"I will praise the one who's chosen me, to carry you"
-Selah: I will carry you

Monday 29 July 2013

The sublime ridiculousness of well-meant advice

I had to laugh today. And I am sharing it with you because I don't get to laugh so often these days.  I am laughing at how ridiculous all the well-meaning advice I have been told becomes when it is put together.  Quite simply: You are contradicting yourselves.

Now I don't want the purveyors of such advice to be offended by what follows, I appreciate the sentiment with which the advice is given. But please, come on, have a read, and laugh with me. Because then I won't feel quite so crazy for a while.


Sooooooo....

Apparantly I am to think positive whilst not being too hopeful; to keep my eyes on the prize whilst not thinking about it all the time; to FACE MY FEARS, but avoid STRESS; Not think too many steps ahead...but tell you what happens next if this treatment fails; reeeEEEEEELAXXxxxxxx !; Think of how much worse it could be......but listen to you tell me about so and so who conceived quintuplets naturally after 10 failed IVF cycles; count my blessings! whilst somehow avoiding thinking about what is missing.....

need I go on?

If anybody really wants to know how to help, properly, there is some very good advice here.  

Otherwise, please just know and accept, as I must, that you cannot fix this.  You cannot make my pain go away....but you can listen, and you can, I hope, offer sympathy, and an attempt at understanding- without feeling so uncomfortable that you feel you have to try and find a solution.  TALK about it. I sure do!! And your silence bothers me more than anything.  Don't be afraid to get it wrong, just don't dole out cliches.  Just listen, nod, and say you're sorry for my pain.  And I will cry tears of relief that finally. Somebody gets it.


Friday 26 July 2013

No more silent screams

This morning, in the car, I screamed. Properly. Loudly. WHY WHY WHY??? Why am I being so tormented? Punished? Why am I being denied my chance at motherhood? Why are my earnest prayers going unanswered, again and again and again? I JUST DON'T GET IT!!!

Then I cried, the whole journey to work. And tried not to have an accident.

Do I feel any better? No.  But it does beat holding it in.

This month's failure has hit me particularly hard.  This time I followed everybody's heartfelt advice and "thought positive". I relaxed, as far as is possible, and just hoped beyond hope that it was going to work. Afterall, the evil drugs are working in my body now, so we actually felt like there was a chance. So the crash down has been, and continues to be, terrible.

There are many positives. The drugs are working. We are so much closer than we were....close, but no cigar! It simply isn't enough. Not good enough. This isn't just something I want/wish for/hope for. I'm not a newly wed trying for a baby for say 3 months and getting frustrated. This is something I NEED. I have a physical need to be a mother again. I am supposed to be one, let's not forget.   And that boy, my boy, who is mine but not mine- he turns 2 in September. And my arms are still empty.

Time is not making this easier. It's making it worse.  And I don't know what to do. I am scared stiff I'm heading for a nervous breakdown.  I have tried everything there is to "relax" and "take my mind off it" and now we're starting again on the same things, becuase we've tried them all.  Acupuncture, relaxation MP3s, holiday booked for my birthday/his birthday week- did that last year and here we are again! We adopted our cat, becuase I was at my wits' end and desparate. She's been with us 7 months now. How is it I'm still standing?

What is it I am meant to do now?

People say I am so strong, and handling my situation with grace.  I am not. I am slowly going crazy inside my head, one negative test at a time.

Friday 5 July 2013

Panic.

Yesterday I experienced the second most frightening thing that has ever happened to me. I had a panic attack, alone in a train carriage.  For those who have never experienced one, you may think "so what?". Trust me, it's scary.

So now I am left to process, "why did that happen?" And looking back I realize I should not be suprised. My anxiety has been building for a while now.  I am terrified. Terrified of what the future holds, or doesn't hold.   I thought that finally getting some help with fertility treatment would help me. It hasn't- quite the opposite. There's now so much riding on each month. Will it work this time? Will I have to move on to more aggressive treatments/how long is it all going to take?.....

It isn't just that. I know it seems from my posts lately that all I am thinking of now is trying for another baby. It's true, that is pretty all-consuming. (show me a woman who's been trying this long for whom it isn't, and I will salute her) But that doesn't mean I have forgotten Bertie, or that I'm done with my grief. He is still my first and last thought. And several in between. I still stand at his grave, looking at his name and thinking "how can this have happened" whilst silent tears run down my face until I can't read the words anymore through the waterfall.   I am still transported back to that day, watching strangers lower my son into the ground. I am throwing the first handful of soil, I am wishing I could get in there with him.  

It's a delicate balance, the two major players in the game of my mind. Grief and infertility.  No wonder I had a meltdown. But how can I change it? Reminders are everywhere I go, everywhere I look. I can't "put it to the back of my mind" since I can't escape from things that bring one or the other back to the front.

Walking through town. At work. With my friends. On social media. Babies. Pregnant women. Happy families with toddlers Bertie's age and another on the way.  All reminding me both of what I lost, and what I still don't have, 22 months on. I may not run away now, but it still hurts just as much.  It still gives me the same, now familiar stab in the gut.

Chester mystery plays are being held this week. It's quite a production. Written to bring bible stories to the people, they are put on every five years. This year they told the whole bible from Genesis to Revelations in one hit. And hit it did.  During the incredible crucifixion scenes, I was not watching Jesus. I was transfixed on Mary. The actress portrayed the mother's grief so strongly, I couldn't take my eyes off her.  I cried with her.  I remembered my own pain, my constant companion.

And yes, I am afraid. I am so afraid. Of two possible outcomes. That I won't ever get pregnant again,  or that I will, but I will lose the baby again.   These fears are so ingrained that as I sat, literally paralysed in two hands and one foot during my panic attack, my first thought was "what's happening to me, am I having a fit?"....and the second: "Oh God, will this mean I can't have another baby". 

I simply can't convey to you in words how much it means to me to be a mother.  I simply cannot make you understand how worthless my life feels without it.



Wednesday 3 July 2013

Child of mine

Child of my heart
Perfect, precious, tiny
You took my breath away
Those precious hours then
          gone too soon.

Memories of that moment
Our first embrace and our last
Mine to hold but not to have
In too short a time
          your last breath

Gone forever but always here
Your whispers in the trees, chimes
At your forever bed.
Silent tears as I remember
          That day.

Child of my heart
My beautiful son
Never ending yearning
          To hold you again

Child of my dreams
Will you come true?
Will I hold you and sing "at last"?
Your song I already know
          I'll whisper the words to you.

Will I watch you grow, and play?
More than just dreams
Not just wild imaginings
Can my heart be healed by your laughter?
          "Mummy" the sweetest sound.

Child of my heart
And child of my dreams
Both to hold my love, only one to hold my hand
I pray,
          Let it be.

One day a mother?
Already a mother at heart
In love.