Photo by Aron Mifsud Bonnici

Trapped somewhere between life and death, a young woman seeks freedom and peace while she tries to remember what drove her to kill herself.

Eva Hamilton remembers wanting to die, and the relief she felt as she fell to her death, but not what drove her to it. Alone and filled with regret, she exists now in her own private purgatory, destined to dwell amongst the living, never able to communicate with them.

When Eva meets Timothy, she hopes she has found someone who can help her uncover the secret of why they are forced to remain amongst the living, and if there is any escape. But Timothy is far more accepting of his fate, and seems content to ponder, rather than solve, the riddle of their existence. Torn between the warmth of Timothy’s friendship, and the aching desire to find a way out, Eva must choose between comfort and darkness.

But maybe there is a third option; a chance meeting with two grieving orphans has Eva thinking there may be a purpose for her after all.

Back in 2009 I awoke one morning from a dream that I had started writing a novel about a girl called Eva. The name of the book in the dream is way too embarrassing to share with you, but it did plant the seed of an idea in my mind.

I have been writing in one form or another since I was five or so years old. I used to write little books, complete with (terrible) illustrations, staple them together and give them away as gifts. Even back then I would brag about how I was going to be an author when I grew up.

The problem was that I never had any truly good ideas. Even when I decided to study “Professional Writing” in my 20s, I had a horrible time coming up with ideas to complete the assignments. I’m fairly sure most of what I wrote was complete rubbish. Don’t get me wrong, I think the writing itself was probably quite sound, it was the fact that it was based on almost nothing that brought it down.

So anyway, after I had the Eva dream I started to think about writing again, for the first time in years. Walking home from work one day I looked around at the other people going about their business and thought to myself, “I really don’t pay attention to any of these people. They could be ghosts, and I would never know.” And the idea for Amaranth was born.

So I decided to finally start writing a novel. The ideas, for once, came thick and fast. I just sat down one evening and started to write. The more I wrote, the more the story formed in my mind. I badgered Chris constantly about whether he thought this or that idea was good and, though he would claim otherwise, he helped me shape the idea into something I could apply a story to.

Not long afterwards, I fell pregnant with my daughter and the whole project was more or less shelved. I did write bits and pieces while I was traveling for work in Japan and the US, but there was something about the plot-line I had in mind that just didn’t sit right. I decided to leave it alone for a while and concentrate 100% on motherhood.

Throughout my daughter’s first year, Amaranth would pop up and swim about in my head now and then, the idea would morph and change, and then slink back into my subconscious. It wasn’t until Ella started in kindergarten and I had a few moments to myself that I felt ready to think about it seriously again. I cringed as I took out what I had written nearly two years before, ready to throw out the lot and start again.

To my shock and delight, for once in my life I was able to look back at something I’d written and feel that it wasn’t complete tripe. Even with the way the idea had morphed and evolved in my mind, almost all of it could be salvaged with a bit of massaging and tweaking. So I cracked my knuckles and go to work.

When I went back to work, I decided to keep one day a week for my daughter and I, so that she wouldn’t be in daycare more than two days at a stretch. But before long it became obvious that she had a great time at kindergarten and got horribly bored at home with me. It was time to put her in full time.

But since I was already used to the reduced salary, I discussed the idea with Chris and my boss that I keep that day free to write. I gave myself to the end of 2011 to make a go of it, and if I found that I wasn’t getting far enough, or wasn’t using the time effectively, I’d come back to work full time.

By the end of 2011 I had written almost 40 000 words. I was getting a lot of very positive feedback from Authonomy members, as well as the family and friends who read what I had so far as well. So this year I have given myself until March to get the first draft finished. I will then spend some time editing, taking into consideration the feedback I’ve been given, and getting it polished up and ready for submission to agents.

To date, I have written almost 55 000 words, and am on track to be finished in a few weeks.

It is MAN FLU!

Attacking only males of the human species, Man Flu comes in many forms, but it is always severe and always requires complete immobilization. If infected with this insidious disease, the patient almost always requires complete bed-rest for several days, or he will collapse and may require hospitalization.

