The Birth of Moon Baby

As if you were

on fire

from within,

the moon lives

in the lining

of your skin.

– Neruda

 

Wednesday 31 January

It was 10 days past the day the medical professionals had decided was your due date and the pressure to induce labour was steadily increasing. Our original induction date had been set for seven days past your due date but your dad and I strongly felt that you weren’t ready to be born then so we had begun the process of negotiating another date. This negotiation was somewhat complicated by the fact the hospital’s induction schedule was completely full for the week, with the next available slot putting us at 42 weeks and 1 day. Neither we nor Pete – our obstetrician –  were comfortable waiting that long but your dad and I were equally uncomfortable inducing after only seven days. We agreed to hold off, with the hope an induction slot would open up later in the week.

Throughout the week we had monitoring to check you had enough amniotic fluid and that you weren’t in any distress. At the end of each session we were told what we already knew: you were perfectly healthy and happy in there. These appointments reconfirmed that we were making the right choice to hold of inducing labour.

Although it was stressful negotiating the hospital’s policy of inducing after seven days, I had a feeling all along that you wouldn’t need to be induced and that you were waiting for the super blue blood moon to make your arrival. You needed the powerful energy of the moon to call your soul down to Earth.

All day I had been experiencing light cramping on and off, and I felt called to rest. I decided to get a pedicure done, figuring it would be the last time for a while I would have time for such luxuries. After whipping up a batch of muffins and smudging our home with palo santo to make way for your arrival, I laid down for what turned into a two-hour nap.

At 5:45pm, Pete called to let us know an induction spot had opened up the following afternoon, so we locked that in and decided to go out for one last date as a twosome. I had just changed into a dress and was sitting on the toilet when my waters broke suddenly and rather dramatically. Given that only 15% of labours start with the Hollywood-style breakage of waters, it took me a while to work out what was happening. I had assumed my waters would break some time after labour commenced, or that they would have to be broken for me, so I hadn’t considered that it could happen at home, heralding the start of labour. When the penny finally dropped I called out to your dad, “My waters have broken! This is not a drill!” My heart was racing with excitement as I knew it wouldn’t be much longer until we met you.

We called the hospital and they advised us to come in so I jumped in the shower while your dad packed the car and made us both a salad roll to eat on the drive in. So much for our dinner date!

I strapped on the TENS machine and hopped in the car. Almost immediately, the surges picked up in intensity and frequency, and were soon coming every two to three minutes, lasting 30 to 40 seconds. I focused on my breath and soon got into a rhythm of feeling a surge start, and pressing start on the TENS machine and a timer on my phone.

We arrived at the hospital at about 8pm and got set up in the birthing suite. Your dad put on the playlist I had made earlier in the week, set up the crystals that were charged with loving energy from my mother blessing and energetically cleared the room using the Australian Bush Flower Essences Space Clearing Mist because, #hippyforlyf.

Pete soon arrived and after checking my cervix he told us I was 2cm dilated and that he would come back in the morning to check my progress. After he left, we called Bree – our doula – and asked her to come to the hospital.

I laboured through the night, under the light of the moon. Chris and Bree made the most amazing support team, helping me through each surge. While intense, it was a magical night with just the three of us in a darkened room for most of the time. I felt like I was in between worlds, coaxing your soul down to Earth.

Thursday 1st February

At 7am, Pete came back to another check and found that despite 12 hours of labour my cervix hadn’t dilated any further. You were also still only partially engaged. Pete suggested that I start a drip of syntocinon (synthetic oxytocin) in the hope that stronger surges would push you further into my pelvis and stimulate dilation. After a lengthy discussion, I decided to wait another few hours to see if I could get things moving by changing to a more upright position during contractions and doing some exercises designed to get your head into an optimal position to engage.

After completing the exercises, my contractions became much stronger, lasting 50 to 60 seconds, but they were coming less frequently now at six minutes apart.

We were 16 hours into the journey when Pete came to check my cervix again. 3cm. I decided to start the syntocinon drip, because I was starting to get weary and the thought of potentially another 24 hours of labour was overwhelming.

As soon as the drip was hooked up, my surges got much stronger and more consistent but after 30 minutes they became irregular again so the dosage was turned up. Again, the surges got stronger and more consistent but then destabilised again. You were starting to get annoyed with syntocinon and your heart rate was going up and down so the drip was switched off (which I didn’t realise until later). My surges remained really intense but another cervix check showed dilation still wasn’t happening.

