And my heart skipped a beat. Why? Because people are starting to catch on to the Teal Pumpkin Project.

As a mom to a small child with profound food allergies, I get a little terrified around the holidays.  Halloween is the beginning of a challenging food season for our family.  Seasonal treats are everywhere, and impossible to ignore.  As a healthy adult who tries to avoid sugar and can’t tolerate wheat, I find it hard to abstain. It’s an issue of willpower for me. But for my son? It’s a matter of life and death, or at minimum, a trip to the ER. All that separates him from a potential terrible reaction is our vigilance and the respect of strangers.

I would like to say my son is part of a small group of children, but he’s not.  Food allergies in children have increased exponentially in the last 15 years, and now 1 in 13 children has some form of diagnosed food allergy here in the U.S.  Those numbers are only rising.

Peanut allergies get a lion’s share of the food allergy talk, as it should.  Some people are so sensitive to peanuts that even a trace of peanut dust can kill them.  Unfortunately, peanuts are not the only food that cause deathly reactions from trace amounts.  Wheat, dairy, eggs, soy, corn, oats, cinnamon, bananas, peppermint, and many others are just a few that have serious consequences for those who are allergic.

Because we want to keep our kids safe, but also include them, we are joining the Teal Pumpkin Project this year. Here’s how you can join us:

• Paint a pumpkin teal, and put it on your doorstep with your other pumpkins. Kids with food allergies know they can come to your house and get a safe treat, and THEY WILL!
• Offer trick-or-treaters a choice of candy or non-food treats. Kids with food allergies are often singled out for something they can’t control, and feel excluded and embarrassed because of their allergies.  Giving all the kids a choice makes it easier for them to be safe during Halloween festivities without shame.

I know some of you amazing, non-allergy friends want to participate but might not know what give out instead of candy.  This is a new-ish thing, so I’m putting together a handy little guide to help you navigate your Teal Pumpkin Halloween.

Please feel free to grab this image and share it!  Keep it handy and ask questions here or over at FARE. They’re the geniuses behind #tealpumpkinproject and we are so happy to support this awesome movement.

Also, don’t worry about getting the color exactly right or painting it pretty. The message is the most important part! Thank you for keeping our kids safe this season

Funny Tricks and Food-Free Treats,
Carrie

The post A Food-Free Halloween Treat Guide {Teal Pumpkin Project} appeared first on Our Stable Table.

A few weeks ago, our local news station asked our family to do a news segment on FPIES.  We talk about FPIES almost weekly here in an effort to raise awareness around food allergies, and I’m all about raising awareness wherever and whenever I can. So, of course we said yes.

{Watch our story here.}

I love the story, I love how well they captured the sweetness of my boy, his gentle, joyful spirit, and most of all his interaction with his dad. The news got about 85% of the story right, and I’m grateful for that.  But they missed a few details, and one major detail that I want to express:

Echo’s illness changed everything.

From the ashes of that first year, a new life was born.  I don’t mean a human life, (although we were terrified of losing our baby for the first 18 months of his life).  But this.  This work, this site, this whole idea was formed from the grief.

In the summer of 2014, my long-time friend, Jessica, asked me to write our story for The Leaky Boob.  I was in the middle of dealing with massive PTSD, chronic mastitis from exclusively pumping milk from boobs that just wanted to quit, a crumbling marriage, and figuring out a way to keep our son alive and thriving in the midst of an illness nobody, even specialists, know much about. He had three “safe” foods at the time: TED breastmilk (wherein I was limited to 12 foods at one point in time), coconut oil, and spinach. Nightmares of feeding tubes and bankruptcy and divorce tormented my sleep, while emotional paralysis, physical pain, and extreme anxiety plagued me during the day.

I said yes to telling our story.  Beyond the fear and the trauma, I knew other families were dealing with the same issues.  They were dealing with the despair, discouragement, and constant barely-subdued terror that their child might not make it.  And what if their kid does make it?  What kind of life and wounds will this struggle indelibly imprint their little bodies and spirits with? I started three drafts, scrapped them all, and then Echo had a vomit reaction to green beans in the middle of it all.  And that was it.  The impetus I needed to get it all out in real time.

