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#because to be honestly no one food is a dramatic trigger even dairy it’s like. quite a bit of dairy in one day effects me significantly
dykefever · 1 year
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guess who . is a bit lactose intolerant :-(
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trustyourgutblog · 4 years
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The One Where Cassie Sees a Nutritionist
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Happy Thursday all! C here :)
After discussing my journey to diagnostic clarity in my last post, I wanted to dedicate this next one to my first step in managing my diagnoses holistically.
I left my first job as a social worker (and my nightmarish long-distance relationship) to move to a less rural area with my husband where I now have more access to specialty care. I established care with a new GI doctor (who was much warmer than the first, thank the universe) and she began making referrals to incorporate a more integrated health approach. 
First on the list was a nutritionist. At my first appointment, we reviewed my current symptoms (diarrhea, bloating, gas, constipation, and stomach cramping) and what I was eating on a daily basis. I had been making an effort to eat “clean” and was tracking my meals, so she requested my login information for my food tracking app so that she could start helping me find patterns between my symptoms and diet.
She also provided me with a ton of information about FODMAPs and how they could be impacting my symptoms. When I first heard the acronym, it reminded me of that episode of Spongebob where he thinks Mr. Krabbs is a robot and he’s spitting out all of these “bee-boop-boop-bop phrases.” Man, I hope there’s some 90’s babies reading this who understand that reference. 
A FODMAP is not, in fact, a robot word. It’s an acronym that stands for Fermentable Oligo-(galactans, fructans), Di-(lactose), and Mono-saccharides (fructose) And Polyls. Basically a fancy list of substances that are difficult to digest and can cause gastrointestinal symptoms. Little did I know that I could be eating “clean,” but still not be eating foods and portions that I could tolerate and digest properly.
So, over the next few months my nutritionist and I would meet, review my food tracker and symptoms, and begin piecing together my intolerances. It was so interesting (and extremely frustrating) to learn that my good intentions of eating “healthy” egg bites from Starbucks in the morning, would inevitably lead to me blowing up the bathroom by noon at work. YO, THERE’S A SHIT TON OF LACTOSE IN EGG BITES ~ WHO KNEW?! My nutritionist. She’s 100% that bitch.
Okay, I’m being over dramatic, but after learning all of this new information I literally felt like that Limitless meme with all of the mathematical equations floating around in the air and a thoughtful me in the middle. Once I’d notice an intolerance, I’d either eliminate that food or decrease the portion size and HAZA! No more bloat or death farts! Did you know that after you eat something you’re not supposed to feel it move through your entire digestive tract? Huh, weird.
But, seriously though. I began learning how to avoid “overflowing my bucket,” aka accumulating too many FODMAPs. If you take in too many FODMAPs in one sitting or even one day, they can overflow from your small intestines (where foods are supposed to be digested) into your large intestines. The perfect recipe (see what I did there?!) for gastrointestinal upset.
I dove into low FODMAP recipe Pinterest boards and started to feel a sense of empowerment that I could control my diet-related symptoms. If I wanted a cinnamon roll full of gluten, I knew what the consequences would be and could choose to have said cinnamon roll in the comfort of my own home, near the comfort of my own toilet. 
Memorizing all of the high FODMAP foods and ingredient lists was tough at first. I remember grocery shopping during my first week on the elimination diet and reading every label to find that there was always, inevitably, one ingredient on there that was questionable. The first couple of weeks you’re eating whole foods with little ingredients, just to figure out what you can and can’t tolerate. 
Okay ~ I know this post is getting long so I’m going to wrap it up here with a few tips for someone who has recently been diagnosed with IBS, IBD, or Crohn’s.
1. See a nutritionist if at all possible ~ they are so knowledgeable and will make the whole elimination process easier
2. Start a food journal with symptoms
3. Tune into your body after you eat a meal and really notice how you feel (you don’t have to be blowing up a bathroom to be intolerant to a food)
4. Do research on those foods that you notice are triggering symptoms and read up on FODMAPS and the FODMAP elimination diet ~ it sounds hardcore, but honestly I didn’t even do the whole reintroduction period because it was pretty easy to pinpoint what was giving me stinky farts and what wasn’t after a few weeks
5. If FODMAPs are the issue, download the Monash app so that you can have a list of foods to reference at all times (I didn’t fork over the $8 for the app but if you don’t have a wise nutritionist to consult, it might be worth the dough lol more food puns)
6. Find foods that work for you and get creative with them! Buy a sensitive tummy cookbook, scroll through Pinterest ~ there are lots of yummy options for people with food intolerances! (S/o to all of the dairy free alternatives)
If you enjoyed this post, then you can look forward to me doing more deep dives into nutrition in later posts ~ I’m learning more and more everyday and am excited to share all of the nutrition gold nuggets!