All forms of activity, besides moaning, whimpering, begging for mercy and perhaps the odd Playstation game, are to be avoided. Housework in particular could lead to permanent paralysis or even death.

Baffling scientists worldwide is the fact that a man exposed to the same bacteria or virus as a woman can suddenly, and without warning, fall victim to Man Flu, whereas the woman may only be infected with a simple cold, influenza or pneumonia, and can carry on about her day with only the most minor of symptoms.

Luckily, after several days of bed-rest, most victims of Man Flu escape their brush with death with almost no signs of permanent damage. However, many have severe and lasting psychological and emotional scarring after being told to man the hell up and do the freaking dishes.

You know what I’m talking about. It’s one of the most common dilemmas for women today; career or children.

Feminism and the women’s liberation movement have given us so many options that I sometimes feel like it would be easier to go back to being oppressed. At least when women had so few rights, they didn’t put unrealistic expectations on themselves. In many cases they simply accepted that their lot in life was to raise children and look after their husband and household. Sounds gleefully uncomplicated, doesn’t it? (Notice I didn’t say easy.)

I am playing Devil’s advocate here; I don’t actually want to be a 50s housewife. But I never expected to feel so conflicted about motherhood.

My pregnancy was unplanned and came as quite a shock, even though in the back of my mind I had always believed I would eventually find the right time to have children. And in retrospect, it was probably for the best that it happened of its own accord, because as many parents will tell you, there really is no “right time” to have children.

So despite not being sure I was totally ready, I took a deep breath and stared square in the face of impending motherhood. For the most part I was excited and looked forward to life with our new little family member, but there was a little niggle in the back of my mind that I really wished wasn’t there; the one that told me I was “giving up” and turning my back on my career, which I have worked hard to develop.

It didn’t help that once I made the announcement, people immediately started to treat me differently. They weren’t rude, or unkind, but they inadvertently became a little condescending, and enjoyed making jokes about how my life was over now. Even other parents chimed in and seemed to relish in telling me how I would never sleep again, how my “glamorous international career” as one friend called it, would have to take a backseat to the new little driving force in my life, when she arrived.

At work, instead of talking to me about the projects I was working on, people would drop in and head-tilt at me; Aww, there’s the little mother. Look at that bump! So cute! Etc, etc.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked discussing my baby and my pregnancy. After all, it was a huge deal. I was excited, and scared, and I have always been the sort of person who likes to analyze things by talking them out with friends. But again, that little voice was there, telling me this was all I was now; something that anyone can be. Parents are a dime a dozen, and as much as they like to pat themselves on the back and tell themselves they are doing the most important job in the world (which actually, they are), they are boring to people who haven’t done it yet. It feels like being put out to pasture. I was no longer a racehorse, I was a breeder.

No longer was I someone to be admired for having the aforementioned glamorous international career; I was just another woman heading off on maternity leave. Around me, my colleagues were being promoted, or given jobs and projects that might otherwise have been offered to me. It stung.

Then the baby was born. Everything changed. I no longer cared, not only about my career, but about anything that wasn’t directly related to my baby. I would find myself getting immediately bored whenever the subject changed away from parenting, and I’d have to mentally slap myself so that I could stay focused on what other people were saying. I had become what I previously said I never would; one of those annoying people who have nothing in their life besides their child. And I didn’t care who knew it.

The career woman in me was still there, albeit gagged, stuffed in a box and buried alive. I heard her muffled cries a few times, but was unsympathetic to her plight; she’d had her day, and really felt like no great loss. I surrounded myself with other mothers, and lived and breathed babies for 15 or so months.

But one has to come out of that baby fog eventually, if only because most women eventually have to return to work. I had taken as much time off as possible, adding a few unpaid months to the 12 or so paid months we get here in Norway. But we couldn’t afford for me to stay home forever, and when I’m completely honest with myself, I have to admit I was getting bored. And so was my daughter. There just wasn’t enough to keep either of us entertained, stuck at home alone together. Even though I arranged outings almost every day, and regularly spent time with the other mothers I’d met during my maternity leave, it wasn’t enough to keep my brain nourished. I started to want to talk about something else again.