Our story isn’t just for FPIES families, though.  It is for every family who has faced unimaginable obstacles and trauma.  Maybe it looks like FPIES, maybe it looks like unknown illness, maybe it looks like a brain tumor or infant hearing loss.  Maybe it looks like a massive struggle with self-care or divorce or being a terrible friend for a season.

Telling our story gave me access to the power I needed to find my way through, even though I never quite knew the next step until I took it.  It gave me just enough Brave to inch ahead of my Scared, and continues to fuel the heart of this little corner of the Internet where I believe Everyone deserves a seat at this table.

Thank you for being a part of this community.

Thank you for continuing to give us, and other families, a voice.

Thank you for sharing posts that are relevant to you with people you love.

Thank you for enjoying the food and laughter and tears and gathering here to have a human experience. This doesn’t happen without you.

Thank you.

Love,
Carrie, Lance, and Echo

“Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. They come together and they fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

― Pema Chödrön

The post Feeding Echo and Finding Purpose – Our Life with FPIES appeared first on Our Stable Table.

With every new school year comes an increasing debate around food allergies.  Peanuts, tree nuts, soy, dairy, wheat, avocado, strawberries, eggs, fish, chicken, you name it, someone is allergic to it.  (Whatever we are doing as a society with and to our food, it’s beginning to emerge as allergies in our children. But that’s another post.)

My son, E, is one of those allergy kids.  In fact, his allergies are so severe, I cannot send him to group childcare or preschool.  I want him to have the socialization.  I think it’s incredibly important. But his list of allergens is so extensive, group settings with other small children just isn’t safe.

But one day, my kid will have to go to school.  He’s outgrowing many of his allergies, and by the time he’s ready for kindergarten, I’m hopeful that he will be completely okay.  Chances are slim that wheat and eggs will ever be okay for him, though.  And I think peanuts will always pose a problem while he’s young.

So, as the school year pushes into full swing, so does the conversation around eliminating certain foods from our schools.  It’s a hot topic this year, and we are all divided.  I’m always going to side with the most vulnerable among us, especially because this hits so close to home.  This isn’t a debate about anything.  This is about caring for children who could die from inhaling PEANUT DUST. Or vomits to shock from a crumb of wheat.

1. Wash hands after eating. My niece, who is allergic to peanuts, reacts to traces of peanut residue on the shopping cart.  My son pukes when he gets a tiny crumb of wheat.  Wash hands, okay?
2. Wipe mouths after eating. If you think your child might put their hands in their mouths after eating, go ahead and wipe their mouths. If you plan on kissing or hugging a kid with food allergies, take this to heart.  Your love should not cause pain.
3. Create a safe zone. Remove shoes before entering a house where children have food allergies.  If you have someone over who has food allergies, wipe surfaces down, and give a good sweep or vacuum.
4. Don’t mix food with toys. Don’t allow food to be in the same space as toys.  Contact reactions are real, and they’re scary.  Kids eat in a designated area, kids play in designated area and wash hands after eating, before playing.
5. Consider changing your routine. If you or your child eats peanut butter or wheat bread at home before school, consider eating first, then washing hands and face, brushing teeth, and then changing clothes to minimize contact.
6. Take allergies seriously.  Yep, food allergies are a total pain in the peanuts.  I get it.  But you know what’s more painful?  People (and specifically children who are too young to fully advocate for themselves) dying from a speck of peanut dust they inhaled that could have easily been prevented. Why did they die a needless death?  Because you wrote the mom off as crazy.  And speaking of crazy…
7. Acknowledge the crazy.  Parents of children with food allergies are totally crazypants.  I’m raising my hand here because it’s true.  But imagine the entire world was full of poison that could kill your child at any given moment and the only thing standing between death (or a trip to the ER) and your kid is YOU. All the time.  You would be crazy, too.  Hug that frazzled mom next time you see her.
8. Skip food crafts. Macaroni art or jewelry making? Use toothpicks or beads.  I’ll buy some for your classroom, and I’m sure every food allergy parent would gladly buy the supplies.
9. Talk to your kids about food allergies.  Your children are soaking up every attitude you have, more than every word you say.  The words are still important, though.  Talk to them about the importance of keeping each other safe and discuss ways you can work together to keep their friends safe.
10. Volunteer to eliminate peanuts (or known allergens) from your child’s school lunch. Keeping our kids safe in community space relieves massive pressure for Crazypants Allergy Mom and Dad.
11. Become an advocate. Be a safe harbor for these kids.  Advocate for their safety, just as you would if it was your child in danger.  Learn how to use an Epi pen. Learn CPR and brush up on food handling safety. Be a vocal supporter in the PTA, support separate eating areas and safe classroom policies. Give Crazypants Mom and Dad a hug and a bottle of wine when you see them.

