Tasty Thursday - Strawberry Jam

Welcome to the first edition of Tasty Thursday.

Yesterday I tried for the first time to make strawberry jam. Using Jamie Oliver's recipe for inspiration (as well as various other recipes culled from the internet) and spurred on by the strawberries that have been sitting in my fridge and were now begining to get mouldy, I was excited to get this new project underway. I saved all but three strawberries from the punnet.

I didn't do everything right. And I made mistakes along the way. But it was an interesting experience and one i will definitely be repeating with different fruit. (Mmm.. next time Orange Marmalade!)

One of the mistakes I made was that I cooled the jam before placing in the jar.

And another was that I probably should have let it boil abit longer since I wasn't using pectin. It was a little more syrupy than I wanted.

But the end result was still delicious and even though it probably wont last as long, I think it will be eaten long before it has a chance to go bad. I used no extra colourants and the photos aren't photoshopped.


The end result was quite pretty in fact :) And tastes divine!

Strawberry Jam Recipe
1 cup strawberries
(ranging from slightly overripe to slightly underripe)
1 cup brown sugar
1/8 cup lemon juice

Roughly chop up strawberries to uneven sizes and shapes leaning toward larger pieces
Using a whisk mash up the strawberries so that they're kinda mushy but still have large chunks visible
Place in a heavy bottomed pot making sure to scrape in every drop of juice, and turn the on stove to medium-low heat
Measure out the one cup sugar into the pot
Using the whisk, stir the mixture
Measure out the lemon juice and use it to rinse out the bowl used for the strawberries to get all the juice
Pour this mixture into the pot and stir until all the sugar has dissolved
Turn heat on high and bring to a boil stirring occassionally to ensure the jam doesnt burn
I did this for about 10-15 minutes (Next Time I will extend this to 30-45 mins)
Remove from heat and scrape off the foam that has formed on the top
Wash a glass jam jar and sterilise with boiling water
Empty jam into the jar until there is about an inch or so of space at the top
Seal and process if keeping for storage (boil in a large pot of water).

Since I only made the one jar, I did not do this last step. I sealed it, poured some boiling water over, allowed to cool and then placed in the fridge.The little left over there was (the jar I chose was just slightly not big enough), we ate on toast this morning for breakfast :)

Getting back on track

So thats my story... Thats what happened. For the past 2 months, I have been battling depression, struggling to make sense of this, and just trying to survive. To heal. I think I'm on the right path now. I no longer have emotional storms at the mention of other peoples babies or of them being pregnant. It is no longer the first thing I think about when I wake in the morning, nor is it the last thing I think of when going to bed.

Does this mean I am moving on? Am i moving forward out of the dark? I guess so. Writing it out helped. I wasn't ready to, before. But now, just being able to put my feelings down into words, has given me a little peace. The intense fear that held me in its grip is also subsiding a little. Part of that, I think, is due to the fact that I O'd this month for the first time since the surgery and AF came as well. My body seems to be trying to get back to business as usual and so I'm alot calmer.

It may sound strange, but my dog Blaze also helped. He was born blind in one eye and hes never let that stop him from doing anything that his sister Shadow does. He may be a little more timid about it, but he'll still try. Last week his bad eye became infected and the vet said it had to be removed. The operation happened yesterday. Even though he is scared of the vet, and even though he sensed that something was going on, he remained calm and was stoic about getting into the car without Shadow. When he got to the vet, he didnt panic.

And this morning, when he was finally himself (after the anaesthetic finally wore off), he was trying to play and run around with Shadow as if he hadn't just had a traumatic experience. He just accepted what had happened and is making the best of it. Even with the cone around his head. Even with the stitches still around his eyesocket. He is trying to move forward.

With him as an example, how can i do any less?

Again Part 2...

And then it happened. So fast, I didn’t know what was happening. Pain, bright and sharp, exploded through me. Help me.

I lay on the floor, bent over, calling out, crying in pain. A thought flashed through my mind. “Maybe this isn’t real. Maybe I’m having a physical reaction to the emotional pain of losing the baby. It’s only been 6 days since the D&C. Maybe it’s all in my mind” That was logical, right? I felt hysterical.

But still the pain came in waves.

He was there, trying to help me. “Please, baby, I have to get you to the car. Try to get up.” I could hear him trying to reason with me, trying to get me up. For him, I tried. For him, because I could hear the fear in his voice.