A few months before I was due to return to work, I was told that there had been a restructure, and they weren’t going to be running customer projects out of the Oslo office anymore. So essentially my job didn’t exist anymore, but they were willing to find something else for me to do. I was given a couple of opportunities to think about, and I took the one that offered me the most flexibility and the least pressure. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now that I’m back, I don’t exactly regret my decision. Any of my decisions, actually, because if I did anything differently, my daughter would have less of me than I want her to have. My job is secure, flexible, and nowhere near as demanding as project work was. No more travel, no more late night teleconferences, no more working until late on Christmas Eve to satisfy demanding customers. I can work from home when or if I need to, and my new boss (a mother herself) is very understanding if I ever have to drop everything and leave in an emergency. The perfect compromise? Maybe. But it also means that as long as I’m no longer a project manager, my skills are getting lost, forgotten and outdated. When I am ready to get back into more demanding work, I have lost the most valuable thing one can have in the IT Industry; recent, relevant experience.

I don’t know too many men who have had to do this to their careers when they have children. Most of them take the minimum amount of parenting leave, and still pursue their careers, hobbies and friendships much as they did before. True, maybe they spend more evenings and weekends at home than they used to, but when they go out, or have to work late, or spend a weekend away, they feel justified. Speaking for myself, as much as I sometimes long for a weekend away, or even an evening, I am plagued with guilt and worry the entire time.

Sure, it is possible for a woman to bottle feed her baby, share the parental leave in a different ratio with her partner (at least here in Norway it is), and return to work without missing a beat. But what does that do to her relationship with her baby? Some would argue that it doesn’t have any negative impact, if the baby is well cared-for in her absence. You could even say that it’s better for both of them to learn to be apart. But it’s still not “having it all”, is it? You are handing over the care of your baby to others, so that you can pursue a career.

I can’t speak for other women who have chosen to do it this way, but I know I wouldn’t have been happy about it. I feel bad enough already that my daughter is seeing more of her kindergarten carers than she is of her parents, and she was over a year old by the time that happened. Plenty of babies today are in daycare from only a few months of age. That may work for those parents, and good luck to them, but I still argue that it’s not “having it all” to do it that way. It’s having a little bit of a whole bunch of different stuff. But for me, well let’s put it this way; I never feel like tapas is a real meal, even if I am full afterwards.

I think the main difference between men and women in this situation is expectation. Men don’t generally expect to be able to spend all day, every day with their children. They expect that someone (be it the mother, or some other person) is going to take care of their child while they work. They have done this pretty much since the beginning of human history. Women, on the other hand, still have all that history to overcome. For many of us, we spent our early years at home with our own mothers. It’s difficult to be the generation that does things so differently for the first time. The old expectations, desires and feelings of responsibility are fighting with the new ones.

The more time you spend being a mother, the less time you can spend focused on your career. At best it is a balancing act. I’m not the kind who can forget she ever had a career, and find total fulfillment in being a full-time mother even if it were financially viable. But I can’t go back to my old working life either.

The key to happiness is, I guess, finding the balance you can live with.

I apologise for the crappy picture; it was taken in bad light with my phone. But you can see that I did some in paper muffin cups and some with a silicone muffin tray. If you’re using a muffin tray, make sure the muffins are cooled before you attempt to pop them out. It’s a good idea to run a butter knife or rubber spatula around the edge to loosen them.

Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients

• 130g  dried apricots
• 250g plain flour
• 150g white sugar
• 1 tsp baking soda or 2tsp baking powder
• pinch of salt (omit if using baking powder)
• 55g melted butter
• 60ml vegetable oil
• Just under 1 cup milk (read method below)
• 1 tbsp white vinegar
• 1 egg

Method

Preheat the oven to 200ºC. Grease a 12 cup muffin tray, or use paper muffin cups.

