Category Archives: Pregnancy

Mar20

Moving for the climb up.

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I am strong. If there’s one thing I am that I know people recognize me for because they’ve told me passionately, it’s that I’m strong. Hell, I’m fairly confident someone would suggest it to go on my tombstone somehow or in my obituary. But I didn’t always believe it about me. It wasn’t a trait I often associated me with. I thought they were crazy. I thought they weren’t privileged enough to see inside my mind and heart. I thought they were blind to the chaos surrounding me. I thought they were neglectful to the tears I sometimes shed in pain and sadness.

I was wrong.

You don’t go through heartache and have a voice without being strong. You don’t get knocked down and stand back up without being strong. You don’t push forward or move on without being strong. You don’t recognize sadness and make moves to become happy without being strong. You don’t become the queen at bouncing back without being strong.

I’ve questioned myself and my strength more than someone ever should over the years. I’ve doubted myself. I’ve wondered if I’m just being stubborn and should instead move on. I’ve pondered over how I’m able to keep going and why I haven’t just given up.

Part of this, I will recognize, is due to this stupid belief that thinking positively about myself is conceited or annoying to others. I fucking hate that.

Mindset.

For me, it all comes down to mindset. I was lucky enough to somehow be raised over the years in environments that nurtured mental strength. I was lucky enough to meet people who believed in me just enough for me to not stop, who were mindful enough to articulate their belief in me at the moments I needed to hear it most. I was lucky enough to witness my brother’s survival through the years and him continuing to laugh and share smiles with the world despite all his handicaps and diagnoses and limits.

I’m a firm believer that “depression” is often an overused term and mislabeled. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s an extreme sense of loss and helplessness. It’s overrated. I have a hard time trusting people who toss it out there to describe a temporary feeling when really the terms they’re looking for are sad or unhappy. In our quest to accept and normalize mental disorders, we’ve disassociated ourselves from recognizing a feeling as just a feeling. We want to attach it instead to a very troubling—depression, in its proper form and diagnosis is extremely troubling, debilitating, crippling, and heart wrenching, leading to loss of interest and inability to function—issue that many folks go undiagnosed with until it’s too late. However, sadness and unhappiness are feelings we can overcome if we choose to. Failure, stress, grief, tragedies are not one-way streets to the road of Depression. They might be the trigger, for some, but they are not the deciding factor.

I can’t get behind this notion that just because life isn’t going someone’s way or moving at the speed they imagined or aren’t entirely happy with it, they are depressed.

No. Those are obstacles, predicaments, circumstances. That’s not depression. That’s a poor outlook and a negative, unhealthy mindset.

Depression is not a “normal” state we want to be. Having a spectrum of feelings is normal.

When I was pregnant with Evelynn, some people assumed I was depressed because I had migraines, was constantly sick or nauseous, read a lot, napped a lot, and had little appetite. To be honest, it wasn’t much different than the previous 24 years of my life it seemed, except this time I had a little human growing inside me and I was bedridden. They wanted to cure me of a mental state when it was instead a difficult pregnancy and a physical state. Despite the difficulties and fear for the unknown, I was never entirely lost or felt helpless. I could see a future. It was, however unknown, tangible. Thenowmight have been a difficult timebut it never felt like the end of the world or like things could never get better.

Things got better because I persevered. I decided I was going to make a change. I decided to keep going.

After pregnancy, I still threw up. I remember asking my doctor, “Are you sure you missed like a twin or something? Because I’m still sick every morning and after every meal.” Seriously, that was my joke that wasn’t really a joke. I was so perplexed and scrambling for answers, I was damn near delusional. I was at a loss but I wasn’t lost. I was also seeing a hematologist to find answers regarding my low platelet count.

And then I heard about celiac disease. And after talking to numerous specialists from various fields throughout almost 3 years, I was firmly diagnosed. As firmly as you can with a disease where the testing is 20% inaccurate. Suddenly, the week-long migraines and daily puking and inability to gain weight on my 5’5” 115lb. frame devolved. Going gluten free and understanding celiac saved my health.

Fighting for me, knowing me, saved my mind.