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searchingwardrobes · 5 years
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Of Earth and Sea: 5/9
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My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)
Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!
Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.
Rated T
Trigger warning: positive portrayal of Millian at the beginning of this chapter
Tagging (please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from this list): @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke
Chapter Four:
She walks in beauty, like the night
  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
  And all that’s best of dark and bright
  Meet in her aspect of her eyes:
  Thus mellow’d to that tender light
  Which heaven to gaudy day denies
Killian’s gaze shifted from the pages of the book he held to look down at the woman in his arms. Milah tilted her head to look up at him, wonder shining in her gray eyes. He got lost staring into them until a smile tilted her lips and she poked him in the ribs.
“Is that all?”
Killian chuckled, ducking his head in slight embarrassment. “Nay, I apologize. I simply got distracted thinking about how perfectly this poem describes your beauty.”
Milah’s smile broadened in delight as her fingers combed through his chest hair. “Then by all means, Captain, finish the damn thing!”
Killian arched a brow at her, dramatically cleared his throat, then resumed the poem.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
  Had half impair’d the nameless grace
  Which waves in every raven tress,
  Or softly lightens o’er her face;
  Where thoughts serenely sweet express
  How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
Killian paused once again, distracted this time by Milah’s own “raven tresses” that cascaded in a riot of messy curls down her bare back. The dark color contrasted sharply with her porcelain white skin, and Killian reveled in the feel of both silky hair and soft skin as he ran his hand across her shoulder and down her arm.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
  But tell of days in goodness spent,
  A mind at peace with all below,
  A heart whose love is innocent!
Killian tossed the book aside to gather Milah in his arms, burying his nose in the mass of soft curls, pressing the gentle curves of her body against the hard planes of his chest. He trailed whisper soft kisses along her jaw, breathing out words of Lord Byron’s poem that made him think of her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying one hand in his hair, and pressing the other between his shoulder blades. She let out a light, sarcastic laugh against his collarbone.
“Our love isn’t exactly innocent, though.”
Killian pulled away from her and she lay back against the pillows, one hand sprawled above her head. He traced his fingers along her chin, then let his hand drift along the curves of her body.
“But you know you aren’t just a pirate’s conquest, right? I love you.”
She smiled up at him, then reached up to cup his face. “I know.”
He kissed her softly, not allowing it to become heated so she would know the sincerity of his words. When he pulled back, a sad smile marred her face as she traced his jaw with her fingertips.
“I don’t doubt your love, but it does baffle me. I’m nothing. A farmer’s daughter, a farmer’s wife, dirt under my fingernails.” She gestured to the book he had tossed to the floor. “You read these beautiful words to me, while I can’t even read the labels to tell which is a bag of sugar and which is flour.”
Her voice rose in agitation, and her gray eyes widened and darted about. He drew her close, cradling her head against his shoulder and kissing her temple. Milah was a confident woman with over a decade of life experiences above Killian’s twenty-two years, and yet there were times that an inexplicable panic seemed to overtake her. She reminded Killian of a caged tigress he had seen in Agrabah once. The creature had been beautiful, its lithe body rippling with barely contained raw power. Yet it paced its cage, agitated and practically trembling, sniffing at the bars as if wondering, yet not daring to hope, that there might be life outside its tiny world.
“Take me away from here, Killian,” Milah practically begged, grasping desperately at both his arms. “You said once you could show me the world.”
Her request set his heart tripping in his chest. From the moment they’d met, he had been fascinated by this woman. And truth be told, it hadn’t taken much after that for him to fall completely in love with her. He had wanted to take her away with him, had honestly prolonged the Jolly Roger’s stay at this port in hopes that he could win her heart. But last night, he had learned Milah was keeping one very important detail from him.
She had a son.
“Milah,” he began gently, carefully, “believe me when I say that I wish to spend every moment of every day with you. Nothing would make me happier than to show you the wonders of every realm.”
He felt her stiffen in his arms. “I’m sensing a but coming.”