Place apricots into a small bowl, and cover with boiling water. Let stand for 5 minutes, drain and repeat.

In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking soda and salt.

Put the vinegar into a measuring cup and fill to one cup. Stir gently.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the melted butter, oil, milk mixture and egg.

Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, and stir until just blended. It is okay for the batter to have some lumps.

Drain water from apricots, chop them into small chunks and mix them into the batter.

Spoon in even amounts into the prepared muffin cups.

Bake for 15 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the top springs back when lightly pressed.

Cool in the pan/cups on a wire rack. (Dust with icing sugar if desired.)

Here’s my recipe for the classic Indian lamb curry known as Rogan Josh. You can make it as spicy or mild as you like by adjusting the amount of chili powder you add. It’s really simple to make, and the preparation doesn’t take long. The cooking time is an hour and a half or more though, so make sure you get started early!

Enjoy!

Ingredients

• 600-700g lamb, cubed
• 1 heaped tsp minced garlic
• 1 heaped tsp minced ginger
• 1-2 tsp salt (adjust to taste)
• 1 tsp tumeric
• 3 tsp garam masala
• 2 tsp ground coriander
• 2 tsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp red chili powder (adjust this to taste)
• 2 large dollops of plain yoghurt (I use generously heaped dessert spoons)
• 1 large brown onion, chopped
• 1 can of minced tomatoes

Method

Heat some vegetable oil (1-2 tbsp) and add the onion, garlic and ginger. Fry until the onion is translucent.

Add the dry spices and fry for a couple of minutes until the spices become fragrant.

Add the lamb and fry for 5 minutes on medium-high heat until browned.

Add the salt, the can of tomatoes and yoghurt. Stir well.

Bring to the boil and cover. Reduce to the lowest possible heat setting and cook for a minimum of 1.5 hours, stirring every half hour. If you wish, you can use a slow cooker for this part, and cook for 3-4 hours.

Add extra yoghurt, salt and/or chili to taste. You can also add some roughly chopped fresh coriander.

Serve with basmati rice and papadums.

Ingredients

• 1 large or 2 small zucchinis (courgettes, squash… whatever you want to call them)
• 1 onion
• 1 medium sized carrot
• 3 rashers of bacon (can be omitted for a vegetarian version)
• 1 cup of grated cheese (cheddar or similar)
• 125ml vegetable oil
• 1 cup of self-raising flour (or 1 cup plain flour + 1.5tsp baking powder)
• 5 eggs (lightly beaten)
• salt and pepper to taste

Method

Wash and grate the zucchini (skin on).

Peel and grate the carrot

Finely chop the onion and bacon

Combine zucchini, carrot, onion, bacon, cheese (reserving a small amount to sprinkle over the top) flour (and baking soda if you’re using it), eggs, salt and pepper in a mixing bowl.

Mix together until everything is mixed evenly. If the mixture seems too wet, add more flour (up to a further half a cup) until you get a cake-dough type consistency.

Pour into a baking dish so that the mixture comes about 3cm up the sides. Make sure your dish has a little room for the slice to rise.

Sprinkle the remaining grated cheese evenly.

Bake in a 180°C oven for 30-40 minutes until the top is browned and a skewer or knife comes out clean.

Cool slightly before slicing into squares. Can be served hot or cold.

NOTE: You can add other ingredients such as sweetcorn, leek, mushroom, asparagus… and the bacon can be removed, or replaced with shredded cooked chicken, tuna or smoked fish, such as cod. Experiment!

Misja

One of the best and closest friends I have in Norway, you are not only smart and beautiful, but you are also so kind and one of the best listeners I’ve ever known. I don’t know how you’ve managed to fit so many achievements into your life, given that you’re not even 30 yet! Your academic and professional careers are impressive, to say the least, but you are also a wonderful and dedicated mother. I feel lucky to know you and have you as my friend. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to pour my heart out to you all those times in the past few years.

