Secondary Infertility & helping yourself (2)

Secondary infertility is a real issue. The amount of women having trouble falling pregnant with their second is really staggering. Not so very long ago, I was one of those women, and I went on a mission to do everything I could to help aid my fertility.

I was able to have one baby. Why could I not carry a second? 

Anxiety, failure, loss, grief. These are words that are all associated with Secondary Infertility (also referred to as SI). It is a cruel issue that now affects 1 in 5 couples and is for the most part unexplained.

Of course age has to be a massive player. For women are leaving it later and later to start a family, and the quality of their eggs deteriorates with age. The pressure that women put themselves under, such as wanting a particular age-gap between siblings, is also a very real factor, as is the tiredness brought on by having a first child already.

For me, due to being nearly 40, help from the NHS was limited. I did go on to progesterone. I don't think it helped though for the side-effects included hair loss, bloating and irritability. Considering you are supposed to have loads of sex to get pregnant, that's hardly a turn-on. What did help me however, were the following... 

Babycare Before Birth by Zita West, midwife and all-round fertility guru. Especially the first section, 'Building Blocks,' which informs on how to help prepare your body for pregnancy. (Babycare Before Birth Dorling Kindersley, 2006)
 

Changing my diet – mainly eating lots of protein and anti-oxidants.

Taking supplements of L-arginine, amino acids, multi-vitamins, and of course folic acid, and, because of my miscarriage history, junior aspirin (75mg). 

Agnus Castus, a homeopathic remedy to balance hormones (apparently it doesn't help everyone).

MLD (see my previous SI post) as a treatment also good for balancing hormones.

Cranial Osteopathy 


If you would like to read more, including what Zita West has to say on the matter of SI, then the full article: Secondary Infertility and me, will be out in the summer issue (2013) of Baby London magazine.

Currently, my 1Grace1Faith...

'Remember when they were the right side of the bars?'

Philosophical musings of a 4YO

Esme Grace didn't want to go to school today. She said she was not at all bothered about learning in order to get a good job when she is grown up. 

I told her Sofia Faith clearly has designs on running the country so she ought to be bothered, as it would not do for the PM's big sister to be on the dole. 

She replied, 'That's fine Mummy, I don't want to run the country anyway, I'll just walk it.'

Pancake day - Saving the best 'til last

It's pancake day and I couldn't wait to get up and cook them for the girls this morning. The fact that I was cheating, and Aunt Bessie or Aunt Jemima or whoever was sat waiting on the kitchen side, is by the by. Indeed I felt quite smug, for as well as purchasing a ready-made mix, I had also purchased a lemon. How very organised of me.

Downstairs, radio on, and the three of us are all excited. I begin to read Auntie's directions. Add water, shake. That's it? I don't even need to crack an egg? Hell, I don't even need to put it in a bowl. It simply shakes in the carton. Definitely the way forward - sorry Ma if you're reading this. (Mum's an amazing cook and wouldn't approve).

So we're grooving and I'm cooking with gas. The pan is really hot. I pour the mixture on to the smoking oil and watch intrepidly. Esme shuffles from foot to foot, and for once it is not that she needs the loo. It is just that she gets it. Plain and simple, it is pancake day and pancakes are delicious! 

As I peer at the pancake in my pan, I see sadly that something isn't right. How can that be when this has been poured out of a packet? Surely these pancakes are idiot proof? I'm already baffled when...

...Just at that moment, Mr Whiter than bloody white himself begins talking on the radio to me. Raymond Blanc is commenting that a pancake is heavy and a crepe is light. I glance at mine. Oh dear, what I appear to have is a cross between the two - a crap pancake. Nevermind, Esme is none the wiser.

I big it up, bluffing my way. 'Darling, Mummy is going to toss this beautiful pancake of yours now. Ready? Watch.' 

It's a disaster. It doesn't budge. Refuses to flip. My eager 4YO shouts, 'Let me see Mummy, let me see.' There's nothing to see; it looks so un-pancake-like at this point. The look on her face says it all. I toss it again. This time in to the bin.

I start again. Hot pan, smoking oil. Less mixture. 'It's all about the batter,' says Raymond. 'No shit,' mouths I. What on earth is going wrong? 

'Oh Esme. Don't worry, the more you make the better they become. And anyway, the first one always goes in the bin darling.' I'm not sure what to say when the second one follows it. Esme's look of disappointment has been replaced with disillusion. Sofia sat in her highchair, just looks hungry.

From this point on I have better luck. Pancake numbers three and four make it on to a plate each for the children. I've given up with the flippin' tossin' malarkey and now carefully let an egg slice do the best it can. Not bad. 

Before long, Esme has enjoyed three pancakes and Sofia some more. Traditional sugar and lemon have been left aside for jam. I ought to have known.

Back at the stove top I'm dancing again for I've finally mastered a couple of really impressive crepes. I have truly saved the best 'til last. I turn to the kids, frying pan in hand and announce I'm about to flip again. I big it up even more than last time... and yes... it works, flipping perfectly. Brilliant! But what is more brilliant perhaps, is the look on Esme's face as she innocently asks, 'Mummy, is that one real?'

FOOTNOTE

I think that where I went wrong along the way was to let Esme Grace (my-ever-so-helpful 4YO) shake Auntie; for when I arrived at the bottom of the carton there were lumps of powder mix that had barely been kissed by the water. Perhaps this sheds some light as to why my foolproof pancake mix just wasn't all that?! Next year I fully intend to make them from scratch, although I think I'll probably practise first!