At this point I finally paid attention to what my intuition had been telling me for weeks – that you weren’t in the best position and that you weren’t going to be birthed without some more help. Once I allowed myself to accept that, I quickly became frustrated with each surge and struggled to maintain my focus throughout them because I knew they were unproductive.

At this point I asked for an epidural. During my pregnancy I had done extensive research on every intervention (which I’m sure doesn’t surprise anyone reading this who knows me) so I was already clear on the pros and cons of an epidural, and had decided that I would only use if I needed to rest rather than for pain relief. I also knew it could be used to anesthetise me should I need a caesarean.

The anaesthesiologist arrived and explained the procedure. At the Royal Women’s hospital, they use a new(ish) technique called a Walking Epidural. It blocks out the pain from the surges but doesn’t numb your legs at all. He quickly administered it and I felt relief almost immediately.

Once the anaesthesiologist left we discussed our options with Pete, the first of which being to hook up the syntocinon drip again and continuing to labour with the hope that things would start progressing faster. The risk was that your heart rate would again start to accelerate and decelerate, and then we would have to remove the drip and be back to square one. I also knew that you still hadn’t engaged, so even if the drip helped me to fully dilate the risk of a high forceps delivery was playing on my mind. I voiced my concerns to Pete and he agreed that a high forceps delivery was risky for both you and me, and could very well end up in an emergency caesarean.

My intuition was telling me loudly and clearly now that you needed the help of a caesarean to be born so I let Pete know that’s what I wanted to do. This felt like the best option for us both. Pete explained how the procedure would work and said that it was hospital policy to separate mum and baby while mum was in recovery – a policy he doesn’t agree with. I knew the importance of those first couple of hours post birth for establishing breast feeding, so I pleaded with him to ask if they could make an exception. He wasn’t confident they would but he returned after a few minutes with a huge smile to tell us that for the first time ever, they had agreed.

I also knew it was against hospital policy for more than one extra person to be present in theatre but I really wanted Bree to be present for your birth, given she had played such an important role in getting us to this point, and Pete agreed that Bree could attend.

Things moved really quickly from there. As I was prepped for theatre, your dad and Bree packed up the birth suite and changed into scrubs.

I was wheeled into theatre where the anaesthesiologist turned up the epidural. For some reason I needed heaps of anaesthetic in order for the area to be numbed, so this process took a while but finally we were ready to go. We were just waiting for Chris and Bree to arrive.

There was a team of about 12 people in theatre and they were amazing; it was clear they had worked with each other for years and had great respect for each other. The room was full of lively energy as they joked with one another. I felt completely at peace with everything and was excited to finally be meeting you.

When Pete made the incision, he saw your little face, eyes wide open, looking up at him. The medical term for the position you were in is left occiput transverse, asynclitic deflexed. In other words, you were lying on your side, with your head tilted towards your shoulder. Your positioning was what had stopped you from being able to drop down into my pelvis.

After a bit of pushing and pulling, at 5:41pm, after 22 hours of labour, you were gently lifted out of me and held up so that we could see you.

My little spark of infinite light, my darling moon baby, seeing you for the first time was unlike anything I have ever experienced. My heart swelled with a love so intense it took my breath away.

In a single instant, in the afterglow of the full moon, you changed our world forever and we could not be more grateful that you chose us to be your mum and dad.

Coconut, Chai and Turmeric Chia Pudding

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I have finally got around to putting up my recipe that was featured on the I Quit Sugar site a few weeks back.

Over the many years that I have been experimenting with the best way for me to achieve optimal health, I have found that one of the easiest things I can do is ensure that my breakfast is packed with nutrients. It sets me up for the day and means that even if I make less-than-optimal choices later on, I know I’ve already got in a stack of nutritious goodness.

This sweet treat packs a punch of anti-inflammatory turmeric. For best creamy results, use Pureharvest Organic Oat Milk.

 

Ingredients

  • 5 tablespoons chia seeds.
  • 1 tablespoon shredded coconut.
  • 1 1/2 cup Pureharvest Organic Oat Milk.
  • 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla essence or powder.
  • 1 teaspoon ground turmeric.
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves.
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom.
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon.

Optional

  • 1 tablespoon Pureharvest Organic Rice Malt Syrup.

Directions

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl, making sure no clumps of spices remain.
Add oat milk, vanilla essence and rice malt syrup, stirring until combined.
Cover and leave in fridge overnight to set.
Serve as is or top with chopped nuts and more shredded coconut.

Enjoy!