Michelle

I admire you more than I can say. You’re so strong, and so dedicated and as much as you try to deny it or downplay it, you are one of the best mothers I know. Your babies are so lucky to have you as their mum. Even though in some ways we differ in parenting style, I still hold you as one of the people I most look up to and rely on for advice when it comes to how to raise my little girl. You have overcome a lot to get where you are today, and that, to me, speaks volumes about who you are as a person. You are a tower of strength and even if you don’t feel like one, everyone who knows you knows this is true.

Theresia

My first friend in Norway. I wish you hadn’t had to go back to your “normal” life after your short stay here, and I miss you all the time. We got along like old friends from the minute we met, and no matter how much time passes between visits, I never feel like things have changed between us. Professionally and academically I admire all you’ve achieved, and know that I could never do what you’ve done. I love the way you constantly challenge yourself, and push yourself to experience new things. You are someone who has listened to my problems and never been judgmental or dismissive, but you have offered me common sense advice, posed just the right questions to ask myself, and never fobbed me off with sentimental placation. I hope we stay friends forever.

Natalie

I felt like a kindred spirit with you during our time working together, and I’m so happy we have stayed in touch and stayed friends. We barely knew each other when you inadvertently had to sit up all night with me during a crisis. And yet, you were there for me like we had been friends for years. I have never forgotten that. And then there were all those great wine and cheese moments, both at the office and everywhere else. Who else could I have sneaked out for a couple of cheeky glasses with, and then crept back into the office on our hands and knees to play tricks on the receptionists? Giggling all the while, mind you. You have fantastic style, and somehow manage to be gorgeous and sophisticated while at the same time being a great laugh.

And yet another Natalie

(I’m sure you two can work out which one is which!)

Another Natalie, another amazing friend. How long have we known each other? It must be over 10 years now… We’ve been there for each other during some very dark times, and always managed to pull each other back into the light. I loved having a little piece of home here in Norway for my 30th, and you were it! You brought life and light to what might otherwise have been an understated little affair, and danced to stupid songs with me until our feet were red. When I think of you, I think of a larger-than-life personality; a woman who spreads laughter and happiness wherever she goes. Your stories are unfailingly hilarious and I think if we saw each other more often I would probably need to invest in a box of incontinence pants; you make me laugh that much. But underneath that huge personality is a beautiful soul, whose warmth and compassion have pulled me through some of the worst times in my life. Never stop being you.

Jo

You were really so young when you suddenly had two kids in your life, when probably all you wanted was to spend time with their dad. And yet, you’ve been not only a parent to me, but a true friend. You never judge, you never lecture, you just listen and ask me questions so that I can figure out the answers for myself. From homework problems through to boy (and later man) problems, you always helped me find my own way, even if I had to do some damn stupid things along the way to learn what I needed to know. I hope you know how important you are to me, and how much you have done for me over the years. I know that I wouldn’t be who I am today without your guidance and influence.

Mum

It’s really only now that I am a mother myself that I begin to know what you are to me and have done for me. Every day I hear you echoing in my own voice as I talk to and guide my own little girl. From the wonderful legacy that was your mum, and my Grandma, came a woman who for years I just thought of as “Mum” but whom I now feel I have begun to know as a person. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived so far away for so long now, or maybe it’s something we all go through when we become parents ourselves, but either way I feel very lucky to know you both as a mother and as a woman. It seems to be the curse of motherhood that we never know how dearly we are loved until we feel that love for our own children; but now that I know what you must have felt for me all these years, I thank you for it. Maybe I can’t know how hard it is for you that I, and as a consequence, Ella too, live so far away from you. But you should know that you are always present in the person you have brought me up to be, and I am proud of and grateful for that gift.

