Quinoa Fiesta Enchilada Bake

Just wanted to share a quick and easy weeknight meal. Make it as is, add shredded chicken or serve with marinated flank steak. I used the Skinnytaste recipe and followed it to a T. Enjoy!

My Head and My Heart

There's something about being alone in the car. During that time I talk to God. I talk to Hudson. If I am heading to meet someone that I have seen since ...before... I practice conversations so that I can appear strong and not like an emotional train wreck. I sing along to the songs on the radio that speak to me. Almost every time I am in the car alone, I cry. All the way to work, all the way home. I just do. It is the time spent alone that the conversations between my head and my heart take place.

My heart:

Aches.

Reactive.
My source of impulse until my head takes over.  

Yearns for what we don't have, it wants what it wants, yet is so scared of more pain.

My head:

Pragmatic, logical.

Quiets the heart's impulsive nature to take a step back and look at the big picture.

Still in a fog sometimes.

At the end of August, I had a positive pregnancy test. 

We were not-not trying, but we were not calculating when I was ovulating in hopes of getting pregnant again. We were just seeing what may happen. My cycle was still regulating and getting back to normal so when I was 4 days late, my heart felt like maybe I should think something of it, but my head said probably not. We were leaving the next day for our healing trip in Vancouver and I planned to eat sushi and enjoy alcoholic beverages so I wanted to make sure, just in case. I took a test the night before we left - no second line, hard negative. My head prepared my heart that I am not pregnant and would probably start while on our vacation.

When we got back, I was now 9 days late and started to think that was off. I took a pregnancy test as soon as we got back home and while it wasn't the same as the first positive test from last November, there was definitely a faint second line there. I took a picture and sent it to my doctor's nurse, she told me to come in first thing in the morning for blood work.

Heart:

Yes! I want, I want. I NEED this.
One step closer to having a baby in my arms.

Pregnant again! Thank you Lord, thank you for this promise of a new life!

Oh Hudson... Hudson.
Sadness floods in.
Is it okay to be happy about this if it wouldn't have occurred without Hudson's death?
How can I be okay with this? No, this isn't right.

Head:

If it happens, it happens.
It will soften your heart again, quiet the anger and anguish you've been fighting.
It will be hopeful. It is what you need to feel normal again.
It will help as you enter the Fall and you are faced with seeing all of your donors and vendors again, those of which you haven't seen since ...before...
Heart, it will help when they ignore what happened altogether, bring it up and potentially say the wrong thing, searching for something kind to say.
And for the holidays. Oh the holidays.
Last year at Thanksgiving you were still concealing your pregnancy from family
but already envisioned how different the following year would be with a baby in attendance, adding to the family fun.
Then there is Christmas.
You used that holiday to tell most family and friends before going public right after the new year. You bought an extra stocking to hang and decorated the house last year, already envisioning what Christmas would be like with a 5 month old.
How are you supposed to get through those holidays if you are not at least pregnant again?
Sure it will still be plenty hard but maybe that promise of new life will be helpful to you, heart, let the head win this one.
Yes, this may be helpful to you mentally and emotionally.

  

I went in for blood work the next day. They rushed it and said I should hear by end of day. At 4:00 I got a call from my nurse. She said, "well, it isn't negative, but it isn't exactly a true positive. Your levels are in the "grey area" and right between a definitive positive and negative. We see this with very early pregnancies so come back in a few days and we will do more blood work to be sure." I had hope and a gut feeling that I just knew I was pregnant again. 

Heart:

I just know it, I know I am.
I can feel it.

I'm going to be prayerful and choose faith over fear.

Head:

Let's not get our hopes up. We can't take another loss. Leave it in His hands.
It's okay if it doesn't happen right now.

Three days later, I went back, first thing in the morning. I could hardly sleep the night before. I was assured I would know the results before the end of the day, but then, that afternoon, I got the dreaded biological indicator that you are not pregnant. I called to let my nurse know. It was a different cycle than I had ever had, very painful cramping, heavy and lasting for nearly nine days. I texted with my nurse about it. She told me that it was a chemical pregnancy, otherwise known as an early miscarriage.

I was devastated. Both head and heart allowed me to be. The anger that I thought I was lifting out of came back two-fold and I spent the end of August and most of September withdrawn and pissed off at the world. Before I knew it, it was October.

This past weekend I held a baby for the first time since Hudson.