Laura xo

Miscarriage: to know or not to know why

Screen Shot 2015-12-07 at 2.38.50 pmWhen I was a kid, I was full of questions. My favourite thing to do was to ask, “Why?” When I was about five, I remember being in a shopping centre with my parents and sisters, the eldest of whom was pushing my niece in a pram. We had been riding the escalators all day and I kept seeing these big read buttons at the top of every escalator. I asked what they did but, given we were in a hurry, I was told not to worry about what they did because it was not important.

It was important to me though so at the top of the next escalator, when my sister was halfway down with the pram, I pushed the button.

The escalator immediately stopped, almost throwing its occupants off in the process. Dad then had to help my sister carry the pram down the remainder of the now-frozen escalator. Everyone was pretty mad at me.

I didn’t get it. Why were they angry when all I wanted to know was the answer to a simple question?

Of course, the button was an emergency stop button but I didn’t realise that at the time and I wasn’t satisfied with being told that I didn’t need to know the answer to my question. I needed to know.

I know my questioning nature drove my parents insane at times but, unfortunately for them, it is something that has stuck with me. For the most part, this has served me well but sometimes it causes me to create more pain for myself than is necessary.

In the case of wanting to know why I miscarried earlier this year, I nearly drove myself insane trying to figure out what caused it and how I could have avoided it or, at the very least, how I could ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

The doctors, nurses and midwives all said the same thing: sometimes we just don’t have an answer. I couldn’t accept that I would never know what caused our baby to die so suddenly just days after seeing their heart beating strongly, but it looked like that was exactly what was going to happen.

That was until last week when I went to my GP to get an iron test done. Those who know me well will be familiar with my struggles to keep my iron at a healthy level. Anyway, he was going through my history and saw that I never received the results of a test I requested when I was pregnant to find out if I had a mutation or defect of the Methylenetetrahydrofolate Reductase gene. The MTHFR gene for those who prefer to not overcomplicate things. Or the Mother F*cker gene, for those in the natural medicine field who know the havoc that mutations to this gene can cause.

What does the MTHFR gene do, exactly?

The body can’t do too much with folate in its original form, so it needs to convert (or methylate) it into a substance that it can actually use, and that substance is called L-5-methyltetrahydrofolate. The MTHFR gene is responsible for this conversion.

The MTHFR gene can be defective in a couple of different ways, with one mutation being known to increase the risk of blood clots, especially during pregnancy.

For people with this type of mutation (the heterozygous version, for those who are interested), miscarriages are common. It is thought that a blood clot forms in the placental blood vessel, causing the baby to be cut off from nutrients and subsequently causing you to miscarry.

This is the mutation that I have.

I think this is why our baby died.

Of course, I know all too well that there are no guarantees in this life, and there is every chance that something else caused the miscarriage. But there is something strangely comforting in thinking that I might have found an answer, even though I’ll never know if it is the answer. It gives me the opportunity I’ve been searching for to see what I can do to try to stop this from happening again. It gives me a direction to start with rather than flailing around in the dark, hoping I’m taking the right supplements and getting the best treatment. As anyone who is dealing with fertility issues – or any health issue for that matter – will tell you, having some information is better than having none.

The science is pretty new around all of this, which means there aren’t many prenatal supplements that include L-5-methyltetrahydrofolate, or even its precursor – folinic acid. My doctor isn’t even sure about what the best approach is!

After trawling my university’s scientific research database to read about the few studies that have been conducted in this area, it looks like the best thing I can do is take a supplement that includes L-5-methylfolate. I’ve found one that looks pretty good, so I’m going to give it a shot when we do decide it’s the right time to start trying again.

So instead of doing nothing and just hoping for the best, I’m trawling my uni’s scientific research database to find answers and I’m determined to get to the bottom of this.

I’ll never stop asking why.

Laura xx

Note: As always, I’m writing about my own experience. I’m not a doctor and while this post might give you the information you need to start your own investigations with a health practitioner, it should not be construed as medical advice.

Adding a sprinkle of ritual to your life

Smudging is one of my favourite rituals.

Smudging is one of my favourite rituals.

I’m a big fan of ritual.

It is the easiest way I have found to intentionally create more space and direction in my life. It has helped me get clear on what it is I want to focus on in life and has helped me to feel more at peace with the craziness of our world.

