My dad is a hunting/fishing kind of guy, and I grew up around meat. The man is also a big jokester (don’t know where I got my biting sarcasm from!) and he always picked on me (but in a way that only a loving father can!) When I was 3 he was preparing my bath for me and I was sitting on the toilet naked and patiently waiting. Out of nowhere he turned around and said “Boo” and I was so scared I leapt of the toilet and landed on my hands. I broke my wrist. I was a 3 year old with a cast because she broke her wrist falling off the toilet when her dad tried to scare her. Great. When I was older, he told me that if I wore white shorts they could show drive-in movies on my butt. My brother really liked that one. Fabulous.
But, none of that ever really scarred me (if anything, I learned how to fire back… When my dad and his college buddies were going to Vegas for a guys trip I told him they had to go see a show, and that the show they would all enjoy the most was Thunder From Down Under.
He believed me. I’m pretty sure the poor man will never live that one down.) What did scar me was him taking deer carcasses, naming them “Bambi” and then moving their cold, dead jaws as though they were talking to me right before skinning them in our garage. Or showing me how to gut a fish, only to point out all the eggs inside that would have been babies if we hadn’t just caught them for dinner. I think this was supposed to foster in me a love for hunting and fishing (and I always was a bit of a tomboy), but it did just the opposite. It made me think of every piece of meat that went on my plate in its original form, and all the things it could have been doing if I wasn’t eating it. Starting young (maybe 5 years old) I began rejecting any kinds of red meat. The idea of it just really grossed me out, and I didn’t like picturing those cute cuddly animals before they wound up on my plate. There would be fights, and I would go to bed without dessert more often than not, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want it, and even then I was stubborn.
I still ate chicken, and I had a thing for bacon, but that was pretty much it. Then (as I got older) I started to become disgusted by even that. It wasn’t ever that I wanted to save the world, or keep anyone else from eating meat; it was more that I just didn’t like the idea of flesh being in my mouth. It really freaked me out.
When I was in 8th grade, I gave it up. I declared myself a vegetarian, and then I moved forward fully planning on committing to this lifestyle. I don’t think anyone in my life really thought this would stick (after all, I was a kid. I could never possibly make that big a change all by myself, and eventually I would crave something meaty, right?), but I did. I never looked back. I have always cooked meat for everyone else (I kind of like being Suzy Homemaker, and I love making meals for other people. I always knew that if I was going to entice my meat eating friends over for dinner, I would have to give them something to make their carnivorous mouths water. I’ve been told I make the best chicken tacos ever.), but I have always abstained and made something else for myself. I learned the art of finding something to eat, even in steak houses (usually involves a lot of substituting – waiters love me), and I even prepared the Thanksgiving turkey on more than one occasion (still can’t figure out why anyone would want anything to do with that sack of organs inside the poor bird though!) My lifestyle was working out just fine for me, and I was happy with it!
But, I always knew that I would start eating meat again when I had kids. I have lived a healthy vegetarian life, and never have I been anemic or lacking in any nutrients, but I’ve also always known that a well balanced diet (with some meat) was the healthiest way to live. I knew I would want to be as healthy as possible when I got pregnant, and that this would include meat from time to time. I also knew that I would never want to raise my children vegetarian. If that was a decision they made later in life, I would happily educate them on how to do so the healthy way, but it was not a lifestyle I wanted to enforce upon my kids who would likely benefit from animal proteins while growing up.
So, when I made the decision to try for baby this year, one of my goals was to reintroduce meat before the IVF cycle, so that my body would have time to adjust (I didn’t want to make any big changes during IVF or pregnancy that could possibly freak my body out bad enough to cause a miscarriage, and when you haven’t eaten meat in this long there is an adjustment period.) Over the last month, I have implemented or started working towards almost every one of my goals, except re-introducing meat. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it, and I kept telling myself that I still had plenty of time.
Then, someone mentioned to me the possible connection between soy and infertility, and it scared me. My diet is very soy heavy, and it always has been. Now on the one hand, I thought to myself that if soy was the issue I would have started having problems long ago (since it's not like my diet had just changed), but on the other hand I found myself thinking “do I really want to take that risk?” I figured I had already made this decision to bring meat back into my life, so I might as well eliminate the soy and do so now; I just don’t want anything else stacked against me in terms of baby making odds.
I went to Costco this week, and I bought myself some turkey slices.
I figured this would be the easiest thing for me to start with; I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle anything that looked meaty just yet. Plus, I had been advised to start very slowly since my body no longer has the enzymes required to digest meat, and would need to rebuild those up. One slice a day, every 3 days, for the next 2 weeks was the plan.
Last night I decided I was ready. I opened up the package, and was immediately taken aback by how slimy this stuff was.
What causes that? (And if it has anything to do with it being from an animal, I don’t need to know the answer! P.S. I kind of love how my Live Strong tattoo is in this photo. That wasn't planned, but is pretty much perfect because this took some strength!) I took one slice out, examined it, and patted it down with a paper towel trying to get rid of the sliminess. I then proceeded to completely hide it in a wrap with veggies and cheese, hoping I could eat it without even noticing.
That didn’t work out so well, as the texture is obviously something I’m not used to. I knew I was eating meat, and it felt weird; but I didn’t vomit like I was afraid I would (I know it’s hard for a meat eater to understand my repulsion, but you must have some food that you just can’t stand, right? Now, imagine trying to choke down a whole one of those. No easy task, is it?) In fact, I was fine. It was weird, and not necessarily something I would have chosen to eat if I could have had anything, but it was fine. This is going to be fine.
I have returned to the land of meat eaters. I am officially a carnivore again. I don’t think I will ever get to red meat (no interest what-so-ever), but I think I will be fine sticking to the poultries. I’m also going to try to get into fish here in the next few weeks, since I know how good it is for you, but we will see; I’m a little afraid of the smell.
Regardless, I am one step closer to baby. This was actually the thing I was the most afraid of doing, and it wasn’t so bad. And when I think about it in terms of being my healthiest, so that my baby can be its healthiest, it almost seems worth it.
Almost.
Sorry. That was just melodramatic!
