Cheesy Ham & Potato Soup

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This recipe is one of my favorites from my childhood. I remember my mom cooking it when we were home from school for a snow day. So naturally, when it snowed 8 inches in October, I sent Marcus to the store for soup ingredients.

When I asked my mom for the recipe a few years ago, she told me (as she often does) that she doesn’t really follow a recipe. She just makes it from memory, so she wrote down estimates on amounts.

As a bit of a perfectionist and recipe follower, I can’t handle no recipe. Ha! So over the last couple years, I have adjusted it until I found the perfect consistency and amounts for me. Feel free to adjust! Or if you’re a strict rule/recipe follower like me, this will give you a delicious soup!

I also HIGHLY recommend using ham shanks to boil with the veggies. It gives the broth and veggies extra saltiness, and the ham is so yummy! If you can’t find any, you can just add cubed ham later in the recipe.

Hope you enjoy as much as my family does. (Yes! Even the kids ate it!)

Cheesy Ham & Potato Soup

*3-4 potatoes

*4 carrots

*8 Tbsp butter

*8 Tbsp flour

*2 cups milk

*Ham shanks (approx. 1.5 lbs or cubed ham)

*8 oz. velvet cheese

*8 oz. finely shredded sharp cheddar

Start boiling ham shanks in salted water (If using cubed ham, just boil salted water and add ham at later step).

Peel & chop carrots. Add to boiling water (they take a few minutes longer than potatoes to soften). Peel & chop potatoes. Add to boiling water and continue to boil for 15 minutes.

Drain, but save the vegetable water to add to soup later. Cut the ham up and set aside with vegetables.

In large pan, melt margarine.  Add flour, salt, and pepper and stir/whisk constantly.

When thickened, add milk. Stir/whisk constantly until very thick. Add some of the reserved vegetable water to thin. You will not use all of it. Just use enough to get to the consistency you’d like for soup (will thicken a little more after adding cheese).

Add vegetables and ham to white sauce.  Heat through.  

Finally, add cheese.  Heat and stir until melted, but don’t let it boil. (Cheese will curdle if it gets too hot.)

Enjoy!

Dear Dierks Bentley

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Dear Dierks Bentley,

Three years ago, my husband and I were waiting to adopt. We had been chosen by an expectant mother and six days before this photo, we got a phone call that a baby had been born.

That mother decided to parent, and while I found peace that we were not meant to parent that child, I struggled with the fact that our years of infertility and inability to grow our family continued.

We went right back to waiting, but driving to work on Monday was painful. I thought we should be driving to see a baby, not the same old drive to work.

I saw that you were playing in Columbia, Missouri that Friday. That was a couple hour drive, but I decided my husband and I needed something to distract ourselves. So I bought the tickets. Second row. I splurged. I needed to let the music drown my pain that night.

Then you came out and put on an amazing show. That could have been enough. But then as you walked back to the stage, you stopped for a selfie. I nervously fumbled around trying to take a picture with my new phone, and you started walking away. I kind of squealed as I realized I hadn’t even taken a photo, and you turned around, came back, and took another photo. I couldn’t believe you took the time to come back.

My husband and I walked out of that concert with the same thought. “THIS is exactly where we were supposed to be tonight.” We felt peace. It was as much of a sign as we could find to say, “Hold on, your time is coming.”

And these lyrics ran through my head over and over:

“I’m a riser.

I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider

Pushing comes a-shovin’

Hey I’m a fighter

When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter

A get out aliver, out of the fire

Survivor”

Then one week later, we got another phone call. We had been chosen by another expectant mother. A baby boy. And three weeks later, we welcomed that baby boy into our family.

You’ll never remember this moment, but I’ll never forget it. The moment I let go of the control I was trying to desperately hold onto in the wait to become a family. The moment my husband and I looked into each other’s eyes and knew we were right where we needed to be.

Thank you for taking time for this moment. Thank you for putting your whole self into that show. You made a bigger impression than you probably ever knew.

Some of your biggest fans,

Marcus and Betsy

It’s Really That Hard, Mama

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Dear No One,

Before kids, I worked in a school providing one-on-one therapy to young children with autism. Every day was different. Every day brought new challenges. And it was so fulfilling and rewarding to connect with a child or see them meet goals that once seemed out of reach

Fast forward to now…I am working my dream job as a stay-at-home mom to two boys.