Every child deserves to feel and be safe in our schools.  You can help make that happen.  Now, go forth and switch your peanut butter sammies to sunbutter and try to keep your sanity this school year.  And for the love of Zeus, STOP MINIMIZING ALLERGIES.  It’s harmful and directly hurts the children in your community.

Your Crazypants Allergy Mama,
Carrie

The post 11 Ways To Keep Food Allergy Kids Safe appeared first on Our Stable Table.

Yeah.  Me, too.

Here’s The Thing, though.  I am fairly certain my love language is food. And I’m also fairly certain I have conditioned my family and friends to receive my love in this manner.  Food is NOT love, but food can be a loving gesture in a world of convenience and fast meals.  What’s better than sitting down with friends and sharing a great meal, enjoyable conversation, and choice adult beverage?  Not much.

Also, food is effing delicious, so there’s that.

When I want to share the love and keep the temperature in my kitchen down while making the most of my limited energy, I always turn to my crockpot.  I used to have major bias towards slow cookers. I grew up with crockpots galore at church potlucks.  Everyone clamored for an outlet to plug in their pot before service started so their mystery dish would stay hot and avoid poisoning a whole congregation. It was a sea of crockpots

A couple of decades later, I decided to try to resurrect my slow cooker that was still sitting in my kitchen in the box from our wedding when my truly kind souled cousin gifted us with it. I got brave.  I bought the food.  I read a couple of blogs. I studied and sweated and prayed to the kitchen gods that it would all turn out beautifully.  It didn’t.

I ruined a 5 lb brisket.

$40 of beautiful, succulent, grass-fed meat totally ruined because I didn’t understand fully how to use my slow cooker.  I did not sear it.  I under-seasoned it.  I ADDED WATER. Then I cooked it on high for 4 hours.  It was totally inedible, but of course we ate it anyway because we have a strict budget and can’t afford to toss food when it doesn’t turn out well.  I nicknamed it the Brisket of Tears, because I wept when I ruined it, and again every time I ate the chewy, gray, tasteless meat.

A couple of years ago, I decided to master the crockpot.  I did a massive amount of research. After a week of fretting and praying and hoping that I could pull it off, I made a pork shoulder.  It was phenomenal.  It gave me confidence. And I went further into the slow-cooker abyss.

When I found a ridiculously good sale on New Zealand grassfed lamb, I knew I could execute it well.  My dish would not go the way of the church potluck or failed brisket attempt of 2009.  Nope.  It would succeed.

This is probably one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.  I’m not exaggerating in the least. The flavor of the lamb is complex and finishing the whole dish off in the oven to crisp up the fat made this dish completely decadent.

