Thirsty? Good. You are in luck!

Awhile back, I posted this picture of my homemade vanilla-mint almond milk on Instagram. People started asking me for the recipe via Twitter and the like.

I decided the easiest thing to do would be to make a video of exactly how I do it.

Hope you enjoy it. If you know of someone who is still using – gasp – store bought flavored almond milk, feel free to share this post with them as well!

Love your guts,
SKH

I’m not out of shape, just out of intense running shape.

The entire run was bumpy, choppy and definitely had me thinking that a 1:45 half marathon in August is going to be a huge stretch.

I broke my run down like this:

Mile 1-3: 6.7

Mile 3-5: 7.0-7.3

Mile 5-6: 8.0

I decided that I would really kick it into high gear for the last mile. In order to achieve a 1:45 half marathon, I’ll have to pace at 8:00min./mile for the entire 13.1 miles.

I chose to run that last mile (mile 5-6) at 8.0 (or around a 7:30 min./mile).

I had many starts-and-stops during the first .75 miles. I told myself that no matter what, there would be no starting and stopping for the last 1/4 miles.

It was hard.

I was totally out of breath.

Sweat was pouring down my face, down my body, dripping everywhere.

I wanted to stop.

That last 1/4 mile was where my workout began.

I proved mentally and physically able.

I stepped off the treadmill. Exhausted. (And to be honest, unsure about the upcoming half marathon.)

As I began foam rolling, I started thinking about that last 1/4 mile.

I started thinking about how much I wanted to give up during that last lap around the track.

Giving up when we’re so close is so easy to do. Why? Because it requires nothing….nothing except regret in the moments which follow, days or years later.

You might not be training for a half marathon, but you know you teeter-totter with your own last 1/4 mile daily.

The last 1/4 mile isn’t always sexy. It certainly isn’t always easy. But WHY – why would we choose to give up on ourselves….when we’re so close?

Hanging on to the very end – it’s how you separate yourself from everyone else, and more important than that -> it’s how you separate yourself from your old self, how you make changes and how you achieve things in life you never thought were possible.

Love your guts,
SKH

Don’t get me wrong, Mother’s Day hurts each year that goes by. I wonder when I’ll celebrate the day with my own children’s kisses vs. dog’s licks (I do love those smooches, though).

But Mother’s Day will never be a day that celebrates me.

I’ve learned this over the years.

I mean, ultimately Ryan and the kids will shower me with Orchids, massages, chocolate, coffee and red wine love, but I will always, always, always devote the day to the very best mother I have ever known:

My Mother.

My mother, like my father, taught me values and gave me qualities that money cannot buy.

My mother shared her passion for music with me. She always invited me to sing along next to her as she hit the ivory piano keys.

My mother played UNO, Monopoly, Sorry!, Chutes ‘n Ladders and so many more with JJ and I. She always let us win.

My mother taught me the beauty of Betty White in her prime - The Golden Girls. To this day, I watch the show nearly every night (am I 30 or 80?!)

My mother was always on my side, even if she didn’t completely agree with me.

My mother spoiled me – spoiled us. Wanna know a secret? She still  makes my brother all his food when he goes to their house to visit. Yeah, even PB&J. It’s totally embarrassing – especially for him when he reads this part! But here’s another secret. Because of this excessive spoiling and the need to always be with my parents, I could not stay overnight anywhere until sometime in high school. I swear I was the oldest kid never slumbering.

My mother showed me the joy in the Lord, even if I didn’t share her same joy for many years.

My mother is one of my biggest supporters. To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to accept her truths as my realities because I’m not sure she could ever have it in her to give me hard realities.

My mother has a beautiful heart. Even as an adult, I swear she sometimes feels my pain and struggles.

My brother and I have always had fierce competition, so when I saw this pop up in my Facebook stream yesterday, I just had to share it with both he and our mother.

The truth is that even though I am her favorite child what has always made my mother so special to me is the fact that she always treated us equal – she loved us in ways I can only pray to God I love my own child(ren) someday.

For all of these reasons (and so, so, so many more) Mother’s Day is (and never will be) not about me. It will never be about infertility or the celebration of me as a mother to my own children (but again, Ryan -> gifts will be welcome).

Mother’s Day will always be a CELEBRATION of the most wonderful mother and friend God could have ever blessed me with.

For all the things I am so uncertain about, one thing I will always be certain about is that the world would never be the same without my mother.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love your guts (<– especially yours, Mom),
SKH

On March 4, 2013 I told you that beautiful is not only found in little bikinis with washboard abs.

