Instead, as we were having a bake off for Comic Relief at work, I focused my efforts on the sure-fire way to cure any cold (well for me anyway) – CAKE!

COOKIES AND CREAM CUPCAKES & CHOCOLATE AND MARSHMALLOW CUPCAKES (From The Primrose Bakery Book)

FOR THE CHOCOLATE CUPCAKES:

115g good-quality dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa solids)

85g unsalted butter, at room temperature

175g soft brown sugar

2 large eggs, separated

185g plain flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

3/4 tsp bicarbonate of soda

Pinch of salt

250ml semi-skimmed milk, at room temperature

1tsp vanilla extract

FOR THE TOPPING:

Marshmallow Icing (see below)

1 packet Oreo cookies, crushed or broken into small pieces OR

Pink food colouring

1 packet marshmallow

Edible glitter, to decorate

Preheat the over to 190C/gas mark 5

Line 2 x 12-hole muffin tin, with 16 muffin cases
Melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water
In a bowl cream the butter and sugar together, using an electric hand mixer, until pale and smooth
Slowly add the egg yolks and beat well
Add the melted chocolate and beat well again
Sift the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt into a separate bowl and stir together
Measure the milk into a jug and stir in the vanilla extract
Gradually add alternate amounts of the flour mixture and the milk to the chocolate, butter and sugar mixture, beating well after each addition
In a clean bowl and using a clean whisk, whisk the egg whites until stiff and peaks have formed
Using a spatula, carefully fold the eggs into the main batter until it is all combined
Spoon the mixture equally into the muffin cases, filling them to about two-thirds full
Bake for 20-25 minutes
Leave the cupcakes to cool in their tin for about 10 minutes before turning them out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
Ice them with the marshmallow icing and decorate with Oreo cookies or marshmallows.

MARSHMALLOW ICING:

120G granulated sugar

80g golden syrup

1 1/2 tbsp water

2 large egg whites

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

]]> http://sweetdayssoftlight.com/its-for-charidee-mate/feed/ 0 http://sweetdayssoftlight.com/breastfeeding-not-your-bag-baby/ http://sweetdayssoftlight.com/breastfeeding-not-your-bag-baby/#respond Thu, 21 Mar 2013 15:43:07 +0000 http://sweetdayssoftlight.com/?p=490 I’ve been wanting to write this post for some time, but I wasn’t quite sure where to begin.  Breastfeeding to me has meant a number of things – pain, worry, triumph, guilt, joy, and now, as Auden seems ready to move on, sadness and more than a little sense of loss.

There was something truly amazing about having Auden laid on my chest, not long after she’d been born, and have her stretch up to start feeding.  The midwives in the room all remarked how well she was doing, and I thought to myself, there’s nothing to this breastfeeding lark.

By that afternoon however, Auden was crying for food and no amount of positioning or coaxing was helping. The reality of breastfeeding began for me then with a hot, perspiring midwife (the hospital was DAMN hot!) expressing milk from me with fingers the size of sausages.  D later said to me he had an uncomfortable sense of foreboding when I turned to him and said, “I WILL do this” with a look of grim determination.

The first few days of colostrum, waiting for my milk to come in, were ones of frustration.  The Monday after Auden was born, I was taking a bath, waiting for the midwife to arrive, and all of a sudden there it was.  I had assumed that once my milk came in, breastfeeding would be a breeze.  I didn’t realise then that the difficulties were just beginning.

What followed were days and weeks of toe-curling, lip-biting agony.  No matter what position I had Auden in, I was in a tremendous amount of pain, sharp hot needles coupled with burning friction.  I had five visits from different midwives, each of whom sat down next to me and watched me feed Auden.  They say nothing wrong with Auden’s position nor how I was holding her, an I was told things would improve once I got used to it.

Several weeks in though and I was still in agony and had started to dread feeding her.  I invested in breastfeeding books, found as many blogs as I could where people spoke about their own experiences and how they’d conquered their difficulties.  I even tracked down an online copy of a manual given to breastfeeding counsellors and midwives.  I found photo after photo of smiling women holding their babies in the correct feeding positions.  I read the NHS guide to Feeding Your Baby from cover to cover.  I called breastfeeding helplines.  I called breastfeeding counsellors and peer supporters.  Still I was told that I seemed to be doing everything right, and to just hang in there and keep going.

I used shields to help with the pain, but then when that affected my supply and Auden’s weight gain started to slow, I persevered without them.  Until one day, when the HV was visiting, I broke down.  I was so tired and had been in so much pain for weeks, and I still had no idea what I was doing wrong nor how I could fix it.