I thought my degree in child development and years working with young children was enough. I thought I’d sail through this motherhood thing.

Yet I have found that these boys test my patience and ability to care and teach young children more than any other child I have ever worked with.

Are they more difficult than other children? No.

But being their mom requires me to be mentally and emotionally available 24/7. Even once they fall asleep at night, there is no guarantee that one or both won’t need me throughout the night. Somehow I think they’ve actually worked out a schedule of who will get up each night.

Then we wake up and spend all day together too. There are good days, even great days. But there are also bad days where all I can do is pray to make it until my husband walks through the door at night.

I am an introvert who needs and desires time to myself to recharge. Yet in the worst moments with my kids…you know them, toddler tantrums and teething babes…in those moments where I need some space to recharge, they need me more. That is when they cling to me. Even when my toddler is mad at me, he wants to sit on my lap and talk to me/scream in my ear.

So even though I have always worked with children and have a degree claiming I’m some kind of professional, there is no harder job than being a mom. There is nothing more mentally, emotionally, and physically draining than putting on my “mom hat” every day (well honestly I never take it off. It’s 24/7 remember?)

There is also nothing more rewarding than watching my boys learn new skills and develop relationships with each other, but it doesn’t make it easy.

So I am here to say that it is okay to love your kids but still need space. It is okay to lose your patience. Those moments can teach your children humility and forgiveness. If you show them love and forgiveness in their worst moments, they will do the same to you.

I’m only two years in, but this is by far the hardest job I’ve had the honor of holding. Give yourself some grace. No one is perfect, especially when you’re working 24/7 shifts.

All my love,

Betsy

You’re Going to Miss This

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Dear Mamas,

Do you constantly hear “you’ll miss this?”

I hear it all the time. And I know I’ll miss this time. I know I’ll miss having my babies home with me every day. I know I’ll miss their snuggles and kisses and giggles.

But let me be honest. I constantly feel stuck between “soak up this moment” and “praying just to make it through the day (or night).”

I’ve got a toddler who is so fun to play and interact with, and it is so much fun to have conversations with him. I sometimes feel like I’ve got this mom thing down when he sweetly says, “thank you Mommy” or “you’re welcome Mommy.” But he’s also an independent toddler finding his own opinion (on everything!!), and we have days where he spends most of his time crying or shouting about not getting his way.

I have a happy, smiley seven month old who loves nothing more than his mama to sit and talk to him. I adore his giggles. But he can also instantly turn on the tears the moment I walk away. So my day is often spent sitting on the floor next to him, while I look around at everything not getting done.

Mamas. These days are hard. They are sweet. They are everything. They fill your heart while also making you wonder if you’ve actually lost your mind. You love so deeply yet don’t want to be touched anymore. You bounce back and forth between feeling adequate as a mother and questioning everything you do.

So yea, I already know I am going to miss these days. I see it when I look back at baby photos of my toddler and wonder where that time went.

But I also look forward to the days ahead. Not scheduling days around naps or feedings. Walking out of the house without a huge bag of diapers and extra clothes and bottles and an entire pantry full of snacks.

So when I hear “you’ll miss this,” I tend to feel guilty for not cherishing every moment. But the moments aren’t just beautiful and full of love. They are full of tantrums and spit up too.

I promise you that every mama is soaking up the moments when she can, even if she’s struggling to make it through the day. I promise that if you’re feeling guilty for wishing time away, you aren’t the only one. Look for some good in every day, but give yourself some grace when the only good you can find is that you made it to bedtime.

These days are tough, but so are you.

All my love,

Betsy

Finalization Day: Forever Yours

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Dear No One,

Two years ago we finalized our son’s adoption.

We had to do six post placement visits with a social worker after bringing him home, so he was seven months before his adoption was finalized. All the paperwork had been completed and signed, and we sat in front of a judge and promised to love and support our son.

The judge’s words, “yours forever” are burnt into my memory. In that moment, I felt myself release a breath of tension I had been holding in from the day we decided to adopt. No more paperwork. No more trying to convince a total stranger that we were fit to raise our son. He would have a birth certificate with our last name. We could get him a social security number. He was legally ours.

