Baby-growing Lactation cookie

These are not the prettiest cookies. They are brown and lumpy and they spread out in the oven so they look like they want to be crispy lace cookies, but they are only crispy on the outside, and inside they are soft and chewy and texturous. That's not a word, but it should be.

I started making these occasionally when I was pregnant and had a sweet tooth; these are good for breastfeeding mamas, too! I don't keep sweets in the house, except for homemade ones, sometimes, and then I try to make them count nutritionally. These have all the sugar and butter of a normal cookie, but they have more protein, fiber, iron, and good fats than their regular, white-flour cousins. So there's no need to feel too guilty.

This is a very forgiving recipe, if you can even call it that. I generally toss in whatever nuts, dried fruits, and flours I have on hand. Consider this a template and make them yours.

Baby-Growing Lactation Cookie 

3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup unsalted butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup flaxseed meal
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1 3/4 cup good quality granola or oats
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup chopped raisins
1/2 cup chopped almonds
1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease your baking sheet or line them with parchment paper.

In a stand mixer, or by hand, cream together sugars and butter until fluffy, then add the eggs and vanilla and mix.

In a seperate bowl, stir together the flours, granola or oats, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt. Slowly add this mixture to the wet ingredients and combine.

Stir in the raisins, almonds, and chocolate chips (or other add-ins of your choice). Drop by teaspoonfuls onto the baking sheets. I like to sprinkle some coarse salt over the top before sliding in the oven. Bake 10-12 minutes. I get about 3 dozen cookies.

lessons in gratitude #1

I was walking down the hallway in the hospital to get a coffee from the cafeteria. My mind was wandering sleepily. It's so easy to get wrapped up here, in a children's hospital, in your own story and your own grief. There are so many characters here who lend perspective, if you let them. It can be hard to remember that, yes, today might be the worst day of your life, but it is also the worst day in the lives of many of these families. I was thinking about the last time time we were patients here. It was late at night, I was rocking my baby; he was doing well and I think we were discharged the next day. A child was admitted to the next bed, newly diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I tried not to listen as lots of doctors had a conversation with the parents, and the child was intubated and sent off for tests, and my heart broke for that family, and with gratitude that my baby's breathing tube was out and he was snuggled safe in my arms.

I think of that family a lot and wish them well.