I hadn’t realised then how much I’d invested in the whole thing.  I was carrying so much guilt at the thought of going back to work when Auden was only 6 months, one thing that kept me going was the thought of carrying on breastfeeding once I’d gone back, thereby keeping something that was just about the two of us.  And now, at 10 weeks in, it looked like I was gong to have to give that up.  No one was putting pressure on me to keep going – D, the HV, my GP, my mum were all of the view that I’d done my best and there was nothing wrong in admitting it just wasn’t working.  The pressure came from me alone.

I remained determined – if I could just get to 12 weeks, things might improve and, if not, I’d least I’d made t halfway to the recommended length of time.

And then a small miracle happened… A breastfeeding counsellor who had already been to see me had mentioned me in passing to one of her peer supporters – a trainee midwife called Becky, who coincidentally had led our antenatal class on breastfeeding – she happened to be in the area one afternoon and called to see if I’d like a visit.  I didn’t really hold out much hope given the number of people who’d tried before her.  However, within 5 minutes of walking through the front door, she’d got to the root of the problem.  The first thing she did, even before siting down, was to check inside Auden’s mouth.  no one else had done this.  She found that Auden had lip tie and posterior tongue tie, and felt sure that this was the root of our problems….

Image from ‘The Express’ newspaper, “Breastfeeding is key to saving NHS £40m”, 18 October 2012 – there’s nothing like a bit of added pressure!

However, don’t let my own ineptitude put you off trying this yourself.  I’ve been told the recipe can produce delicious results….

CHOCOLATE MALTESER CAKE, taken from Nigella Lawson’s Feast

For the cake:

150g light brown sugar
100g caster sugar
3 large eggs
175ml milk
1tbsp unsalted butter
2 tablespoons Horlicks malted milk powder
175g plain flour
25g unsweetened cocoa, sifted
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

For the icing and decoration:
250g icing sugar
1 teaspoon unsweetened cocoa
45g Horlicks malted milk powder
125g soft unsalted butter
2 tablespoons boiling water
2 x 37g  packets Maltesers

For the cake:

1. Take any ingredients out of the fridge so that they can come to room temperature.
2. Preheat the oven to Gas Mark 3/170C/ 325 F.
3. Butter and line two 20cm (8 inch) loose-bottomed sandwich cake tins with baking paper.
4. Whisk together the sugars and eggs until light and frothy.
5. Heat the milk, butter and Horlicks powder in a small pan until the butter has melted and the mixture is hot.
6. Beat the milk mixture into the eggs a little at a time.
7. Fold in the dry ingredients thoroughly.
8. Divide the cake batter evenly between the two tins and bake in the oven for 25 minutes.  You can test if the cake is ready by inserting a skewer, which should come out clean.
9. Cool  the cakes on a rack for about 5-10 minutes and then turn them out of their tins.

For the topping:

1. Once cooled, you can get on with the fun part – decorating!
2. Put the icing sugar, cocoa and Horlicks in the processor and give them a quick blitz
3. Add the butter and blitz again.
4. Stop the food processor, scrape down any mixture lower to the bowl, and blitz again, pouring the boiling water down the funnel while you pulse.  You should soon have a smooth buttercream (the one part of the recipe that worked for me).
5. Sandwich together the two sponges with the buttercream, and spread the remaining buttercream across the top of the cake.
6. Decorate with Maltesers (or any of the excellent confectionary alternatives).

(Auden doesn’t look too impressed)

The day began with cornflakes and a cuppa in bed, although this was largely symbolic since Auden had had a feed and needed to be taken downstairs.

I walked into the living room and on the dining table was a huge bunch of flowers, cards, and a box of macaroons from Betty’s…RESULT!

D had done me proud, and Auden had had a go at writing her own card.

It was my choice what we did today, and I decided to play my joker card – IKEA! Under normal circumstances, the last place D would want to be, particularly as we were going for an under-stair storage unit that displaced his shoe collection to make way for Auden’s toys.

Given though that you can’t move in the cupboard for standing on squishy octopi or a farmyard animal that lights up or sings, D conceded defeat, and off to Ikea we did go…

As I had a clear idea of what we needed, there was no dithering or panic purchasing, just a relaxed browse around the store, as Auden sat in her pushair, kicking her legs, clapping her hands, and beaming at surrounding shoppers.

We had a lovely lunch in the restaurant, surprisingly no meatballs on the menu, instead a preponderance of fish, wonder why…and again Auden grinned and blew raspberries at anyone nearby. D even shared his dessert – definitely a good day for me!

Purchases (and a few little extras not on our list..well, it’s traditional to come back from Ikea with miscellaneous washing-up brushes, novelty ice cube trays and espresso sets, isn’t it?) paid for and loaded, no visit to IKEA would be complete without a visit to the nearby Krispy Kreme, happy days!