Ours. And in that same moment, I saw his first mom’s face. I saw a part of my son’s life close. In a moment I had longed for, I recognized the loss for my son and his birth family.

We are in an open adoption, and I tell his first mom about pretty much everything. His milestones, his sense of humor, his behaviors (good and bad). I want her to know him and his personality. Yet for the first time, I didn’t send her pictures. I didn’t say anything about his finalization because I knew that us officially “gaining” another family member was also a loss for her.

I’ve heard this day called “gotcha day.” From what I have read from some adoptees, though, is that name does not do it justice. It does not allow an adoptee to feel the range of emotions that comes from this moment. There is joy and pain and loss.

Last night, Daxon woke up in the middle of the night and begged for snuggles. We pulled him into our bed for the first time since he was a baby. I held him, rubbed his head, and listened to his breath slow next to me. A huge part of my heart laid there next to me, and I felt so grateful that he is my son.

His first mom chose me to care for our son. She chose me to snuggle him at night. She chose me to read to him, feed him, potty train him, raise him in every way. She trusted me to love him forever.

So today, we are not celebrating big. We are loving big. We are showing our son that no matter what he feels towards this day or his adoption, we will always be there for him. Through the tough conversations and range of emotions, we will love him forever. We are his family. Forever.

So today is our forever family day. Full of love. And joy. And honest conversations. And pain. And sadness.

Daxon, you are a huge part of my heart living outside of my body, and I will love you forever. No matter what. You are my son, and I am your mom. There is no greater joy in my life than to watch you grow up. I love you Bugs. Today and always.

All my love,

Betsy

Infertility is a Trauma

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Dear No One,

I have publicly begged and yearned for the day I would be a mother. My journey to motherhood has been nothing short of exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I naively thought once I built my family, I’d sigh a big breath of relief and cruise into my dream job as a mother.

Here’s the thing, though. Infertility changed me. Changed me to my core. For the most part I think it made me stronger. It gave me a deeper purpose. But years of ignoring the mental and emotional turmoil of infertility has left incredibly deep scars.

Scars. “a lasting effect of grief, fear, or other emotion left on a person’s character by a traumatic experience.”

Infertility is a trauma. Yet it is kept behind closed doors. You don’t tell people you are struggling to get pregnant. You don’t tell people you miscarried. Why?

Because the pain is too heavy to put on someone who can never understand.

Because when you do talk about it, you get the comments “You’re still so young,” “just relax,” “you just get to have more fun trying.” And these comments, while meant to be helpful, only further your idea that your deep hurt isn’t valid. That you should be enjoying this journey somehow. That it isn’t that big of a deal.

So you hold it in. You carry the weight of your pain and trauma on your shoulders. But that pain is too heavy, friends. It should not be carried alone.

Infertility is a trauma, and it should be dealt with as a trauma.

Recognizing your struggle and finding validation is the first step in taking control of your infertility and mental health.

Your life is lived in cycles that bring the highest joys and hope followed by despair and grief. On repeat. No one is meant to do this alone.

Find support groups. Find other infertility warriors. Find a counselor. Find someone who understands and talk about your pain.

I admittedly didn’t do this. I kept to myself for a long time, and I’m still working through some of the scars that it left behind.

So I am here to tell you that infertility is a trauma. It is serious. It is deep. Your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

Recognize the depth of the journey you are on. Work through it, whether it is privately with a therapist or publicly on social media. It will not be easy. It is a long road.

But you are more than infertility. You are worthy of help. Your relationship deserves it. Your spouse deserves it. Your future or current children deserve it. YOU deserve it.

Your life is bigger than infertility. Deal with it as the trauma it is, find the healing you deserve, and move forward into the life that is waiting for you.

All my love,

Betsy

This Is Me

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Dear No One,

This is me, and I have anxiety.

What do you see when you look at me?

Do you see a woman crying in bed, not able to breathe, shutting down with exhaustion?

I have always led with my emotions. And those emotions can be big and bold.

It wasn’t until I was dating my now husband, that I even figured out that some of those emotions are led by anxiety.

In one of my many moments of feeling anxious, Marcus said, “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Which I responded with, “No. My chest is just tight.”

Cue the eye roll. “Betsy. That’s anxiety.”

And then a rewind of some standout moments and memories flashed through my mind, and I realized in that moment this wasn’t a new thing.

