Life Lately, TCM, and What's Been Working for Me
Plus a few things I love
I recently confessed in a text to my girlfriend, who’s several months ahead of me in pregnancy and just given birth to her second child, that there’s a pinch of fear, or is it doubt, that lives within me. Sometimes, thoughts bubble to the surface that our second child will disrupt the family ecosystem—the love and relationship I have for Ollie, drop a bomb on our comfortable routine, slingshot me back into my postpartum anxious ways.
I get worried that I might become that “trapped” version of Emily again. After Ollie was born, I mostly lived in fear because I let the fear-mongering on social media color my opinions on motherhood and parenting styles (ie: if you don’t breastfeed on demand—no bottles!—you’ll lose all your milk supply!).
Ollie’s food allergies were so scary at the time, that I didn’t know of one formula he could take. So, I switched up my diet to accommodate what he could tolerate eating, and basically…never left his side. Which had it’s sweet moments.
But I put off dentist appointments I needed, badly. I postponed my annual physicals until he was two. I lived with a rebroken tail bone (it broke again, back into the correct position, during labor—the first time it broke was landing on it after a jump while snowboarding) until I was brave enough to “get out” and see a chiropractor at six months postpartum. He fixed my back in one session. I was in tears of gratitude when I left, walking inches taller, asking myself why I waited so long to get help…and still, with all the lightness, I was stressed, and rushed back home to make sure I was able to nurse Ollie in time.
It’s amazing what a gift an honest text message like this to a best friend can be. After confessing my fears and I-hope-nots, my girlfriend wrote back, confirming that she had all the same fears and doubts before her second son was born. She reassured me that, while life does change, after a couple months, the family all fell into lockstep and felt like a real team. Not that it didn’t before, with one child, but now they were a team of four. It felt amazing and normal to her. Exhausting and enlivening. She couldn’t picture life any other way. All of their hearts were so full, including their eldest son’s, who’s Ollie’s age.
Postpartum and the transition of identity into motherhood was all so much for me 5.5 years ago. I remind myself that I’m a different woman. Our family has evolved. It is so easy to project our past and our fears onto our future.
Interestingly enough, my son doesn’t do that, yet—project his fears. At five, he hasn’t learned how to project his fears into future events, the way we do as plugged-in adults with loads more perspective.
But then, I wonder, how much is perspective from the past actually teaching us? Could a blank slate and an empty mind of a five-year-old also be of equal value?
Instead of ruminating on my fears, I asked Ollie, “How do you feel about your sister coming into this world?”
His response was all I really needed to hear. “I’m so excited to meet my sister. I hope she doesn’t go to heaven like the last baby. I hope I get to meet her.” He proceeded to walk over to my belly and hug it, “I love you soooo much, Morgan.”
Since that moment, I tethered myself to a mantra, inspired by my son: Blank slate, empty mind.
In whatever battle you’re fighting, or journey you’re on, I think a little more conscious mindlessness could do us all some good. A little less overthinking.
This all reminds me of a women’s yoga retreat I hosted in Costa Rica at my friend’s beautiful resort six years ago. We all silently hiked together up a river to a waterfall. On the hike, we were instructed to each pick up a leaf that called to us, and carry it with us on the journey. When we got to the top of the river, where the waterfall rushed above us, we laid our leaves into the water in different places, and watched them each take their own unique journeys back down the river.
Some leaves got stuck in rocks and needed some help. Some leaves floated on down the river, only to find a sandy shore and patiently linger until the elements pushed it back along. But eventually, every leaf made it downstream, in their own unique ways.
I’m ready to live my life this way. Even though the bills must be paid and there’s normal life things that require some less, “Jesus take the wheel,” moments, I’m pretty set on being my own leaf in the river.
And when I feel like I’m trying to strap an outboard engine to my leaf (my default), I hope to pause and come back to this story, and this mantra.
Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) works well for my body. I love the gentleness, patience, and thoughtfulness of the way of life, the treatments, and the herbs. From my experience with Chinese Medicine, everything starts with nutrition, then moves on to treatments like acupuncture and chi-gong, and then a doctor may prescribe medicinal herbs as a “last resort” and potent therapy. (Also from my experience, TCM is the way I got pregnant two weeks after my miscarriage—thanks to a wonderful TCM doctor and his wife at Chinatang in Lausanne, Switzerland.)
With postpartum nearing, and the self-nourishment that breastfeeding demands, I wanted to get a head start on healthy nutrition habits inspired by TCM. I subscribed to a bone broth and postpartum tonic/tea delivery service from Chiyo (they curate herbs and nutrition based on what a woman’s body needs for nourishment week by week after birth). And since I’m more of a fresh food/intuitive eating gal (I don’t really enjoy meal services), I read up about TCM-inspired nutrition for the first six weeks of postpartum so I could begin practicing and preparing nutrition catered to where my body is at.
So I’ve been cooking lots of warm foods, and most notably, eating way more cooked greens. Which feels very un-salady, un-American, and anti-summer-is-coming. But it’s what TCM suggests. And I must say, with this braised greens recipe—which I’ve made with spinach, mustard greens, collards, kale, you name it—I’ve been able to make a ton of really satisfying, quick meals. The smell of the garlic in the pan, the aroma of opening up a bottle of dry white wine to splash into the cooking greens (can’t be totally TCM, still need a splash of Emily), and letting the greens stew in a high quality bone broth for a few minutes, it’s all part of the medicine: the self-love of preparation—albeit simple, the somatic journey of aromas, and the enjoyment and satisfaction of eating it.
I’ve been loving:
Trying non-invasive techniques to achieve my skin goals. I stuck with microdermabrasion and a simple skincare routine (Vintner’s Daughter Active Botanical serum AM/PM followed by Biologique Recherche Elastine moisturizer) throughout my pregnancy and I’m really satisfied with the results—less fine lines, more hydration and glow. I tried Botox several times before pregnancy, but a comment Jane Fonda made several years ago made me reframe the way I see beauty. She said that, despite all the work she’s done on herself (and wished now that she didn’t), the faces she loves the most are women who have aged into their faces. That’s an especially hard concept to grasp as a woman in my thirties, with grey hairs popping up in new places every day. But, I’m giving it a try. At least the skin part. I’ll keep the highlights, for now.
As a part of my self-care journey, and my desire to feel as good as possible in my body, I downloaded the food journaling app, Ate. It has been an easy, easy way to journal what I’m eating and stay accountable to feeling good. The app doesn’t track calories, it tracks how you feel. It’s this really healthy way to document my nourishment in a balanced headspace. And it’s as easy as snapping a photo. I really like it, and after using it for about a month now, feel much better in my body and more confident about my body.
Beautiful reflection and mindset! Great to learn how you are leaning into TCM and how well it’s served you in the past. I resonate with the ways in which TCM follows the arc of the seasons for health & well-being.