At home, we set about construction, and Auden watched on.  She has a briliant scruitnising expression, where she really studies things, peering round taking it all in.

Order restored under the stair, D’s shoes safely rehomed, it was time for bath, bottle and bed.  Now, after a delicious caramelised onion and feta pizza, and a few glasses of red, my thoughts are turning to the week ahead, but I feel so lucky to have had this my first Mother’s Day.

The encouragement was great, and I kept pushing more and more, thinking that the end was in sight.  Unfortunately, progress began to slow quite quickly.  After an hour of further pushing, I was no closer to meeting bump and the consultant was called.  Unfortunately bump’s heartbeat had started to accelerate, and an examination revealed that bump and turned his/her head and shoulders (towards their daddy according to the midwife).  There was concern about bump’s oxygen levels and they tried several times to take blood from his/her scalp for testing.  It was at this point that we were told how much hair he/she had as the small blade kept slipping.  Poor bump!

I was advised to try for another hour, and of there was no significant progress, we’d have to review the options of an assisted delivery or a Cesarean. This was not what I wanted to hear.

I carried on pushing, as hard as I could.  D had been amazing throughout, and was offering every encouragement, cooling my forehead with a cold towel, and holding my hand.  Unfortunately after just over an hour there was no additional progress and the consultant came back.  There could be no further delay.  Bump was distressed and needed to come out, as quickly as possible.

I was wheeled into theatre, and as D changed into scrubs, for the first time I saw the worry on his face.  I carried on making jokes with the staff, laughing about the state of my hair, and convinced that we had come this far, surely everything had to be alright.  I was told that there were three options, to be tried in the following order: ventouse delivery, forceps, Cesarean.

The consultant began with ventouse, but bump had so much hair that she couldn’t get a grip.  Thankfully, the forceps worked and it was at this point that I felt very much like a cow on a veterinarian programme (not for the first time, as breastfeeding was to teach me).  I half expected to hear the “All Creatures Great and Small” theme tune as bump was yanked and pulled from me.

And then, all of a sudden, there she was.  A shock of dark hair and a crumpled face. We hadn’t made midnight, she was born early the next morning.

We were quickly shown her and D cut the cord, then, as she hadn’t started crying, she was taken away while they cleaned her up and checked her airways.  D accompanied her, and soon enough we heard a little cry.  She was brought back to me with a little yellow woollen hat, and for some reason at that moment I imagined a little old lady knitting it.  My babba lay in my arms and, while I tried not to think of wha the consultant was doing at the other end of the bed, stitching me back up, I gazed into her deep, dark eyes blinking up at me.  My words really wouldn’t do justice to what I felt at this point, so I’m not going to try, just to say it was the most magical moment, that I will never, never forget.

At this point we were asked what we were calling her, and we realise that the name we had picked out just didn’t suit her.  Then D suggested another name that we had briefly considered, Auden, meaning ‘old friend’.

Hello Auden Emilia, my old, beloved, most precious friend.  Welcome to the world, I’m your mummy….

I’d read copious amounts of literature and journal articles on the procedure, its risks and limitations, but I still wasn’t sure what to expect.  A part of me hoped that I’d get to meet bump in person that same day, but in the event, this was terribly optimistic.

D and I were booked into a room in the induction suite.  The midwives were incredible.  They took time to explain everything and encouraged us to relax and feel at home.  I began first with a pessary that did next to nothing.  Our first 24 hours were spent watching The Office US box-sets, grazing on food from the canteen and coffee shop and dozing – me on the hospital bed, and D all ready to be tucked up in a Z-bed next to me.

As nothing had happened by Tuesday morning, I was then given a gel to get things going.  After a couple of hours I started to feel some twinges and very foolishly began to tell myself, ‘This really isn’t so bad’ as I sat on my birthing ball, gazing out of the window and listening to the soundtrack from ‘A Room With a View’.  How very naive I was!

Within 4 hours of the gel the pain had increased considerably.  When the midwife came round and offered paracetamol as pain relief I wanted to laugh in her face – they did little to shift a wine headache, what good were they to me now?!

I decided to walk around a bit, and whoosh, before I knew it, my waters broke.  After our antenatal classes, the idea of a sudden flood had been dismissed as very unlikely, the stuff of movies.  But there it was, a sudden rush.  Just as the midwife had finished cleaning the floor, again, whoosh! And again… And again… Until she had run out of the padded squares for mopping up!

At this point, I was offered some pethidine and she didn’t have to ask twice!  The drug gave me some initial relief, but within an hour the pain had started to ramp up again.  I began visualising each contraction as a wave, saying over and over again “it’s just a wave, it will pass”.  The midwife who came back to check on me again thankfully suggested doing an internal examination, I say thankfully as I was already 9.5 cms dilated!

