So, while I was pregnant some things happened and my Doctor saw it best that my labor be induced. Which required the use of pitocin which makes labor (already hard) even harder, and I've done it both ways so I'm confident the devil actually brews pitocin in the pits of hell and that labor is in fact significantly harder with pitocin. If you haven't picked up on it yet, my labor and delivery was hard and I was tired and hungry and also pretty proud of myself and felt deserving of a feast. But alas, if only childbirth were the hardest part of parenting. I stay in the hospital a few days, and finally get to come home.
Upon arriving home, me and my newborn fell deep in love and cuddled and I nursed her and rocked her to sleep and NONE OF THIS IS TRUE. I was still tired and hungry and struggling to nurse and my baby was also tired and hungry and struggling to nurse and my husband was also tired and hungry and struggling to know how to continue to provide encouragement to nurse to the both of us. Through our church, we were signed up on a list of people who had recently been in the hospital and there are people that volunteer to bring you meals. It was like magic. People brought us meals, food, good food that we didn't cook but we ate and we didn't leave our house and we didn't get dressed but we ate. So I continue to struggle with nursing and my confidence and wherewithal are deteriorating. However, just in the nick of time a lady knocks on my door. A woman in her late 50's maybe, attractive, well put together, wearing a red coat and tasteful makeup, is standing outside on my front porch with a bag full of food. I'm in a robe and feeling sad (because motherhood) and not feeling in slightest bit social, but this woman comes right in my house without even asking. Right in my kitchen!
In my kitchen where she proceeds to turn on my oven, take out all of the food she has prepared which is pork tenderloin with a cherry reduction sauce, cooked carrots, sour cream mashed potatoes, strawberries, fresh whipped cream and some fancy hot chocolate that is not powdered but chocolate shavings that you whisk into hot milk! I'll never forget this menu as long as I live. She takes all the things out and places them in my oven or refrigerator respectively. Then she takes the hot chocolate and very casually says, will you look at this hot chocolate? It's so fancy, from some fancy store in the mall, William Soma something......anyway, you know how it is when you're trying to learn to nurse and you're so tired and so hungry but you can't really have coffee......anyway, my daughter's thought this hot chocolate really hit the spot. And then she left.
By some miracle, my baby is sleeping and the food is warmed. My husband makes us each a plate. I take a bite of those sour cream mashed potatoes, and life is breathed back into me. Those mashed potatoes saved my life. The hot chocolate and strawberries and whipped cream! After this meal, I believed I could live to see another day of motherhood.
I often think of this meal and that woman and how it made me feel. Whenever there is a sign up sheet to serve a family a meal, or when a friend or acquaintance has a baby or a stay in the hospital, I can't sign up fast enough. My menu, while slightly different is heavily influenced by this woman and is always the same: Maple glazed pork tenderloin, asparagus, sour cream mashed potatoes, chocolate pie, strawberries and fresh whipped cream.
So to the woman who's name I never caught, thank you for serving me one of, if not the best, meals of my life. This meal not only served me but many, many others along the way.
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