My engagement story

I remember the feeling. Surprise. Delight. Happiness. The moment when another person tells you that they want to share their life with you.

On the Tube today I sat opposite a young couple, their hands clasped, and heads bent together, taking it on turns to admire the glittering ring on the third finger of her left hand.When your newly engaged it feels as though you have a neon band strapped around your ring finger and you want to talk to everyone about it.  Or I certainly did.

Most ladies I've spoken to love talking about their wedding day, but before the big day it's the engagement stories that take the spotlight.

Hubby popped the question to me one chilly November afternoon.  We'd been visiting our parents and had spent the entire morning hunting around the town for Hubby's lost mobile phone (we'd been to all the shops we'd visited that weekend, the coffee shops, even the town dump until ultimately finding the phone down the back of the sofa...), when he suddenly announced that he wanted to go for a walk.  There's nothing particularly strange in that, although what I did think was a little odd was the fact that as soon as we left his younger brother started hanging out of a bedroom window with a pair of binoculars...

Hubby took me to a hill near his parents house, the views were stunning.  It was a crisp November day, and you could see for miles over the Somerset moorlands.  It was lovely. I've always enjoyed the peace and quiet of the country, so I was standing drinking in the views with the wind fanning my hair out behind me.
The next thing I remember was a tap on my shoulder. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I do remember him going down on one knee. Having just started his first proper job, he'd gone out and bought a ring after guessing the size.  It wasn't the ring I would have chosen for myself but I loved it.  Even though I didn't know it beforehand, it was perfectly me.

I was so delighted that I called my mum before we'd got down from the hill.

Our wedding day, almost a year-to-the-day later.

Even now, Hubby says that the hill is our place.  We know that we shared something very special there, and when we came down again as an engaged couple our families (who apparently knew all about the true nature of 'the walk') were thrilled.  Although I don't think the binoculars had been much of a success at tracking the proposal from a-far.

Every engagement is different, and every one special.  Whether a surprise, or a mutual agreement it's the first step to a lifetime of commitment.

I'd love to hear your engagement story.  Why not post your own, and tell me in the comments.

It's [early] Christmas time

For my 8th birthday, I was asked by my parents what present I would like, and to this day I remember my answer. Without a second thought I knew what I wanted to wake up to when my birthday dawned: Christmas.  Unfortunately my birthday is in March, however that didn't stop my parents dutifully bringing out the Christmas tree, and having a big "Christmas" dinner to celebrate my birthday.  There was even Christmas pudding in place of birthday cake.  I had an absolute ball.

When you're a child, Christmas has an undeniable quality.  It's magical.  But as you grow older, and you can't get away with buying all your gifts from one shop and the budget has to stretch thinner and thinner, the excitement of the festive season somewhat dims...

I read an article in the Metro this morning complaining that supermarket chain Asda were already setting up their Grottos.  Even I have to admit that August is a little early for little children to start planning what expensive gift Santa will bring them this year. 

I do wonder whether the more time we have to plan, the more we plan to spend, and Christmas arriving earlier and earlier is a bit if a trick by retailers to get us to cough up more...

So this year I've decided to try and bring some of the magic back. I want to be that little girl that enjoyed Christmas so much that she wanted it twice in one year.  So this year Hubby and I will make a lot of our presents, spending the minimum financially, but the maximum in time, effort and energy.

Afterall, what is Christmas without a little thoughtfulness.

Do you go down to the woods to play?

I have great memories of playing in farmers' fields as a child.  Climbing over stiles, slipping over in cow pats, even falling in nettles, to this day these childhood experiences have made me more comfortable in the countryside than out and about in a town.

I was lucky to grow up in the rural South West.  Every Sunday when I visited my grandparents I was free to let my imagination run wild in the nearby fields and orchards. Meaning that I've always felt at home in the quiet of the country.

Hubby and I took advantage of a few short hours of sunshine this long weekend to do some blackberry picking.  We're lucky as we live in a semi-rural area, and so a ten minute drive took us into the heart of a wooded area, loved by dog walkers and wild deer alike. 

We had a lovely morning, and it was wonderful to see the wood so full of families also exploring.  One little girl was, in ways only little children can be, completely enamoured by a slug, where as her brother was trying to get her to come and look at the hole he had found.  I couldn't help but smile at their wide-eyed amazement. It made me want to keep exploring around corners, and possibly even building a den out of fallen leaves.