Secondary infertility & helping yourself (1) MLD

Secondary infertility is a real issue. The amount of women having trouble falling pregnant with their second is really staggering. Not so very long ago, I was one of those women, and I went on a mission to do everything I could to help aid my fertility. 

One of the things I tried was Manual Lymphatic Drainage (MLD for short). Here's what it is, how it works, what it feels like, symptoms of, and, what it could cost:

THE LYMPH SYSTEM is the body's waste disposal unit, responsible for filtering out toxins and bacteria.

MANUAL LYMPHATIC DRAINAGE is a massage on the lymphatic system rather than on the muscles. The massage speeds up the waste-removal process.

IT IS SUITABLE FOR treating allergies, acne, arthritis, sinus problems, water retention associated with pregnancy and PMT and stretch marks. It is also said to help with weight loss. It is widely used for a general detox.

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE is out of this world for it is so relaxing. Because it is so gentle, you let go completely, indeed, I found myself nodding off each time.

SYMPTOMS AFTER include thirstiness, tiredness, and in my case, peeing like a racehorse. (I'm sure I could have knitted a jumper in the time I took to have a wee after a treatment). No puns intended; MLD does take it out of you, and because of that, it is really nice to have a treatment in the evening before bed.

THE BENEFITS REGARDING CONCEPTION aren't necessarily obvious, and that's a real shame for actually, MLD can help greatly with this cause. The reason being the lymphatic system is not only responsible for getting rid of toxins, but also plays a vital role in the circulation of hormones. Thus, MLD can be used to prepare the body for conception.

THE COST varies but I paid £40 per hour session.

For more info go to Holistic Haslemere 
or visit the MLD website itself at http://mlduk.org.uk/

'I've met your sort before'

So this weekend I'm doing the grocery shop, kids in tow, and am at the checkout with Sofia the toddler (screaming 17MO), when Esme (gregarious 4YO) suddenly disappears.

I find her three checkouts over, animatedly telling a woman I do not know that her little sister is yelling again. Totally flustered I collect her to the tune of, 'Heavens above, please. How many times do I tell you, we don't talk to strangers? And stay with Mummy.'

I manage to smile feebly at the woman and wonder is it me, or does she have a look of disdain about her? Esme returns with me to Sofia (still screaming).

We manage to complete our shop and are on the way back home when Esme casually informs me, 'By the way Mummy, that was not a stranger, that was one of the teachers from school.'

Consider me a marked mother.

A little more detail (8) Finally pregnant again

I've spent the week writing a series of posts on NY and it has been brilliant reminiscing and romanticising about a life that was prior to having kids, but now back to motherhood and my reality, and a little more detail...

So where was I then? Reminded that I am lucky to have a second little one in my life. A warning not to constantly bemoan the fact that I find her challenging and exhausting, but a motion to hold her tight just that little bit more and wonder at her being, her sense of adventure, her spirit.

That sense of adventure is one that is teamed up with a steely determination. Of course it is. Sofia had to be determined right from the word go. The fact that I was even holding on to her pregnancy alone tells me how strong she was from the very beginning. Thinking about it, I realise her pregnancy held on to me. Oh my little tenacious one.

I'd been having Manual Lymphatic Drainage, I'd worked at my diet, I'd taken Agnus Castus, Infact I'd done all manner of things. With 'that clock' ticking away and only two weeks of the six months left to go, I saw the cranial osteo - aka 'magic man'. 

Two treatments with Chris Grey later, I was pregnant with Sofia. That doesn't read too well does it?! Actually, the most physical it ever got was when his hand hovered above my uterus. Strangely, he concluded that my womb was folded and laying to one side. Even more strangely, his hand hovered some more and I felt an internal shift. I guess my womb straightened out. Whatever he did, all I know is that the following month I'd conceived.

The posts hereafter called 'Even more down to earth with a bump' will document my pregnancy journey with Sofia Faith, and I hope you enjoy sharing her story with me.


In hindsight, I'd seen the gynae at the hospital who had ordered a routine scan. The sonographer hadn't said my womb was folded and laying to one side, but she had said, 'Sorry it's taking so long, I'm having difficulty taking the measurements of your womb.' Which would surely indicate... 

Osteo Cranial with Chris Grey 

The Wishing Well, Petersfield, Hants 

01730 233802

A postcard from Montauk, Long Island

I'm on the road in Long Island and after leaving East Hampton today I drive to a state park, the Walking Dunes. It's not quite Namibia, but still a desolate beauty, and that is hard to find elsewhere out here. The dunes reach 80ft in places.  They are silent (save the breeze).

Afterwards, I carry on until I find the beach at Montauk. What a discovery. It is beside a motel that begs the imagination to surrender to images of 1950’s beach babes in shades, sunhats and togs on the veranda, with their pursuing men on motorbikes nearby in the lot, smoking and generally trying to act cool. 

Yes, Montauk is cool. And colourful and refreshing too. Surf's up. In the words of Bill Withers: 'Lovely day.'

In relation to the nanny note regarding jelly & poo

In relation to the nanny note regarding jelly and poo...

The parents of these two children honestly loved them. In time, they learnt how to say no. And in time, the children learnt how to honestly love them right back.

