Sweet Days Soft Light

Last Thursday was a change to our usual routine.  After just getting over conjunctivitis, Auden was developing a chest infection and we decided to sat home from the village baby & toddler group, and the afternoon’s buggy fit session.

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 marshmallows

Edible glitter, to decorate

1. Preheat the over to 190C/gas mark 5
2. Line 2 x 12-hole muffin tin, with 16 muffin cases
3. Melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water
4. In a bowl cream the butter and sugar together, using an electric hand mixer, until pale and smooth
5. Slowly add the egg yolks and beat well
6. Add the melted chocolate and beat well again
7. Sift the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt into a separate bowl and stir together
8. Measure the milk into a jug and stir in the vanilla extract
9. Gradually add alternate amounts of the flour mixture and the milk to the chocolate, butter and sugar mixture, beating well after each addition
10. In a clean bowl and using a clean whisk, whisk the egg whites until stiff and peaks have formed
11. Using a spatula, carefully fold the eggs into the main batter until it is all combined
12. Spoon the mixture equally into the muffin cases, filling them to about two-thirds full
13. Bake for 20-25 minutes
14. Leave the cupcakes to cool in their tin for about 10 minutes before turning them out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
15. 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

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….

 

I remember walking up the stairs in our local Waterstones last year, seeing a stand of Mother’s Day cards and saying to D, hopefully…this time next year….  And here we are.

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.

 

Once the epidural had kicked in, I felt incredibly relaxed.  There was a mirror above a sink directly opposite me as I sat up on the bed, and I began to notice the state of my hair.  This became more of a concern than pushing.  The midwives urged me on, telling me how well I was progressing and that I’d get to meet my baby before midnight.

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….