Killian let out a long sigh. “But have you thought about what leaving with me really means? Life at sea isn’t always an adventure. There are many long, monotonous days, the food starts to run low, sickness runs rampant. The ship is either freezing cold or oppressively hot. Not to mention I and my crew are wanted men –“
Milah cut him off with a shove to his chest as she pulled away from his embrace. “I should have known,” she muttered, shrugging into a satin dressing gown Killian had given her the first night they had made love, “men always make empty promises, don’t they?”
Killian sat up and lifted a hand towards her, “Milah, I didn’t say no.”
“You didn’t say yes either,” Milah countered.
Killian ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I just want you to be sure, my love. I don’t want you having any regrets.” He searched her face, weighing his words before finally speaking them, “What about your son?”
“I never asked to be a mother!” Milah practically shouted, flinging both arms wide. “A wife and a mother – those were the only choices offered to me in this god-forsaken village. I had a drunken father who saw me as nothing more than a glorified maid-servant. Then he arranges a match with Rumplestiltskin,” she spat out the name as if it were a vile curse word.
The emotions contorting her face would seem like anger to most, but Killian saw the anguish there. He thought of rising from the bed and going to her, but something in her eyes held him back.
“If I stay here, Killian,” she explained, fisting a hand at her breast, “I will die inside. I love my son, but I can’t live like this anymore.”
A long, tense moment stretched between them. Milah’s gray eyes were wet, but no tears slipped free. Oh, she was strong, like the flint of her eyes. She may not be a pirate yet, but she would be.
“I suppose we could come back for your boy. When he’s old enough,” Killian finally said.
The intensity in Milah’s face broke into a wide grin and she let out a hearty shout of joy as she jumped onto the bed. She sent Killian sprawling onto his back as she tackled him, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed.
“Let me up so I can dress,” he chuckled. “I need to procure provisions to make you more comfortable on the voyage as well as round up the crew.”
Milah clasped her hands beneath her chin, her face softened so that she looked like a young girl. “When do we set sail?”
“First thing on the morrow,” he told her, brushing her lips with a quick kiss, “so you have plenty of time to go home and say goodbye to your lad.”
Milah’s face fell as she shook her head vehemently. “I can’t, Killian. I’m afraid if I see Baelfire again, I won’t be able to go through with it. Can I please just stay here in your quarters?”
“Alright my love,” Killian replied as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, “if that is your wish.”
And therein was the heart of it; he loved her and couldn’t deny her anything.
******************************************************
It was at a dairy farm on the outskirts of town that Killian saw her. He thought he saw a flash of red hair as he paid the diary maid for a dozen roosting hens. He normally only got half a dozen, but with Milah joining them, he wanted the galley better stocked. He had spent little of his share of the spoils during this particular shore leave, preferring Milah’s company over other diversions.
He ignored the familiar presence as he turned from the farm and headed for the road. Yet she was not to be deterred.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Killian stopped midstride, hanging his head as he let out a deep sigh. He hooked one thumb into his belt loop, putting on a casual air as he turned.
“And why, pray tell, do you think you have any say in the matter?”
His mother’s normally serene expression flinched slightly at his bitter words. “I know your stubbornness well –“
“Then why waste my time?” He turned from her and kept walking.
“I also know how you feel about children being abandoned.”
Her words cut him to the core, and he whirled on her, his anger rising to the surface. “Don’t you dare compare Milah’s situation to your own, mother!”
Tauriel clasped her hands and tilted her chin slightly. “I don’t. For I have never left my son.”
“Never left?” Killian spluttered, shaking his head in shock. “How can you even say that? You aren’t even really alive!”
“I have fought against my very nature, Killian,” Tauriel tried to explain as she took quick steps closer, “fought against the ways of my people. I fought so hard, and in the end, the best I could do was choose you over your father. Can’t you see that?”
Killian raised his hand as if to ward off her excuses. “And what of Liam? You cast him aside. Because he wasn’t one of our kind.”
“That wasn’t –“ Tauriel pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “Listen to me, Killian, please. Milah is choosing you over her son, and the ramifications of that are beyond what you can see.”
“Okay then,” Killian spat mockingly, “then enlighten me? What exactly are the ramifications?”
Tauriel frowned and massaged her brow. “You know the future is ever changing. It’s like the ripples caused when you toss a stone in a pond.”
“No more riddles. No more pretending to be my doting mother. You have no idea who Milah is or how difficult her life has been. We will come back for the boy when he’s old enough, I swear it.”