I firmly believe that children should experience nature.  I didn't realise it as a child, but my Sunday afternoon scampering around the Somerset woodland was one of freedom.  I was allowed to follow my imagination, and I'd easily while away the hours simply thinking.

It never fails to astound me that If I ever have go attend a meeting for work I am at a complete loss without Google Maps and my mobile phone's GPS.  But drop me into a wood, I find myself confidently striding off, knowing that I'll be able to retrace my steps no matter how many corners tempt me round their bends.

It does amaze me that so many children are scared of forests.  Of course we all need to be careful, you don't want to get lost, and you don't want to always meet a stranger amongst the trees... However it is unlikely that you'll be gobbled up by the Big Bad Wolf if you're walking through the woods.

I do wish we lived in a world where patents could be more relaxed about the where their children played. 

Recipe: No bake Ferrero Rocher

You know those evenings/mornings/afternoons/days/nights where you simply just can't focus on anything?  When your mind has latched it's thought-claws in and isn't letting go? I was crippled with that affliction a couple of days ago... The cause: chocolate.

I don't know if it's just me, or whether my chocolate cravings carefully time themselves for just after the shops have closed, just to remain taunting. But this time I decided I would fight back...

Quick and easy Ferrero Rocher

No baking required!
Makes 15 approx

5 crispbreads (Ryvita works, or if you ever did Slimming World and have a half packet if scan bran lurking in you cupboard, this is a great way if using them without that MDF texture)
3 tablespoons of Nutella
2 tablespoons of golden syrup.

This recipe is an old Slimming World favourite of mine (1-2 syns per ball if you use the crispbreads as a B box), but also fantastic for when you need that quick chocolate hit.

1. Break up crispbreads, and blitz in a food processor until finely chopped and powdery. Put into a bowl with a splash of water.
2. Add Nutella (or other chocolate spread) and golden syrup into the bowl and mix until all combined.
3. Ferrero Rocher fans will know that the little mouthfuls of chocolate and hazelnut delight aren't quite complete without a little paper casing, so position some small cupcake cases on a large plate.
4. Carefully make the mixture into rough balls (you can use teaspoons, or your fingers!), and pop each ball into a papercase.
5. Put in fridge for an hour and enjoy almost guilt-free!

(These guys don't look like much, but they are seriously good!)

Craving stability

Sometimes I really miss primary school. The chance to explore your own imagination, try new experiences for the first time, and push a few boundaries.

Every grazed knee told a story, until one day you stumbled in the playground and for the first time you didn't cry as the blood seeped from the cut. That was the first badge of honour, a real achievement on the road to being grown-up: learning some of life's knocks aren't worth shedding tears over.

Inside the classroom safety was taken more seriously, particularly if you started rocking backwards on your plastic chair. Grabbing hold of the deck, and balancing on the chair's two hind legs was satisfying, until your teacher caught you and would then spend the next half an hour lecturering you about the safety implications. Smacking your head on the floor, damaging your neck and risk of death (maybe it was just my teacher that took it to the fatal level), suddenly made a minute of wobbling seem a lot less desirable.

So why do I feel that I am still balancing on a couple of chair legs? I'm clinging on to the metaphorical desk in the hope that I can remain upright as we wobble around. The Hubby and I are craving stability, but it seems that we still have one chair leg up in the air. 

When we were expecting we made plans. We knew where we wanted to be after the baby was born, and how I would spend maternity leave, but now that's not happening its brought into sharp focus just how transient everything our current life is. 

We don't know where we want to put down roots: where we've lived for the past 5 years, or back nearer our parents. We rent and its frustrates us that we can't even make simple decisions like where to hang a picture. We want to get on the property ladder but can't afford the house prices where we are currently... So The Hubby's looking for a new job.

I feel that I should be grateful that I'm not being forced by time to make snap decisions, but now that we have more time I wonder whether we'll ever find a way out of our rut.
Growing up isn't quite the adventure I thought...