The one and only gastroenterologist we saw, was a bitch—I don’t use this term lightly—before she even tested me for celiac. It was only 5 months after I heard about the disease. She told me NO based on the fact that I was the one who inquired with my doctor on the disease, despite that I had almost every single one of the symptoms and removing gluten from my diet was the only thing that had helped me in decades. I was a walking billboard for celiac flashing neon green to boot. She told me the tests came back with a firm negative and I could have gluten, I might just have a sensitivity. Years later I found out those tests were actually inclusive and given my symptoms and the fact that my platelet count had increased to the highest they had everbeen in my life by simply going off gluten, other specialists and my hematologist were very confident I most definitely have celiac disease. The hematologist even joked he would look into this further for his other patients he was having extreme difficulty diagnosing.

I don’t recommend self-diagnosing. I think most people do it out of paranoia. However, when we were told No by one doctor, it didn’t mean the others were also convinced it wasn’t. Conversations, knowing your body, asking yourself why you believe something—that’s key.

And for the record, celiac, because it can cause extreme fatigue, can show symptoms similar to depression.

I was never depressed. And I’m not afraid to admit when I’m sad—I hate to admit when I fail and I hate crying, there’s a big difference.

Last fall, I was sad. I was stressed but I was immensely sad. I couldn’t get control of my migraines again; they came like clockwork every Thursday, forcing me to work from home Thursdays and Fridays. I became sick and couldn’t get control of my workout routine—workouts are healthy and I’ve always been active. The endorphins they release are a natural anti-depressant. It also helps build your immune system. It’s also often my therapy. I felt overworked and undervalued. I felt unstable because I couldn’t gain control of anything. I was in a city with my only friends being coworkers who I rarely talked to outside of work. I felt alone. I felt like I was failing.

But I never felt lost or like there was nowhere up to go.

Failing, to me, does not mean an end. It just means something else, something better is best for me.

My favorite thing is recognizing you can only go up. There’s only growth. When you only have the best ahead, even if there might be more dips along the way. When there’s a gorgeous view to reach and take in, you have a beautiful future ahead. I think the climb up is a beautiful and amazing process. Recognizingthatis a key ingredient to a strong mind.

Most people hit rock bottom and think life is over, so they continuously allow rock bottom to become their sanctuary—that is depression. I didn’t hit rock bottom, not that time. I hit rock bottom years ago during a winter break in college and some subsequent semesters.

This was just a moment of sadness.

I was scared to make a move across the state to Grand Rapids but I didn’t let that fear of the unknown stop me.

When I first moved out of my parent’s house with Evelynn and to the Detroit area, the first time I was on my own fulltime with a child—who let that happen?—I was terrified. I was scared of possible migraines (not having them regularly always seems to foreign to me) and stress and finances and just staying alive. The always thriving independent part of me, however, was electrified. She was so excited for the freedom. So I made it happen.

I refused to be the one to stand in my own way. It was a healthy move—I needed that freedom and control of my own life.

That happiness of living in the area only lasted about 4 months. Instead of dwelling, though, I asked myself Why? Why was I suddenly so unhappy?You don’t need to pay a therapist to look within, you just need to have the mindset and strength and courage to ask yourself the hard questions. And allow yourself to recognize the answers instead of running from them or denying them. You need to accept them and then do somethingabout them—that’s another key.

For a girl who was considered crying a weakness, I bawled often. In the shower and in bed at night after Evelynn went to sleep. I have a habit of bottling up emotions and feelings until they pass. I don’t talk about my troubles well. I’m an introvert to the core.

I wasn’t okay with that state of feeling.

I looked around at my life in Detroit and realized everything that made me unhappy. I hated fighting with Evelynn’s overpriced school and stuck-up principal; loved the area and what it offered but it was missing something, compared to every time I visited Grand Rapids my heart sank when I left the city. I loved the challenges of my job but questioned the value and growth at the cost of me. I was upset up for every guy who asked me out but I wasn’t interested in; I felt like a bitch turning them down. I found myself constantly angry or annoyed over the smallest things. The city was wrought with heartbreaks for me and not feeling like enough.

And I wasn’t writing.

I’ve had one goal with a deadline for as long as I can remember: be a published author by the age of 30. I turned 29 in October and I hated that I wasn’t writing. Not poetry. Not one of the multiple books I had to start in college for various writing workshop assignments. Nothing but the occasional blog following a dating annoyance or travesty. I’ve damn near wrote more blogs so far this year than all of last year.

