Today was to be the day I jumped back on the dairy-free wagon.
Before falling pregnant with Tiny, I’d been mostly dairy-free for about seven years. I say “mostly” because I didn’t avoid all dairy all of the time; I occasionally indulged in a slice of pavlova with cream, or enjoyed blue cheese while sipping on a spicy Shiraz, and never made a fuss if I was out for a meal. I had an intolerance (which first showed up as a toddler, but disappeared until my mid-twenties), not an allergy, therefore was willing to suffer a few gurgles and hours of nausea in the name of a good time.
There were occasions when I regretted eating something…like the time I ate a whole family-sized dish of macaroni cheese and spent the evening in agony, trying to claw at my stomach through my belly button, or the time I ate supposedly dairy-free gelato in Sydney and fainted at my sister’s flat. But generally, I allowed myself a little slice of calcium goodness every once in a while, and I was okay.
However, while pregnant with Tiny, I found I could suddenly eat all the dairy I wanted, and it didn’t make me feel ill – in fact, during the first 14 weeks, all I could keep down were crisp and cheese sandwiches. I was in dairy heaven (although lamented the fact that I couldn’t eat the unpasteurised cheeses in Europe) for those 38 weeks, and so far, have been eating dairy like its going out of fashion since Tiny was born.
Recently, though, I’ve been experiencing the same discomfort and pain as when I was first diagnosed, and I decided it was finally time to – begrudgingly – start to limit my intake of dairy again. Today was the day to start. I sent Tall off to work with the last red velvet cupcake iced with cream cheese frosting, knowing that if it was in the house, I’d hunt it down and demolish it before it knew what hit it. I resisted buying a buttery, cheese-filled croissant from the supermarket and was contemplating whether I should risk spaghetti on toast (both contain dairy products – check if you don’t believe me!).
Then I opened the fridge. I smelled the wedge of Evansdale Bay Blue that Tall had opened last night. Tiny was grizzling at me, hungry after a big sleep. I made him a cheese and ham quesadilla, with edam and the Bay Blue. He wanted to play his new game – feed mummy. How could I resist that plaintive face and earnest “nyum!”??
I ate three-quarters of that quesadilla…and it was gooooooood. Never mind that I fell off the dairy-free wagon mere hours after hitching a ride, or that my stomach has been protesting LOUDLY for the past two hours. I’ll be back on the wagon tomorrow.
Now….I’m pretty sure there are still some chunks of brownie floating around here somewhere…..