We had an annual charity event to go to. Friends came in from out of town and I was looking forward to seeing one in particular, one of my fellow loss mamas. This would be the first time to see her since our loss and since the birth of her Rainbow Baby at the end of August. The only babies/pregnant people that don't trigger a negative emotional reaction are those that I am bonded together with through the loss of a child. Seeing as they make it through to the other side gives me hope. I couldn't wait to see Melyn and though I was so nervous about the kind of reaction I may have to being in the same vicinity as a baby, I wanted to hold baby Rowan so bad.

That Sunday morning we all gathered at a house for brunch. Melyn and I were able to have our heart to heart the night before. She asked if it was okay that I be around Rowan the next day at the brunch and I told her absolutely. I asked if I could have time with him. I needed to hold a baby, a baby boy, and I needed it to be a Rainbow Baby. I saw that precious little guy and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest, just screaming to hold him. I signaled to her that it was time and we went into a quiet room where she situated him into my arms. Alone in the room, I sobbed. Feeling the weight of a life in my arms and wishing so much it was Hudson. Wondering what he would look like right now and what his little facial expressions would be.

Heart:
I miss Hudson so much.

I'm going to explode with love over the thought of the life that I don't have anymore,

and the one that will exist someday.
Please let it be soon.

Head:

I need this. I so need this.

Heart:
Can we both agree that we are ready again?

Head:
Yes.

I don't know what the future holds. This entire experience has only amplified the fact that I am not in control of anything. My mom always said that the only baby she ever planned on was the one she lost. We continue to live our lives, to navigate our grief and mourn our loss, but I know at some point new life will occur. Until then, my head and my heart will go on with their conversations. I know they'll both be ready when that day comes. 

The One in Four

"When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses their partner, they are called a widow. When a parent loses their child, there isn't a word to describe them."
- President Ronald Reagan 

Today is October 1.

A year ago today, I went to my OB/GYN for my annual appointment. We had started TTC (trying to conceive) two months prior. I let my doctor know that we were ready for baby and she said she had no doubt that she would see me back again soon. On November 12, I called to let her know she was correct and we made an appointment for an 8 week sonogram the week of our two year wedding anniversary.

In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan declared October to be National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. A year ago, when I sat in the doctor's office waiting room, my head was filled with hopeful dreams of the picture-perfect pregnancy and the life we would build as a little family. The person I was a year ago had no idea the road she would endure and that the month of October would mean something very different to her after another trip around the sun. That person sitting here today, typing at the computer, does painfully know. This October, I stand with others battling loss as the one in four women that will experience pregnancy or infant loss. I then become another statistic as the 5% that lost their baby in the third trimester. From there I am in the 2% that lost their child due to a cord accident. These are not just numbers and statistics anymore, it is me.

This is my plea:
Be extra kind. Be more aware. If you know someone that has lost their child to miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, birth defects or disease, love them a little harder this month. Ask them about their baby, they WANT to remember them and for others to as well. We may cry in front of you and that is okay. Sometimes the memories do that, our hearts are still so raw because the one we love is gone, but behind the tears is gratefulness that we get to say their name out loud and that you did too. You acknowledged their life, no matter how brief it may have been, it was very much a life. It was our child.

While the whole month is dedicated to this awareness, October 15 is the designated day to honor it. On that day, the Wave of Light movement takes place at 7 PM where anyone around the world is invited to light a candle and let it burn for one hour. It is a vigil that can be done on your own and shared via social media to spread awareness and advocate for those who have experienced this heartbreak and to honor these babies.

This month, in everything I do, I seek to honor our son, Hudson John Schlieve.

I will stand with the other One in Four as we remember the baby/babies who await us in Heaven. We will never forget the joy upon learning that we had created them, nor the intense sorrow that we felt when they were gone. Some of these women were already mothers, looking forward to adding to their family. Some of them were entering parenthood for the first time. Some have gone on to have their precious rainbow baby, receiving that atonement and promise of new life. Some are still waiting and searching for hope. One thing is always true, no matter how many more babies there are or how much time has passed, our hearts never stop hurting for the one who is gone.

Every mother counts.

Every father counts.

Every life counts.

Four Months

Taken from the car as we drove along the 17 Mile Drive

in Carmel, California

Dear Hudson,

Sweet boy, I can't believe it has been four months since I saw your precious face and kissed those sweet cheeks. It has been exactly 124 days since we said goodbye.

We took you back to Carmel with us last weekend. That was always a special place for Mommy to go with your Grandparents and Uncles as I grew up. I got to go with your Daddy for the first time when we were pregnant with you. It was when you were almost 16 weeks, just a few days before we found out you were a boy. I remember walking the shops and seeing so many things I could have bought for you. In the back of my mind, I knew you were a boy and thought I should just get you something anyway but I didn't, just in case my intuition was wrong. I decided that I would instead look forward to the next time I came and I could spoil you properly then.