Finally, and most importantly;

Ella

You are the most wonderful and amazing gift I could ever ask for. I look forward so much to seeing the woman you will become, and hope you will always know how much I love you. You have changed my life forever, and though right now I miss some small things (like being able to sleep past 5am), I feel like a light shone down on my life when you entered it. You make me laugh and smile every day, and it is with great joy and also great sadness that I watch you grow so quickly. You are truly a wonder to me, and even though there will undoubtedly be times you will be mad at me, and will probably slam the door in my face, I will always be there when you open it again. Always.

There are so many great women in my life, and though I can’t mention you all here, you should all know that you are wonderful in your own unique way. Take a moment today, not only to think about the women in your life that you couldn’t do without, but who YOU are and why you mean something special to your friends and loved ones. We don’t take enough time to think about ourselves, who we are and what we mean to others, because it’s in our nature to put others first. But you are special, you are valued and you are needed. Every one of you. Happy Women’s Day.

The context to all of this is that we have been working closely with Ella’s pediatric nurse and doctors at two different hospitals to try and work out why she is not gaining weight very well. She’s slipped from the 55th percentile down to between the 3rd and 10th, depending on which chart you’re referring to. Even though most people would tell  you not to worry, of course as a parent you’re going to worry.

So after much agonizing (and I mean tears, guilt, self-blame etc etc) I gave in and started to supplement Ella’s feedings with formula. Just once a day, but just to make sure she was getting enough food, and enough calories. Even though I have no judgment towards others who formula feed their babies, I had always expected to be able to exclusively breastfeed my baby, and felt awful that I had to compromise that. In many ways I would have felt better if the reason had been that I didn’t have enough milk to give her, but it felt truly terrible to know that I had milk for her, but she wouldn’t take it, only feeding for two or three minutes at a time.

After a couple of weeks, while she didn’t start really putting on weight, she did start to stabilize a bit. Her appetite, at least for bottled milk (formula or breastmilk) seemed to increase a bit. She still didn’t really want to breastfeed, but I perservered with that, as well as pumping milk for her and giving her the one bottle of formula per day.

When we finally got in to see the pediatrician at the hospital, his first advice was to stop the milk-based formula and go on to a prescription formula that contained no milk or soy proteins, plus I had to stop eating all dairy products, even in trace amounts, for two weeks so we could rule out (or in) that Ella has a milk protein allergy or intolerance. Although I didn’t really believe that to be the case, given that she didn’t have any adverse reactions when we started her on formula, it was a nice gentle start to finding the problem that didn’t involve sticking a tube down my baby’s throat.

That night, I posted a status on Facebook bemoaning my dairy-free diet. I received lots of comments from friends offering their support and wishes of luck, which really meant a lot to me. It was a tough time for us, emotionally and physically (Ella was sleeping maybe 3 hours a night in fits and starts) and I was feeling pretty demoralized. During the comment thread, it also came up that we would be starting Ella on prescription formula.

So then some jackass that I haven’t seen since highschool, and frankly wasn’t friends with even then, posts a comment that went something like:

Cow’s milk is only for baby cows. Funny that hey? The best thing for your baby is for you to be vegetarian and to breastfeed your baby. But you have chosen not to do that and to feed it synthetic crap.

The reason I say it went something like that, is because I was so steamed that I immediately deleted it, so can’t remember exactly how it was worded, or exactly how many spelling and grammatical errors it contained (there were many). I then sent an email to the poster telling them that I had deleted the comment and that he didn’t know the situation and should keep his thoughts to himself. I then changed my status to “I wish people would keep their narrow-minded crap to themselves and not go making comments about things they know zero about”. The idiot then commented on that post “Yeah Zoe, I know zero. Goodbye Facebook friend.”

I don’t know what made me angrier. The fact that this moron insisted that he knew what he was talking about, or that he got to delete me as a friend before I could do it to him first! Yes, I know, petty. But I was mad.

But as the evening wore on, I found myself getting angrier and angrier and not being able to stop thinking about it. I felt like emailing him again, but restrained myself. I knew it would just result in another barrage of self-righteous garbage from this guy, and I would end up more upset than ever.