Yet, after realizing that, I made no changes and continued to wonder why I was having these anxiety attacks and constantly sick and tired.

No, anxiety doesn’t just affect your mind. It can affect anything and everything.

After getting married, I dealt with anxiety about moving to a new state and city where I knew no one. Fun fact: I’m not really a social butterfly. New situations and people are often a source of anxiety for me.

So I’m alone. In a new state. My husband was in residency and working a lot (A LOT)!!!! Then we decided to grow our family. First comes marriage, then comes infertility. Then the journey of adoption and raising our first son. Then moving back to Iowa (after finally making some amazing friends). Then starting IVF. Then pregnancy. Then postpartum anxiety (my anxiety multiplied by a thousand).

That one paragraph of one thing piled on top of another was over six years. Six years of not taking care of myself and my mental health.

This isn’t easy to write or admit because there is still such a huge stigma around mental health. But after multiple, major panic attacks after the birth of our second son, my husband (an obgyn) nudged me ever so gently to start medication.

I feel like I am finally coming out of a fog. An at least six year fog. My entire marriage. My entire time as a mother.

I can see. I can see what my anxiety looks like, what triggers it, and some ways to manage it. And I don’t say heal or conquer my anxiety because it is me.

This is me.

It is a huge part of who I am. My big emotions. My empathy. My emotional intelligence. Those are big, beautiful parts of myself that I’m proud of, but I think they are directly linked to my anxiety.

I share this today because:

1) May is Mental Health Awareness Month

2) Sharing my story may make it easier for another person to get the help they need.

3) And honestly, what don’t I share with you?!?

Mental health disorders are so common. Yet we keep it hidden. I don’t want people to see or judge my unshowered self struggling to find joy in motherhood that I begged for publicly for years.

But if we don’t step forward and share our stories, how will we make any type of advancement?

So, friends, (cue The Greatest Showman) THIS IS ME. I have anxiety. It is not all of me. It is not breaking me. It is just a part of me. And I am only at the beginning of learning to manage it.

And if you have or even think you have a mental illness, please get help. Work to manage it. Whatever that looks like for you.

It is part of you, but it does not have to control you. And as always, you are not alone.

All my love,

Betsy

“My Wish” Bracelets

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By Emily Misener

E1GHT.

We are one in eight. We are one in eight couples who struggle to conceive a child by natural methods.

I have had to learn to believe that this is ‘OUR’ story. That ‘WE’ will forever be changed by these last several months, and the months to come. In Jacob and I’s case, my body is the one that doesn’t produce the hormones necessary to develop a viable egg.

It is such a tricky thing to believe that something that feels as personal as my body is a shared journey. Jacob feels the hopelessness and emptiness. He feels the sadness and the lingering cloudy days, and he definitely feels the side effects of all my infertility drugs. He is my rock. But Jacob will be the first to admit that this journey is very different for him, simply because it isn’t his body.

Infertility for me feels so heavy. My chest aches. It feels lonely, even when I have an unbelievable support system. It is scary. It is unknown. It is uncontrollable. It comes with days of high hopes that crumble to the lowest of lows in one phone call. It steals my confidence. It makes my skin feel uncomfortable. It makes me question God and why He made me this way. It is a financial thief. It makes me sift through many lies that I tell myself to find a reason for the failed attempts. It feels really big, and makes me feel really small.

I have always told myself that I will be an advocate for women going through infertility once I am on the other side. Once we have conquered this hormonal hiccup, and conceived our miracle, I will be ready and worthy to help, but through countless conversations with God, I realized that I can be helping people right now. I can be ready right now, in the thick of this situation (I like to call our infertility a situation because situations can change). I think that being raw and real about infertility is a job that calls for present time. I won’t have answers for other women, but I can spread hope, and remind them that they are brave and not alone. That is a job for right now. I can sit and relate to the crappy parts of their story with them, and then offer them my hand to pull them up out of the darkness to try again.

So friends, this is a piece of our story, and now I want to spread my own piece of hope. I started making “My Wish” bracelets. The inspiration behind these bracelets is to remind women struggling with infertility of the community of warriors in it with you. Did you know that a star is formed once its dense core collapses under its own weight? The end stages of a star’s formation are violent and disruptive, a far reach from their peaceful existence when transformation is complete.