Ingredients:

• 3-4 lbs of lamb riblets or short ribs
• 1/2 cup dry vermouth
• 1/3 cup olive or avocado oil (I prefer avocado bc of the mellow flavor)
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• 1/2 cup(ish) fresh mint leaves
• 1/4 fresh basil leaves
• 1/4 cup  fresh rosemary
• 4-5 cloves garlic
• 1 medium shallot or small onion, quartered
• 2 tsp tumeric
• 2 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1 tsp (+) fresh cracked pepper
• 1 tsp (+) salt

Directions:

1. Combine all ingredients (except for lamb) in blender or NutriBullet.  Pulse until everything is combined.  Pour over lamb and marinate in a ziplock bag or covered dish for 2-12 hours, or if you’re in a hurry, skip the marination and use right away.
2. Rub crockpot with a little oil, and put lamb and marinade in.  For best results, cook on Low for 6-8 hours.  Eight hours is optimal, but do what you can.
3. When the lamb is finished in the slow cooker, transfer to a baking sheet and bake on 375 degrees for 20-30 minutes to crisp up the fat and caramelize.
4. Garnish with chopped mint leaves and devour immediately.

I served this with a side of saffron infused basmati rice, pan fried mushrooms and sweet onion, along with a fruit-filled salad.  There wasn’t even a speck of lamb left on the bones, and we devoured an entire plate in 20 minutes flat.

You will love this.  Trust me.  Or don’t.  But take a chance.  And make friends with your crockpot this summer.

It feels good to be baaaaaad,
Carrie

The post Boozy Lamb Short Ribs appeared first on Our Stable Table.

I know.  You just read “hemp” in the title and immediately assumed it was about marijuana.  I GET IT.  I live in Oregon, where it is now legal to smoke, grow, and posses these controversial little plants.

But that’s not what this post is about.  Because I’m not about to touch that conversation with a 10 ft bong pole.

Hemp hearts.  These are the shelled seeds of the hemp plant, and they are loaded with maximum nutrition.  Back when we were trying to find new and varied protein sources for my food intolerant toddler, these were a saving grace.  I mixed them with a little bit of raw honey to make them barely sticky, and gave my kid the spoon.

He was a serious fan.

Now that summer is squarely upon us, I have zucchini coming out of my ears.  It’s one of my kid’s favorite foods so I planted a few little seedlings…and they grew.  In fact, they’re mutant and grow as big as my head. Or roughly seven times as big as my hand.

We have to get creative to use them all, so I’ve been trying out different recipes using as few ingredients as possible to maintain the natural flavor of the fantastic zucchini, and to get them out of my kitchen fast.

I made a fast coating of hemp seeds, arrow root, a dash of tumeric, paprika and salt.  They were a fast hit with my family, and we chowed all of them.

ALL. OF. THEM.

They went so fast that I didn’t even manage to get a good picture because they were so tasty and nobody could wait for a dumb camera.

Did I mention they’re paleo and vegan, too?

Ingredients:

• 1 large (ish) zucchini, cut into sticks
• 1/2 cup hemp hearts
• 2-3 Tbsp arrow root powder or tapioca flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp tumeric (optional)
• dash of paprika
• small bowl of water
• Coconut oil for cooking

Instructions:

1. In a medium frying pan, heat 1/4 inch of coconut oil until hot. (Typically medium+ setting, but don’t let it smoke.)
2. Combine hemp hearts, arrow root, and spices and blend throughly.
3. Take a piece of zucchini and dip it in the water. Remove and lightly shake excess water off.
4. Press each flat side firmly in the flour mixture and then place into hot oil, flat side down.
5. Rotate the zucchini to get both flat sides nice and brown (2-3 min each side). Be careful not to burn them!
6. Place on paper towel lined plate to drain off excess oil.

Eat as soon as they are cool!  These stay fresh and delicious for a good 30 minutes after cooking.

What are your zucchini hacks?

Zzzzz,
Carrie

The post Hemp Heart Crusted Zucchini Fries {Vegan, Paleo} appeared first on Our Stable Table.

I am a shitty friend.