Despite how down or sad I felt, every day I told myself, “Today is a good day. My daughter is healthy and I’m alive. I’m able. I’m moving. I’m breathing. I can think for myself. Today I have opportunities. It’s all about my outlook. Mindset.” I might have been undeniably sad to the point where I couldn’t escape its recognition, but I also chose to look up. I wanted that climb.

I decided to take the unhappiness and fear and run with it. I embraced it. I changed jobs and moved across the state. I have even less time “off” as a single parent and for someone who enjoys being alone or spontaneous trips and adventures, that can be difficult to reconcile.

But I chose to move. I chose to recognize my capabilities, sought what I could change, and refused to let my circumstances or fear stop me. I chose to embrace the unknown and not let any fear define me. I chose to be strong. I chose me.

And honestly, choosing you is the happiest choice you can ever make.

Oct10

Portland Here I Come.

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I don’t know how to halfass anything. I’m known for being laid back & nonchalant but I’m also an all-in or forget it kinda girl.

Work. School. Dating. Parenting. Health.

I’m either jumping head first & drowning in the commitment or it’s not registering on my radar. I hold on for the long haul. On the rare occasion I decide to quit, I’m a bit dramatic: going all in with the sudden cold turkey, no looking back method.

Why? It works.

All three times I dropped out of college were snap decisions. (Don’t worry, I do have my degree.) It was like waking up to a blinking neon sign & that was all the clarity I needed. Forget the $20K in extra student loans I may have racked up in the process—regrets aren’t in my nature.

Quit gluten to test Celiac disease? No problem. Absolutely did not think that one through. I could have used a week to pig out on cheap greasy pizza & cinnamon twist donuts (not the rolls, come on). Okay, so I might regret that gung-ho approach some days.

Broke up with the baby daddy on a New Year’s Eve because I had to start the new year off right and I couldn’t be bothered to be with someone another second when I wasn’t into him. Not the most sensitive or considerate way I could have done it, maybe.

Wasn’t kidding about the dramatics.

Found out I was pregnant & “other options” didn’t mean jack to me. EJ may have been a complete shock & unplanned but an abortion never entered my mind. That second line appeared and I balled the Grand Rapids Grand River into flood zone—I was going to be a mom. A 180 would take place with my life & that excited me—committing wholeheartedly to the unknown.

Dating is the hardball of the group, though. I’ve never understood the dating multiple people at once unless it’s just in fun. I’ve always believed that if you meet someone worth your time, you don’t fuck it up. You don’t chase other guys. You don’t look for attention elsewhere. You don’t waste time & dates with guys you’re not really interested in. But maybe that’s because I value my time & hate wasting it. At the same time, I’ve always thought that if you aren’t willing to give up “the others” for someone, that person isn’t enough for you. It won’t last. If you have to think about your feelings—convince yourself—there’s a 99.8% chance he’s not going to last and keep your attention after another few months.

It’s your subconscious telling you you’re already bored.

I’ve always thought hesitation speaks volumes. You can find more truth in the silence.

& there’s a lot of hesitation when dating a single mom. You can imagine how I handle that.

Yet I committed wholeheartedly to accepting dating as a single mom would be no paradise and would rain hesitation. I should move to Portland.

Mar18

Green Grass.

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Recently I was informed, again, how “easy” my life is and how lucky I am. Usually I can shrug off these comments but this is a week where I’m just not in the mood to accept idle judgments.

Let’s get one thing straight: I am lucky but my life only appears easy because I have great people in my corner and I have an unbeatable will power.

I don’t think there’s a single person on this earth who has had it “easy.” They may deny tragedy or refuse to face hardships, but everyone at some point has faced a battle we likely know nothing about.

Robin Williams made millions laugh but committed suicide.

My brother lies in a hospital bed but we’ve never heard him moan or scream or cry.

There are two sides to the coin of life, some of us wear tragedies on our sleeves while others hide them behind steel doors.

It’s true, I have it easy with my mom providing daycare but reality is I couldn’t afford daycare if she weren’t able to do so. And it makes it harder to go out to see friends or go out on a date or even go to the gym because that’s just more time my mom is watching Evelynn. (Not to mention that’s more time away from Evelynn.)

It’s also true how I have it easy not having to pay for rent or a mortgage. Trust me when I say if Evelynn could live within city water limits I would rent my own place or if I had the finances to finagle purchasing a home, I’d jump on the opportunity in a heartbeat. There is nothing exciting about being 27 years old and living in your childhood bedroom—it’s a shot to your independence and ego. (& it really improves my dating life–we’re not even going to go there in this blog.) But racking up debt or making my daughter bathe in chlorinated water is not in her best interest—everything I do is done with my daughter in mind.