We staggered out the room, and that was as far as I could make it. The blackness rushed in again and when I awoke I was freezing. The tiles beneath my body, the wall against my head, were all like ice.

Shivering made the spasms worse and every time the spasm wracked my body and involuntary cry of pain spilled from my lips.
He ran for a blanket, wrapped me in it. But I was still so cold.
Help arrived. The voices of my dad, my brother, interspersed with my husbands.

“What happened?”
“How do we move her?”
“She’s in too much pain... won’t let anyone touch her”
“... maybe the blanket ...”

Hands were moving me, trying to lift the blanket I was lying in, but that caused another spasm to rock through me.

“... place her on a board or platform ... keep her still”

Finally we made it to the car. As we sped toward the hospital, suddenly things became clear again. My vision returned and I was suddenly and completely aware of my surroundings. Of myself. And I realised that my tongue felt swollen and was sticking out my mouth as far as it would go. I turned frightened eyes toward my husband, and he looked at me not knowing what to do.

“Don’t worry,” he said to me. “We’ll get you to the hospital. They’ll help you.”
But when we got there, none of the doctors could figure out what was wrong. I wasn’t able to stand- I kept passing out- so the abdominal x-ray was inconclusive. Finally, they decided to do a CT scan. When the radiologist came to speak to my mother, I could hear snatches of the conversation.

“... pelvis and torso filled with fluid...”
“... Blood ...”
“... usually ectopic pregnancy ...”

I wasn’t pregnant. I had just lost my baby. My mind was screaming this out, while my body continued with its pain spasms.
None of the pain medication helped. All it did was deaden my body so that I couldn’t cry out, couldn’t brace against the spasm. Until finally, finally, I was taken into surgery. The anaesthetist injected his chemicals into my blood stream, the oxygen mask went on and I was finally free from the pain.

Later, they told me what a narrow miss I had had. They told me about how extremely rare it was for this happen. They told me that my baby had implanted in my tubes and though they had removed the sac, the placenta had kept growing in my tube until it ruptured. I had been bleeding internally, but they repaired it.

That tube is closed off, they told me. And this more than anything else, started my fall into depression. I was damaged. My body had rejected 2 babies, had killed them, and now my ability to try for another was diminished. And what right did I have to even try for another? Would my body then just reject the next one, kill another baby, so that I would go through this again?

People would tell me their stories. They knew exactly what I was going through. They had lost their babies too. And look, they went on to have children. When I would speak of my pain, I would be told that I must stop being negative. That it will happen for me too. But I can’t help but wonder, what if I try again and this time, I lose not only my baby, I lose myself?

Again Part 1..

9 weeks. I made it to 9 weeks without anything going wrong. Surely, surely this time, everything will be fine. I’ve done so many pee-on-a-stick tests. They all came out positive. This time, there is a baby there. Last time was just an aberration. My body wasn’t ready for it. I rushed to do a blood test too soon. That’s all it was. This time, I waited. This time I was more careful. I did everything I was supposed to. I took all my vitamins. I didn’t stress out about anything. I didn’t drive to work.

These were my thoughts as I waited in the waiting room for my first antenatal visit. The doctor’s rules were that he doesn’t see pregnant women until they were 9 weeks. I had waited, so impatiently, for those last 3 weeks to go by. And now, finally I was here. My husband waited there with me, nervous as well, but happy. We were going to see our baby for the first time. I couldn’t stop the what-if questions though. What if something was wrong again? What if...? Will I be able to handle another miscarriage?

Finally, we were admitted into the doctors’ rooms. He took my information and then off we went to the ultrasound room. The gel was cold on my skin and I shivered while the fear and anticipation tangled. I watched the screen as he moved the wand over me. And then he said

“Hmm”.

The fear won and my mind started screaming.
“Not again. Please, not again.”

Finally, he spoke.

“There is some cause for concern.”
“You should be nine weeks not six.”
“I think we should do some blood tests.”

The next day he called.

“Well, we knew there was cause for concern...”
“..Progesterone levels too low for a viable foetus ...”
“..Possible need to do an evacuation ...”

Two days later, I started to bleed. Again. It happened to me again.

We went back to see him on Monday.
“... the foetus hasn’t grown..”
“... need to do an evac today..”

