Feeling a little Raw

Today is the third anniversary of my late postpartum hemorrhage.  I have a post draft telling the story of that day and how it brought me to a place of shame and fear.  I thought that I was reconciled with everything that happened and had forgiven myself for my own culpability in those events.  You guys, I just can’t post it.  It’s undone and I’m undone.

Yesterday, I met with the reporter to tell my story of postpartum depression.  It went really well.  There was an unexpected outpouring of support from all of you.  I took you with me to the interview and you all cheered me on.  Thank you!

The reporter had some technical issues and we spent about 15 minutes off record while fixing equipment where she was curious of all the details of my story, because she cared. There is something about saying the words, not just writing or thinking them that makes them real.  To be clear, the reporter didn’t do anything wrong or push me too hard.  She was extremely kind, gentle, and supportive.  It was me picking a scab that I thought was fully healed, but ended up being a bleeder.

In reflecting on why I’m so much more emotional about this than I thought I would be, I’ve come up with a few things:

1.  It’s been a pretty heavy week for a few friends and I always try to be strong when others can’t be for themselves.  Many have done it for me and I’m repaying the gift.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’m beat.
2. This week has been so much busier than I thought it would be.
3. Sometimes forgiving yourself once isn’t enough.  Sometimes you have to do it over and over again.

Since I have a really difficult time leaving anything on a dour note, we’re all going to laugh at my attempt to make fresh, hot meals this week.

Groceries purchased with a number of things on the menu (dates not specified… #fail): roast chicken, pork tenderloin, lamb shanks, and egg bake.  (All the protein was on sale at the grocery store, which drove my menu. We’ve never had lamb shanks before.)  Sunday afternoon feeling completely on my game, I got my chicken roasting and had the brilliant idea to make my egg bake that has to rest overnight.  At approximately 8:00 p.m. I realized that Monday we had a sitter, because both of us had work commitments in the evening.  Egg bake is not something my children enjoy.  They’re crazy not to like it, but I wasn’t going to leave the babysitter to cram it down their throats… I enjoy that so much.

Monday morning I put the egg bake in the oven to get it fully cooked, since it isn’t supposed to be refrigerated for more than 24 hours and it is raw eggs, which I don’t like to mess with.  Instead of egg bake, I left a box of macaroni & cheese out for dinner with the sitter. I also clean up the crock pot bone broth I had made with the chicken carcass.  Both egg bake and chicken stock head to the garage for near zero cooling for the day.  I head out to work with the intent of returning home late that night.

Tuesday night we eat reheated egg bake.  Brilliant.  Although the kids thought I was trying to poison them, but clearly my desire to not let raw eggs sit in dried bread in the fridge for more than 24 hours, that was not the case.

Last night I got home from work completely exhausted and looked at my mini-list “menu.”  I pull up the lamb shank recipe to see that while it is only 20 minutes prep, it is two-hour “hands off” time.  Fail.  The tenderloin could have been an option, but I’ve been dying to try a crock pot recipe a friend suggested.  Whenever faced with this pinch, I do one of two things: start browning an onion or start boiling water.  Boiling water is always the easier option, which was direction I went.  When my husband walked in he asked if we were having macaroni & cheese.  This likely speaks to my dinner in a pinch track record.  Instead I pulled pork ragu from the freezer and it was a much bigger hit than the previous night’s meal.  The only critique from Bigs was that the sauce wasn’t think enough, which was true.  While everything cooked/reheated, I made the sauce for the crock pot pork tenderloin.  It called for serrano peppers and I’ve learned my lesson.  I used rubber gloves to chop it up, because it burns my skin.

This morning I put everything in the crock pot only needing to pour the sauce in.  I didn’t put rubber gloves back on to do this, but now realize since my fingers (still) smell like peppers and my right eye is burning that it was a mistake

In conclusion, thanks to the serrano peppers I look like the big weepy mess that I totally am today.  At least dinner will be ready when I get home tonight.