Maya’s Mom Confession: The Breakfast Strata That Made Me Cry (In a Good Way)
So I did the only thing I could think of. I tore up the bread, chopped the mushrooms and peppers that were about to go sad in the crisper drawer, and layered everything into a dish. I whisked eggs and milk, poured it over the top, covered it with foil, and shoved it in the fridge before collapsing on the couch. I had no idea if it would work. I just needed something, anything, that felt like a step forward.
The next morning, I woke up queasy and nervous. I turned on the oven, slid the dish in, and sat at the kitchen table with a cup of ginger tea while it baked. The smell that filled our tiny apartment was the first thing in weeks that did not make my stomach turn. It smelled like cheese and toasted bread and home. When I finally took a bite, standing up because I could not wait to sit down, I felt this enormous wave of relief. It tasted like real food. It did not spike my blood sugar. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had done something good for my baby, and for me.
That breakfast strata has been with me ever since. Through the rest of that high risk pregnancy. Through the blurry postpartum days when I ate it cold, one handed, while nursing. Through the mornings now when my three year old asks for “breakfast cubes” and I hide mushrooms in her serving like a ninja. It is more than a recipe to me. It is a little edible reminder that even on the hardest days, I can put something warm and nourishing on the table.
I share this confession because I know I am not the only mama who has stood in front of an open fridge and felt overwhelmed. If that is you today, please know you are doing so much better than you think. And if you need a breakfast that works almost as hard as you do, I have got you.
With love (and cheese),
Maya