Review: Original Theraline Maternity and Nursing Pillows

A few weeks ago I was suffering with a terribly achy back and was feeling very sorry for myself, so when I heard about the Original Theraline Maternity and Nursing Pillows which, according the website, is designed to support tired backs and limbs by shaping around the body I couldn't help but wonder if they could provide me with some relief.  No longer being pregnant, I recognise that I'm not really Theraline's key audience, but as my bad back still hasn't shifted, the lovely PRs people at PJP PR offered to send me a pillow to see if it would help.

I have a tilted uterus, which causes my period pain to seem to emanate from my kidneys.  So every month I trawl around our flat, looking for cushions and pillows in order to create enough of stack to support my back and sides.  It's an art I've almost perfected now - carefully balancing the cushions into one corner of our dated sofa so that I can sit with my legs up and still be supported.  But it just takes a little bit of wriggling for one for the pillows to be dislodged, or slip down the sofa cushions... which means I have to build my nest again from scratch.  So I was looking forward to whether the Theraline cushion could simplify those evenings when I just want to curl up and read a book on the sofa.

 When the Theraline pillow arrived I was pleasantly surprised by the tasteful cover - knowing that it was designed for pregnancy and beyond I was a little concerned that the design might be garish, but I genuinely liked the modern flower designs and was delighted to discover that the cover was also completely removable too - and for a klutz like me that is hugely important.  I'm sure it won't be long before I drip tea on the white sections...

The pillow is shaped like on over-large boomerang, and come with a sheet of basic instructions to help a new owner work out how it can be used, which is essentially only limited by your imagination.  The lightweight microbeads shape themselves around your body so if you're laying it can be used as a pillow/prop to stop you rolling onto your back, it can be used to support your legs, or my favourite, to support your back and shoulders if you're in a seated position.

 Since the pillow arrived I've not been able to settle down to read my book without it.  I no longer have to stack cushions on the sofa, or fold over pillows to elevate my head in bed - the Theraline pillow has sorted that for me.

I'm so enamoured that the Hubby has threatened to hide the Pillow so I can't use it all the time - he's worried that I won't be able to sleep without it!



The Theraline Original Maternity and Nursing Pillow comes in a range of cover designs, with prices starting at £44.95.

Disclosure: I was sent the Pillow for the purposes of this review, however all opinions expressed are my own and are honest.

Disney Pixar's Brave: Every little girl is a princess

I was never a girly girl as a nipper.  I hated clothes shopping - it was my idea of hell.  I remember clearly being at primary school and being surrounded by my ten year old class mates discussing their outfits for the school disco and being utterly bored by the conversation.  I also remember my classmates eyes bulging when I loudly announced that "I don't like fashion."  I seem to remember that beige was the hot colour of the time... I mean, who actually likes wearing beige?!

But that didn't stop me dreaming of life as a princess.  One of my earliest memories is reenacting the plot of Little Mermaid in the playground, and although I never landed the role of Ariel (my best friend had the longest hair, so she always took the lead - I always ended up portraying a random royal mermaid sister, or more usually best-fish-friend Flounder), I always dreamt of life as a Disney Princess.

Whether it be nose-in-a-book Belle, feisty Jasmine, or graceful Aurora, there is always something accessible about Disney's female protagonists, and their newest Princess, red-headed Merida, is no exception.

Brave follows Merida as she strives to live a life independent of her royal obligations.  Like Aladdin's Jasmine, she shuns them, wanting to experience more from life, but unlike Jasmine is more than capable of handling herself outside the palace walls.  With bow in hand, and wild hair streaming off her face Merida feels ready to take on the world and certainly doesn't need a smooth-talking street-rate to come to her rescue.  Merida definitely represents a very different Disney Princess.  She strong woman, who is prepared to fight for what she wants.

I know there will be a lot of discussion about how wonderful it is for young girls to see independent female characters in film, but that's only part of the magic.  The film is beautifully put together, funny, moving, at times fantastical, but at the same time grounded in something completely understandable - the newest Disney Pixar film is all about the quest for love and understanding - in the form of a future spouse, but also from family.

Both Hubby and I thoroughly enjoyed the film, and I left the cinema feeling full of energy and wondering where I could learn archery...  It reminded me of Sunday afternoons climbing trees, making forts in hedges and coming in covered in mud after slipping up in a cowpat.  Brave is a really refreshing film, that made me remember just how magical Independence and exploration is. I really do hope we do see young girls (and boys) grabbing toy bows and letting their hair fly free.

