The gift that is a moment of peace.

It's been a tough few days. I've been really down. Doubtful. Will God ever grant my heart's desire? Thinking He isn't going to. After all I've been through, will it still be NO? Call me Thomas. Starting to think about adoption. I'm not ready.  I'm not ready to give up on my dream. Of birthing, holding, feeding my newborn. Of redemption.   Will there be a rainbow for me?  I just don't know anymore.

Adoption is a wonderful, wonderful thing. But it isn't redemption. It isn't, yes, I CAN do this. It isn't the rush of love in holding my own flesh and blood. But it IS love. A different love. A coming to love. It's a long journey of its own, after the long journey we have already walked. Nay, crawled.

Turmoil in my mind. A nephew due in four weeks. Wanting to be happy for them. Wanting to be excited at the prospect. Actually being numb.  Looking at photos of someone else's little blue babygrows drying after the first wash in readiness. Memories of doing that. The excitement, the readiness....will I ever need to "be ready" again?

Prayer. Thoughts on prayer, working on prayer. Prayers. For peace. For not doubting. For trust. HELP ME!!! please?

Then this afternoon, at 2.10pm. It hit me like a wave. Not grief, peace. I felt it wash over and through me. I physically relaxed. I thought- wow! This is peace. It is OK.  What a gift. A moment. A lifting, an embracing, an answer to prayer.

A mixture of two verses entered my head: 

John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 16:33 I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

 Take heart! I have overcome the world. 

Nothing is impossible for Him.

International Bereaved Mothers' day

That's today. Not Star Wars day, Bereaved Mothers' Day. Did you know that?
Probably not, afterall, Hallmark haven't caught on yet....

I'm sat in Starbucks, because we recently moved and don't have internet at home yet. I came here with the sole purpose of using their free wifi to write this blog...and yet here I am with the last dregs of my chocolate-cream overpriced glorified milkshake staring at the iPad and being sarcastic, evidently I have writers block. I've procrastinated all I can and it's time to write. So here goes.

Where am I?

The first thing that strikes me is that I'm in Starbucks. This is relevant, hugely. On my first bereaved Mother's Day there is no way I would have come to a Starbucks. In spring. On bank holiday Sunday. No way, no how.  The thought would have horrified me utterly. Too many families, too many babies. Buggies everywhere I looked and me thinking, screaming inside:  THAT SHOULD BE ME! This year, year three, is different.  Don't get me wrong, they still bother me, other people's babies that is. It still gives me a little stab in the heart, but at least it no longer rips my heart out altogether. I no longer think that should, be me becuase let's face it, it shouldn't- I should have a toddler now. No what I think now is, why isn't it me? Why am I still a childless mother, two and a half years on? And that is what gets to me more.

I recently felt comfortable enough with a new group of friends to tell them my story. They are Christians and I wanted their advice on the jealousy I feel about other pregnant women.  I ended up explaining the whole story, because I needed to for them to understand where I am coming from.  Telling them made me realise that there has been a shift in my grief. That I still grieve deeply for my son, but actually the thing that is really getting me down right now, in truth, is the inability to conceive again. That is what I am jealous of other women for.  I found myself telling Bertie's abridged story, and moving quickly on to how unfair it is that after all this time, there is no rainbow baby for me.  I guess it is all the harder because the grief of infertility comes hot on the tails of the grief of Bertie's loss. It simply is NOT fair to be going through both. It's inconceivable, if you'll excuse the pun.

My new house is filled with evidence of him. But, it isn't evidence of his existence, it is evidence that he existed. Past tense. Instead of crayons, toys and shoes scattered about my home, there are memory boxes, poems, and ornaments.  The smallest room in the house contains the nursery furniture. But it is not the nursery, it's just the smallest room in the house- the one that we have no reason to go into.

One relief. It isn't his room. It's the furniture we bought for him to use, it houses his memory box for now and my favourite Winnie the Pooh quote as a nod to him, but this is not his room. We said goodbye to that room a long time ago, and this is a new room, waiting for his rainbow sibling. It will be decorated in readiness when the time comes. Bertie has no need for a nursery, he is all through the house, king of whatever castle he chooses. I hope he chooses ours the most.

And now I'm crying in Starbucks. Time to go.

Lenten joys and thankful things

This year, for lent, I am giving up Facebook. Many of my nearest and dearest are fairly skeptical (read:cynical) about my ability to do this...and I have to admit, I am inclined to feel the same! But, I am determined, I am on a mission of sheer will power, I will do this. (or, I will have {easter} egg on my face).

Why? Several reasons:

-Because I use it too much
-Because I have realised I check it more out of habit than enjoyment
-Because more often than not something I see there upsets me
-Because I put so much on my facebook page I have nothing to say whan I actually SEE people
-Because it's lent, and I want to give up something. And chocolate was not an option.

Instead I want to use this space to speak happiness, to focus on the good things in life, things I am grateful for and things that I am mindful that I have and others' do not. Or, if I'm honest, it's a way to update my status every day, without actually updating my status!

