely dissipate. I might always struggle with some guilt over how I’ve felt. But I do know that with every story I hear from other women, the voice of accusation gets a little weaker. For example, I read a brave woman’s story on NPR today, and it gave me the confidence to keep writing.² So that’s why I share my story; you need to know you are not alone, things will get better, and you are normal.

Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist, doctor, or licensed counselor. This is not a medical journal but a chapter out of my story. I am not claiming to be an expert on depression or anxiety. I wouldn’t even consider myself an expert on MY depression and anxiety. I share my story not as an expert but as someone who really needed the honesty and hope of other people’s stories in the darkness.

¹ “Depression Among Women of Reproductive Age” http://www.cdc.gov/reproductivehealth/depression/
² “Know The Signs: For Some, Post-Pregnancy Is Anything But Magical”

http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2015/11/01/453618924/know-the-signs-for-some-post-pregnancy-is-anything-but-magical

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