Why I want a duvet cocoon...

Do you ever notice how time just dribbles past when you want the day to move on?

I'm normally a fan of Fridays, the weekend is just around the corner, its the one chance to get all your work finalised ready for a fresh working week come Monday.  But this Friday, the whole day has been like walking though sludge.

I don't know if the Hubby and I are still pulling ourselves together from last week, but the effort of simply getting out of the bed this morning was a challenge.  We both snoozed the alarms (we have three), we rolled over, we flipped back the covers, we even got as far as sitting up... but our energy levels remained rock bottom.   We flopped around on top of the duvet for a good 20 minutes, before I dragged myself to the bathroom.  I was even weighing up whether I could get away without any makeup, just to squeeze an extra 5 minutes from my wannabe-lie-in.

And that's just followed me throughout the day.

I'm happy to keep working - I've got lots to do, plenty to keep me busy, but I keep dreaming of building a duvet-nest under my desk, snuggling down propping my laptop on my lap and working in a fluffy cocoon.  Hardly professional though.  And I'm sure my colleagues would soon be jealous.

Maybe I'm simply craving some space, some downtime where my thoughts are my own?  Some people might interpret my desire to hide away is me putting up emotional walls, but I don't think that's the case.  I used to write poetry as a teenager (who didn't), and I was always inspired by night - even if it wasn't the topic of my writing, curled up in bed was always when my thoughts moved most freely.  For the last week or so I've read a lot about how I should be feeling, and even before that people have been offering advice on what to do, or how to be.  My body still isn't my own, it's settling back into it's own rhythms, and so I suspect I want something to be wholly mine...

How do you claim time for yourself?

Miscarriage: Don't mention the war.

I missed a call yesterday afternoon from an unknown number.  Luckily the caller left a message.

It was a lovely lady named Lynn, calling from "the clinic.". She wanted to make sure "everything" was okay, after "last week.". And if I wanted to "chat" I could call her "office."

Part of me I felt for a moment that I was in a dumbed down version of the Da Vinci Code, with a secret language to crack... The other part just wanted to giggle at the carefully constructed message.

I completely understand that leaving a voicemail you have to be careful you're reaching the right person when discussing medical matters, and that some topics of conversation can be deeply upsetting.  It is important to be discrete and sensitive and I don't doubt for a second that's what was intended.

 
Lynn is the lovely senior nurse at the Early Pregnancy Clinic of my local hospital, and she would have no idea how I was dealing with my loss and so her message was carefully phrased so not to cause any upset.
I really appreciated the call to check out how I was doing.  After weeks of shuttle runs to hospital and the doctors it's nice to know that someone cares after it's all over.

The message really did make me smile, partly because it was nice to hear that someone medical was still interested in me, but also in part because of the length that she went to to avoid any mention of "pregnancy" or "miscarriage" - it seemed straight out of Fawlty Towers!

"For God's sake. Don't mention babies!"

Miscarriage is a very personal thing, and from conversations I've had people deal with it in very different ways. But for me, I'm ready to face the reality.

For everyone who has been in this situation, I'm sending you much love.

Playing roles: what is confidence?

I work in an industry where everyone expects you to be brimming with enthusiasm and energy.  It's probably not a surprise that we consume copious amounts of coffee and cake in our office - sugar and caffeine certainly keep us ticking along nicely.

But enthusiasm isn't the same as confidence. I may do my part at keeping my colleagues' cake-quota up, but if I'm honest, the self assuredness that people expect me to exude is just not natural for me... I am deeply self conscience, and in my natural state I tend to be happier quietly working through my own thoughts than standing up in front of a crowd.

So I do think it is rather odd that I am currently spending my free time in a situation where I'm forced to take centre stage. Literally. I am rehearsing for a musical. And for the first time ever I've been given a named part.

I have two left feet (I can bob along to music, but seriously choreographed dancing is not my thing), and I've never done kareoke solo; the idea of being so exposed frightens me. But in a few weeks not only will I be singing by myself to a (hopefully) full house, but I'll also be simultaneously doing an Irish jig (don't ask...) Which, for someone lacking in confidence should be my worst nightmare, but I absolutely love it.