I meant it then. I mean it now.

I had no idea then that I would have the privilege of being a part of the Under Armour What’s Beautiful 3.0 Campaign with my friends at FitFluential.

This is more than a campaign, #whatsbeautiful will be nothing less than inspiring to you, if you let it be.

Give yourself a moment to think about “what’s beautiful” to YOU because it’s likely not exactly the same as what’s beautiful to me….that’s okay, that’s preferred.

We are allowed to be the best version of ourselves, not anyone else.

I find beauty in the gym, of course I do.

But the gym is just the tool, the outlet.

Setting goals, reaching them, inspiring and believing EVERY SINGLE DAY that you can be YOUR OWN best version is what’s truly beautiful.

Come PLAY with me:

Look at all the women who are already there….your beautiful face will compliment so well

For more details, including information about prizes, click HERE.

Comment below if you would like an invite to our team!

Full Disclosure: This post is sponsored by Under Armour & FitFluential. Under Armour is sending me clothing in exchange for our participation. I am not being paid. In January, 2013, I chose to never sell my soul again, and for this reason you can trust that all opinions and experiences are 101% my own.

p.s. She wanted me to tell you that this is what she finds beautiful….and she wanted me to ask you –> WHAT’S BEAUTIFUL to you, Gutsies?!

Love your guts,
SKH

On Friday night, while in Cabo, a group of four (two women; two men) sat at a table close to Ryan and I. They clearly had had plenty to drink. Words flew around the table quicker than the Indy 500. Of all the words, voices and conversations I heard, one in particular stands out.

The brunette had a loud voice. Her words slurred and when her whole, cheese pizza came, she proclaimed,

I am a binge eater.

She continued on,

This is why I go to the gym for 2.5 hours every single day….because I’m a fat a#@, and I’m a binge eater.

Everyone laughed. It was an “I-feel-awkward” laugh more than anything else. One of the guys asked her, “2.5 hours? What in the heck do you do at the gym for 2.5 hours?”

She responded, “The elliptical.”

They all kept laughing.

She kept reminding them,

I’m a fat a#@. I love to binge eat. I go to the gym for 2.5 hours each day. I get up at 4am to go to the gym, get on the elliptical, workout for 2.5 hours. Then, I binge eat.

Those same words and phrases, loud and clear….until her whole pizza was gone.

We left dinner before they did.

That was Friday night. I was fixated on her words, her thoughts and the tone all weekend.

I told you that I’m not here to judge elliptical girl’s workouts and eating habits. To be quite honest, my heart goes out to her.

This is about our own failures, but about failures that don’t include workouts or diets (trust me, we have plenty of those as well).

Binge eating, according to the Wikipedia states that it’s when “a person rapidly consumes an excessive amount of food.”

You might not binge eat, but you likely binge on something in your life.

When we binge on anything, it takes away from the balance of everything.

I can guarantee Elliptical Girl did not enjoy 4am workouts for 2.5 hours in order to justify her food consumption.

What are you doing in your life that you are not enjoying just for justification of something else?

I can promise you I have my own, and I can promise that you do as well.

But I also know that once I truly began to understand my brand tagline, “eat. play. love. all dress sizes welcome” and live it (because talking and doing are two different things), my life began to change.

It wasn’t overnight.

It is still a work in progress.

But I started. I did something. I made changes, and I stopped the binge in order to find the lifestyle balance.

Make your days count in eating, playing and loving.

Step off your Elliptical.

Love your guts,
SKH

Why Jessica Ekstrom is A Gutsy Girl: Headbands of Hope

Almost everyone can think of a moment where they knew their life was about to change. For me, my moment was right before my 20th birthday in the summer of 2011. I began my internship at the Make-a-Wish Foundation that I can confidently say, changed my life forever.

Everyday, I got to wake up and grant the wishes of children with life-threatening illnesses. I took day trips to visit the wish kids at their houses and bring them their favorite toys. We received hundreds of letters from wish children that said we changed their lives; little did they know, they were changing mine.

I thought about the thousands of girls around the world losing their hair to chemotherapy. Being a young girl presents many struggles with self-esteem already and losing their hair as a result of a life-threatening illness is traumatic.

For girls and women everywhere, their hair is a part of their feminine identity. Wigs can be uncomfortable and unappealing, especially to younger girls.

I realized that headbands are the perfect way for these girls to keep their feminine identity and have a constant reminder that they’re not alone.