Nanny notes (London, New York) - How much jelly? She did a poo where?

The humourous nanny tale I'm about to recall is one that relates to poo - of course. Let's face it, poo is hilarious at the best of times. I seem to have countless tales involving the delightful matter. But only one from NY. And then it's not NYC, it's out on Long Island. In the Hamptons. East Hampton to be exact. Could it get any posher one wonders? East Hampton and poo I hear you gasp? Here goes:

I was nannying for the summer out in East Hampton. It was a tough job and one that stretched my patience in a way that I'd never known possible. (I didn't have my own kids then). Anyway, the two children -let's call them Peter (6) and Luisa (3) had absolutely everything that they could possibly want; except for any boundaries that is. And we all know that a child without any rules in place is one that feels insecure and that this insecurity often plays out in bad behaviour. 

I first realised my charges were going to be a challenge when I went to visit the Tower of London with them. At lunchtime we went in to the restaurant and the three-year-old demanded every single type of jelly available. And mum, harassed by the tantrum, immediately and robotically, placed six bowls of jelly on to two trays. Of course, Luisa didn't touch any of it. And it was then, literally hours before I was due to fly Stateside with them, that the horrors of what I had signed up for, dawned on me. Anyway, we join the story, while staying at the family's summer house, a few weeks in to the job. We'd been out for the evening...

East Hampton 2003

Been to the circus this evening. It is so sad that something that is supposed to be so full of fun has to turn in to a full blown row at every opportunity for these kids. They constantly fight their mother to see if they can win control of each and every battle, big or small. 

Anyway, the circus. Thank God there were no mangy looking animals. Only some very mangy looking cats, but that's okay, 'cause they're only cats.(Cat lovers I do apologise). The only other animals present were horses, and if anything, they all looked content. Or as content as horses ever look. 

So fortunately it lacked in animals. There were trapeze artists, clowns, a tight rope walker, and, as in all of the best circus stories, a ring master complete with black top hat and red tails.

There was a lady who swung from the enormous sky that is the 'big top' by her hair, and many gymnasts who sprung up and stood on top of one another, before tumbling down again at surprisingly super speed.

Then, the piece de resistance: and by far the ultimate show stopper, a human cannon ball! No joke, a woman was fired right across the ring. She seemed okay.

In short, I really enjoyed the circus! So did Peter. Luisa liked the candy floss.

The kids got the biggest balloons ever, which just happened to be on the end of long sticks, perfect for eye flicking. I managed to conveniently leave them in the back of the car. The children had their faces painted. Such fun...

Their mom's been feeling guilty for being away for two days so she told the children that they could keep the paint on forever, that they could sleep in the face paint. I ask you. Was she serious? I don't know? Probably, what's money - another set of bed sheets in exchange for saying no? Much easier all round.

Many other nanny tales of tantrums later we were home again, but not before stopping on the side of the road for Luisa who was yelling violently that she needed the toilet. We had to stop. Imagine my surprise as holding her legs in the air behind the car, she swiftly produces a poo. In East Hampton. Where the perfect grass verge meets the perfect road. Where there are no gutters because there is absolutely nothing poor or squalid about the environment that exists here. That was amusing!

Bath time was only successful after telling the children I would buy them some face paints to use again and again during the daytime. In the end, Mom thought this was a good decision too. Once again, spending money on the children appears to win the day. 

But in truth, we all know it doesn't.

My Manhattan musts

1. For amazing views and for FREE! walk across Brooklyn bridge.

2. Ellis island. No matter how many times I have been to New York City, I never tire of this memorial to the immigrants. It has definitely got a presence about it and is one of the city's more unique museums. Take the ferry from Battery Park for great views of Lady Liberty and the skyline (always so poignant now).

3. If it is only the view of the skyline from the water that you are after then board the Staten Island ferry. Extremely good value, a return fare used to cost a quarter. Remain on the boat and come back again, and catch yourself a break from tourists while you're at it! 

4. FOR FREE! And a must see, walk into the main concourse at Grand Central Station, once there, look up. The ceiling is quite beautiful, as is the building itself. The terminal only serves commuters, so time it with rush hour for the best buzz.

5. Empire State 5th Ave and 34th st - a must. Visit the observation deck when it is still light but verging on dusk. Remain as night falls and get the best of the views during day and night for one price. This means being up there a while. If you want my advice on seeing it day or night, then go at night.

6. Love pizza? Then book in to Little Italy's Lombardi's restaurant. Popular with the locals and the birthplace of New York style pizza; all adds for a great atmosphere. Find it on Spring Street. 212-941-7994

7. The Flat Iron Bridge building. This iconic triangular landmark is found at 5th, E22nd and Broadway, a most fabulous slice of Manhattan to photograph.

8. Not just an office complex, the Rockerfeller centre can be found in the centre of 5th and 6th Avenues and 48th and 51streets. Lively, colourful, and great in the winter for ice skating under.

9. A must is Central park. Get lost and enjoy. Got kids? The zoo is great.

10. Museum mile is found on 5th Ave and b/n 60th and 80th streets. Want a recommendation? A superb museum is the Frick 70th and 5th. One man's private and beautiful collection in his not so private, yet beautiful home. Totally interesting.

11. Just for fun: Dylan's candy store. Your eyes will pop. Beware the temper tantrums! Opposite Bloomingdales 3rd Ave b/n 60 and 61st.

