I Eat a Cupcake- an Ode to Guilt

                It sounds like a teenage girl’s diary. My first thought was that the second sentence should be “Ken wants to study for the algebra test together. Should I?” But in this case,  I wasn’t worried about Ken, or about the cupcake per se. Sure, cupcakes have more calories than regular food, but I worked that out with marathoning.  What I worried about was SL.  Nursing has brought its own struggles but the real injustice has come from being able to eat so. Much. Food. But not being able to eat dairy.  During the holidays I applauded myself on restraint. Christmas Eve dinner was ridiculous minus the mashed potatoes, rolls, and 5 layer red velvet cheesecake made from scratch (it was seriously an exact copy):

. I had fruit.  My plate held a piece of meat, peas, and cherry jello salad- we’re Southern, so jello somehow made it into the same category as vegetables.  And it’s not like the Polar Express served fruit and water.

                But then after the holidays had ended, after the last of the leftovers had been enjoyed and the wrapping paper put away, I had a weak moment. I was at a friend’s baby shower. The table had the usual spread- nuts, cheese straws, mints, punch. Then it had a display of the most beautiful, adorable, cupcakes. Seriously. A pretty tower of cupcakes. I got my plate, and I stared at them. Then I went around the table picking up what I could eat. And I stared at them some more.  Then I walked away from the table but found myself back there within minutes. And that is when I collapsed and had the cupcake.

                Any good dieter can tell you that once you’ve broken the seal, there isn’t any stopping you. Yes, you’ll have remorse later, but in the moment you can only focus on the food you are about to consume. So I ate it. The whole thing, even the frosting which was really high. And I ooohed and aahed over the adorableness of what a new baby girl was receiving but by the time I walked to my car, the Momma Guilt had hit. All those days of working around this food restriction, and I had thrown it away on a cupcake. My poor, sweet, baby.

                Momma Guilt is perhaps the most vicious part of being  a parent. Everyone feels guilt at some point, but Momma Guilt is actually a never-ending cycle. I feel that it is as ingrained as the desire to throw the Fisher Price toy that won’t stop singing against the wall. And since SL was born, I have literally felt guilt every single day. In the hospital it started with guilt over her birth- how could I not have realized the painkiller I had prior to the epidural would travel to her? Did we have a harder time bonding because of the epidural? Two days after her birth I felt the most immense guilt that she was losing weight and we could not figure out why. Then I felt guilt that she wasn’t getting enough to eat, then guilt that I was letting her sleep on me most nights, then guilt that I wasn’t holding her enough during the day, then guilt that I was possibly holding her too much during the day…the list can go on and on. Once I even  felt guilt that I wasn’t staring at her enough at one point, then wondered if I was possibly staring at her too much. Really. Wow, hormones, wow.   And now a lot of that guilt centers around diet.

                One of the best parts of nursing, supposedly, is that extra calorie burn that comes with it. Which for me  turned into a reason to eat whatever I wanted until I was shut down.  Shut down with the idea that my baby could have milk intolerance. I had no idea what I was getting into. I suppose the irony is that SL was tested for (negatively) milk intolerance and I was cleared to eat whatever, but still I hang onto the thought that her reflux is better when I’m not eating dairy. So I don’t.  And we’ve adapted okay. We ate a pretty wide variety of foods before and this was just working around one small (or maybe not so small) issue. Except for the cupcakes. Sometimes I would just look at SL and sigh and wish I could eat whatever I wanted to because I am literally hungry most the time. Of course, early on so was she. So we had even more in common than I thought.

                So now, generally, I watch what I eat like a hawk. Admiring others plates full of butter and cheese, reading labels closely to make sure that they haven’t snuck milk in- EXAMPLE: Progresso Minestrone soup has milk in it. True Story. And things go along pretty smoothly. Until I am asked to conquer the cupcake craving. I had a friend in grad school, Gretchen, who had a milk allergy and because of it was an amazing vegan baker. At the time I was blasé about it. Now I applaud her, and everyone who works hard to make sure cravings are fulfilled without that beautiful word- dairy. I’m saving these stories, in the hopes that one day they will make someone else’s life easier, or that they will remind SL of what I went through in that first year- it’s useful for the teenage years, I’m told.  I’m also told the Momma Guilt will not subside, but will instead transfer to other areas. Sigh- Hand me a cupcake.