The great thing about ritual is that it is non-denominational and can be as serious or as fun as you want it to be. It can be as simple or as complex as you like. Your ritual, your rules. For me, keeping it simple works. Whenever I have tried to follow some complex set of steps and rules, I either lose interest or get so overwhelmed about getting it wrong (totally ridiculous given there is no right or wrong way to conduct a ritual) that I ditch the whole thing in favour of a glass of wine and a Netflix marathon. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as partial to binge-watching 18 episodes of Friday Night Lights as the next person but other than making me wish I grew up in Dillon, Texas, the show doesn’t really add anything to my life.

If you would like to incorporate some ritual into your life, here are my top tips:

+ Start where you are. As I mentioned above, you don’t have to spend hours setting up and completing a complex ritual. You can start by just taking some time first thing in the morning to set your intention for what you want to achieve and how you want to feel as you go about your day. If you’re more of a night owl, write a list of everything you achieved that day towards your goals, and put in a couple of things you are going to do the next day that will get you one step closer to your target. Reminding yourself of how far you have come is a great way of maintaining the motivation to continue.

+ Keep it in your budgetThere is no need to go out and spend $200 on crystals, sage sticks, palo santo and singing bowls unless, of course, you want to. Some of my most powerful rituals simply involve getting some paper and writing a list of 10 things that are no longer serving me in my life then putting the paper in a bowl and setting in on fire (be safe with flames, kids), with the intention of releasing everything that was on the list. If burning things isn’t an option, you can tear the paper up or bury it instead. This is a great one to do when it’s a full moon.

+ Include Mother Moon. I like to pop the full moon and new moon dates in my calendar to make sure I know when they are happening. The new moon is the perfect time to get clear on what you want to create in your life. Head outside and sit under her golden light as you conduct your ritual. You could grab some cute little post-it notes and write an intention on each one, then stick them up somewhere you will see them all the time. If you prefer to keep your intentions and desires a bit more private, jot them down in a book instead. The full moon’s energy is about letting go, releasing past hurts and limiting beliefs, and making space for better things to come into your life. The burn-your-past ritual I mentioned above is my favourite thing to do on a full moon. Note: Howling at the moon is optional but totally recommended.

+ Get grounded. The easiest way to ground your energy is to – yep, you guessed it – sit on the ground. If you plant your bum on some grass, or dirt, or sand, you’ll feel more connected to the universe and yourself almost immediately. If you don’t have easy access to the earth, you can try having a bath with some Epsom salts. Throw in a few rose petals or lavender stems for extra feel-like-a-goddess points.

+ Use cards. Oracle cards (or tarot cards, if that’s more your jam) come in all shapes and sizes, and add another element to your ritual. I like to pull a card to see where I need to put my focus for that day. If I have lots of time, I’ll do a more in-depth reading. I like to ask, “What will help me most to remember right now?” If you aren’t sure where to start, The Little Sage cards are lovely. I don’t use cards so much from a spiritual connecting-with-guides perspective. Rather, I more just use them to check in with myself and work with what resonates most from the message to see what I need to focus on that day or week.

+ Meditate. Stressing about everything you need to do tomorrow is not conducive to a rockin’ ritual. To help clear my mind, I like to meditate for 10 minutes before I start my ritual. I usually keep it simple and just focus on drawing my breath into my heart space, creating an ever-growing pool of light until I’m completely engulfed in it and it’s radiating from me.

+ Smudge your house. After I give the house a good clean, I like to open all of the windows and smudge to clear out old, icky energy. I either use dried white sage sticks or palo santo wood, depending on my mood. If you haven’t smudged before, palo santo might be a good option because it has a lovely woody smell. Sage, on the other hand, is quite intense and can take a bit to get used to. If you jump on Google, you’ll find tonnes of examples of how to smudge. My smudging ritual looks something like this: start in the room that is furthest from the front door and as I let the smoke move around the room, I say, “I clear this space of all energy that is not for our highest and greatest good.” I repeat this process until I reach the front door. If I have enough time, I’ll then walk back through the house with a white candle and say, “I fill this space with white light and love.”

What about you? Do you use ritual to help bring your life into focus? If so, I’d love to hear about what you do.

Laura xo

Life and death and resurrection

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A quick note before we get to today’s piece:

This is the hardest, but most important, thing I’ve ever written.

It has been sitting in my drafts section for some time, with no reason not to be posted except that I couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Two initiatives have taken place over the last two weeks that have helped me to feel like it was finally the right time share my story. Last week was Mental Health Week and I was reminded that everyone is dealing with something hard in their life, and keeping my struggle a secret helps no one, especially not me. Then, yesterday was Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Remembrance Day, and as I read article after article about women struggling through a mountain of grief in private, I realised that the more people who share their experiences about infant and pregnancy loss, the less this topic will be seen as taboo. It is my hope that by sharing my story it will help another woman who has gone through this loss feel less alone. You are not alone. The level of grief you feel is valid, even if society tells you that it’s out of proportion with what they expect from the death of a life they never even knew existed.