Therefore, I started HeadbandsOfHope.org.

For every headband purchased, one headband will go to a girl with cancer and $1 will be donated to the St. Baldrick’s Foundation to fund life-saving childhood cancer research.

Since I launched in May of this year, I’ve sold thousands of headbands online and in stores around the nation. I created a company where I didn’t have to choose between making a living and making a difference. I can wake up and do both at the same time.

I’ve had the opportunity to distribute headbands to girls in the hospitals across the nation. The best part of my job is opening the door to their room and seeing their faces light up when I bring dozens of colorful headbands to their beds to choose from.

Even though it’s fun and fulfilling to bring the girls headbands in the hospitals, I’m constantly reminded that there still isn’t a cure.

Childhood cancer takes the lives of more children in the U.S. than any other disease – in fact, more than many other childhood diseases combined.

Children with cancer cannot be treated simply as “smaller adults.” The cancers strike kids differently and they are in a crucial stage of development, which complicates the effects of treatments and can result in life-long complications.

Progress is also especially slow in curing adolescents and young adults, because federal funding for childhood cancers is a fraction compared to adult cancers.

Therefore, attention needs to be brought to childhood cancer. Progress can’t be made without research. Research can’t be done without funding. And funding can’t be done without awareness.

Headbands of Hope aims to start with awareness and end with a cure.

A Gutsy Girl  perfectly aligns with what I do. I saw that there was a need in my community, and you have to have the guts to try to fix it.

Together, we can spread hope in all girls…one headband at a time.

SKH Note: Jess never told me to do this, but if you feel inclined to donate, click HERE for how you can support her cause.

Love your guts,
SKH

Pineapple yellow is the main color.

I’m not even a yellow fan, but this is luscious.

But first, THANK YOU to everyone who has already purchased The Gutsy Girl’s Bible: an approach to healing the gut. I have reached 100 downloads, so as promised, it’s time for me to giveaway the Calphalon Unison Nonstick 13-in. Wok with Cover from the e-book.

Congrats to Lauren, who was the 82nd person to buy the book! She has been contacted.

Remember, after 200 downloads, I am giving away the Sink Strainer Cutting Board from Epicurean mentioned in the e-book.

Back to yellow.

Summer is looming, for most of us anyways (sorry, Mom)!

Last night I made fresh juices using pineapple. Try it: cucumber + celery + pineapple. The night before I made a Caribbean Baby Scallop Stir Fry meal. We love pineapple around here. Sometimes it makes my mouth do funny things (when I eat it raw – OAS – oral allergy syndrome), but I love the natural enzymes it produces and sweet juices extracted.

I recently learned how to cut a whole pineapple. Yes, I realize this is fairly pathetic that I just did. No shame if you still don’t know how to cut one up. I’ll show you now.

How to Cut a Whole Pineapple

Cut off the top.

Cut off the bottom so it will stand up straight.

Cut off all “spikes” while the pineapple stands.

Core out the middle with a small, round cookie cutter (or anything you can to core it).

Slice into rings or cubes (I did rings that time).

Yes, and that concludes the process. I have just made you a summer fruit champ. You’re welcome.

So, you can eat it fresh and plain.

Or, you can be super awesome and try putting it into a stir fry.

Try this one….

Caribbean Baby Scallop Stir Fry

Ingredients

• pepper mix (I got mine from Trader Joe’s, but once the Farmer’s Market opens this weekend I will buy them fresh)
• whole pineapple
• fresh wild baby scallops, 1/2 pound
• cilantro
• sea salt
• coconut oil

Directions

1. Cut your whole pineapple into chunks (Don’t know how? See above. Timely, I know.)
2. Place you pineapple, peppers, cilantro and a little sea salt in a large pan (the Wok works perfectly) with a little coconut oil
3. Place the scallops in a separate, small saute pan. Saute in a little coconut oil
4. Merge together when the scallops are done (Note: they will only take a couple minutes)

And that’s it. Our little stir fry couldn’t be easier to make. (Note: If you are currently needing to stay away from Nightshades, then this is a nightmare for you. Don’t proceed, just make it for someone else to enjoy. That’s right, that’s what Gutsy girls do sometimes.)

Like this recipe? Print it here.

If you love pineapple recipes, check out my Grilled Chicken Kabobs, Pineapple Quinoa and Homemade Pineapple Vinaigrette recipe from last summer.

Love your guts,
SKH

He said, “Okay.”