When it was over, I wasn’t pregnant anymore. The baby was gone. Days passed. I began to heal. I can try again. The doctor will help me through the next one. He promised. I just have to wait a little while.

Blood

Blood. That first spec that showed was old, brown and thick. Nothing to worry about, she thought. The pain she’d been having that morning was normal. She had read about it. Just a little pain to show when the little ball of cells implanted itself into the walls of her body. Blood was common when that happened. Of course it was. Two hours later there was nothing. “See, nothing to worry about”, she told herself. An hour after that, there was a faint pink line. Heart beating a little faster than usual, that niggle of worry settled itself in at the back of her mind.

Another day went by with more of the same. The niggle of worry got stronger. That night, she stayed up reading stories that other women had written. Some said they worried for nothing. Some said that there was a reason to worry. She didn’t know what to think. “Just keep positive,” her husband told her. “Until we know for sure theres a problem, its better to hope there isn’t one. We don’t want to create a problem by worrying, do we?”

He made a lot of sense. Finally, finally she was able to sleep. The next morning, the stain was a little bigger. A little darker. A little more red. She showed it to him, and he hugged her.
“It will be alright,” he said. “And if it isn’t.. well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Logical. Reasonable, even. But the niggle of worry was not just a little niggle anymore. She spent the long drive to work calming herself with music. She could lose herself in the music and the concentration needed to drive safely. No room to think about what might or might not happen. Every now and again, she would place a hand on her belly and pray. She would tell the baby that she loved him. That she hoped he was ok in there.

He wasn’t. He wasn’t even a “he” or “she” in there. There was nothing. But she didn’t know that. In her mind, the baby lived. The pregancy test had said so, hadn’t it? When she arrived at work, the second she stepped out the car, she knew. Fighting fear, she walked as calmly as she could to her desk and dropped her bag. She would have to check of course. When she did, praying all the while that she was wrong, the shock was still incredible. She had felt it, but seeing was another thing entirely.

Blood. It was no spec. It was not old. It was not brown. And it was everywhere.

The waiting...

The waiting was killing her. Interminable. It’s just a week, she told herself. I can wait a week. But it was hard. So hard. The possibilities, the dreams, filtered through her mind while she tried desperately not to hope.
Thoughts of her belly growing round and full. Dreams of feeling those first kicks. Of seeing that small life growing inside her on an ultrasound. She dreamed of the look on her husbands face, the happiness and love she’d find there when they knew for sure. She smiled at the thought of telling their parents that they were going to be grandparents. Of the happiness the news would bring. The way his mom would light up with happiness. The special way her mom would smile. The pride that would shine on the dads faces. And the excitement that the brothers would feel.
She sat on the window seat daydreaming out the window. Of the day, when finally, finally, she would hold her little girl. Or boy. Would it be a girl, she wondered. A pretty dark haired child with her fathers eyes and curls. Would she be a girly girl, all frills and lace and pretty dresses, or a tom-boy like she herself had been. Scraped knees and dirt smudges and fly-away hair. Or would it be a little boy. With a naughty smile and twinkling eyes. A charmer.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the images that shone so clearly in her mind. Its too soon to tell. You have to wait the week and then you’ll know. Don’t start to hope, she cautioned herself. It may not have happened yet. You’ll be disappointed. But still, the dreams refused to listen and spun on.

Intro 2

So, now that the introduction is out of the way, you are probably wondering a little about me and what prompted me to start this blog. The upcoming posts are descriptions of things that happened to me during this year.. I wrote them in story form because trying to explain what had happened was too difficult. Perhaps, by writing myself as the main character, you the reader will gain more insight into who i am.

Intro

Its funny, isn't it, how the start to any piece of writing - the introduction - is always the hardest to write? We can know exactly what we want to say in the body of the thing, but to start it, now thats hard! The intro is supposed to prepare the reader for whats coming.. its supposed to engage them, get them interested in what you have to say. Its that important.

But right now, I have no idea how to start it. I don't know where I'm going with this and I dont know what i have to say. I just know that taking this step, starting this blog, is something that I have been needing to do. I say need deliberately, its not something i just WANT to do, its something I NEED to. Perhaps I will connect with people who feel as I do. Or who don't. Maybe we can help each other through this thing called life... or maybe not. I don't know what to expect, therefore I have no expectations.

Yes, this first post is full of rambles and confusion. and maybe thats the right sort of intro for this after all.