12. On the Upper East Side, an American bakery called Two Little Red Hens roosts on 2nd Ave b/n 85th and 86th. It's a haven with a bohemian feel, is relaxed and has the most perfect cupcakes in town!

13. In the West Village - w4th st and Bleecker st to be exact- is Down the hatch. Fun nights that are good value - $2 pints, $8 pitchers, all you can eat deals, and an all round great American bar experience. 

Inspirational New York

Writing yesterday about Grand Central Station has inspired me to put together a few of the must see must, do spots of New York City, for living in Manhattan I found some great places. The next post houses my fav's...

Time to stop and stare

Happy Birthday Grand Central Station, 100 years old today!

Manhattan for me is completely magical. I suppose some of that wonder can be summed up by taking a view of Grand Central Station's fascinating October sky painted on its cylindrical ceiling. The zodiac and the constellations are depicted, all outlined on a turquoise backdrop with illumination for the brightest stars. It is breath taking.

I was in New York in 1998 when this ceiling was unveiled after a revamp and it is as glorious to me now as it was then; it is just so moving. Indeed, I would say that if you fail to stop and stare when passing through the Grand Central terminal (certainly for the first time), then you are surely devoid of all emotion.

If you've never been to NYC and are planning a trip, make sure you pop in on this marvel of a centenarian. Find it at: 89 East 42nd Street at Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

p.s. If you are heading in that direction, then don't miss The Oyster Bar, one of New York City's oldest restaurants, housed in Grand Central, it offers views of this indoor  astronomical night sky as well as gastronomical great seafood. Of course, you will need to book in advance: 212-490-6650

There are a number of intriguing hidden features and facts about Grand Central that are revealed in the brilliant interactive map below, it's definitely worth a look:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/interactive/2013/feb/01/new-york-grand-central-station-secrets

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

Are you running the marathon this year? 

Are you looking for a cause?

Please take a step for Fairtrade...

...Fairtrade Fortnight runs from the 25^th of February through to the 10^th of March and aims to make people more aware of the facts, highlighting the plight of African farmers, many of whom live in abject poverty. 

Please show your support for Fairtrade; visit www.fairtrade.org.uk

SOFIA IS CONCUSSED (part 3)

It's about twenty minutes from the store to the Minor Injury Unit at our local hospital. Sofia Faith slept the whole way. Alarm bells started to ring when I woke her to take her out the car and she fell back to sleep again in the waiting room. This was not like her at all. Especially considering she had already had a nap in the morning.

The paediatrician roused her to make various checks. She was concussed. I would need to keep a careful watch over her for the next 72 hours. If she started to vomit, seemed particularly irritable and clingy, or lethargic the next day, I was to return with her. I didn't stop to explain that my little one was clingy and irritable a lot of the time. Instead, he took her blood pressure, I took his advice, and we left. Esme was due out of school in five minutes. It was going to be cutting it fine. 

I carried Sofia as if she was Dresden china back to the car, beyond grateful that she was okay, still feeling nauseous that she may yet not be. I tried strapping her in, finding it difficult- aware that I was still shaking myself. I was in such a rush it didn't help. I dropped the keys on the driver's seat to free up both hands, there I managed it. I shut her door. I must get to school... CLICK. Before I had a chance to open my door the car locked itself. 

In disbelief I stood gawping for a moment. Staring me straight in the face sat on my seat were the keys, complete with their once amusing, now just stupid keyring. A word play on the 1939 government moral boosting poster KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON, read NOW PANIC AND FREAK OUT.

Context please. We'd been through too much already and I knew missing picking up Esme would not be the end of the world. A concussed baby locked in a car on the other hand, mmm. I phoned school. I phoned a mum. Said mum picked Esme up for me. Said mum's hubby could be with me in ten minutes to break the window. Said mum and hubby are legendary. In relief I phoned my OH Simon to fill him in. He said outright, "NO. Do not break the window, it will cost about £250. I'm on my way." I argued pointlessly, "But your daughter is crying. She is concussed." 

He was adamant and I hurt. 

Said mum's hubby was not required. 

Sofia screamed. For both of us this was towering torment on trauma. 

A blizzard began and I did my coat up, thankful to be wearing it.

Simon's journey would take an hour. Sofia was crying and I was close to it. We were in for a wait. I had to distract her. I would sing. And sing I did. At the top of my voice so that Fia could hear me the other side of the window. 

Verse after verse of Old MacDonald shakily soprano-ed in the car park. People toing and froing from the unit glanced in my direction oddly. In their defence, they only saw a crazed woman moo-ing, baa-ing and snorting to her reflection in the car window. 

Fia fell to sleep. She woke again and screamed some more. She looked at me with such confusion. I felt so sad but continued, changing tack for peekaboo. Somewhere in the hour, covered in snow, and dancing beside the car, my phone died. Great.

A woman unable to park drove alongside and shot me the most insane look for wasting a parking space. She obviously had no idea of my plight. Sofia was now shrouded in her own unhappiness for she had cried the windows steamy. I was beginning to lose sight of her.

Freezing and almost overcome with guilt and grief, I turned to the sound of feet walking my way. My OH was here, suited and booted, striding toward me. He used the spare fob and the car unlocked. I fell to Fia, apologising, hugging, kissing her better, checking her over in the process.