Tauriel’s form started to shimmer and fade. Just before she left, she gazed at him sadly and said, “It will haunt you, Killian, taking that boy’s mother away.”
When she was gone, Killian swore as he kicked at a stone in the path. For once, she had been a proper mother. Telling him things he didn’t want to hear because he knew she was right.
**************************************************
“Wake up and look alive, you sorry lot of bilge rats!”
Killian wasn’t surprised at the barely concealed rage amongst his crew at being awakened before dawn after a night of carousing. Nevertheless, he continued to shove drunken sailors from their seats, and swipe at every surface within the tavern, sending half empty tankards of ale and rum splashing to the floor. His announcement would bring merriment, and then all anger would fade. Of that he was sure.
“Look alive, mates, we set sail at first light!” the answering groans were of little surprise, so he quickly added, “And I’ve captured us comely loot, my lads. The dark haired lass who has been making merry with us these past few weeks is at this very moment locked in my quarters.”
His announcement woke up the stupefied men. Some cheered, some catcalled and shouted out lewd remarks, while others seemed more baffled.
“Milah, sir?” one man asked.
“Aye,” Killian answered with a grin.
“And we be sharin’ her cap’n?” another asked. “Like any other loot?”
“Men have needs don’t they?” Killian answered with a hearty laugh.
The men catcalled further at the clarification, especially once they realized who Killian had “kidnapped.” He had seen the looks Milah had garnered from his crew whenever she had entered the tavern. He had no intentions, of course, in sharing her. Or using any woman in such a vile way, truth be told. But for one, he had a reputation to uphold.
And for another, he had a plan to set in motion. When he saw the tavern keepers’ daughter attempt to stifle a gasp and then run out into the streets, a sly grin spread across his face.
He would give this Rumplestiltskin one more chance to prove he deserved Milah. Then hopefully he could put his mother’s concerns far from his mind.
*******************************************************
“You did what?”
Killian set both hands on Milah’s shoulders, but she shook them off.
“You started a rumor making me out to be a common whore, and now you expect to fight for who gets to claim me?”
“No, Milah, of course not,” he tried to clarify, “I just -“ He broke off, running both hands through his hair in agitation. He didn’t want to share his past, but he saw no other way to calm Milah down. He took both her hands in his and eased down onto the bed, drawing her with him.
“I saw my mother today,” he began slowly. He explained his conversation with Tauriel on the road. That of course meant he had to explain everything else. Who he was – what he was – and all that he had been through as a boy. He had told Milah already about being a slave and about Liam, but he knew that the rest of the story might push her away. He feared it had when she slowly withdrew her hands and looked away from him.
“So you don’t approve of me leaving Bae,” she whispered.
Killian reached out to gently grasp her chin and turn her face towards him. “Honestly, I don’t like the idea of breaking up a family. But I know how trapped you feel. Even though I’ve turned to piracy, I still believe in good form.”
Milah gave him a tremulous smile. “So what do you propose then?”
He took a deep breath, hoping she would understand. “Word has gotten around that you are here against your will. As much of a coward as you claim your husband to be, surely he will come for you.”
Milah scoffed, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Well, if he doesn’t show, that’s that. We sail at dawn.” Killian took a deep breath as he ran his thumb across Milah’s knuckles. “If he shows, then we fight for you.”
“Killian!” she explained. “You can’t be serious! He could never match you in a dual! Do you plan to kill him?”
He knew she was right. The man could barely walk, much less passably use a sword. “If he fights, I’ll give him quarter.”
“And me?”
“You will be free to go,” Killian paused, arching a brow at her, “wherever you wish.”
Milah grinned and threw her arms around his neck. “And if by some miracle my husband wins?” she whispered in his ear.
He pulled her even closer, burying his fingers in her hair. “Then you shall be my paramour. The light that guides me home.”
Milah pulled back and cupped Killian’s face in her hands. “As poetic as that sounds, Captain, it isn’t enough for me. One way or the other, I’m sailing away on the Jolly Roger.”
In the end, she was right. About her husband and her own destiny. Years went by, the ripples grew, and in the end, Tauriel was also right. But even as the pain of his shattered heart and his missing hand threatened to overwhelm him, Killian knew he would have done it the same way all over again.
He was more like his mother than he cared to admit.