For 33 years, I showed up. I checked in when we missed connecting for too long. I saved  hard earned pennies to go to music festivals, embark on international adventures, and attend weddings, funerals, and graduations. Sometimes, I  hopped in my car and drove all night just to hang out with you because I missed you and I could. We cracked jokes. We talked deep for hours. We threw parties and planned adventures and surprises. We walked every step of our treacherous, joyful, fearful, conflicted, soul-seeking journey together. We shared sacred space in our hearts. Even when distance and difficulties stretched out between us, we always made our way back to each other

We became family.

I wasn’t always consistent. In fact, I can be a total jerkfaceasshole. And I really hate the phone, so that was never my strong suit. But you knew when your phone rang and I was on the other end, I would be 100% yours the whole time.

I wasn’t perfect. But I was all in.

When I got pregnant a few years ago, dynamics shifted dramatically. I puked my guts up for six months, and it took every ounce of energy to keep my part-time job and be a nominally decent human. I birthed an amazing baby who suffered a stroke, survived, and was given a life-altering medical diagnosis that made the most normal things ridiculously difficult. We were all thrust into chronic survival mode, became overnight experts on the medical system and waged a wild war to keep our baby alive and thriving. I was attached to a breast pump for almost two years. In truth, I have almost zero recollection of most of my mom-life. My brain and short-term memory have taken a blissful hiatus in order to continue the essential act of living. But of the sparse, dream-like moments I manage to recapture, I am painfully aware that I have been a shitty friend to you.

I’m sorry.

Motherhood has been magical and transformative. It has changed me in a million wonderful ways. It has also been an indescribable nightmare. PTSD, PPD, and PPA in addition to the normal physical/emotional/psychological challenges of new motherhood almost wrecked me. You listen with compassion and want to understand what’s happening. You want to be with me every bit as much I want to not be so alone in this. But there are no words for the challenges my family is facing. There is no way to bring you all the way to the core of this experience.  I can barely handle the pressure of it myself. I’ve had to hang on with all my might to keep even an ounce of that free-spirited, bright-spark, I-will-do-anything-for-you friend that you love. I know you miss her.

I miss her, too.

My grace, my energy, my bright spark – it all goes to my son and partner right now. I don’t think it’s going to change any time soon.

And here is my present day reality: If there is something left after all of the doctor’s appointments, therapies, fighting insurance companies and working during naptimes and early mornings and late nights to alleviate the unbearable financial burden this stupid syndrome has placed on our little family, I unapologetically take it for myself. Because I can’t do life if I’m an empty husk inside.

I miss you. I miss my freedom. I miss being someone you can count on. I miss showing up on your doorstep at 1AM to hug you when your heart is breaking and laughing until we’ve completely forgotten how we started to begin with. Those days will come again. In the meantime, that grace you posses…the ability to navigate life and stay connected and keep things moving so well with your own set of challenges? Yeah, that. Your super power. I could really use a little bit of it now. I know it’s not fair to you because I am not an equal partner in our friendship during this season.  But I need you anyway.

I’m on my way back to myself. I’m on my way back to you, too. I promise. It’s slow progress, but it’s happening one tiny step at a time. I still love you and you still matter to me, maybe now more than ever before.

And I’m still (always) all in.

Thank you for staying.

xoxo,

Your Shitty Friend

The post I’m A Shi**y Friend. {A Letter From An Overwhelmed Mama} appeared first on Our Stable Table.

But few things bring immediate relief like a good old fashioned popsicle.

The other morning after breakfast, I pulled out my final popsicle to photograph it.  I had  previously devoured the rest during naptimes earlier in the week. Because I’m an adult and like to enjoy a treat without sharing.  But on this particular day, I made the monumental mistake in trying to get the picture while my son was awake.

As we started to swelter in the 100 degree weather in our south-facing second story home as our straining AC unit worked hard to keep up, I removed the final popsicle from the freezer. I stopped for a moment and let the frozen air fall over my face and shoulders, reveling that something could still be cold in this heat. I pulled out my camera and began searching for the right light to capture the cold, creamy, fruity essence of this frozen treat.

Enter E.

He wasn’t having it.

He didn’t care that mom needed to use the popsicle for work.

