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Stone Soup, and Mom Guilt

Whitney • Sep 07, 2023

Sarge is 9 months old. He weaned himself from breast feeding the month before. I set farina with eggs and yogurt in front of him for breakfast and sit down with my own only to have mom guilt slam into me full force. I’m looking at his breakfast and realizing there are no veggies on his plate. Suddenly all I can think about is the fact that I’m obviously not feeding him enough veggies. He has been eating solid food for 5 ½ months and I can’t remember a single time when I have put a vegetable on his plate. 


Mom Guilt. We love to pretend that is other mom’s that give us gilt and shame about our parenting, and for sure there are a few parents out there who do, but if we are being completely honest with ourselves, as parents, more of our guilt and shame is internally based than externally base. 

Now back to my story. THREE DAYS LATER. I have been wresting with guilt, searching “Toddler meals with veggies” on Pinterest and Instagram in my spare time, and writing a list of veggies that can be eaten with only front teeth. Three days of feeling panicked and guilting.


I don’t mention it to anyone because I’m worried that they are going to either judge me for not feeding my child healthy enough food (if anyone does that you don’t need them in your life anymore) or overwhelm me with suggestions that I don’t actually want to try because they take way too much work (#Everypinterest/Instagramtoddlermealever). I set dinner down for Sarge and start eating my soup when I hits me. We eat stone soup every day. We have eaten stone soup every day since he was 3 months old and first started eating foods. At this point Sarge eats it twice a day (it’s one of two things he will eat). 


Stone soup:

2 carrots 

2 celery stalks

1 small onion

2 red bell peppers

1 large sweet potato

Add any root vegetable at will

1 can diced Italian tomatoes

2 tb dried basil

½ tb dried oregano

2-6 cups chicken broth


Dice/chop all the veggies. If you have time saute the carrots, celery, and onion first or just chop everything up, toss it in a pot, cover it in chicken broth and simmer/boil for 20 min (small dice) to 60 min (big chop). Either use a hand mixer, or put your soup in a blender and blend until smooth. 

If you want to thicken it (so it sticks to kids spoons better) melt a ½ cup of butter in the bottom of a pan, add ½ cup flour once the butter is slightly brown. Mix and then scoop a ¼ cup of soup mixture over the butter flour mixture and mix. Continue adding ¼ of soup at a time until you get about 1/3 of the soup added and then mix everything together. 


It’s also really good if you add heavy cream or parmesan cheese to it.


Ya’ll it’s almost entirely made up of vegetables. I panicked for three days about not feeding Sarge vegetables when that was essentially all he ate. 

Mom guilt sucks. It hits about weird things at inconvenient times. Sometimes it is our own pride that creates the ground for guilt to grow and unfortunately sometimes it is the pride of others that damages our confidence. Find your people. The people that you can just say all to.


Find your people that support you. Live in those relationships; express what you need from them so that they are healthy and mutually beneficial. The mom guilt will come, I have yet to find a way to stop it. I only know that guilt doesn’t live in a place that is supportive and open. The greatest tool guilt and shame have is convincing us that we are alone. Alone is where they thrive. Remove the isolation of guilt and shame; they cannot grab hold if you are not isolated. 


We preach about needing to create a different culture for mothers and parents. Be that culture. Be open, be honest, let go of the pride that makes you show only your best self and find your own village.


May we each find our people and fill our village.

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There is a little game I play with every miscarriage. It’s not that fun. I just happen to have a lot of family and friends in the growing the family stage of life. My sister just announced that they are expecting. Let the game begin. I took their due date and my due date, and we have a connection. My baby would be 3 months older than hers. It starts as a casual connection, but the thought never leaves my brain. My first baby is a few months younger than one of my sister’s second kid and 3 months older than another sister’s first kid. My second baby is 2 months younger than one sister’s third kid, a few months older than another sisters second kid, and 6 months older than Sarge (I know it would be impossible to have both of them). I have watched those kids learn and grow; knowing that I almost had the same thing, and I’ll do it again with these babies that are being grown around me. At my most bitter it feels like a curse. There will always be at least two people close to you who are pregnant or who get pregnant right after you miscarry. I’m sure that I just become hypersensitive to pregnancy for a little while. Funny thing; I thought I was doing better with this one. It’s different when you have a kid. I’m no longer worried that I will never get to be a mother, instead I worry that Sarge was a fluke. What if he really was a miracle? Maybe he would have gone full term without progesterone. If that’s true than we haven’t figured anything out. Fertility research is lacking and the go to solutions for infertility are expensive and may or may not help. I worry about future miscarriages, medical treatments, next steps, and how to answer questions like “Are you going to have more kids?”. I worry about how to explain miscarriage to Sarge when he is older. Progesterone is not my friend and I don’t know what to tell him about mom being sick for 4 months. I told all my family and friends that I was okay because I have Sarge, and he makes everything better. It’s true that he brightens my life, and when I told them that I thought I was fine, but I’ve since learned that I’m not handling this one as well as I thought I was. My sister’s announcement caught me by surprise and the emotions hit. It’s a different kind of pain this time. It’s a pain that comes from the elation of thinking you’re your fertility problems are over, only to find out they aren’t. It’s the pain of realizing that your plan to have 4-5 kids and be done by the time you are 30 may not work out. It’s the pain of the unknown and most of all it’s the pain of conflicting emotions. I’m so happy to have Sarge, yet it hurts to think he could be my only child. I’m overjoyed for my friends and family who are welcoming new little ones into their families, yet it hurts that I’m not one of them. I’m so grateful for my family and friends who have been able to grow their families without this particular set of struggles. I hurt for my family who have been where I am, for those who will probably be where I am in the future because I can’t supply any answers for them. I hurt from my friends who sacrifice so much to have their miracle babies, for those I know how have children, but can not have more no matter how deeply they wish they could. All of these conflicting emotions inside me. I’ve learned not to run from them. I’ve learned to embrace the ones that I want to keep and to face the ones I want to move past and heal from. If I try to run, I am never able to heal and find joy where I am. So, here I sit, four months after going in for my first appointment already knowing I was miscarrying and seeing the still form in the ultrasound, with my Dr. Pepper and my dark chocolate, watching a movie that I know will make me cry; giving myself permission to mourn my loss. Making space for the sorrow, anger, devastation, and whatever else I may feel.  Reminding myself that I will probably always hurt a little, and that’s okay. Finding space to see what brings me joy in life so that tomorrow I can embrace that. Healing so that when I see my pregnant friends, I can congratulate them without hesitation. Only feeling a slight pang of sadness knowing that I could have been in the same place if things had gone differently. If you are in a place like mine, I hope you will allow yourself the space and time you need to heal too. I know it’s hard. I hope you will find peace through the pain and that happy little moments will begin to shine through for you. If you are watching someone go through this struggle, I hope you will give them the time and space they need. Let them tell you of their hurt months and years later. Let them be happy with you when the happy moments come. Support them and they will support you in return as much as their hearts can handle.
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