I think we spend a lot of our lives playing roles depending on the situation we're in.  I might be innately shy, but if the character I'm playing would sing and dance then I will.  And the same is true off-stage. I might be full of self doubt, and riddled with confidence issues, but if I need to be seen as an enthusiastic expert, I can neatly step into that role too.  I play the role of daughter when I visit my parents, unable to completely shake the dependency that I haven't required for years living away from home... And I hope one day to play the role of Mum: not really knowing what the rules are or whether there is an instruction manual, but having self belief that what I am doing is right.

Do you find yourself stepping into roles?

Recipe: Chocolate Cookies and Cream Cheesecake Cupcakes

I came back to work today after taking some time off after last week's turmoil.  My colleagues have been great, although the majority of them don't know why I was off.  Regardless, I wanted to bring something into the office as a private"thank you" to the team.

And what is a better way to show your appreciation than with cake.  And possibly with chocolate.  Oh, and cream...  Okay, so I went a bit crazy.

Chocolate Cookies and Cream Cheesecake Cupcakes

Ingredients 

Makes 15 approx

For the cheesecake-topping-goodness:
450gm soft cream cheese
100gm caster sugar
2 eggs (whisked)
1 tsp vanilla essence
150ml sour cream
12 mini chocolate bars (yes you can eat the rest of the packet...)

For the base:
20 Oreos
30gm butter (melted)
1 tablespoon caster sugar

 

1. Put paper cases into muffin tin
2. Grab your nearest heavy object and smash the Oreos into dust (or if you'd rather use a food processor - I'm a bash-it-with-a-rolling-pin type of girl),  pour melted butter on tablespoon of caster sugar into smashed-up chocolate biscuit and mix.  Press into base of paper cases and pop to one side.
3. In another bowl mix together cream cheese and caster sugar until smooth.  Add vanilla essence and whisked eggs slowly - mix until combined, and then add sour cream.  Mix some more.
4. Chop up chocolate bars into teeny tiny pieces (try not to eat them...).  I used a combination of mini Twix and mini Mars bars for extra variety (it also meant I had to buy two bags, guaranteeing spares!), and stir into the mix.
5. Carefully put the cheesecake mix into the paper cases onto of the Oreo base - try not to over-fill as the cheesecakes will rise a little bit in the oven.
6. Pop into a 200 degree oven for 30minutes, or until firm.
7. Leave to cool and set in the fridge for 6 hours.
8. Scoff.

It may look a little burnt (I had a slight oven malfunction) but my god it tasted divine.

And if you fancied being slightly healthier (who am I kidding?!) chopped-up strawberries work just as well!

Thank you: The road to recovery

It's been a hard few days for Hubby and I. It's not just the physical impact of miscarriage, or even the grief of losing the baby itself, we've had to come to terms with the fact that all the things we'd started to plan just aren't going to happen - certainly not straight away anyway.

I can't put into words just how wonderful people have been. Offering support, space and kind words as Hubby and I have hidden away from the world. Within hours of me breaking my heart-shattering news to my boss, they'd sent my a bunch of flowers. Obviously flowers don't lessen the pain, but just knowing you're in other people's thoughts reminds you that the world is still turning.

We still need to take the time and replan our future, but for now at least it's great to know we have great friends supporting us. 

Thank you.

The End.

When I started this blog my intention was to talk about my early learnings.

Today I learnt the hardest lesson of all - sometimes it's possible to dream too early...

The Hubby and I are clinging to each through the tempest of emotion that swirls around us - we are no longer expecting a baby.

Hubby and I need to take some time together to grieve, and to pick up the pieces of our shattered dream, so this is me signing off for a while.

Much love x

A very self indulgent post

I feel very sorry for myself.

I always imagined pregnancy to be this wonderfully special time.  My body is making a new life, it's doing something completely natural and magical.  So why on earth do I feel like someone has chewed me up and spat out a crumpled saliva-soaked mess?

I knew pregnancy would be uncomfortable. Lots of peeing, back ache, potential headaches, and that's before the sleepless nights post labour. But I didn't think I would be in agony.  Certainly not at 7 weeks.

I have a tilted uterus, which as it is growing, rather than pushing on my bladder like the majority of people, my inflating womb is pushing on my tail bone. And it bloomin' hurts.