One morning while we were there, your Daddy and I got to take a walk, just the two of us - well, it was the three of us. I took him to the 18th green of Pebble Beach and over by the clubhouse, sharing memories of my family trips with him, like teeing off and my ball going straight into the bay or eating burgers with your Granddaddy in the Tap Room. Outside the pro-shop, next to the first tee, there was a statue of a little boy, dressed in golf gear that was too big for him, and a sign that read "Just like Dad." I took this picture of it and thought I'd frame it for my little boy someday. I even thought that if I was correct and you were a boy, that could be our gender reveal announcement.

I thought it would be special to go back with you this time and leave a little bit of you there. However, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wasn't ready to part with what little of you we have. Carmel is Heaven on Earth sweet boy. The closest place that I can go and feel like I'm where you are. I hope that is what your Heaven is like.

There have been some beautiful sunsets lately, I like to think of them as your smiles that I never got to see. I love you so much Hudson. Even though you see me hurting, I am so thankful for you and that you were mine. Always know that.

Until I hold you again,

Mommy

Mexitalian Chicken Spaghetti

I'm just going to put this out there: I love butternut squash. You will see it used in recipes around here a lot this fall.

What started years ago as an innocent chicken spaghetti recipe using a light cream sauce and chunks of vegetables, has evolved into this delicious creation as I became more familiar making sauces with different combinations. I love preparing this dish when I need to feed a large number of people, either for group dinners or when taking food to others. It re-heats beautifully and gives you a nice power punch of vegetables and protein. I have done this recipe with spaghetti squash and zoodles, but sometimes... carbs y'all. When making as a pasta, I typically use a linguini noodle. 

Enjoy!

Ingredients:
Yields 10-12 servings

• 2-3 chicken breasts 
• 1 cup salsa of choice
• 1.5 cups butternut squash cubed
• 1 can fire-roasted tomatoes and green peppers
• 1/4 cup tomato sauce
• 1/2 cup vegetable stock
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tbsp. Adobo sauce (from a can of Chipotle Peppers in Adobo Sauce)
• 6 oz. cream of chicken soup
• 8 oz. Neufchatel cheese
• 1 can black beans, drained
• 1 zucchini, shredded
• Parmesan or cheese of choice for garnish
• Parsley for garnish
• 1 box of your Pasta of Choice 
• Red Pepper Flakes (only if you want to kick the heat up more!)

First, place the chicken in a crock pot and top with salsa. Let cook on low heat for 6 hours. I do this on a Sunday to use throughout the week, or in the morning before I leave for work.

Once you have shred the chicken, it's time to create the sauce. I've dubbed this a Butternut Squash Arrabbiata. In Italian, arrabbiatta means angry sauce, or a sauce with spice or heat, so it felt like a good name for it. To start, heat the oven to 375. I always buy the pre-cut, cubed butternut squash at the grocery store but like to cut those into small chunks. This allows them to roast faster and it is easier for the puree. Toss in olive oil and then bake for 20 minutes, or until soft.

As this cooks, you can shred your chicken, soaking up the salsa juices to add flavor. Add the rinsed black beans and the shredded zucchini to the chicken, stirring to combine. Let this remain in the crock pot on a low setting.

Once squash is roasted, puree 1/4 of the squash in a food processor, then add the vegetable stock slowly, alternating more squash cubes and thinning with the vegetable stock as needed. Once all squash has been pureed, add the tomato sauce and adobo sauce and puree until all is blended. I always like to have a can of this sauce on hand. It is a great way to put a kick of smokey heat into a dish but just adding a tbsp. of the sauce. If you really want to heat things up, you can use an actual pepper, done it, and it's too much for me to handle.

Now, boil your chosen pasta noodle, prepare you spaghetti squash or your zoodles.

In a large chef's pan/saute pan (large surface space with sides, higher than a skillet), saute your garlic in a little olive oil on a medium heat. Once fragrant, add the Neufchatel cheese to melt down, followed by the cream of chicken and the diced tomatoes. When well combined, add your butternut arrabbiata, stirring well to fully blend.

Once the pasta is cooked, reserve a cup of the pasta water when you drain. Add the chicken mix, to the pan of sauce, folding the sauce into the mix, then do the same with the pasta. If needed, use the pasta water to thin the sauce just a bit. If you do not use pasta for this dish, you can do the same with vegetable stock to thin out the sauce if needed.

Plate it up, then top with parsley and choice of cheese.