About half an hour later, Esme Grace and Sofia Faith chased each other around the lounge. Their noise levels raised the roof. I didn't once ask them to keep it down. Instead I had a large glass of wine and set about making a dinner for friends who were coming over.

What was that all about?

What it was indeed, was a blatant reminder that I am lucky to have a second little one in my life. A warning not to constantly bemoan the fact that I find her challenging and exhausting, but a motion to hold her tight just that little bit more and wonder at her being, her sense of adventure, her spirit.

SOFIA IS CONCUSSED (part 2)

So we were driving back from the magic man when I saw the time and realised Fia must be starving. 'I know' thinks I, 'I can pop in to the supermarket and give her a bite to eat as well as pick up a few things needed for dinner tonight.' We had friends coming for food.

I'd got round the shop super fast and was inwardly gloating over the fact that I planned on never returning to this particular store again as they always screw something up- like the time they lost an entire £100 buffet for the kids christening party I'd ordered, or the time the meat was off. Plus the fruit is ripe one day, rotten the next. In short, this shop just does not do it for me. To verify this I thought, hell I can pay with my points, use up the card. Where is that card?

Sadly it was at that moment that I sealed poor Sofia Faith's fate for I took my eyes off her. You see, Fia is a child who cannot be left to her own devices for a moment. And as I sought through the cards in my purse, someone not too far away shouted out desperately.

I turned just in time to see her flip. She landed flat on her back. Her head bounced as it cracked down on the tile floor. As I write this, the crack is on repeat in my own head. I still feel a little sick at the thought too. It was awful. The entire contents of my purse were strewn all over the checkout as I dropped all and fled to Fia. 

I looked at her first. She was so shocked her breath was a while in coming. When she allowed herself the exhale, the scream was so loud it was curdling. Of course, there was a huge silence too which didn't help. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and watched her somersault off the side of the trolley. That is actually quite a long way down when you are only two feet tall. Strange, I could tell that everyone felt as helpless as me. Except, I felt useless too. Carefully I picked her up and held her in.

Meaning well, a few members of the public approached, stating the obvious: 'She's really banged her head.' I couldn't talk. I wanted the whole shop to empty out. I felt so responsible and such a shit mother at that moment - not for the first time nor the last - no doubt. I sat down with her on my lap. I could taste my own bile. Fia continued to scream. First aiders had been called; 'Jerry' came with two bags of ice. I asked him to go to the baby aisle and get me a dummy. My voice was shaky, 'Of course I'll pay'. 

He was back soon. Fia kept looking at me as if to say, 'how could you let that happen to me?' The dummy went in and did the job it is employed to do. It pacified her. Still her whimpers emanated around it. Her eyes bloodshot. Her pallor funny. 

For five minutes now I had not been able to look at the back of her head, too afraid of what I may see. Eventually I managed to peek, encouraged gently by Jerry. Anguish. I set eyes on a dark red patch. Initial panic gave way to realisation then relief that what I saw was her coat and nothing more. But surely there must be a large bump. Nothing. She sucked her dummy, and when she didn't suck, she shook.

Suddenly a tall woman approached. Looming, she looked like she was going to fall. Breathless she stated, "I need to sit down. I'm going to faint." One of the ice bags had burst and shattered ice scattered over the seat. It was cleared in time for her to slump heavily next to us. Jerry smiled, 'Two for one on first aid today.' It was funny - but I could barely acknowledge it.

I held Sofia for ages. Long enough for the bag of ice that had remained intact to have melted all over my crotch. I stood up with a dark patch all over my Venus. Fabulous. In all the trauma, me, this failed mother, also now managed to look like I had wet myself. As a tear escaped, I laughed out loud. It sounded ever so slightly hysterical. 

I managed to get Sofia Faith to the car. 

She slept immediately. 

I drove straight to minor injuries.

For the record, they very kindly never charged me for the dummy. I still plan on never returning to this particular store.

SOFIA IS CONCUSSED (part 1)

Let's face it, it was only a matter of time. 

 

I take her off the dining room table about 20 times a day. 

 

She uses a basket to step on to the play cooker.

 

She scales the A frame of the painting easel to step on to the kitchen side. 

 

She has scaled the lounge window sill and has even scaled the bath.

 

Looking back I suppose the writing was on the wall when she climbed out of her cot at 11 months and gave herself a black eye in the process. 

 

But falling head first out of a supermarket trolley and concussing herself? That's a new one, even on me. 

 

If you read the last post then you will know that I was all geared up to cut out wheat and dairy from Sofia's diet in a bid to stop her screaming. But that went by the wayside after a visit to the cranial osteopath (our magic man) who tested Sofia for a reaction to dairy and found nothing. Instead he told me that she appears to be suffering with headaches; a result of very tight membranes over her brain. The diarrhoea is a reaction to the pain they bring. The pain is a reaction of her emotional state. Her emotional state is a reaction to her pregnancy. The next bit freaked me out. He told me he was tracing her emotional state back to the fourteenth week in utero. I  quickly did the maths and realised that it was then I was told my Gran was dying. She passed a few days later. I was incredibly close to her. Make of that what you will.

The magic man said he would like to see me back again with Sofia a few more times so as to work on her head. About an hour later, she fell on it.

Screaming in pain

Right that's it. I'm taking action. I cannot have Sofia Faith screaming in pain (and at me) any longer. I've done the research and she is presenting with most of the symptoms of coeliacs disease. I don't think she has that, but I have to go back to basics and take her off diary and wheat in a bid to find out if she is still as very allergic as she was as an infant. 