He didn’t care that it was the last one.

He didn’t care that I needed to take a really beautiful picture to share with you.

He. Didn’t. Care.

There was no stopping my tiny monster.  I turned on Jimmy Fallon.  I tried to distract him with his favorite snack. I pulled out the Tegu blocks, crayons, and even tried to give him my old phone to distract him. Nothing worked.

So, I went with it.

Here’s the recipe, even though the I don’t have Pinterest-worthy pictures to show for the effort.  I hope you enjoy these as much as we did!

Ingredients:

• 1 can full fat coconut milk
• 1/2 cup pureed blueberries
• 1/4 cup whole blueberries
• 1 Tbsp raw honey

Directions:

1. Mix coconut milk, honey, and puree.
2. Pour mixture into popsicle molds.
3. Drop a few whole blueberries into the molds, and then insert popsicle stick.
4. Freeze until solid (2-3 hours), and enjoy!

You won’t be sad you ate this.  I promise.  And with very little sugar, these are ideal for low-sugar, refreshing summer treats.

Make your summer pop!
Carrie

The post Blueberries and Cream Paleo Popsicles {Three Ingredients} appeared first on Our Stable Table.

You guys.  IT IS HARD.

While I don’t hate grains, (in fact, I adore them), I know my body doesn’t do well with a carbohydrate-heavy diet and I tend to feel uncomfortably full and bloated after eating them.  I also truly believe in a veggie-based diet, especially because I struggle with PCOS and endometriosis.  I have to keep my babymaker in good shape, and the best and first line of health for me is nutrition.  It’s part of an overall commitment to health and hormone balance.

When I can replace grains with veggies, I do. When I can replace grains and not miss them even a little bit, I absolutely do.

I’ve perused Pinterest and have seen the fried rice recipes with cauliflower.  I usually dismissed them because it’s typically so much prep work to get cauliflower to taste like something awesome. But with the fried cauliflower “rice”, it was a total breeze.

Are you ready for my secret weapon?

Yep, a cheese grater.

I’ve tried a food processor, blender, knife tricks, and dicing or mashing after steaming.  The cheese grater, though, was so easy to use (albeit messy).  I just plunked the grater in a deep bowl,  trimmed and quartered the head of cauliflower, then grated away.

Easy.

The final result? A flavorful, slightly spicy dish that is wonderful as a standalone and completely filling and satisfying.  I didn’t miss the rice even a little.

Ingredients:

• 1 large head cauliflower, trimmed and grated
• 1 12 oz bag of frozen mixed veggies (I prefer the California Blend)
• 1 12 oz bag of frozen cut green beans
• 12 oz of cooked protein of your choice (optional, but leftover meat works great!)
• 1 head of garlic, minced or crushed
• 1 small onion, minced
• 2 Tbsp fresh ginger, grated or minced
• Bragg’s Amino Acids, Tamrari, or organic soy sauce (I prefer Bragg’s)
• 2 eggs
• 3 Tbsp Avocado oil, ghee, or another high smoking point oil
• 1 tsp red pepper flakes (optional)
• Salt and Pepper

Directions:

1. In a large skillet, add frozen veggies and a tablespoon (or more) of Bragg’s.  If you want some extra spice, add red pepper flakes. Cook on medium high, stirring every five minutes until they are steaming hot.
2. While vegetables are cooking, sauté onion in a large skillet or wok in 2 tablespoons of oil until translucent.  Add garlic and ginger and cook until soft and slightly golden.
3. Add grated cauliflower to the garlic, onion, and ginger.  Add remaining oil, two tablespoons of Bragg’s, and mix thoroughly. Allow cauliflower to cook until tender.
4. Once cauliflower is tender, push it to the sides, creating a hole in the middle of the pan.  A three inch circle of the pan should be exposed.  Crack eggs into the exposed circle, scrambling with a fork or spatula continuously.  The egg will cook into the cauliflower, and that’s okay.
5. Once your eggs are scrambled, add protein and veggies (minus any liquid), to the cauliflower and mix thoroughly.  Add salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately.

