The Miraculous Wedding - Breastfeeding in a Bridesmaids Dress

Three years ago, the morning after our wedding, I received a text message from my friend Rachel asking for my new brother-in-law's number. In that moment, I was a little nervous, if this worked out, it would be a dream, if not, I could spend every Christmas in the company of the man who broke my best friend's heart. Gradually it emerged from other guests that the two of them had barely spent a moment apart on that wedding day, while we were celebrating getting married, they were falling in love.

It didn't take long for Rachel to assimilate into the family, they were committed right from the start. Everyone who knew them was sure that they'd be married one day. So when in February, Rachel called from their skiing holiday in France, there was no doubt as to what had happened. Atop a mountain, in the snow, Martin had got down on one knee.

She had asked me to be her Matron of Honour long before they were engaged, I had said 'Yes but I'll probably be pregnant'. When she asked again during that (slghtly hysterical) phone call we figured out that I wouldn't be pregnant, but I would have a young baby by then, so I would be breastfeeding.

It turns out it would have been easier if I had been pregnant. Breastfeeding and bridesmaids dresses don't mix!

We searched all over for a dress that looked formal and pretty that would allow me to feed, and we found a grand total of nothing. When the search was exhausted I summed up the courage and offered to make something.

My plan was to make a V neck dress out of stretch fabric that would allow access, then, since I can't stand to be seen in a V neck, create a lacy crop top that could be worn loose over it.

So, I thought, if I'm making my own dress, and we want somethng that matches - I should probably make the other two as well...

Our mood board

I make no claim to be an expert in dressmaking, I am a competent seamstress at best. However, by keeping it simple and sticking to what I know works, I managed to design and make the three dresses. Each of them was a little different: sleeves here, a different neckline there. Each consisted of a basic stretch dress and a simple lace cover up. By the time I was finishing the dresses I was at the machine with a newborn on my lap - now theres an experience I'll never forget!

Rachel chose bright autumnal colours for us and allowed us each to wear what suited our shape and colouring. As a result, I think we made a stunning group. The whole day was a fairytale, from the flowers to the ceilidh dancing, but the real fairytale for me was that I gained my best friend as a sister (let's drop the -in-law.)

Oh and the dress was perfect for feeding, easy access and a built in cover. Super comfortable too!

Sarah, Hannah and I in our completed dresses 

Sourdough - simplicity

I started a new sourdough this week. People might think sourdough is complicated or difficult but in my experience it is neither, I've found it really simple and forgiving. The other day, I took a clean yogurt pot, put in a spoonful of yogurt, a spoonful of flour and enough tepid water to make it a batter-like consistency. Then I (wrestled it out of the grasp of my little boy who wanted to eat it) put a bit of kitchen roll over it and set it aside. The next day I mixed in some flour and water, and the next day I mixed in some flour and water.... and so on. When it split, I mixed it up again. When it started to look nice and bubbly after about 5 days I knew it was ready! 

To make bread with it I use about 2 parts sourdough to 3 parts flour, a few shakes of salt, a spoonful of sugar (a la Mary Poppins) and enough water to make a dough. I often dribble in some olive oil but it's not essential. The only difference to using yeast is that it takes longer to rise. So you mix it in the morning, prove all day, then shape it in the evening to bake later. 

Oh it makes good bread... 

All right, this loaf came out a little wonky... tastes good though!

And in the end it's just a matter of flour and water... To my mind it couldn't be simpler. 

When you've got your starter going you just feed it some flour and water each day and make whatever you want out of it. If you want it lower maintenance you keep it in the fridge and feed it every few days. I hear you can even freeze it. A goldfish is more work than that and you don't get any bread from a goldfish. And if you get fed up with sourdough you can just throw it away... Unlike the goldfish. A goldfish is for life. 

What if I did that with Love?

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned,^a but have not love, I gain nothing.

We heard this reading from 1 Corinthians Chapter 13 at a wedding last week, and the priest exhorted us to do everything - even or perhaps especially the most mundane things of life - with love. This is the question I have been asking myself over the past week. If I am called to do everything 'with love' how do I go about it. What does it look like to order my day 'with love', how do I do the washing up 'with love', how do I chastise a naughty toddler 'with love'?

Another question has been haunting me recently too, this one arising in a book I was reading (I must admit now, the book bored me and got thrown across the room never to be finished soon after reading this particular quote)

And suddenly, in the middle of the central nave, I realize something very important: the cathedral is me, it is all of us. We are all growing and changing shape, we notice certain weaknesses that need to be corrected, we don't always choose the best solutions, but we carry on regardless, trying to remain upright and decent, in order to do honor not to the walls or the doors or the windows, but to the empty space inside, the space where we worship and venerate what is dearest and most important to us.

― Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

I have been asking myself what or who I put at the centre of my 'cathedral'. Is the inner sanctum of my cathedral reserved, as I would like to think it is, for Christ? Or does my metaphorical cathedral contain nothing more than an engorged and hideous graven image of myself?

Perhaps the two questions come together thus. Christ asks me to perform every action with love. Seeing Christ in all people around me and relating to God in my life of prayer, when my actions honour God, either in prayer or in helping others then I am acting with love. When I centre my life on Christ I cannot help but act with love. When I act with love, I cannot disentangle my life from Christ.

So in the last week, I have been trying more consciously to order my day with moments of prayer, moments to appreciate the people around me and time to practise the gifts that I have been given, knowing that writing and craftwork are calming to my soul because God made me this way. I have been washing up with a willing heart, banishing the tempting thought of resentment - 'Why should I have to wash up from breakfast and lunch' - and making an effort to notice and be grateful when my husband does the chores. I have been trying to calm myself when the little boy is misbehaving so as not to discipline him from a spirit of anger, but with the clear motive of correction.

Still, it's hard work and I haven't managed any of that quite yet. I'm still quite often a noisy gong and a clashing cymbal. But I'm working on it.