It’s also very true that my boss is understanding and supportive of my situation to allow me to work from home whenever I want. I don’t have set office hours. I choose to make it into the office 3-4 days a week and work long hours so I can work a “normal” day from home the rest of the week. (Let’s not get me started on my commute, one reason I want to move.) Evelynn hates these hours. On working from home days, she likely lays in my bed next to me while watching a movie or playing with puzzles. She doesn’t leave my side. She even eats her lunch in my bedroom sometimes. Good thing she knows to behave so I can work or she gets booted.

It’s also so very true I’m skinny (dear lord I hate that term, it’s derogatory). I used to be about 20 pounds heavier, give or take depending on the day, but I’m not proud of how I lost it—from a difficult pregnancy not hard work in the gym. I’ve had a hard time gaining muscle back. I don’t overeat and I eat about 85% healthy—no artificials, no preservatives, mostly veggies—and that’s how I stay….skinny.

It’s also so very unbelievably true that my daughter is fucking sunshine, but her father and I don’t have a good relationship and I’ve dealt with plenty of snide comments from “friends” who thought they knew the story between the two of us. They don’t—I’m not the type to gossip. There are very few people I confide in, for others they must pull teeth. I have to deal with recognizing this will likely always be the case.

There is nothing easy about being the one who holds your daughter’s stars and feeling like you let her world crumble just because you must leave for work or you just need to get in the shower or you’re not there when she wakes up. It breaks my heart that she can be with me uninterrupted for an entire day and still will not let me use the bathroom alone. “Mommy is coming right back” doesn’t work. We do distractions—a movie in my bed, a couple m&m’s, a snack in her uncle Tay’s room, a diaper change, etc.—for me to be able to sneak out of the house or into the shower without a meltdown. Half the week she sleeps in my bed. And on those nights, she throws a fit to sleep on the outside of my bed (it’s flush to the wall) as if to barricade me in.

It’s not even a little bit easy.

I’ll never understand parents who WANT their child to be sad over them leaving or walking away. Who purposefully instigate a negative reaction just to make themselves feel wanted or to boost their own ego.

I want Evelynn to be independent enough to know she will be okay and that I’ll come back. I love how she loves me…I don’t love how I can’t be there whenever she wants me. The doctor warned me of the clingy stage but that doesn’t make it easier.

I got lucky in my will power to stand up and fight for what I want in my life, and for those in my corner: parents that will watch my kid so I can work and not have 60 percent of my paycheck go to daycare; a boss who, if I tell him I’m offline Friday mornings because it’s Operation Evelynn Social (a weekly playgroup), accepts my kid is my number one priority; & a daughter who brings the sun.

I won’t deny the luck—I don’t want to.

But I have never met a single person who has had an easy life. And if they do, it’s because they were determined to make it that way.

My life is “easy” because I have an indomitable will to make it the best life I could have ever lived—I water my own damn green grass.

Mar29

Put down the picket & backpack.

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“Murderer!” the picketers ruthlessly scream because at about five weeks in the fetal development, the baby’s brain, spinal cord, and heart begin to develop. It’s during the third week, arguably, that the zygote develops into an embryo. For my government class back in high school, I spent the better part of a term researching abortion and the various methods. I lost my appetite. I couldn’t eat when my mom called for dinner. Just shy of seven years later, the stick was positive and I found myself in an unexpected pregnancy. I wasn’t ready. And I sure as hell didn’t believe myself capable. I wasn’t exactly known for being motherly or nurturing.

No lifting more than 20lbs. you dependent weakling. Say goodbye to coffee in the morning because there’s no caffeine. I hope you love migraines; they’re the friends that eat all your food and never leave. Good luck coping after a rough day at work because there’s no drinking alcohol in the hot tub. Instead, get ready to greet your new therapist twice a week as she helps to realign your spine. Think twice if you plan to dye your hair. Stay away from the sushi, deli meats, soft cheeses, and artificial sweeteners and coloring. Hope you prefer your eggs scrambled because that yolk will be fully cooked. And you can forget about your medium cooked steak or hamburger. Double check with your doctor regarding all your medications, previously prescribed or not. Don’t you dare sleep on your back—can’t put pressure on that spinal cord—but you best be getting that recommended nine hours each night. More likely to have serious car crashes when pregnant, you may not want to get behind that wheel. Or at least drive like the grandma you will be one day because the male in your life has an even higher crash rate.