Sister, I know it feels like you’re collapsing under the disruptive and sometimes violent emotional weight of infertility. I know you are asking hard questions and praying relentless prayers. I also BELIEVE that on the other side of this journey is peace, and transformation in us and through us.

I would love to send you or someone you know this bracelet reminder that it is okay to feel all the feelings infertility brings you – but my hope is that at the end of the day you know that you are strong, brave, favored, perfectly imperfect, and your story matters.

More importantly, I want you to know that I am with you.

Love – fellow fighter, hope spreader, infertility sister, friend.

How To Support Your Friends’ Infertility Journeys (when you’ve never experienced infertility)

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by Megan Boettcher

I am generally a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of gal. I tend to look on the sunny side of things, but when things go wrong I rarely know the right thing to say or do. I am awkward and unsure. So you can only imagine my inability to react well the first time a friend shared the news that she’d had a miscarriage. I offered my condolences, but then I did my best to avoid her. I was about 30 weeks pregnant at the time and felt like a GIANT (literal and figurative) reminder of what she’d just lost.

It was my first pregnancy. And the first time I’d personally crossed paths with someone in the midst of an infertility journey. And frankly, I didn’t know what to do.

Since then, I’ve been well educated. Sometimes I joke about my keen ability to attract friends with unique motherhood stories. My friends have suffered losses. My friends have had multiples. My friends have had egg donors. My friends have adopted. My friends have children with special needs. My friends have had secondary infertility. My friends have gone through many, many rounds of IVF.

These fantastic women have put their heart and bodies through the emotional trenches to build their families, and I’m over here like fertile myrtle who thinks about having a kid and a few months later… here comes baby. I’ve often wondered, and I’m guessing you have too, how can you be supportive of your friends’ infertility journey when you’ve never experienced it yourself? Here are my best tips to be an infertility support person.

  1. There’s No Right Answer

You can’t fix this. There are no words that will make the situation all better. There’s no thoughtful gift that will take away their pain. Your job isn’t to fix it. Your job is be there and listen. Somedays they will feel like talking. Let them share all their worries and fears and anger and frustrations. Don’t fix. Listen.

Somedays they won’t want to talk at all. Bring them coffee and sit with them. Give them a distraction for a moment. Plan a girls’ night out, go to a movie, grab a pedicure together, take a spin class together. They are constantly consumed with thoughts of infertility and the desire to have a family. When they are open to it, a fun distraction can be a helpful way to shine a little light into a rough week.

  1. Respect Their “No Thanks”

Social gatherings can be especially difficult. They’re suddenly bombarded with dozens of people saying things like: “When are YOU gonna have a baby? You just need to relax. Did you hear so-and-so is pregnant?” And even if no one says anything to them, they will be overwhelmed by the sight of pregnant bellies and adorable toddlers running around. It’s too much!  If they RSVP “no,” that’s ok. Don’t guilt them into coming. They know when they need to preserve their mental health by avoiding certain situations. Respect that. And plan something that’s just the two of you for another day.

If you do have your own baby news to share, know that they are 100% elated for you! But every pregnancy announcement just reminds them how hard their journey is to build a family. Take a moment to let them know the news personally so they aren’t surprised by a Facebook announcement. And if they send a gift to your baby shower but don’t attend it’s not because they’re upset with you. They love you and don’t want to spoil your big day by running to the bathroom in tears if the day becomes too emotionally overwhelming.

  1. Take a Back Seat

Even if this person is your very best friend, you aren’t going to be their go-to person for everything in their infertility journey. You just aren’t. They will share an instantaneous connection with others who are walking the path of infertility. {The Sisterhood of Infertility} They speak the same language. They share similar feelings and emotions that you can appreciate, but will never actually experience.

Be their best friend by supporting their new friendships. Thank new friends for supporting and sharing insights with your friend that you can’t provide since you’ve never been through it all. They are better equipped with a strong support system. You are one important part of that system—not the entire thing.

  1. Educate Yourself

Learn the lingo. If your friend is going through IVF treatments, familiarize yourself with the steps so that you know what she means when she says it’s “embryo transfer day.” (FYI, that’s a pretty huge day. You should send flowers!)