I was quickly rushed to the delivery suite.  By now, I was having difficulty focusing on my visualisations, but I still felt calm.  I was given more pain relief options, and knew I needed an epidural.  So much for the natural birth I’d first envisaged.

The epidural itself was the worst part of the whole labour experience, which I guess is pretty good going.  Although I’d had a spinal tap when I was a baby myself, seeing the injection prepared, and arching my back so that the anaesthetist could administer it gave me the heebie-jeebies.  I wanted to forget what was happening behind my – thankfully I was offered gas and air at this point.  It’s not something I could take for any length of time without feeling woozy, but at that point, made me feel a hell of a lot better.

Once the epidural had kicked in, what followed was an amazing experience…..  (More to follow soon)

Transcience by Ros Walker http://www.roswalker.com

(My birthing visualisation focused on a beach at my parents’ home.  This painting was on the wall of the hospital corridor that I waddled up and down as I waited for induction to have an effect, and it helped get me through those early stages of labour).

I had the regular glucose check at my midwife appointments, and never expected there to be a problem. When there was a spike, and I was sent to the diabetes clinic at the local hospital, I still didn’t expect a problem.  Even the consultant was of the opinion that I wouldn’t be back.  And then came the test results, and everything changed.

My diet changed dramatically, and everything was to be weighed.  My birth plan went out of the window.  Induction was presented as my only option.  This put an end to my hope of a more natural birth at my local midwife led unit.  I had a number of emotive and heated conversations by consultants, midwives and dieticians at the diabetes clinic.  I received a lots of helpful advice and factual information from the Association for Improvement in Maternity Services (AIMS).

I felt the choice had been taken out of my hands.  My birth was now something to be managed, monitored and controlled.  Bump would not be allowed to arrive hen he/she felt the time was right, they were to be induced.

What followed was several days of upset and anger – anger at what I felt I was being denied, and upset as I felt I was being backed into a corner.

Although I had evidence at my fingertips of full-term natural labour with GD that went without a problem, even the remotest chance that I could be endangering the life of my baby was enough for me to go with the new plan….

None of this mattered a jot though 6 weeks into the pregnancy.  We had a scare.  I’d had an unexplained bleed and after talking to an out of hours GP, was advised to go into hospital.  Up until this point, we had been keeping everything a secret, but being urged to go into hospital was scary stuff, and I needed to talk to my mum.

I had hoped to share the news without feelings of panic or concern, but Mum was brilliant and reassured me everything was probably fine, but best go in to have things checked out.

I’ll never forget sitting in the A&E waiting room.  It was the night of Children in Need and early enough in the evening for things to be relatively quiet.  I tried to focus on the TV and chat with D, but my mind was racing.  Thankfully we didn’t have long to wait before being called through.

We were seen by a young guy and, after going through some preliminary questions, his first words to me were “Don’t worry.  This early on, so many things can go wrong.  It’s not your fault”.  I know he meant well but it felt like we were being given bad news before I’d even been checked over.  He then put a canula in the back of my hand, and unfortunately nicked something as I started to drip blood over the floor.  We weren’t off to the best of starts.

We were then left while he arranged for me to be called through to the early pregnancy assessment unit.  Again, thankfully we didn’t have long to wait.  We were taken through where I was examined by a OBGYN registrar.  She was a smiling, young woman, with a soft Scottish burr.  She was great. Very calm and reassuring. She took time to patiently explain each procedure, what she was looking for, and what the outcomes might be.  She was concerned enough to keep me in overnight for monitoring while she awaited the test results.

Although what followed was a sleepless night, I remember very little of my stay in hospital, apart from being brought tea and what I can only describe as a tower of hot buttered toast the next morning.  (Just like me to remember food!)

The news the next day was positive and I was able to go home.  The relief was enormous, but at the same time I was acutely aware of the fragility of the whole thing. Already, I loved my little grain of rice so much, and willed with every fibre for everything to be OK. From then on, I talked to ‘it’ every day, patting and stroking my stomach, and still I had to try and keep everything a secret….

 Early bump

D was in the study on the floor below. I got halfway down before I started shouting to him, “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant! I don’t believe it, I’m pregnant”.

I don’t remember now what he said next, but I’ll always remember the look on his face – a mixture of happiness, surprise & quite a bit of ‘are you serious?!’

An amazing moment, that spot on the stairs….

So much has happened in the 11 months or so since I last posted, and I’ll be doing my best to fill in some of the gaps, over the comings days and weeks….

Since sleep is a much coveted currency in our house now, it’s away to bed for me now.  Night night!