When the Building Blocks Come Tumbling Down

A grieving person works so hard to stack an emotional block that they conquer on top of the other to build strength. At first it was being able to just make it through moment by moment. Then hour by hour. Finally it was day by day. We build on every ounce of strength that we can. However, just like the thing that caused our grief in the first place, it can all come tumbling down at a moment's notice.

This is one example.

Tonight, I am having a moment. Actually 90 moments and counting to be precise. For the last hour and a half I have been overcome with sadness. Leading up to the first of these 90 moments, I felt like I was out of the fog. For the first time, I was on a consecutive run of my head feeling more clear than it had in months. I felt sharp again and that my emotions were not going to get the best of me at any given time. Today I even had a meeting with a vendor that I hadn't seen since ...before... and I was able to handle the elephant in the room without tears or anxiety - as opposed to last week when I was caught off guard running into a pregnant friend I used to volunteer with, a sight in general that I'd worked so hard to avoid because of the trigger, and I could only thank my lucky stars that my sunglasses were on so she didn't see the hot tears about to run down my face. I texted with one of my loss mamas today, telling her that I felt like I was doing really well, that I felt like I was getting it together more and more. I had a pretty tall stack of building blocks built up and then, I don't know what happened.

Tonight we went to try a new place in the neighborhood for a casual patio dinner. We came home, snuggled Georgie Pup and watched Modern Family. I intended to go to bed when Max did, but couldn't. I wasn't tired yet. I decided to watch more TV. Two shows later, I sat there knowing I should go to bed so that I could wake up early, go to barre, have a productive day at work. That way I could build on the way that I was feeling these last two days and be good at "me" again, do my job well not just go through the motions, struggling to keep my head above water. Instead of moving from the couch, I sat there and let the sadness creep in. It was a simple thought that flashed through my mind, how the hell did all of this happen, how did I get here? My gaze shifted and I stared at the closed door to the nursery, then the tears began to fall. Emotions won the battle, I surrendered.

Maybe it was fifteen or twenty minutes later, I reigned the emotions back in to pull myself together and told myself that's all for tonight. I went halfway to that place but didn't want to go all the way into the darkness of my grief. Not tonight. I tiptoed into our room to get in bed. George was sprawled in my spot. As I slid him over and eased myself into bed, he coiled up next to me. I pet him and rubbed his belly, then felt the dark emotions rising again, silent-crying into his fur. His intuition let me love on him before his old-man nature got annoyed and he moved away from me and went to snuggle a sleeping Max, rubbing his nose on his arm. Max responded in his sleep by wrapping his arm around him and holding the pup. I looked at that image, thinking what a good Dad my husband would be right now. A Dad: it's what he is but he doesn't have his baby to be one to. And what kicks you hard in the gut when you're already down is not knowing when that day will ever come.

I had to get up and leave the room. Time to watch more TV, to escape reality by watching someone else's fake reality of the dramatic or satirical nature. Something to take us out of our own mind and give us a temporary relief. It's now almost 1 AM, tomorrow is going to be super fun.

At this point, I negotiate with myself. I can't wake up in four hours to get to barre, and still remotely fire on even half my cylinders to pretend to function for a long day at work. So I turned my alarm off, putting my physical health on the back burner to try to salvage my professional appearance. Then I think about my physical health and we start to go down a vain bunny trail for a little while. At 33 weeks, I had gained 24 pounds from my pregnancy. When I got home from the hospital, I was down 9 lbs instantly, a week out I got to a total of 15 lbs lost and then I stalled out. The heartbreak diet isn't the same on this 31 year old body as it was in my early twenties. I try to work harder on myself, but then I get sad and my physical health suffers. I don't want to go on walks, I don't want to wake up early and get out of bed, after work I just want to come home. I still have my baby weight, I can't fit into most of my pre-pregnancy clothes, my thick pregnancy hair is finally starting to fall out in clumps but I don't have my baby with me. I don't have anything to show for any of it, just pain and feeling like I failed. I failed him. I couldn't protect him. I couldn't keep him alive.

I cry more. My body is not the same, it won't be the same. It's a daily reminder that I've been through hell and Hudson is gone. Each day when I try to wear something that's still a tad too small or stare in the mirror after the shower at a squishy torso and stretch marks on my hips, I have utter disdain for this version of myself, both outwardly and for the way I feel on the inside 75% of the time.

Enter Self-Loathing. It's a fantastic phase, y'all. It takes any insecurity you have ever had and springboards it at you when you least expect it, like target practice. I'm a thirty-one year old woman with a successful career, a loving husband, wonderful family and friends. I moved on from this smattering of petty things years ago. Well, not anymore. When it comes on, I don't want to go in public, I don't want to be in a picture, I don't want to be seen because I don't want the voices in my head - those nagging insecurities - to eat away at me. I'd rather hide away to help silence my mind. Either way, the insecurities win.

