Summer has always been my favorite time of year

Regret, resentment, and rage

Hi friends, today’s newsletter has nothing to do with cooking but is an honest essay of my messy thoughts about life recently. Keeping these things in prevents me from moving through life honestly. I’m happy to get them off my chest and catch you up on things. Thanks for reading. And to my friends that I haven’t talked to yet, it’s been hard to talk about and I have been keeping quiet. It’s not you, it’s me. Forgive me. More of me, here.

When I was twelve my half-sister was born and two years later another followed. Until then, I was an only child who daydreamed about what it would be like to have a sibling. When they were born I realized what a 12-year age gap meant. I wouldn't get to have the relationship of siblings I saw on TV but instead, more of a caretaker. I was left alone with a baby…That’s an insane amount of responsibility that I wouldn't give someone that age today. I changed diapers, fed bottles, got them out of their crib after naps, and did all the fun stuff too. I spent my teenage weekends at my dad's house helping care for two small children. I was so excited and anxious about doing any of it wrong that I paid close attention but it also felt natural.

In college when I worked at a daycare to get a free gym membership, they would hand me every fussy baby. We would sit on an exercise ball to bounce and 15 minutes later they would be completely calm if not asleep. This also came naturally and I welcomed it because I got to sit down instead of chasing toddlers around.

And when I didn’t want to work in kitchens after culinary school I nannied because it was easy.

I loved nannying most of the time. I have no problem with kids, even the really difficult ones. You have to immediately set your boundaries with them so they understand you are in charge but show them that you are also there to be their friend, not their mom. Newborns to teenagers I have done it all. I have potty-trained, laid on the floor to end a before-school meltdown over itchy pants tags, helped kids read their first book, created chore chats, calmed endless meltdowns, reassured teens as they made that terrifying first phone call to the nail salon to book an appointment, and even sat in the passenger seat reminding them not to get to close to the right side as they learned how to drive. I didn’t seek to raise other people's kids, I just fell into that position. I was good at it.

After years of being taken advantage of, I had had enough with kids. No, I loved the kids. I so deeply cared about all the kids that I couldn’t do that job anymore because their parents were the problem. And I spent so much time being maternal that I wanted to get far away from it.

I rejected kids for so long that at 26 before I even took the test, I knew I wasn’t going to have the baby I was pregnant with. This was a mind fuck. On paper everything was perfect. We were newly married, just bought a house, obviously a baby would come next. I’m a very logical person and as I walked around our completely unfurnished house I knew it wasn’t the right time. We had debt from throwing a wedding, moving across the country, and buying a house all in the same month. We didn’t know a single person in this new state we just moved to. Who was going to help me? Sure, a baby can be a blessing but let’s call it what it is–a total and complete life-altering commitment. Financially, physically, mentally, and spiritually. You are tethered to this being for the rest of your life whether you like it or not and I wasn’t doing it. The only problem was I lived in Missouri.

I had to drive to Kansas to the only Planned Parenthood that performed abortions within a three-hour radius. The crazy people with signs yelled at me as security walked me in. I had my papers signed to show that I made the decision on my own and wasn’t forced by anyone in the facility. After seeing the doctor I waited with a 60-minute timer set to “think about my decision.” I walked out of there with the second pill to take at home, a single Vicodin, and my life back.

When the end of my 20s was approaching, I started to get anxious about having a kid. Marco and I talked about it all the time but I couldn’t wrap my head around actually doing it. I was fearful of all the stories about women after the age of 30 being unable to get pregnant. It can be hard if not impossible for some women, this is a fact, and the longer I waited the more I worried I would miss that window. I never once regretted having an abortion but I worried that if I waited too long and wasn’t able to get pregnant again I would start to.

When we moved back to Los Angeles I had a full mental breakdown. I talk about this casually but it was a huge event in my life. I had big T trauma from the death of my boyfriend at 18, 7 years of being taken advantage of and talked down to at work did a number on my self-esteem, and being stranded across the country during covid left me really fucked up. I didn’t know who I was when we moved back and needed help. After a full surrender on my end, I did all the things I was told by my new psychiatrist. The daily journal, meditation, gratitude list, get outside, movement, and breath work. All the shit you don’t want to do but that works. Her therapy was intense but I looked forward to it. Four months later I could see straight. Then came the question, what do you want to do with your time? I wanted to host a supper club in my backyard like I have talked about for years. Even though the horrific death of my soulmate cat caused me to cancel the week of my first supper club, I had the tools to keep going and I did the damn thing the next month.

For the last few years, I have felt an immense amount of pride. I love myself, my work, and my life. Marco and I worked really damn hard to curate the life we want. Now do we want a farm? Sure we do but the life we have today is perfect for right now. The idea of disrupting and rebuilding what we worked so hard to create sounds…awful. I’m fiercely protective over what we have and I’m not interested in changing it but remember I’m 31 and every day that ticks by I’m losing out on the chance to have a baby.