Some of you may not understand why this made me so mad, since people make idiotic comments on Facebook all the time. But the point is that unless you really know the whole story in a situation, who are you to judge? Let’s face it, even if you do know the whole story, it’s not your place to tell people how to raise their children. He didn’t know if I had a medical issue that prevented me from breastfeeding, or if I had milk at all. What if I’d had a mastectomy? He had no idea, but decided to throw his self-righteous, ignorant comment out there instead of being supportive, or, if he couldn’t manage that, simply silent.

I know a few people who have had to feed their babies formula when they didn’t really want to, and they don’t take the decision lightly. There are also people who don’t agonize over the decision; they simply do it because it is the right choice for them. The fact is that modern formula is just as nutritious as breastmilk, just without the antibodies that breastmilk has. Plenty of babies thrive on it. So while I still feel and acknowledge that human breastmilk is the best food for human babies, there are legitimate reasons why people choose to give their babies other food.

There are some pretty militant people out there when it comes to breastfeeding (I’m not even going to go into the whole vegetarianism part of the comment), but no one, not even a baby’s father, has the right to tell a mother what to do with her own breasts. It is a mother’s choice what is best for her and her baby, and sometimes she has to make a tough decision when her baby’s health is at stake.

So I want to say thank you to all the people who made supportive and helpful comments, and send a big UP YOURS to anyone who doesn’t stop to think before they post about what their comment might actually mean to the person receiving it. Although “Friend” is a loose definition in the Facebook world, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t act like a true friend when posting comments.

To end on a positive note, although Ella is still only slowly gaining weight, since her two first teeth popped this week, she’s been much happier and her appetite seems to be slowly on the increase. We’re back on dairy now (to see if there is any adverse reaction after taking a break) and with a bit of luck things will get back on track soon.

If you can’t find laksa paste anywhere and don’t want to use green curry paste, here’s a different recipe that includes how to make your own laksa paste: http://gourmettraveller.com.au/spicy_chicken_laksa.htm (link opens in new window).

Here’s my recipe, which makes two large serves or three smaller ones. Just add more of everything to serve more people:

Ingredients:

2 chicken breasts or thigh fillets

1 can coconut milk

1 can water

2 or more tbsp of laksa paste

1 small onion

2-3 spring onions, a handful of sliced button mushrooms, bean sprouts and any other asian vegetables that will cook easily (you could try baby corn, sliced water chestnuts, chinese cabbage, tofu or snowpeas)

1 chicken stock cube or 1 tbsp concentrated liquid chicken stock

1 packet of Hokkien or other egg noodles

salt and pepper to taste

Method:

Slice the chicken into thin pieces and toss in salt and pepper. Pan or wok fry the chicken pieces until they’re browned on the outside and cooked through. Set aside in a warm place.

In a saucepan, bring the coconut milk and water to the boil, then reduce to a simmer. Add the laksa paste, halved and sliced onion and chicken stock and simmer until the onion is cooked. Add more laksa paste and possibly a little salt to taste.

Cook the noodles as per the packet instructions, then drain them and set them in deep bowls. Place the fried chicken on top of the noodles, and then add the various vegetables. Sprinkle the sliced spring onion and fresh chopped coriander over the vegetables and then pour the soup over the top. Make sure you have as much soup in the bowl as will almost cover the contents so that the vegetables wilt slightly. You can add a sprinkle more coriander after the soup goes in.

Serve immediately.

At about five weeks, Ella started to fuss for the first time. Up until then she’d been a very calm, placid baby who only cried when she was hungry or very tired. But suddenly I had a baby who desperately wanted to suck on something, but still HATED dummies. I tried silicone, latex, cherry shaped, orthodontic… you name it, she hated it. All but one made her dry retch, and that one confused her so much she’d burst into fits of frustrated, angry tears. In the end she settled for using me as a dummy, and wanted to suck long after she’d finished eating. At the time I had an overabundance of milk, so this frustrated her even further; she wanted non-nutritive sucking, and kept getting more food. At this point we even had to give up bottle feeding with expressed milk because the bottle nipple seemed to be just the size and shape of what she wanted to suck on, only the milk came out of that even faster than the breast, causing her to choke, splutter and again cry with frustration.