Our days always start well and she's chipper enough, but they usually play out with her in pain. I've taken her to our cranial osteo magic man (ongoing and another post entirely), and to the homeopath down the road, who has recently also tried a remedy.

The reason I've sought help is because a lot of the time Sofia is a very unhappy, clingy, blotchy, bad-tempered little toddler with diarrhoea - up to eight dirty nappies a day. I'm hoping that cutting out diary and wheat may change that. For her. And for me. Tomorrow I am off to buy rice milk and to hang out in the 'special food aisle' at the supermarket. I feel glad to be doing something positive and recognising that there probably is a problem... that it is not just those bloody teeth.

DELIGHTED MUMMY

SNOW and LOTS of it. 
Not blogging in earnest until it's gone again. 
Off building snowmen instead. 
Such fun.

EXASPERATED MUMMY

Would like to have blogged in earnest today but my weekly shop has just taken me two hours. TWO HOURS. Worse than the Christmas food shop. Is snow forecast or something? Heavens above!

A little more detail (7) The disappointing reality of a failed pregnancy test

A good friend has pointed out to me that I have yet to blog about being pregnant with Sofia; her birth, her being. I have scribed so much regarding Esme in the Down to earth with a bump posts, it seems only natural to continue for Sofia. (Besides my girls, if you are reading this one day, I don't want any arguments). 

Sofia was longed for. 

A sibling for Esme was longed for. 

And after the miscarriage, it just didn't happen. 

The irony hasn't bypassed me:

Two pregnancies just like that without even trying. 

One more pregnancy, tried for desperately, non-existent.

Every month I'd be hopeful. A few months I got lucky, testing positive. Only then to watch it change with a repeat test a few days later, ending up in a very heavy bleed.

Oh the negativity of a negative result. In the end, it eats away at you. In the end, it ate away at me anyway. In the end, I had to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Even if the tunnel was heading in a different direction to where we initially wanted to go.

Rightly or wrongly and against Simon's wishes, I said I would only try for six more months, and if I still wasn't pregnant by the end of that time, then that would be it. I was not prepared to keep going through the heartache of anticipation and at times, excitement, followed by disappointment. Not to mention the hormonal ups and downs. Plus I knew Esme wasn't getting all the attention she needed. Basically, it was already too long trying, although it wasn't yet 18months. 

Putting a time frame on it helped me, for in my head it then became manageable. I was positive I would do everything in my power to help aid conception in that six months; reflexology, diet, acupuncture, homeopathy, cranial osteopathy. The rest remained to be seen. 

And so the second loudest clock in my life, started ticking.

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

Okay, you can start by watching this movie...

http://player.vimeo.com/video/35835631

This is Evie's story.

Evie is a little girl from my town, who just like my daughter Esme Grace, started school last September.

Please listen to her parents tell their story in the film, and if you would like to help, by either donating to the charity Action for A-T,  
http://www.bmycharity.com/EveningforEvie or by passing the story on to others you know to help raise awareness, then that would be amazing. 

Thank you!

Thought-provoking sister Kate (3) and norovirus

Sister Kate lives in Ecuador. She lives a most health-orientated lifestyle and sends the most thought-provoking emails. Her latest is a remedy for the Norovirus

Sickness in the house? Tackle it with charcoal...

The good news:

Apparently activated charcoal (the sort used by all hospitals for poison ingestion), is an all natural and organic method of ridding the body of bacteria and viruses. It's available from all good health food shops.

The not so good news:

If you throw up after it, then you have to take more with water until it stays down.  

The good news:

It's completely non-toxic, is solely charcoal and you can take as much as you want. One teaspoon has a surface area of a football pitch and so will absorb all the tummy bug nasties and remove them from the body.

The not so good news:

It also clears out the good bacteria in the gut, so it is best to take a probiotic afterwards.  

Testament:

Kate's helped lots of people in Ecuador with the charcoal remedy, including their pets who have been poisoned! One guy was so sick in the morning, he couldn't believe he was able to continue with the catering he needed to do for a party that evening. I'd wager it's worth a go!

FRAMED Capturing some of the magic

Esme in design mode

 

 

 

Fia in denial

 

 

 

 

Twas indeed a traditional merry Christmas

And in the end it most certainly lived up to all the hype. What a happy Christmas it was for the four of us. Highlights included...

The Christmas Panto (and Esme's role play thereafter)...

Snow White and the seven dwarfs was a great hit. Esme loved being involved and enjoyed the interaction very much (oh yes she did). Afterwards, we went to my mum and dad's. Mum did us a lovely meal, crackers; the works. It just so happened that Esme had a compact mirror in her cracker. No great surprise then when I found her the next day gazing at herself, chanting, 'Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?' The mirror's dark response replied, (Esme threw her voice), "You are the fairest of them all Esme - and so much more than Sofia."

And so it begins.