**************************************************************
Killian stopped in his tracks as he came out onto the back porch. Emma was sitting in the grass with Elien in her lap, and sitting across from them was his mother. And if he hadn’t known any better, it would have looked like a normal scene. Tauriel lifted a carefully woven garland of clover and set it atop the two year old’s head. Elien squealed and clapped her hands in delight. She twisted herself as if trying to see the garland atop her own head, and the funny face she made had Emma and Tauriel laughing as they caught each other’s gaze. The child reached up to touch the garland, sending it sliding down her light red hair to rest against her ear. Elien seemed to Killian to be a combination of his mother and his wife. Her red hair was lighter than Tauriel’s and shimmered with golden hues when it caught the light. Her green eyes were a shade darker than Emma’s yet a shade lighter than Tauriel’s. Her nose and chin were all Emma, and of course, the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose she got honestly from both sides of the family. Even Killian had been freckled as a youth.
She was basically the prettiest little lass in all the realms.
Elien turned then and squealed even louder when she saw her father. “Papa!” she cried as she raced across the lawn. Killian thought with pride that she was rather coordinated for a two year old. He bounded down the steps and scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses, delighted at the sound of her laughter. Emma, face bright with sun and happiness, came to give him a kiss hello. They traded off working at the station in the afternoons so one of them could be home with Elien. In the mornings, she went to Ashley Herman’s Mother’s Morning Out.
“Say hello,” Emma whispered in his ear, inclining her head towards Tauriel. Louder, she said to their daughter, “Come help Mommy get dinner on the table, okay, kiddo?”
Elien started to pout until Killian tickled her and made her giggle. Then she willingly went with her mother. Killian turned to his mother and was surprised to see her already fading away. Just moments ago with Elien, she had seemed as firm and real and alive as she had when he was a boy. Killian quickened his steps as he crossed the lawn, and she reached out for him.
“Mother?” he asked with concern.
“You’re happy, son.”
That was all she had time to say.
Killian frowned at her abrupt departure as he headed back into the house. Emma’s own smile fell when she saw the concerned look on his face.
“Killian,” she said quickly, “I hope you’re not mad.”
“Mad?” Killian furrowed his brow in confusion. He took in Emma’s demeanor: the way she bit her lip, avoided his gaze, and shuffled her feet. “Wait. Has this been a regular thing?”
“Well, yeah,” she admitted with a shrug. “Elien loves her, and . . . “ she hesitated for a moment, wetting her lips “your mother seems, more . . . I don’t know, real when she’s with her.”
Killian’s heart sank as suddenly everything fell into place. How rarely he saw his mother any more, how quickly she had faded when Elien went inside the house, and above all, his mother’s cryptic words. “She doesn’t think I need her anymore,” he whispered softly, “but Elien does.”
***********************************************
Killian was quiet for the rest of the evening. Emma was used to him brooding when something was bothering him, and they had been married long enough for her to know that all she could do was give him time. Still, when they crawled in bed after reading Elien a bedtime story, she curled up against his chest and splayed her hand over his heart. Just so he would know that she was ready to listen.
“How long?” he finally asked.
Emma’s fingers paused in raking through his chest hair. He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed. She still wasn’t sure why she had hidden this from him. She swallowed before answering, “Just since spring began. I swear.”
“A whole month? And you never thought to mention it?”
Emma propped herself up on her elbow so she could look him in the eye. “I didn’t intend to hide it from you. I actually thought of bringing it up dozens of times, but for some reason I always hesitated. The two of you have such a strained relationship already, and then you made that comment about not seeing her as much anymore –“
“What comment?”
Emma sighed. “Remember? You kind of sarcastically said something like I suppose my mother’s back to watching from a distance.”
Killian let out a long, weary breath as he rubbed a hand down his face. “Aye, now I remember.”
Emma massaged his shoulders. “Talk to me, babe.”
Killian finally opened his eyes, his bright blue gaze filled with a sadness that Emma recognized immediately. “It shouldn’t matter to me anymore.”
Emma gave him a small smile as she cupped his face in his hands. “Don’t say that; especially not to me. Remember what you said to me once? That wounds of childhood linger? No one gets that more than me.”
He gave her a wobbly smile in return. “When an elf’s heart is broken, and they waste away, their curse isn’t just that they are forever trapped between life and death. They are also cursed to wander after the one they love most.”
Emma nodded as she mulled over his words. “But your mother didn’t wander after your father, she wandered after you. You were the one she loved most.” Killian fell silent, taking Emma’s hand in his and running his thumb over her knuckles. Finally, Emma quietly asked, "Doesn’t that prove how much she loved you?”