I’m eating this today for lunch as leftovers.  It tastes so good without heating, but reheats like a dream in a skillet on the stove top.

This veggie thing.  It’s not THAT hard.
Carrie

The post Cauliflower Fried Rice {Grain Free} appeared first on Our Stable Table.

I mention his food allergies often on social media.  I’ve written about it here and over on The Leaky Boob.  I sometimes get lost in the specific restrictions and frustrations FPIES inflicts on our little family.  I start to resent how profoundly  our lives are marked by this disease.

But here’s the thing about being a parent to a remarkable kid with special challenges: it has made me a better mom, and on a larger scale, a better human.

I take nothing for granted.

After nearly losing my son to a stroke 36 hours after he was born, I am keenly aware that his presence on this earth is a gift.  When his first foods made him vomit to shock, and he was restricted to only breastmilk and a little organic coconut oil for the first 12 months of his life, I wept with relief when he passed spinach at 13 months with flying colors.  It never occurred to me to be thankful for every breath, every bite of food that passes my lips, but he reminds me. His breaths, his bites, his life all serve as a reminder to be grateful.

Empathy is a second skin.

I’ve always been fairly compassionate and empathetic, but having a son with chronic allergies has given me a sense of empathy I never knew existed.  Any parent who has walked a rocky road with their kids can agree: You never look at a kid or family with special challenges the same way again.  It’s no longer a detached empathy.  It becomes personal to you, too.

I’ve become the anti-helicopter parent.

It’s counter-intuitive.  My son is allergic to food.  And guess what?  Food is everywhere.  Play dates, people’s houses, playgrounds, toddler music class, dog food dishes, restaurant high chairs and booster seats, trash cans, floors, walls, ceilings, shopping carts, faces, hands, mouths, toys…you can’t escape it.  I have to be a helicopter parent in social situations, especially when other kids are present.  He has so many restrictions, and when I have the opportunity to let my guard down in a food-safe place, I do.  I let my son roam within my eyesight, climb and test his limits, and explore to his heart’s desire.  I encourage him to play on his own and have age-appropriate adventures and only intervene when absolutely necessary.  After seeing him suffer more in two years than many will suffer in a lifetime, the minor bumps, bruises, and messes don’t seem to bother my son, so I don’t let them bother me, either.

I put up a fight.

Before becoming a parent, I often felt nervous expressing an opposing view point, or challenging authority.  I feared losing friends (and even family) by becoming too opinionated or outspoken.  Having a child with severe allergies makes it impossible to not offend people.  I feel zero hesitation telling strangers not to touch or offer food to my son. I wipe my friends’ kids down with a wet paper towel before they play together. I speak often and loudly about respecting parents and their choices, allergies or not.  I openly advocate for causes I believe in without apologizing, even when I know it will turn some people away.  Most surprisingly, I don’t really care.

I question everything.

I call food companies and inquire about any hidden, unspecified ingredients. I inspect every space that has been deemed “safe” for my son.  I question every test, procedure, medication, and diagnosis my son’s doctors try to administer, and generally annoy the crap out of them.  And I have no problem educating doctors about the specifics of FPIES because most don’t know about the syndrome, and if they do, it typically isn’t much. It’s not their fault.  FPIES is relatively unknown, and until this month, didn’t even have a medical diagnosis code.  Considering I’ve spent the last 18 months immersed in research, and am an expert when it comes to my son, I don’t expect the doctors to have a firm grasp on his condition.  I listen, I stay open, and I respect their training. Then I weigh the potential benefit and the potential harm and advocate for what is best for him.

I own my strength.

I pumped every single day for 21 months.  I fought post partum depression and PTSD while figuring out my baby’s food allergies and dealing with insurance and doctors and mounting medical bills.  I went on a Total Elimination Diet and stuck to it for a year in order to keep my milk safe and allow my son’s gut to heal, even though I dreamed about Eggs Benedict and wanted to submerge myself in a vat of guacamole. I had to be disciplined.  My son’s life depended on it.  I also fought to keep my marriage intact, even when the pressure of that first year nearly shattered us. Owning the hardship and vulnerable places allowed me to own my strength, too.