I went on to justify (which I’m always doing, even though I never need to), “I really need to write my workout program through the Park City Half Marathon, so I need access to a few things online.”

Again, he said, “Okay.”

I was silent for a second and I thought about what having access to the Internet would mean. Ultimately, it meant email. If I had the Internet, I would, without a doubt, check my emails (yes, multiple). I would also check Facebook, respond to tweets, approve blog comments, etc. etc.

I didn’t need my email, Facebook, Twitter or my blog.

All I needed was exactly what I had: Ryan, the sun, the pool, the beach….and time.

Our short trip to Cabo allowed me to start (and finish) Jon Acuff’s new book, Start. I wrote and wrote like it was going out of style. I decided to whittle down my health coaching business. I made plans and an outline for my business, “A Gutsy Girl.” Mostly, I soaked up the sun, life and little moments.

I’ll never get those moments back.

My workout program? I finished writing it while on the plane ride back from Cabo late last night.

And my email, Facebook, Twitter and blog?

They are right where I left them.

Love your guts,
SKH

That following week, the suspicions I had immediately post-cat scan became reality. The blood tests results proved that I was not pregnant. I already knew, though, as I had started the nasty (never-a-friend) Aunt Flo. When she came it was physically very painful and I was emotionally drained. By the time our doctor called to deliver the final news, I was a crying mess. I simply sent a text to those closest to me that I was not pregnant, and that I would need them to not call me or reach out – I needed time. (<– That is something very important to note if you know someone going through this. It is not that I wanted to turn people away or offend anyone, but I wanted to work through the emotions with just myself and Ryan before opening the doors to others. Wait, I also worked through it with Fiona and Reagan, too )

I cried. And cried. Then I cried some more.

I went over different scenarios in my head for the longest time. I played the, “what if I had done xyz or abc or jkl” game.

On Sundays during church, I would see children and babies and I had to swallow so hard to hold back the tears.

For a long time I held it in, but I “blamed” Sutter Hospital for doing the cat scan (and yes, I even wrote a letter to them, detailing everything -> of course I never heard from them) and to be 100% honest, I also blamed my IVF doctor. I mean, how could she not have known the risk of 8 cysts bursting? I blamed and blamed because I was so frustrated that all the pieces were there, yet somehow they all crumbled.

We didn’t only lose over $10K, but we also lost a ton of hope….at least in those early days.

Close friends and family ask if we’ll go through an IVF cycle again. We have no plans to, but that’s not to say we won’t. It’s not in our cards at this moment, and while we appreciate all the stories of “IVF worked for us,  it can work for you,” I’m going to go out a limb here and just say it….well that’s nice for you.

Infertility has effected me in ways that I never knew would be possible.

Friends get pregnant thinking about a baby, and I wonder why not us?

Friends go to “mommy groups,” and I wait patiently to be a part of those circles.

People ask, “When are you and Ryan having kids?” I “joke” it off, cry inside.

I find myself judging when I know it’s wrong.

I hear a child say “mommy,” and dream about being called that as well.

I see a pregnant woman and think, “Huh. What I wouldn’t give.”

And if you want the honest, real and raw truth, the way in which infertility has affected me the most is knowing that there is the chance that there may never be a human that is half of me and half of the best person I have ever known in my whole life, Ryan.

When you struggle with any part of infertility, you will, without a doubt, find yourself struggling many days with it.

That is not a weakness.

That is okay.

These struggles, just like my Colitis struggles have made me strong. Really strong.

We all have these struggles. Yes, you too. Everyone struggles, but not everyone finds the purpose in those struggles.

I am blessed: I found my purpose with both struggles. 

Ryan and I have plans, but more importantly than that, we have each other. I thank God daily for this because I know that infertility and the IVF process, more often than not, creates a blame game, fighting and an unpleasant household. This was never, not for one second, how our lives went on.

We continue to hold tight to what the Lord says (Ecclesiastes 3:11),

He has made everything beautiful in its time.

In that last video, I told you I mentioned, “hope.” I said that I was hopeful. This week on the radio I was reminded of something so important:

Hope never leaves us; we only leave hope.

I left it for a long time.

I cling to hope today because I can, because I believe and because it’s the one thing that always reminds me that the best part of my (our)  ”infertility story” is yet to come.

Love your guts,
SKH

Clearly I was on cloud 9.

If you missed Monday’s post, HERE is what happened next.