So stand by for the gradual unfurling of 46 days of lenten joy!

1. Today I am grateful to live in a democratic country, not under threat of war. Praying for peaceful resolution in Ukraine.
2. For answered prayers in the form of our buyers agreeing to wait until the end of the month to complete-so we don't have to find temporary accommodation!
3. I'm very glad for randomly booked days off, that turn out to be perfect timing for loads of things
that suddenly need to be done!
4. I am grateful for the kindness and help of very good friends today, and for the opportunity to share a meal with them as thanks.
5. Delighted to come across this blog post. Lovely to read your own feelings put into words so well by somebody else.  A good reminder not to be so hard on myself for my "jealous" feelings, which in
reality are something much more complex.  Also loving her comments on "infertility and stress" and the far more helpful things people could say instead.
6. Needing to wear my sunglasses for the drive to AND from work today! :)
7. Last night when I was using a second pair of glasses to try and magnify the tiny, poor contrast print I was trying to read (and getting extremely frustrated about it) I was reminded of the many patients I see every day for whom reading and seeing is like this all the time. So today I am grateful for my good eyesight, and will see my low vision patients with a fresh understanding and sympathy.
8. So grateful today for the HUGE weight that has been lifted from my shoulders.
9. We are seeing the first signs of spring, my favourite time of year :)
10. HURRAH for onesies!
11. Huge gratitude for family friends, hospital staff, careers and strangers all caring for and about my health and well being.
12. Pleased to be healing well and back on my feet quickly :)
13. Life is finally turning a huge corner and I feel HAPPY and HOPEFUL! HURRAH!
14. Glad to have made it through two weeks of no facebook, not missing it, and people are still keeping in touch :)
15. The book group I started is proving to be a success! Love books :)
16. Last night as I lay awake worrying about our impending flat sale and the fact we haven't
exchanged yet, I was reminded of how lucky I am to have a roof over my head at all. So today I will be thinking of and praying for all those people in the world who are not so lucky.
17. Parents.
18. Huge gratitude for all the people who have offered to help us today!
19. Waking up in our new (temporary) home having successfully moved in
20. The bravery of Amanda Holden and all the bereaved parents on tonights dispatches and renewed gratitude for the care we received after Bertie died.
21. Finally, nearly two years to the day since we put it on the market, we have completed on the sale of our flat!
22. For the hug and "you've changed my life" from a patient yesterday that makes my job worthwhile :)
23. There have been so many answers to prayer for myself and people in my life this week, it's very encouraging.
24. The repairs to our new house are complete and we are on track to move in at Easter!
25. The couple selling us their house have told us they are leaving the curtains and wardrobes, really helping us out financially.
26. Waking up on this third Mothers' day without my son with more hope in my heart than in pprevious years. Despite the pain I feel hope that maybe this will be my last with only a child in heaven to love.
27. My lovely cat Pippa. Because she has to feature in here somewhere!
28. It's April! This month we finally get to
move into the home we hope to fill with tiny feet. New beginnings :)
29. Grateful for my thicker skin and it not hurting *quite* so much when people ask me if I have any children, or tell me they are pregnant with their second baby since mine died, both of which happened today.
30. My mothers' day daffodils are so bittersweet, but remind me of the beauty of spring. So today I am thankful for Spring, my favourite season.
31. Feeling glad I started this project and realising again how I have so much to be thankful for
32. Lovely walks appreciating tbe beauty of the world around me.
33. Today I saw my first clutch of ducklings for the year! For some reason ducklings make me happy. I adore them! So they are my thankful thing for today.
34. Ten days and counting eep!
35. Today I saw a rainbow. They make me smile almost as much as ducklings :)
36. The hope and encouragement found in John chaptets 14-17. Particularly ch16 v33 "in this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world"
37. My heart is opening to the possability of adoption. I will be a mummy, somehow, someday.
37. We have exchanged contracts on our new house!! Moce in next week :) what a joy, what a blessing! woohooooo!
38. Given all the expenses we have right now, today's joy was going to buy our white goods and finding they were all in the Easter sale so we came in under budget hurrah!
39. I woke up this morning with it on my heart to make a blanket for my nephew, due in June. Choosing a gift for him is something I've been alternately worrying about and refusing to think about, so to feel with clarity and certainty that I can, and actually want to make it is wonderful, a huge step forwards for me.
40. Less than a week to go and despite daily emails from Facebook telling me I have notifications pending, I have resisted the urge to cheat! Proud of my willpower! Now if only I could do the same with sweets....!
41. Packing to move again- and this time it's permanent!! :D
42. What a beautiful day! Also, one more sleep! :)
43. Joy is found in the first cup of tea in our new home!
44. I believe and trust in a God who knows what it is to suffer. Christ died. Horrifically. For me.
45. We have lovely new neighbours! 1st day here and we have two welcome cards and a bottle of wine!
46. HE IS RISEN!!