I often wondered if I would feel different looking at a positive pregnancy test the second time. Spoiler: I didn’t. I couldn't even look at it. I was immediately filled with regret that I just ruined my life. I wanted to vape (I don’t vape), I wanted a strong smoky mezcal drink (it was 7 AM), and I wanted my freedom back because it was just stripped away from me in the blink of an eye. I’ll be tethered to this being for the rest of my life whether I like it or not. Fuck.

Then resentment. I agreed to start trying…thinking I would have at least 6 months like everyone says. It wasn’t until after I was pregnant that all the women who got pregnant first try in the thirties came out of the woodwork here. You have got to be fucking kidding me? I can list 20 people right now and I’m resentful as hell. I could have used a little honesty here, ladies. Look I feel for the women who struggle and I know that is a real thing but both can be true and there are a lot of women getting pregnant right away. What they taught us in middle school still applies: it only takes one time.

Let’s continue with Rs…regret, resentment…rage. RAGE. Pregnancy is interesting in the way that you can’t ignore it. Once it’s here, it’s here. I skated by my last Backyard dinner and our holiday party pretty smoothly but let me tell you I was aware of it and I was mad. I was mad at other women for not being honest about how easy it was. I was mad at myself for allowing this to happen when I wanted more time. I was mad at the fact that I was due in the summer and wouldn’t be able to do Backyard dinners. I was mad that I was having a Leo. I was filled with rage and wondered when the joy would kick in.

Here is another thing I have learned women have lied about, pregnancy is not beautiful. Pregnancy is miserable. Even if you don’t have it bad (I haven't thrown up once) it’s still miserable. No, I don’t feel a bundle of joy growing in me. I feel like a parasitic leech has attached to me and is sucking the life out of me. Week seven and eight I couldn’t peel myself off of the couch. I literally could not move I was so exhausted. Remember when I was worried that my palette might change and affect my job? It did. I might not have been puking but I sure couldn't stand the smell of food. I was working on another magazine and had to cancel it completely because I simply couldn’t cook and test the recipes. Thank god I didn’t have any dinners scheduled because I would have had to cancel those too. My fears were coming true. Que more rage. And the weight I lost that helped me feel good in my body again? It’s back! My darkest of thoughts wished I was throwing up and could be one of those women who lose weight in the first trimester. No, I was hungry as hell but nothing was appetizing. What was I supposed to do for work? Write a recipe for buttered toast, Pedyalite popsicles, and orange chicken from the Bristol Farms hot bar?

The best way to describe pregnancy is a constant state of dysregulation. Nausea, food aversions, exhaustion, headaches, maybe dizziness, bloating, so much bloating, shortness of breath, insomnia, random itchiness, indigestion, heartburn, sore boobs, and worst of all constipation. Just roll the dice and you're dealing with one of those at all times. The absolute best part is that there is nothing you can do to make these things better. Except eat prunes. Once you figure out a routine to deal with your current symptoms they change completely. It’s mentally exhausting and I’ll tell you right now Tylenol does NOT work for a headache. Whatever you do, just don’t get covid while pregnant because it is 20x worse than normal covid.

I’m out of the first trimester now and things got a little better but they still suck. I hate not feeling like myself. I desperately want to wake up and feel really good. What I hate even more is the people telling me how exciting it is. It’s exciting for you because you don’t have to do anything but watch. None of my close girlfriends have or are having kids right now. They are great friends but it’s not the same as someone who gets it. And no, thank you, but I don’t want to share odd and intimate details about my body with other people who are not my close friends. Pregnancy has been isolating and living in a world of sugar-coated information has made it even more isolating.

During our trip to Mendocino, a tick crawled into my belly button and bit me. That was the first time I felt any connection to said baby inside me. If I got a disease from a tick, I would treat it and be fine, but would a baby? That was a weird feeling, not how I expected my first connection to feel. But then again, nothing has felt how I expected it to.

Let’s turn things around and end with some positivity. I have zero anxiety about being pregnant and birth. I have selfish grief for my life but let me be clear the two things are very different. I’m deeply grateful for the work I have done on myself over the years. I know I am physically, mentally, and spiritually capable and everything will be fine. I knew that from the second I found out. Even while joking to my mom that maybe the oyster I was about to suck down would give me food poisoning and cause a miscarriage to give me my life back, I knew it wouldn't. I wasn't worried when I found out I had covid. I’m not worried about a hot bath or a turkey sandwich. Fun fact: I almost became a doula. I missed the class sign-up by a day and that’s when I decided to try a supper club instead. I have always had a fascination and respect for what the female body does (even though it is cruel and unfair sometimes). Over the years I have listened to birth stories, educational podcasts, and researched random topics like circumcision (you should look into it). When I found out I was pregnant something shifted in my head. The curiosity turned off and the trust that I have all the tools I need turned on. So while I might be kicking, screaming, and complaining–I know everything will be fine. I will rebuild my business into something new, my body will heal, I will become a new person, and we will have a daughter along for the ride.

Shopping is a lot of fun now.