Say hello to swollen ankles and that teenage acne that is coming back like a long lost best friend. You might even want to break out the matches for the constipation, and have fun with road trips, considering the constant need to urinate. If you don’t want cramps, stay away from the ice cream—it’s just willpower, those cravings don’t mean anything. Mind over matter and all that bullshit. And if you didn’t work out regularly before, you sure aren’t starting now. It’ll have to wait at least six weeks after birth when your doctor might give you the clear. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait even longer. You think that baby is magically popping out on your due date? WRONG. You may be induced early or it may come two weeks late. You want an epidermal to deal with the pain? Well shit, your platelet count better be high enough. Otherwise, you’re breathing and cussing your way through that natural birth. But let’s not forget that average minimum thirty pound weight gain. Hell, you might as well not even get out bed. Might as well learn to love that bed rest while on maternity leave.

I didn’t know the rules. For the five days between the night I found out and my doctor’s appointment, it was a self-educating process. I had a sandwich from Jimmy John’s because that’s what we always ordered for lunch at work. I didn’t know. I was a server; my tendency to lift a heavy tray was a daily habit. Habits die hard. I prefer my eggs dippity style. What the hell am I expected to eat for breakfast? My ex (boyfriend at the time) lived across the state and had a DUI; the driving to see each other was all on me. I sleep on my stomach but suddenly my little bump wouldn’t allow it; the body pillow became my new best friend. And the morning sickness was not just the first and second trimester, and it definitely was not just in the morning. That shit did not discriminate. It partied all day for all three trimesters.

If you wield a picket sign outside an abortion clinic, you sure as hell better have gone through a complicated pregnancy because not all are a happy dance in the sunshine. And even if it is a glowing pregnancy where everything goes as planned and expected, the mother still gave up a lot. Oh, you’re a man? You can’t get pregnant? Get a backpack and fill it with thirty pounds of weights and strap the bastard on—to your front. You, sir, are in for one hell of a backpacking trip. And don’t even think about taking it off when you sleep or use the loo. That shit is glued to you.

It is not possible to force a woman to continue with an unexpected pregnancy. Pregnancy is a highly selfless act and the expecting mother must be prepared to follow through with all the limitations, eat her daily vitamins, and educate herself on proper pregnancy care. Reality is not all mothers are willing, even those who are elated and want to be a mom. Then, how can you expect a mother who doesn’t want children or who isn’t ready to undergo the battle? Because it is a battle—them hormones can be a bitch, the cravings can cost a pretty penny, and it’s useless fighting the tears.

Abortion was never an option for me, but I will never understand the abortion debate and I will always question the integrity of pro-life picketers. Pregnancy is one hell of a commitment, even if it goes as planned, the mother is “glowing,” and it’s considered a healthy one. By no means do I think abortion should be a form of birth control, and it is highly unfair that unwanted babies get aborted everyday while other couples grieve over the inability to conceive, but if a female wants to terminate a pregnancy, I doubt she is willing to provide a healthy womb for the baby.

When I was five months along and my doctor prescribed me to eat ice cream everyday because I couldn’t gain weight, Worry began to nag. When she called me at 9 P.M. to tell me I had to be at the hospital at 8 A.M. the next morning to be induced, Worry took root. When my doctor told me my platelet count was too low for an epidermal, that they were concerned my blood wouldn’t clot if I bled, Worry rammed me like a freight train. After I gave birth and my doctor told my mother it was a good thing they induced because my amniotic fluid was unhealthy, Worry was finally derailed. Worry was constant during my pregnancy and I followed every recommendation given to me. It was deep-seated and the hormones didn’t help. The pregnancy wasn’t expected but my daughter was wanted. I couldn’t imagine being in that situation as an expecting mother who didn’t want the baby, the pregnancy.

It’s still unclear as to whether I should ever undergo a pregnancy again. My doctors have no idea if it will be the same battle or different results, if it would be detrimental to my health or if the baby would survive, but that doesn’t change anything. Abortion will never be an option for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to condemn those who choose to exercise their right. Every pregnancy is different. And you never know the battles another is facing.

