Kristen vs. Chicken

Ten and a half years ago, I read this book. 



It is written by John Robbins, whose family started Baskin Robbins/31 Flavors ice cream shops.  He was to be the heir to the business, and to the family fortune.  However, once he discovered what the dairy cows must endure to produce the milk which in turn is used to make the ice cream, he declined all the riches he was to receive, and opted for a very different lifestyle than the one in which he had been raised.

In the 1987 he wrote the Pulitzer Prize-nominated Diet for a New America, and later, The Food Revolution.  This book is one of the most interesting and eye-opening pieces I have ever read.  It is so compelling, that after reading it I vowed never to put the flesh of an animal into my mouth ever again.

On our first date, Josh and I were discussing where to go for dinner, and after he suggested hot dogs, I of course had to tell him that I didn't eat meat.  (Whenever I have to break this "news" to someone, an awkward conversation generally ensues, with lots of questions, and sometimes critical, defensive remarks from the inquiring party.  It has something I have come to accept, and learned how to handle over the years).  I'll never forget the look of shock on his face!  Apparently I was the first vegetarian he'd ever met.  I think I was as surprised that he had never met a vegetarian as he was surprised that I didn't want a hot dog. 

But Josh took the "news" rather well, especially after I told him there were many vegetarians in my family and circle of friends. We ended up at CPK that night and had a great dinner.  Many months later, I asked him if he would be willing to read The Food Revolution before we got married.  I wasn't trying to change him, his roots, or his beliefs, I simply wanted him to look into the lens through which I see the world, to understand where I was coming from, and to have many of his questions answered.  I assured him, "Once you read this book, you will never again ask someone why they are a vegetarian.  You will know why. You will know more reasons than you thought existed."

  Josh read the book, and while he is still a meat-eater, he eats considerably less meat, makes healthier choices, and is very considerate about things like using separate tongs for the meat and the non-meat items on the barbeque, which I so greatly appreciate! He respects my choices and I respect his, and it works out very well.

When I got pregnant with Avery, many of my co-workers would see me preparing my lunch in the break room, and say things like, "Well, you're going to eat meat while you are pregnant, right?  For the baby?"  This question always killed me, and I got it a lot.  I would usually answer with a simple, "Nope," to avoid getting into a debate.  Sometimes I would add in, "You can eat a perfectly healthy, balanced diet being a vegetarian, and I have known many vegetarian moms that have had healthy babies.  My doctor is not concerned about it."  (And I have to admit, I kinda wanted to throw it back at them later when Avery came out big and healthy, with a perfect Apgar score).  The whole first year of Avery's life, she got pretty much nothing but formula, breastmilk (with no "meat" protein in it obviously), and Gerber (non-meat) food, such as (primarily organic) fruits, vegetables and rice cereal.  And she is still as big and as healthy as ever.

At Avery's last appointment, I asked the (carnivorous) doctor about his opinion on raising a vegetarian child. (Josh and I had discussed this and he said he would leave it up to me how we would raise her).  I knew I would have to accept the possibility of her making the choice to eat meat later on, or enjoying meat, and that has been a tough pill for me to swallow.  I do think she should be able to make her own choices, but I also am opposed to filling her tiny body at this stage with hormone-injected chicken and beef.  The doctor did tell me that he wanted her to at least eat chicken, to make sure she is getting enough iron. (But he also said that we could still give her formula - which contains plenty of iron - instead of milk, it would just be expensive so he recommended milk.  I don't care about the cost, because the formula is fortified with vitamins, so I like knowing that she is getting a balanced "meal" just from a cup of that).

This is all still up in the air, and I'm sure will be an ongoing issue. I guess at some point I will have to accept that she will eat some meat here and there, and just do my best to make sure she is getting a good balance of other enjoyable, healthy foods.  After all, she is not the same person as me, and I will have to respect her choices too. 

So long story long, yesterday I gave in to the doctor's orders, and popped open a jar of ground-up (baby food) chicken.  It pained me endlessly to think that I was tricking her; that she didn't realize that the "chickies" I have been showing her in colorful children's books were now about to enter her mouth via a spoon, after having lived a miserable life of suffering in the confines of a cage, with other chickens whose beaks had been melted off on a hot metal panel, and died a cruel death, all so she could enjoy the taste of their flesh for a few gratuitous moments.  Against every moral fiber of my being, I lifted the spoon to her lips.

I never in my life thought I would be so happy to see my baby dry heave.