The one dummy Ella would accept without gagging was a Tommee Tippee orthodontic latex one, but she seemed at a loss as to exactly how to suck on it. She’d roll it about in her mouth, chew on it, very occasionally suck on it, and then she’d fall asleep seemingly against her will with her face red from frustrated crying.

I looked everywhere online and in books to find information about how to train a baby to use a dummy. All I could find were articles about how to wean your child OFF a dummy. I found several people asking the question I wanted an answer to on sites like Yahoo Answers, but the usual replies were things like “If your baby doesn’t want a dummy, don’t force it! You’ll only have to wean later.” This was so frustrating! I knew Ella wanted a dummy, she just couldn’t work out how to use it. I started to get mad at all the experts who had told me not to give her a dummy too early, because I felt that she’d forgotten how to do the non-nutritive sucking that babies are pretty much born knowing how to do, and she was now attempting to eat the dummies with a wide mouth, which just had them rolling around and falling out.

So what did I do? There is a happy ending here, folks. The only tip I ever found online about babies that didn’t like normal dummies was that there was a special kind of dummy being given out in US hospitals called a Soothie that seemed to be popular amongst the more discerning babies. When I looked into it further, I found that there were two types available that I could order online; one was the Gumdrop Soothie, which is available in four colours (pink, blue, purple and orange) and the Wubbanub, the original hospital-grade Soothie with a soft toy attached. I promptly ordered one of each from sellers on eBay.

I was both excited and nervous when the new dummies arrived. I knew it was our last chance before I gave up all together. Ella was just getting ready for a nap when the mail arrived that day, so I quickly washed and sterilised the Wubbanub (with its plush caterpillar attached) and offered it to her as she was lying in her cot getting ready for sleep. To my absolute shock and delight, she slurped it in like she’d had it forever, took two or three happy sucks and dropped off to sleep!

I was still thinking it was all too good to be true, so I tried again, this time with the Gumdrop Soothie (vanilla scented), later that day. She fussed a little at first and I thought, “Uh oh, it was a fluke before.” But moments later she was sucking happily away like a limpet. Amazing!

Since then I’ve ordered quite a few more (a cat and a duck in the Wubbanubs and some different colours in the Gumdrops) and she’s still happy with them. In fact, these days she’ll even use the ordinary kind, but she still prefers the Soothies.

So what is the big difference, I hear you ask. It’s in the shape, really. The teat of the Soothie is shaped more like the top of a bottle, rather than a bulb like other dummies. According to the manufacturers, it is less likely to cause nipple confusion because it is so close to the shape of a nipple. You can also buy bottles that are the exact same shape if you are particularly worried about your baby getting confused.

There are a couple of points I should mention, however. Firstly, as I mentioned above, I ordered the first Soothies from eBay, which was fine. The next lot of Gumdrops I ordered were directly from the manufacturer via their website, which was less successful. It turns out that when you order through that website, they try to find a distributor in your area who can ship it to you locally. I emailed them after waiting almost two weeks and they replied that they were having trouble finding a local distributor for me. I emailed back and asked if it would be better for me to order via one of their authorised eBay sellers and they told me that was a better plan and cancelled the order.

The other point, which applies to another baby I know of who was having similar problems with dummies, is that she was almost two months older than Ella when she finally got her Soothie and tried it out, and apparently she rejected it along with the others. I don’t know if this is because it was too late, or if she wouldn’t have taken one regardless. In any case, I guess they won’t work for all babies, but they sure have made life easier for us.

Links:

I bought my Gumdrop Soothies from: http://myworld.ebay.com/17labarbie/

I bought the Wubbanubs from: http://myworld.ebay.com/lilonesworld2004/ and http://myworld.ebay.com/elite*breastfeeding*supplies

I would highly recommend any of these sellers. They were really fast with shipping to Norway and communication was excellent.