Christmas Eve crib service

Esme and I went along to this with no idea of what to expect. Being four, and as she was christened this year in the local church, I felt it necessary to try and give her some experience of the Christian value behind all the festivities. I'm so pleased we went. I feel a new tradition within our family has been born. And I have to say, it was brilliant. First of all, you have never seen so many families. Pushchairs parked the entire length of the aisle. Toddlers allowed to wander. The vicar didn't stop smiling (even when singing), clearly delighted with the chaos created by so many in his house. Babes screamed and tired parents looked flustered, but piece by piece, ornament by ornament, the nativity scene came together, as the meaning of CRIB service dawned on me. Esme took pride in being asked to place a shepherd upon the stage. For half an hour we sang our hearts out and then, the fattest Christmas tree I've ever seen was lit up in the corner to great gasps of awe. Only one thing ruined it for me... I heard some chap behind say very loudly, "Look darling, that tree is nearly as big as ours." What a dick.

Christmas morning (1)

Sleeping in past seven on the day was lovely. I so realise that this is possibly the last time ever while we have small children at home?! Sleeping in was quickly followed by the most magical of all phrases one can ever hear: "He's been." God I've always loved Christmas, but it's all so much better when you have little ones to share it with.

Christmas morning (2)

Junior Choice, Radio 2's brilliant programme from 9-11am with Stupot ('ello darlin'), and all the favourite songs of my childhood. Love it. Apron goes on. Turkey gets stuffed. Mummy starts dancing. Captain Beaky, A mouse lives in a windmill, Puff the magic dragon, Sparky's magic piano, the works. LOVE IT.

Christmas lunch

A definite highlight, not much to say on this matter, but God, it was good. All four of us cleared our plates and bowls.

The Queens speech

Usually by the time this rolls round, I'm usually rolling around. As my dear OH refills my glass (again) in readiness to toast dear Queenie, I become even more patriotic than normal. I'm very proud to be British and very proud of our royal family. But by 3pm on Christmas day I am quite simply in love with the Queen. As I sit to salute her, my patriotism (and often alcohol consumption) totally kicks in and usually fuels silent tears of admiration. 

Present time

You see it all comes down to tradition. And it is only ever after the Queens speech that we (my brother and sister and I) were finally allowed to have the gifts sat winking at us all under the tree. One by one they would be handed out and enjoyed, time was taken to wait and see what each of us received. I suppose that sounds almost Dickensian to today's standards, but it always taught me to be incredibly aware of how lucky we were to have all these lovely new shiny toys. So yes, the four of us hung back til after the Queen's message. Like I say, it all comes down to tradition. And the day lasts even longer! A real highlight was watching Esme and Sofia enjoy handing out the presents.

Fat bellies and lots of TV

Isn't that how it always ends?

Boxing day family fun

More fat bellies and more TV. My rude OH sits taking photos of his mother-in-law's drool as she drops off on the sofa. Her cracker party hat will be in situ for a good few hours yet even if it does presently slide down her nose in tribute to her dear dad.

Highlights also included visits from great pals, walks in the woods and winning at Cluedo.

Perhaps the only thing that was missing this particular crimbo for me, were roaring log fires, toasted marshmallows, hot choccie, and of course the white fluffy stuff. Far too mild for any of that. However, that aside, it was as close to perfection as can be. Like I said in the previous post, there's truly a lot to be thankful for.

 

Christmas Eve and there's so much to be thankful for

It's shaping up to be another merry Christmas!

The carrots, mince pies and brandy sit half eaten upon the hearth as freshly laid welly boot footprints stand in the ash of the smouldering fire. Simon and I have munched ourselves silly feasting upon the carpet picnic of an exquisite hamper that his work delivered. So so content, we are about to tip toe Santa's presence in to where our sleeping wonderbabes lie up above dreaming of sugarplums and all things deliciously Christmassy. All of us happy in our anticipation, and the new dawn. 

Nativity is davinity

Esme's nativity was divine. It really was. She looked like an angel. Although she played a traveller. A traveller! Not a spoken part, nor an acting part come to that, but a walk on part. But hey, she walked on brilliantly. She also knew all the words to the songs and managed not to pick her nose once; so I'm a proud mum. Albeit a proud mum that has just a teeny weeny bit of Mary envy.

Fairytale of Christmas

We're currently bopping along to this song - one of the best ever Christmas songs of all time, and that is saying something. God bless Kirsty Maccoll.

12 days to Christmas (with a mischievous toddler in tow)

Day 1: Put the tree up and admire it's beauty.

Day 2: Place presents that are already received around the foot of the tree, and admire it some more.

Day 3: Remove all the presents from around the tree until ready to open.

Day 4: Move the tree to a more secure location.

Day 5: Try to decipher which is the tree and which is Sofia Faith, for every time she goes anywhere near it, she ends up with more and more lametta tinsel attached to her.

Day 6: Notice that what was a ton of lametta tinsel, is now a few strands.

Day 7: Spend the entire time chasing Sofia Faith who is wandering with baubles, back and forth.

Day 8: Move the baubles to higher branches well out of her reach.

Day 9: Move all remaining dec's to higher branches well out of her reach.

Day 10: Introduce some toddler friendly dec's to the tree at Sofia Faith's level.

Day 11: Remove the toddler unfriendly dec's

Day 12: Admire the tree in its half-dressed state, and then admire my beautiful and mischievous 15MO

Easy chocolate biscuit bites for Christmas (you won't even need your oven).

No cook chocolate biscuit bites

3 oz ginger biscuits

3 oz digestive biscuits

4 oz milk choc

4 oz Plain choc

4 oz golden syrup

3 oz unsalted butter

2.5 oz dried apricots, finely chopped

1.5 oz raisins, cut in half

1 oz Rice crispies

Lightly grease and line a 20cm 8inch square shallow tin (or whatever you have in the cupboard, I used a lasagna dish). Break the biscuits in to pieces in a plastic bag and then crush with a rolling pin.