Killian didn’t answer, but Emma could see his jaw clenching. She laced their fingers together and lifted his arm up. She slid underneath and rested her head against his chest.
“It doesn’t matter to a kid, does it?” she began. Killian made no response, so she continued. “My parents putting me in that wardrobe – I get that, you know? They didn’t know what the curse would be. They wanted me to have my best chance, same as I did with Henry.” Emma took a deep breath. Her next confession was something she had never told him before; never told anyone. “But when I found out they could have come for me when I was in foster care? With the flowers? I told Mom I understood, but honestly? That hurt. I mean, couldn’t they have found a way? Raised me, brought me to Storybrooke when it was time for me to break the curse? I don’t think I could ever tell them any of this, but it made me feel . . . rejected. Maybe if I grew up in royalty I would get it, I don’t know. But the little lost girl in me? She wishes her parents had come for her.”
Emma hadn’t realized she had begun to cry until she felt the tear slip down her cheek and splash on Killian’s chest. He must have felt it too, because his arms tightened her.
“You understand me, Swan,” he whispered against her hair, “you always have.”
He told her nothing more that night. They made love, in an almost reverent way, the coming together of two broken people. Later, they heard Elien’s babbling on the baby monitor accompanied by Tauriel’s elvish songs.
Killian reached over and switched it off.
*************************************************
It was amazing, really, how quickly Emma’s opinion of her mother in law had changed. When she and Killian were first married, the woman was an intimidating mystery. This almost angelic, other-worldly being who made Emma feel painfully ordinary. Then she had swooped in and comforted Elien when Emma couldn’t, and ugly, hot anger had welled up. Okay, maybe it was more jealousy than anger. No one wanted her mother-in-law implying that she couldn’t cut it as a mom. Especially Emma Swan Jones, who had enough baggage in that department, thank you very much.
So Emma really hadn’t expected to get to a place where she looked forward to spending time with the woman. Yet, here they were. Tauriel’s afternoon visits right after Elien’s nap on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays had become a special part of the day ever since the snow’s melted. Elien adored her grandmother, and Tauriel had a kind of gentle strength that reminded Emma of her own mother. Granted, the woman never seemed to understand any of Emma’s jokes, and she was even more clueless about pop culture references than her son, but they still spent most of their time in pleasant conversation, smiles, and laughter. Most of the laughter coming from Elien’s antics. The more time Emma spent with the woman, the more she understood her husband. His steadfastness, his almost obsessive commitment to whatever task he set his mind to, his uncanny ability to read people, and even his rebellious streak – all of these he had inherited from his mother.
Emma also felt freer around her mother-in-law when it came to her magic. While elven magic was of a different sort than the kind Emma possessed, they were still somewhat kindred spirits in that regard. And though her parents were supportive of her magic, she always got the sense it still made them a bit uncomfortable. She never felt that way around Tauriel. So they would both use their magic to entertain little Elien. Emma would make tiny sparks in the palm of her hand and watch her daughter’s eyes light up in wonder. Tauriel would make the water in the garden fountain leap up in the shapes of horses or dancing maidens, and Elien would laugh as she reached out to grab hold of the figures in the water. Then her little brow would furrow, in the spitting image of her father, and Emma and Tauriel would both laugh at her confusion.
And the first time Elien herself showed signs of magic, causing the lights to flicker when cutting her first set of molars, Emma had poured out all her fears and worries to Tauriel. Then the two of them, mother and grandmother, gave the little toddler her first magic lessons.
After that first lesson was when Emma almost told Killian about these afternoon visits. Elien had conjured up a circlet of flowers atop her papa’s head at dinner that night. But Killian had been so proud of his daughter, and so delighted, that Emma hadn’t wanted to risk ruining his mood.
It was a wonder, really, that Killian was so proud of Emma’s abilities, and by extension, their daughter’s. Magic had brought him so much pain, and yet he didn’t want Emma or Elien to change or hide that part of them. It made Emma love him that much more.
And it was her love for her husband that made Emma’s emotions so raw the next time Tauriel appeared on the edge of the wood at the back of their property. Emma was pushing Elien in the baby swing that David had hung from their large oak tree. Tauriel smiled in greeting as she approached, but all Emma could manage was a tight nod in answer. Of course, like her son, Tauriel knew immediately that something was wrong.