I crack jokes ALL THE TIME.

I feel my feelings, and I can get stuck in FeelingLand.  Humor is one way for me to deal with the overwhelm.  I have fully embraced my snark and wit and unladylike bathroom humor.  Remember that quote “the only way out is through”? I choose to get through it with laughter and sarcasm.  Because it doesn’t matter HOW you get through it, it just matters that you do.

Gratitude.

Empathy.

Trust.

Tenacity.

Curiosity.

Strength.

Humor.

These are the ways FPIES and my son have made me a better mom and human.  I’ll take it.

Eff you, Fpies.
Carrie

The post Life With Food Allergies: How FPIES Made Me A Better Mom appeared first on Our Stable Table.

During the first few months of E’s life, he was drugged heavily to keep seizures at bay.  Once he weaned from the medicine and the effects wore off, he wanted very little to do with being close to me.  He rejected the boob, he rejected mommy’s comfort unless I was the only person available to hold and soothe him. My efforts to console, rock, and hold him close were met with terrified eyes, cries of protest an arching back, or hyperactivity. Yes, it was heartbreaking for me.  But I also fully understood the profound trauma he had experienced, and even though I ached to be his safe place, I knew I wasn’t.  I accepted it, supported him in his choice, and tried my hardest not to take it personally.

E has always been affectionate and sweet, generous with kisses and cuddles (as long as we are standing or sitting upright), and loves his mama. I see it in his eyes, in his playful actions. We laugh and joke and play with ease. But E has never been able to just let go and relax with me.  And he definitely hasn’t been able to sleep next to me.

If I’m completely vulnerable here, I couldn’t relax with him either.  E stopped breathing at my breast.  I blew air into his lungs to keep him alive.  For many days, I didn’t know if he would live or die.  For many months after that, E and I did not trust each other.  E didn’t trust my milk, my breast, my body.  I didn’t trust that E would stay, that he would keep breathing, keep overcoming.

Our trust was broken.

That moment, us cuddling and E sleeping on the couch?  That moment was our healing. The PTSD losing it’s iron-like hold on our hearts.  Our final defenses crumbling down. Both of us giving up the idea of control or hyper-vigilance and relaxing into what our bond is now.  It is unbearably sweet, tenuous, and victorious. It is brand new.

I can trust my son to stay and he can trust me to keep him safe.

I shared our couch cuddle with the Internet because these moments, the small victories that signify huge change and growth, often go unnoticed by us.  Unmarked.  Undocumented.  Unseen by others.  In the midst of heartbreak and fear, exhaustion and anxiety, these are the moments that keep me going.  It fuels me to keep fighting to restore what we have lost as a family, and advocate for the families out there who experience adversity that comes with life-altering circumstances.

So, I have a request: I want your moments. I want your #tinytriumphs.  I want your pictures, the small things that equal big progress and healing in your life and in your family.  I want to share these with other families who often feel hopeless and helpless (like my husband and I often do), because we need each other.  We need to be reminded of victory, even when it stings our exposed wounds.  This is how we move forward, even when the progress is painfully slow.

Here’s how you do it:

• Send us your picture with a narrative of what is significant about that moment, around 100-300 words.  Fewer words are okay, too.

Ways to submit your #tinytriumphs:

1. Email me.  Carrie at ourstabletable dot com.
2. Tag OST on FB or IG, and be sure to change the settings to “Public” if you want us to share.
3. Private message OST, and we will share it publicly.
4. Include the #tinytriumphs in the post.

I can’t promise we will be able to share all of the submissions, but we will certainly try.  Because we need this.

We grow together, we mourn together, we celebrate together.  Everyone deserves a seat at the table, and your moments matter here.

The post #TinyTriumphs appeared first on Our Stable Table.