….I was in that room all by myself. The emergency room was fairly quiet that day, yet it took an extremely long time for the doctor to come in. When she finally did come in, she asked questions about the past couple days, recent activity, etc. I told her immediately, “The only thing different was that I had an IVF procedure yesterday.” Instead of calling my IVF doctor (who was about 40 minutes away), she said my appendix could be rupturing, and that we should do a cat scan. She assured me I’d start to find some relief with pain meds that she would ensure were given to me immediately.

I laid there in pain and agony, with no pain meds. When the nurse came in to take me for my cat scan she stopped to look at my chart notes. With a confused look on her face, she said, “Wait, you had an IVF procedure yesterday? Do you know the risks of a cat scan, and that it could interfere with the procedure?” I said, “No.” The doctor butted in the room at that point and said, “She knows. Her appendix could be rupturing. We need to.” At this point, there was still no call to my IVF doctor, and by this point it was now over an hour from when I first got there; still in pain, still no pain meds per the doctor’s promise.

I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had a sick feeling about the cat scan (and no longer wanted one) as soon as the nurse “warned me,” but at the same time the doctor scared me that I could die if my appendix ruptured.

They wheeled me into cat scan. Again, no pain meds, excruciating pain. I laid there in that tube. I was warm. My mind was going eight-million miles per hour. As the table shifted out of the tube, a tear fell down my face. It was the most bizarre feeling, but somehow I knew at that moment that it was not my appendix. It was something else and ultimately hope was expelled from my body that the embryos had any kind of fighting chance.

Awhile after I had gotten back to my room (still no pain meds, still in agony), the doctor came in and said, “Well, just what I thought. You have had multiple cysts burst.”

“Cysts?” I replied. “How could that happen?” I didn’t understand. I have never had even one cyst burst in my entire life.

Her response haunts me to this day. Throughout everything during those few months, this is the one and only thing that still stings me deep to my core. Without a care in the world or regard for anything she said,

Well yeah (smirk)…..what did you expect (hands in the air)? You had an IVF procedure done yesterday. That’s kind of what happens when you choose IVF.

It was in that very moment when I learned that not everyone will understand, not everyone will be compassionate and not everyone will agree with the IVF process.

I bit my lip damn hard. I wanted to scream, “But you told me you thought my appendix was bursting so we had to do a cat scan?” And I wanted to cry out,

For the love of compassion, you have none lady, none. You have just faulted me, shamed me for going through hell all in the name of a child; a child we wanted to love, a baby we wanted to hold.

Ryan got there soon after. I cried. Each time a tear shed, he tried to make it stop because, again, still no pain meds and feeling emotion was absolutely painful.

About that time, my IVF doctor was finally called. She was, naturally, livid. She told Ryan and myself that I needed pain meds immediately to carry me through until I could get to San Ramon. She said we needed to stop at home, grab overnight clothes and somehow get me to the hospital she was at.

I finally got my pain meds at Sutter in Tracy, right before heading to San Ramon. (Side note: I left there, absolutely disgusted. God willing, I will never, ever need to return there again.)

We made a pit stop at home.

I made it to my second hospital and emergency room of the day in San Ramon.

Day turned to night by the time we got there, but yet darkness turned to light.

I immediately had a team of people helping me. I got pain meds, in the correct doses and I could finally at least breathe – a little (literally, I could hardly breathe because come to find out blood was getting into my lungs). In San Ramon they did the unthinkable – gasp - take my blood counts. When my IVF doctor got there she administered an ultrasound complete with images, and she also told us that my blood counts were continuing to drop. She would need to monitor me all night.

I was so thankful to finally be in a place that felt warm, safe and intelligent.

My heart was broken, but I knew I would be okay.

Remember yesterday whenI told you there were 17 eggs total; 9 “retrieved?” The other 8 burst, that’s what happened.

While in the hospital that night, watching The Cosby Show every few hours during blood draws (11pm, 2am and 6am), I started to think about so many different things. One thing I thought about was how, during college, I had a friend who would have painful cysts that would burst nearly every month. Many of those months she would end up in the emergency room. How many burst at a time? One to three. I had 8.

The next morning I was given a gluten-free breakfast in the hospital (yes, I swear they were that awesome!), a sweet Golden Retriever came to visit me and after my last blood draw at 10am, I was cleared to have Ryan bring me home.

I was still in a ton of pain, but nothing like the previous day. I knew the worst of it (the physical pain anyways) was almost over.

The final part to my IVF Story tomorrow. (In case you missed it, here is IVF: Part I and IVF: Part II.)

Love your guts,
SKH