Feb27

Secret Is Out

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Still want to know my secret? Still think there was more than sickness to my lack of weight gain while pregnant? Well, truth be told, you might be right, though I highly doubt it. However, for argument sake, I’m willing to indulge you. Briefly, that is.

Morning sickness was a lie. It was all day everyday and it was the one reason why I never had to purchase maternity clothes. Yes, you heard me right. Now get over it and let’s move on. The reason I had a healthy baby and felt healthy, despite the sickness, was much simpler. I have always been aware of the food and ingredients I consume. Pregnancy only exemplified that notion. I was conscious about everything I put in my body. I read all labels, every damn thing that was written on any food product. I read it all. If it was low fat or low sugar, I deciphered the ingredients to determine what was used as sweetener.

The doctor may have mentioned it was okay to have diet pop but I refused to put aspartame in my system and I stayed away from high fructose corn syrup or artificial anything. I had enough trouble keeping bland and normal food down; I didn’t want to waste time trying to consume junk or harming substances. Instead, I devoured as many fruits as possible. They were hydrating and despite the acidity, fruit settled the best. Some days, it was the only thing I could keep down.

I gave up caffeine entirely. College was survived by guzzling about four cups minimum of coffee a day. Caffeine was kryptonite. It was the hardest thing to give up and I turned to Kool-aid. Not my smartest choice. There has been discussion over a direct correlation between artificial coloring and autism. Upon realizing this, I gave up the Kool-aid, too. For half my pregnancy I only drank select teas and water.

If I thought coffee was hard to give up, giving up sandwiches was a slow painful death. Sandwiches have always been one of my favorite foods–only to be outdone by hamburgers. Cold sandwiches, specifically. For nine months, I somehow survived on paninis and hot sandwiches, making sure to heat up the lunchmeat in a fry pan before, and I only ate the uncured. Sodium nitrate didn’t have a chance in hell to enter my body. It’s a pink powder that shouldn’t be an additive.

Read that last paragraph again. Notice how I heated up the lunchmeat: fry pan. Don’t get me started on the uselessness and utter unhealthiness of microwaves. Actually, screw that. Sometime in high school–or maybe it was back in middle school–my parents removed our microwave from the kitchen. Previously, all of Taylor’s meals had been warmed up via microwave. Between the heat and rays of a microwave, the vital nutrients and vitamins that make up a meal are killed. When eating a microwaved meal, whether home cooked leftovers or out of the freezer, you are consuming empty calories. Everything that was once healthy about the meal perished. Instead, use the bake option on an oven or a fry/sauce pan on a stovetop to heat food up. It may take a bit longer but that’s the benefit. Those key nutrients aren’t being zapped away.

Unfortunately, when I was pregnant, I hadn’t been aware of the effect gluten had on me. I continued to consume bread and oatmeal daily. This was my greatest fault and I didn’t know it. I had been able to give up all processed food and leaned instead towards the all-natural food products. It wasn’t difficult. The mind is a powerful thing. When you make a decision and actively pursue that lifestyle choice, your body begins to follow suit. I gave up salty food like chips and pretzels because they made me dehydrated and sick. After awhile, my body no longer craved such snacks. Telling my body “No” took discipline, following through took restraint, but the end result was motivating.

Evelynn may have only been 5lbs when she came home from the hospital but she’s healthy as a cucumber. Her doctor was consistently impressed those first few weeks she was home. There may have been constant worry over her health and “normalcy”–God I hate that word, it implies imperfect in the abnormal–but I also knew she was going to be a force to be reckoned with. It was a bone-deep sense if assurance and it was magnificent. My food and drink choices gave me comfort in this.

Giving up coffee and cold sandwiches, Kool-aid and salty foods, was difficult but it was also empowering. I learned my limits and I learned what I was capable of. I gave up Ben & Jerry’s and dippity eggs because of raw egg and uncooked egg yolk. I gave up tossed and garden salads because I couldn’t handle ranch but indulged in taco salads weekly. Homemade salsa made for a great dressing. We got meat from the local meat barn because sodium nitrate didn’t interest me. We sought out no GMO products. It was harder than hell but I survived. Being healthy isn’t as expensive as we believe it to be. Instead of paying for preservatives, growth hormones, and additives, pay for raw nutrients, vitamins, and all-natural ingredients. Your bank account won’t see that great of a difference but your body will reap some amazing benefits.