Melt choc, syrup and butter in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. Stir in the biscuit crumbs and when coated, stir in the apricots, raisins and crispy rice.

Spoon the mixture in to the prepared tin and level the surface by pressing down with a potato masher. Leave to cool, then chill in the fridge for 1 hour before cutting in to small squares. Fill your boots!

Playtime musings of a 4YO

Did you know Mummy, that colouring sometimes makes my hips ache?

 

This weekend...

We thoroughly recommend:

Ice skating! Such fun, such fun! Here we are in Brighton - with the amazing Pavilion playing host. Blue skies help enormously, obviously, but what a brilliant (and back-breaking) thing to do with an adventurous 4YO. 

She's talked about it ever since.

"Argghhh, I can't see."

THE ROYAL PAVILION ICE RINK TICKETS  

(Sessions are one hour long)

Adults From £10

Children under 12 From £7

Family £34

Tickets available from Ticketmaster.co.uk

0844 847 2352

Get your southern skates on also at Hampton Court (www.hamptoncourticerink.com), Royal Windsor Ice rink (www.windsor.gov.uk/what's-on/windsor-on-ice), Winchester Cathedral (www.winchester-cathedral.co.uk), Somerset House, London (www.somersethouse.org.uk/ice-rink), and Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park (www.hydeparkwinterwonderland.com/attractions/icerink).

Teatime musings of a 4YO

So over food this evening Esme Grace, (4YO) says, "Mummy, I'm actually using the word actually." A bit later, she announced, "Mummy, I'm definitely using the word definitely." 

Clearly simple to you and I, yet such a big thing for her. Ah, my little girl is growing up and using grown up language. She then moved on to tell me that duck rhymed with fuck. Such a shame as up until that moment, it felt like I was in a Charlie and Lola cartoon.

NB: Esme actually and definitely has not a clue about the word f**k. (I think hope anyway).

That artistic hand take 2

In addition to the last post That artistic hand, Esme has changed her mind... (it's a 4YO's prerogative).

Over breakfast I showed Esme her picture in blog format. (Said picture again)

Here's the conversation that followed...

e: Mummy, why does the giant and his pet snail look smaller on your computer?

m: What do you mean, giant and his pet snail? Isn't that a picture of Mummy?

e: No, I just said that before, it is actually a giant and his pet snail. 

I obviously offered an explanation to Esme on how her creation came to look smaller. 
But I did a jig around the lounge first.

LATEST FRIDGE ART & that artistic hand

Esme's latest picture of me is worrying. I am not sure what bothers me more... that hand, the fact that she sees me as the female equivalent of Mr Strong, or the giant snail that is about to crawl between my legs. Brilliant.

A poetic moment - clearly I'm craving some space!

The Australian Cowboy 

 

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

Is it any wonder that the beautiful landscape of the outback creates beautiful people?

The intricate designs left by the wind in the desert sands are reflected in the weathered and lined face of the cattle musterer.

Old before his years, he is a nice old guy for a younger man: quiet, unobtrusive.

Alone, but not lonely, he is to be found amid his orange vastness of sand, with his dog, his horse, his cattle, his hundred’s of miles and his thoughts.

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

Colours.

In the daytime, minus the storms, the endless sky, like a sea above, is the most incredible sapphire, and only the flocks of galahs can pierce pink upon it, or the cock-a-teels, white. Likewise their cries maybe the only noise to invade this serenity, teasing one another over the hushed herd. Even his dog rarely barks, finding other ways to communicate.

Colours.

Against the jewel sky, the brick red pindan earth strikes a discord of the most unique kind, only nature can be this inventive and successful.

Space.

Littered with termite mounds and silver spinifex.

The night sky he sleeps under, is all the comfort he needs.

Everywhere here is his oasis.

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

He thinks a lot.

Tranquility.

His cattle are grazing. They’ve found a water hole and the heat of the day, is evaporating.

The cattle musterer, slips silently down off his black smooth horse, giving her an affectionate, firm slap.

Reaching his worn palms into a blue-jeaned pouch, he produces a red kerchief, which he drags along his perspiring brow.

He squints into the lowering sun, and dips his Akubra, until he can barely see past its adored brim.

The dust rises as the huge herds push forward for the now churned-up wet.

In another week or so he and his cattle will be at a station Northwest of the Territory. Population: approximately ten, and that will suit him just fine.

Somewhere he can have a cold shower and a cold beer and a chair.

Just to sit, contemplate and dream. 

He’s saving up for a farm, his own ranch in the Pilbarra. For him and his dog.

And just a lot more time.





I've linked this piece up with: http://www.vevivos.com/prose-for-thought/ 

The best weekend

Meeting Santa at the school Christmas fayre - He was the real one Mummy.

The Mere's Christmas market, festive, festive, festive 

Buckets of vin rouge

Inside and in front of a roaring fire, all the while it's freezing outdoors

Roast lamb - Rosemary's not shy

Toasted marshmallows to boot

Kids early in bed with smiles on scrubbed faces

Two in a tub - hot, hot, hot bath with scented candles

Topped with fresh sheets and early night

Ah, they don't come much better x