 

“Resurrection means that the worst things are never the last things.” – Frederick Buechner 

When I first counted the dates, and counted them again, I didn’t admit to myself what a difference one week could make. But I drove to the shops anyway, to pick up the test anyway, because what were the chances anyway.

Then, as I stared at those two little lines I held my breath for all of eternity, blinking and hoping and not admitting that the impossible could be possible. Pregnant, the lines announced, whispered, shouted.

With shaking hands and hearts in mouths, we hugged and hugged and kept checking that those lines were still there as we basked in the bliss of our new names: Mama and Papa To Be. A mum and a dad. A baby would make three.

I said I don’t know how to do this and he said we’ll figure it out together, this perfect new reality of ours.

And so head-first we fell into what we thought was a given. They provided us with urine tests, blood tests, leaflets, a due date. And I did not admit to the fear that had crept into the corners of my heart that while our due date would come and go, just like all of time does, it would not look the way we wanted it to.

As we gazed in awe at your tiny flickering black and white heart beat, our hearts started beating in time with yours. That’s your baby, she said. Everything looks perfect, she said.

Except it wasn’t perfect. Not even close. Or maybe it was and this is just a different, more painful kind of perfect than the version we had imagined.

When my world turned red and it just wouldn’t stop, I squeezed shut my eyes, started building a wall around my heart, and whispered no no no to a god that wasn’t listening.

For a whole day and night and day I didn’t admit what I knew to be true. I couldn’t admit that I was losing you.

I tore apart my body in search of the strength I knew I had to find to utter those terrible, awful words that never should have to be said. I didn’t admit that I was too scared to call the midwife, too scared to hear what she would say but I knew not admitting would not be enough to stop this train that was determined to derail itself.

This happens all the time, she said. Lots of women experience this and they go on to have healthy babies, she promised.

But promises are just words and, oh baby, words can’t save a life. Can’t save a mother or a father. Can’t save a future imagined either.

And so we drove or walked or swam through an ocean of grief to the hospital, and all the while I hoped I could find the courage I needed to lose sight of the shore and swim into this new world that I didn’t want to belong to.

The pain spread from heart to my soul to my body to you. It blurred the white walls and white bed and white everything, and I couldn’t admit that even as I begged for the morphine that entered my blood I wanted to scream at them to stop because if I didn’t feel pain how would I know you were ever even real.

I shut my eyes or maybe they shut themselves to block out the feeling of cool gel on my skin and listened instead to the screaming silence that filled all of the spaces that were once filled by you.

I think I should get the doctor, she said. What we are seeing is consistent with a miscarriage, he said. We can’t see a foetus, they said.

My baby is gone my baby is gone my baby is gone.

You have options, she said.

Options?

How could I have options when the only option I wanted is no longer an option? Surgery, a pill, just wait it out. These are your options when you have no options.

I opened my eyes to another white ceiling, to murky voices and a second of normality before the memories crashed their way back into my heart, jamming themselves into every corner of this body I used to trust.

Into this world I trusted.

This new reality is not the one we wanted but maybe, just maybe, one day we will be able to see that it’s exactly the one we needed.

Some lives are very long, and some are very, very short but they all leave their mark. And you, our beautifully imperfectly perfect baby, have left your mark all over our hearts.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.” – Helen Adams Keller

 

If you know someone who you think needs to hear this message, I would be so honoured if you shared this with them.

Laura xo

Sacred rebellion

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Have you ever walked into a room and just known that your life was never going to be the same again, in the absolute best way possible? I was lucky enough to have this experience recently when I completed the first degree in reiki training. Actually, the word training isn’t big enough to describe what I experienced. Transformation is much more accurate.

Having only experienced reiki once many years ago, at a time when I had only the most peripheral awareness of energy work, I didn’t really know what to expect out of the reiki one course. After finding out about Sara’s courses actually took almost a year for me to sign up and commit to taking this next step in my journey through this human existence. I spent months letting my fears of the unknown get the better of me, making up any and all excuses to avoid stepping forward in the direction my soul was crying out to go in. Why do we do that? Let fear stop us? I always find that as soon as I take that next tentative step, everything begins to unfold beautifully. I must remind myself of that next time I’m faced with a decision my mind views as being scary.