But you’ll also learn things like why it’s so important to take injections at a specific time. And why they may insist on doing dinner early so they can be home in time to take the shot in privacy instead of trying to manage it in a restaurant bathroom.

The same is true for adoption. It’s a long, arduous process that is mentally and emotionally exhausting. But there are plenty of ways to be supportive. Help her clean up before a home visit or take her out to celebrate each milestone along the way. Paper work submitted? Celebrate! They are “live” to be matched with an adoption opportunity? Celebrate!

It doesn’t take a lot of effort to learn about the journey. Follow infertility and adoption bloggers through social media and you’ll get a window into their world, and a common vocabulary so you can be a part of the conversation. Through social media you may also read how your friend is feeling but can’t articulate. A lot of the infertility mom blogs discuss their journey in retrospect and are able to name their emotions in a way that your friend, who is going through it all, may not be able to fully process yet. But when you hear from real-people’s experiences you begin to understand the devastation they feel. And that will make you a better support person.

  1. Just Love Them

Infertility is an all-consuming experience that is mentally and physically difficult. Even if they have children, every step of the process is tough. Nothing is ever easy. The best thing you can do is just to be there for them. Check in with them regularly. Be prepared for long tearful conversations as well as one-word text responses. Be whatever they need that day.

And remember, you are friends for a reason. You like hanging out together. You probably share the same silly sense of humor and can quote the same movie lines. It’s ok to have some fun. Be the unexpected delight in their day. Send them funny memes. Surprise them with this hilariously sarcastic coloring book about IVF and a Starbucks gift card. If you’re as awkward as I am, let Emily McDowell’s series of awkward sympathy cards help you find the words you need. You know your friend. Maybe all they need from you is to binge watch Grey’s Anatomy with a bag of Lay’s wavy potato chips and some party dip.

Another Infertility Warrior’s Story

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by Rosie Fitzgerald

3 rounds of IUIs, 5 full rounds of IVF, one frozen transfer, countless shots, seemingly endless tears of heartbreak, but it led to two amazing miracles that have changed my life forever. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

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Infertility. Just the word breaks my heart because I know the struggle, pain and absolute despair infertility causes. My husband and I were anxious to start our family, both of us knew children were in our future, we always talked about having 2 or 3. But as time went by, month after month nothing was happening. We scheduled our first appointment with our infertility doctor, went through all the tests only to determine nothing was wrong, there was no cause for our infertility. Some may think this would be a relief, but if there was a problem we could fix it and hopefully get pregnant. We started fertility treatments. At that time I knew no one (or so I thought) that was struggling to get pregnant or had to go through fertility treatments. No one talked about it, that is part of the reason infertility is so isolating. My husband and I believe in sharing our story, so that others hopefully will not feel so alone.

After 3 failed IUIs and 2 full rounds of IVF, we became pregnant with twins. We were beyond excited and could not wait. Hearing both of those heartbeats will forever be a moment seared into my memory, it was one of the most happiest moments of my life. Unfortunately at 11 weeks, we lost one of our babies. They call it vanishing twin, I was broken. We had heard both of our babies heartbeats on two separate occasions by that time. I felt like I failed my baby. People told me to be happy for the one I had, but that just upset me more. I needed to mourn the loss, but that also made me feel guilty for not just being happy for the baby I did have. But eight months later we gave birth to a healthy boy that amazes me every day. He is loving, spirited, funny and smart all round and an energetic little boy.

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We knew we wanted a sibling for our son, so again started back at fertility treatments. A frozen transfer, and two more full rounds of IVF later, we had one 5 day embryo that had not even developed to the standard stage to be graded. We transferred that underdeveloped embryo but had no hope of it actually developing. That will be the last time I ever underestimate my daughter! We were blown away to get the call telling us we were pregnant. We now have a healthy 4 month old daughter who is full of smiles, coos and absolutely adores her brother.

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Infertility changes you. It takes you on a ride you do not want to be on. You try to have hope, when it feels hopeless. But I would go through it all again for my two IVF miracles. They made every tear, heartbreak, shot, procedure worth every bit of it.

For those battling infertility now, try to keep the hope, lean on your spouse, give yourself some grace as you go through this, let yourself process every feeling. This is such a hard journey to be on, but you are strong and amazing. I hope your miracles come to you soon.