“Is Killian alright?”
Emma managed a smile at the concern in the woman’s voice. She was, after all, a mother too. “Yes, he’s fine.”
Tauriel gave her a lopsided grin, another trait Killian inherited from her. “That’s only partially true. Isn’t it?”
Emma sighed, gave Elien a good push that would keep her going for a while, and then turned to her mother-in-law with her arms crossed firmly across her chest. “Okay. I understand what happens when an elf suffers a broken heart. But . . . you were still around. I’ve seen you now with Elien. You were able to stick around longer when Killian was younger, weren’t you?”
Tauriel’s gaze softened and her eyes focused on something unseen, “Yes, I could take solid form then for sometimes hours at a time. Especially at night. But even in the day time, we had some wonderful times. If he could get away to the woods, that is. We would play hide and seek or climb trees. Even by the shore I could come to him. Not for so long, but long enough to give him a hug and a kiss and see what sea creatures he had discovered in the tide pools. If he hadn’t been at sea –“
Emma cut her off sharply. “Do you know what he endured?” Her voice shook, remembering things Killian could only tell her in the dark because they were so horrific. Things that happened to a small, pretty little boy on a ship full of loathsome men. She pressed her eyes together to keep the tears at bay. “And you just stood at a distance!” Her voice was rising now. “You didn’t even try to protect him!”
The swing had stopped moving, but Elien seemed to sense the tension between her mother and her grandmother. She remained silent, sucking on her fingers as her eyes darted nervously between the two women. Tauriel’s face had turned almost white from Emma’s verbal onslaught. When she finally spoke, her voice first came out strained and almost a whisper.
“I tried!” she choked her emotions as tears welled in her bright green eyes. “God, I tried! I broke past my elven limitations, but the sea was a barrier I couldn’t break. Until he dreamed. Or worse. I’ll never forget finding him curled in on himself, his little body broken.” She broke on a sob, covering her face in agony. When she pulled her eyes away, her face was wet with streams of tears. That was all it took for the tears to flow down Emma’s face as well. “I held him and sang. Elven music can heal. It healed his wounds and eased his physical pain, but nothing could touch his broken soul. I watched helpless over the years as his heart broke again and again and again.”
She beat her chest in rhythm with each again. Emma had never seen her so emotional.
“As a mother, can you not comprehend what kind of hell that is?”
A sob broke from Emma’s throat at her question. “No,” Emma managed to choke, “but I can imagine.”
Tauriel tilted her head back, hugging her arms to herself. “And Liam? I loved him as if he were my own flesh and blood. Yet I couldn’t speak to him or hold him. Do you know what it’s like to know your child is out there, but you are powerless to communicate with him? Powerless to let him know that you do love him?”
Emma’s tears were a silent thing now, rolling in rivulets down her cheeks. She nodded her head. “Actually, yes. I do know what that’s like. For ten years I knew Henry was out there somewhere. But I had no way of knowing if he was happy or safe. I had no way to explain to him why I gave him up.”
Tauriel took a tentative step closer, her hand out to her daughter-in-law. Emma took it, hesitant. Tauriel pulled her close, wrapping her in a hug. She wasn’t has soft as Snow, with her tall, willowy figure, but she was warmer somehow. And she smelled of earth and flowers. Emma breathed in deeply, and she literally felt strength flow into her veins.
“I can do nothing for the cracks in your heart,” Tauriel whispered to her, “but what strength I have, I give it to you, daughter.”
Emma felt almost embarrassed when Tauriel released her, giving the woman a shy smile as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She turned back to give the swing a push.
“Effie push me!” Elien demanded, kicking her little legs stubbornly.
Emma glanced at Tauriel and chuckled, wiping at the tear stains on her cheeks. Elien had made up the name for her grandmother, a title they could only guess was a two year old’s way of saying “elf.”
“Effie” obeyed the toddler tyrant, coming behind her and giving the swing a push.
“Emma,” Tauriel said softly, “my sin was giving my heart to Brennan Jones. And believe me, I have paid that penance. But the worst torture was the penance my boys had to pay. And I will never forgive myself for that.”
Emma leaned against the trunk of the oak tree and took in Tauriel’s tortured green eyes and the clenching of her jaw. Yes, her husband was much more like his mother than he realized, from the angular features to the lingering sense of self-loathing. And suddenly, she understood them both. 
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carlsonjonathan92 · 4 years
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