1 in 4 ladies is like me and has a uterus that's a little bit wonky, and my sympathy goes out to all those ladies that experience this pain. It's like constant toothache, but in your backside and not position brings relief. I've not slept properly for the past three nights, the pain keeping me firmly in the waking world. During that time I've tried everything I can think of: laying in bed, on the sofa, on the sofa bed, with my legs in the air, on the wall, in the bath, sitting in a hard chair, in an armchair, on the floor... But nothing.

I tried to go to work this morning hoping that the daily goings-on of the office might distract me from the constant ache.  But I couldn't even make it to the motorway. To be honest by the time I got home I would have been surprised if I could tell you which way was up...

So back again I went to the doctor. For someone like me who is usually pretty healthy (*touches nearest wooden object*) three trips to the doctor in a week is unheard of.  But I now have some stronger painkillers (not that I wanted to take any in my first trimester) and confirmation about what I can and can't do.

I've spent the day curled up with a hot water bottle, trying to formulate a plan for the drive to work tomorrow...

I just really hope this sorts itself out soon. :(

Self indulgent post over.

London 2012: Why do we not recognize success?

Olympic fever is everywhere.  It seems that every single say calls for a new combination of red, white and blue clothing in an attempt to support Team GB.

I sadly haven't managed to get any tickets (I applied to all the ballots for both the Olympic and Paralympic sessions, and have just given up with the website, but even still I'm completely caught up by the celebratory atmosphere.  I've never been athletic, or sporty in the slightest, but I can cheer pretty loudly. 

I'm behind the girls and gals that are around the UK working their hardest for themselves and their country.  I know I could never do what they do, even without the weight of the country on our shoulders.  But it seems that there are some people who haven't embraced the spirit of competition.

It makes me so angry that people feel that they can complain about the mammoth achievements of our athletes.  Tom Daley's troll was the extreme example, but there are still other so-called sports-fans who are turning to Twitter to complain about GB not succeeding as well as the could have done... Last night for example saw hundreds of people celebrating Rebecca Adlington's bronze medal in the pool, but on Twitter I saw many people complaining that she'd not got gold. I do feel for Team GB's poster girls and boys. They have more pressure on them. It seems that support has been confused with expectation. A bronze medal is in my no means a failure - it should be celebrated. compl

The One Where I'm Rushed To A&E

I have to apologize for my blog silence for the last few days. It seems that Tuesdays are sent to try me...

Earlier in the week I noticed that my back was starting to ache. We've been moving desks at work, so at first I put it down to a little too much bending and lifting. Then on Tuesday the spotting that I've been suffering for the last week started to get heavier. Then by Tuesday evening I huddled on the sofa with strong period-like pains and I was bleeding. 

I had a fretful night. My back aching, my stomach cramping.

I ended up being rushed to A&E yesterday morning...

The doctors were great.  They were clear to me from the beginning that there was a possibility I was miscarrying, but they listened to my heart, lungs, felt my abdomen and took blood in order to rule out other possibilities. I was lucky as the A&E doctor persuaded the gynecology department to squeeze me in for an emergency scan to check the status of my pregnancy.

They insisted I was delivered to my scan by wheelchair, and by the time I arrived in the department I was tagged, canularised and robed in a hospital gown - sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the normally attired parents-to-be who were there for there pre-booked routine scans.

My scan was done by the gynecology consultant. Luckily, for me, he had no Junior Doctors available so was having to get a little more hands-on than was usual. 

He too prepared us for the worst. As we answered some routine questions I couldn't help but notice that on the shelf in the treatment room was a stack of leaflets about First Trimester Miscarriage.  It was strange, as I lay on the table ready for my scan, I prepared for bad news.

But there, on the screen, flickering like the light of a determined little candle was my baby.  Tiny, only 6mm in size, but definitely there, and with a strong heartbeat - clearly not being bothered by the strange bleeding I was experiencing. 

I never thought I'd be one of those people who welled up at the first sight of their baby on a monitor, and I didn't, but there was something about watching that little wriggly blob that was hypnotic.  For the first time I really realized that there was another life inside me.

The consultant says that the bleeding and the pain is probably "just one of those things" - and part if me is just not surprised. Nothing is ever straightforward with me! The important thing is that my little panda is looking strong. And I've just got to cross my fingers that this  continues.

Oh, and apparently my dates were slightly off as well, so I'm once again back in week 6. 

Oh well - I guess no one is perfect!