Walking into that room two Saturdays ago I took a breath and exhaled my fears. I knew if I was going to get the big, juicy stuff out of this experience I was going to have to surrender to everything that was about to happen. All of it. Not just the parts I felt safe with. Not just the bits that already sat squarely in my comfort zone. No, I needed to grab hold of the stuff that circled outside of the fence of familiarity I have spent my life building. I needed to let go of control and oh boy is that not any easy ask of me.

Let me tell you, dear one, that dropping the reigns on control is so very worth it.

So many big, beautiful shifts have happened that I’m still trying to process and integrate fully into my soul print; a process that will take some time. I’m actually not sure that on a cognitive level I’ll ever really process everything that transpired over those two days, and you know what? That’s OK.

One thing that in particular that Sara talked about did stick and that was the idea of being a sacred rebel.

Sacred rebel.

These two words hit me with such force that when she said them I felt myself inhale sharply, almost as if my soul was whispering, “Yes, these words are for us.”

What does sacred rebellion look like to me? It looks like remembering at a cellular level that we are connected to and part of everything and everyone. There really is no separation in anything except for our minds. It means realising we are stronger when we lead with our hearts than with our minds. It looks like filling our lives with wonder, gratitude and kindness, and are doing no harm but absolutely not taking any shit. It means shaking up the status quo and not taking, “That’s just the way it is,” as an answer anymore. It’s about being playful with our growth and not taking life so seriously, but seriously questioning the engrained beliefs that are stopping us from moving forward. And it means no more hiding under what we think is normal but, rather, shining the unique light of soul out brightly to the world. Yes, definitely that.

We’re waking up and becoming more conscious of what needs to happen in order to heal the world. And you know what? Healing the world simply means healing ourselves from the past hurts, the misunderstandings, the mistreatment and misalignment of our actions with our true purpose. It all starts with us.

It’s time to heal. Will you join me in the ranks of sacred rebellion? From my soul to yours, I sure hope so.

Laura x

How to pimp your hot drink

Golden Latte

Serotonin Eatery’s happy turmeric latte.

Hey lovely people! It’s been a while since I’ve posted because in the last couple of months life has picked me up by my feet and shaken me to my core. I’m still working out how to navigate my way through this new reality. These last few months have brought with them some of the most incredible experiences but also some of the hardest and, if I’m honest, I’m still recovering. I will share more about that all in time but for now, on a lighter topic, I want to talk a bit about what’s been happening in the world of hot beverages.

If your local cafe is still dedicated wholly and solely to perfecting the art of the long black then you might not be aware of the revolution that’s happening to the humble old latte. No longer is it confined to the classic shot of coffee with frothed milk. Cafe owners with a bent towards the health conscious have expanded their menus in recent times to include a couple of hot drinks that are full of health-giving properties.

So, what are the main two pimped drinks that are popping up all over town?

Turmeric Latte (otherwise known as Golden Milk)

As far as I’m concerned, the turmeric latte is the pinnacle of hot drinks. The list of things turmeric helps with is so long that if I had to recommend only one addition to your herbs and spices rack, this would be it. Amongst many other things, the active component – curcumin – benefits immune function, digestion and liver health. It’s a versatile, vibrant little number that will transform the flavour and health qualities of any dish. In our house, it goes in soups, scrambled eggs, on roast veggies, in smoothies and, as soon as my milk frother arrives, in homemade turmeric lattes.

The ingredients in a turmeric latte vary from place to place but the main ingredients are coconut milk*, turmeric, cinnamon and black pepper. It sometimes comes with almond milk instead and you can add cayenne pepper and ginger if you’re after an intense kick.

Matcha Latte

The green hue in matcha lattes comes from ground whole-leaf young green tea leaves, mostly of the Japanese variety. Like its golden friend, this green drink is packed to brim with health-giving properties. It’s loaded up with antioxidants, chlorophyll and amino acids, specifically L-theanine, which relaxes the body and mind.

In a matcha latte, you’ll generally find coconut milk (hello, friend of fat soluble vitamins!), matcha tea powder, hot water and a sweetener of your choice.

So, if you’re after that ritual of having a warm drink without the downsides that can come with a standard cup of Joe, why not try pimping your drink next time you’re out for breakfast!

* Coconut milk is great to use because its high fat content helps your body absorb the fat soluble vitamins in your drink. If you consume these nutrients without fat, your body won’t have as easy a time storing them.

Laura xo