It's now nearing 2:00 am. I'm out of Kleenex. My head and eyes are throbbing to the point that I want to close them, so sleep seems like it is the next logical step. I don't want to wake Max up. Suddenly, I want to go all the way to the dark place because it's where I feel the closest to what has been lost. I go into the nursery and take his hospital blanket out of the little dresser drawer. I crawl in the bed, thinking how stupid the last hour of thoughts have been. None of that matters. I just want my baby. I flip through the photos on my phone that documented my pregnancy: the growing bump pics, sonograms, the nursery décor, little things I wanted to remember to get, a picture of my baby shower invitation. Then there are my pictures I have of us with him, his sweet little feet attached to those long legs. Those dark curls, tiny ears, turned up nose, full cheeks, peaked lips and dimpled chin. I sob myself to sleep. My last thought before that space went quiet was that I should be up right now feeding my child, not mourning him. This bed I am sleeping in shouldn't be in here, it should've gone to my parents house to make room for the crib. I should still be on maternity leave, cherishing the last few weeks with my sweet boy. If I were crying right now it would be because I'm not ready to go back to work soon, not because my baby died. I shouldn't be doing anything that I've been doing these last four months. This shouldn't be our life. But it is.

Morning came too early. I wanted to stay inside that room and away from the rest of the world. I negotiate with myself again and the inner pep talk starts. It's time to pull yourself together and put this on hold again until next time. You have a three page to-do list to get through today. Run a brush through your hair, find something that fits, cover the sorrow with makeup and just try to have a better day.

Time to start re-building the blocks and march on to conquer another day.

Butternut Short Rib Ragu

 It was Sunday at 11:40 am. I was sitting on the couch with Max watching the Green Bay Packers pre-game show, trying to think about what to make for dinner. The temperature had dropped below 90, heck it had dropped below 80, so that meant one thing: FALL.

Kind of.

I decided to make something that felt like fall, and thus a short rib ragu with butternut squash was born. I did a little googling only to discover that I could not find such a recipe. I had a beef ragu recipe that I've made and adapt a little differently each time, and I've made short ribs a handful of times so decided to combine the two. I used that as a base, added butternut squash cubes instead of traditional carrots and a few ingredients to taste.

This was hands down, maybe one of the best things I've made in the history of ever. It was rich in flavor and I love how it all came together! I served it over gnocchi, but it is versatile and would be great served with pappardelle, polenta or mashed potatoes. Like the filling for the Chicken Fiesta Spuds, you can make a big pot of this and have it for leftovers in various ways throughout the week. 

Grocery List:
Yields 6 servings

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 pounds short ribs, bone-in
• Salt and freshly ground pepper 
• 1 cup butternut squash, chopped
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 medium shallots, diced
• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour 
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
• 1.5 cups red wine, such as Cabernet
• 6 cloves garlic, minced
• 1.5 cups beef stock 
• 1 tsp. rosemary, minced
• 1 tsp. thyme, minced
• 1 tsp. flat-leaf parsley + additional for garnish, minced
• Red pepper flakes
• 1 tbsp. brown sugar
• Chopped parsley Pecorino Romano, for garnish

Prep time: 15-20 minutes
Cook time: 3.5 hours (approx)
 
Pre-heat your oven to 325 degrees.

In a dutch oven or large enamel pot, heat the oil on high until almost smoking. Season the short ribs with salt and pepper. Place the short ribs two at a time in the pot and let brown on top and bottom. Set aside in a bowl and repeat until finished.

Turn the heat down to medium and add celery, onions, shallot and butternut squash to the oil. Cook for about 10 minutes or until softened.

Add flour, followed by the tomato paste. Stir to coat all veggies, then stir in the apple cider vinegar, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom. Turn up the heat to high, add the red wine and let cook until liquid reduces by half.

Add garlic, followed by beef stock. Stir your parsley, rosemary and thyme. Side note: your kitchen should be nice and fragrant right now.

Place the short ribs into the pot making sure you get them down in the liquid. Cover and place in the oven for 2.5 hours. Remove the short ribs and shred them, discarding fat and bones. Skim the fat off the top of the pot to help degrease. Add the shredded meat back to the pot and simmer on the stove for another 20 minutes to reduce the liquid by nearly half. Once reduced, stir in the brown sugar and red pepper flakes to taste (I used about 1/2 tsp for the perfect kick).

Serve your ragu with whatever chosen base, then garnish with pecorino romano and parsley.