The lines I shouldn't write

Some people, when they read this, may feel offended or upset. I hope that they understand that is not my intention. That I have agonised for weeks over whether to write this blog, but in the end it comes down to a simple fact. The only way to effectively prevent my emotions from pulling me back into The Pit, is to express them. And since people, for the most part, are not comfortable talking to me about this stuff, the only effective way I have of expressing them, is through my blog.

And so I will begin.

I am feeling left behind.  My friends' rainbows are reaching a year old now, one by one that milestone is passing for those new little families, and I am still here, still trying so desperately for my own rainbow.  When I wrote two years ago about them all conceiving one by one and how I struggled with it not being me, when I wrote about those babies being born one by one, and I was still trying...did I imagine I would still be in the same place, as those babies became toddlers? Yes, in my nightmares I did, I feared it...but I hoped, prayed, and begged that it wouldn't happen this way. It has.  Whilst I am still trudging up and down the snakes and ladders board, they are no longer standing on the finish square, cheering me on. They have moved on to a new game of mums and tots. I can't blame them, but it hurts to feel so left behind, forgotten, given up on.

People have stopped telling me it will be my turn soon. They seem to have accepted that it won't be. Now I am asked, "will you adopt?" I am told, "well, it's going to keep happening isn't it" when I mention feeling sad and jealous that someone I know has fallen pregnant without even trying, again.  Yes, the unspoken thought they appear to have- it is going to keep happening.... so just get over it. 

People tell me "you need to let go now" Let go of what, exactly? The anger? the hurt? My son? How do I break an unbreakable bond? I miss him, it's agony. I'm desperate to be a mummy again, it's agony. I'm going to be an aunty...it's agony. 

I'm sorry, but it is. I wish so much it could be different. It's a knife wound in my broken heart. Its a mockery of my broken body. It's a boy. It's agony.  I have to watch them live my dream. They've been granted the life I was cheated of, handed it on a plate. The life I've been praying for.  I feel cheated of the relationship I should have with my nephew.  I should be so excited.  I should be handing down the things Bertie has finished with...instead I will have to hold back tears as he does all the things Bertie will never do.   I begged it would be me first. No. I begged it would take a few months at least. No. I begged it would be a girl.....NO!

Now I am begging for it to be my turn before he is born.  Guess what I think the answer will be?

A week on Friday I go for my operation. I am excited and terrified in equal measure.  I am excited that maybe this will be the golden ticket I have been waiting for. Maybe this will work! Maybe I will be able to conceive soon after!  On the other hand, maybe there will be another problem, maybe they will find something else wrong...maybe it won't work.  I am trying to stay positive, but after so many "no" answers....could you?

There's pain in the offering

Tears in church again today. We sang one of my favourite worship songs which really speaks to me. I sang with open arms and tears on my face and surrendered. Below are the abridged lyrics,  I encourage you to listen to the full track here


Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Matt Redman.

There is indeed pain in the offering. I do not understand it. I really don't. I suppose I am not meant to. It is so easy to love and praise God when "the world's all as it should be", but so much harder when everything is wrong.  If I believe in eternal life, what have I to fear? I don't fear death. I fear life. A lifetime feeling like this. I am so afraid it is never going to get better.  I am trying my hardest to trust, to believe the God is working things out for me, but it is not easy.

Not easy at all.

How am I meant to trust a God that allowed my son to die?









No, I don't know the answer either. But that's the point of faith, isn't it?

Gratitude.

Another Christmas over, another new year approaching, another chance to reflect on another year gone by. We are about to enter into our third year of trying again. We never imagined it would take this long, never imagined what we would have to go through to get our rainbow. It's been tough, really tough, on top of the indescribable grief of losing a child. And yet, I am reminding myself, once again, of all the things I have to be grateful for. I guess doing so prevents me from falling back in The Pit. Back into despair.  It would be so easy to let go and fall back in, to wallow in the tar, but I won't let that happen. I will think, briefly, of my friends' rainbows growing up, of other friends, and family who didn't have to try, of all the people I know who, for one reason or another, had the most amazing 2012, 2013...whilst I, well, didn't. And then I will stop, take stock, and reflect on what I do have. What I am grateful for, and I surprise myself, that actually, there's quite a lot...

I am grateful for my husband.  I have lost count of the times he has held my heaving body as I sob at yet another failure.  Another dissappointment. How many times has he told me he doesn't want another woman, one who would have given him a baby by now? How many times has he told me I am not broken, that I am perfect as I am, that he loves me. How many times has he sat in silence. Out of words. Broken by grief and disappointment himself but unwilling to show it as he knows I will just blame myself all the more. I am so grateful.

I am grateful for my marriage. Same thing in a way, but not.  How many couples have split over the stress of either child loss, or infertility? How many would survive both? I know we will never face anything worse than we already have. We buried our boy. If we can do that we can do anything.  We are solid.  How many people do I know who long for that? Trust me when I tell you that I do not take it for granted.

I am grateful for my family, especially my mum and my sister, who show their love for my son nearly as much as I do.  They understand what I need and they do it.  Others support in their own way too, and again, I know many people who do not have the support network that I have.

I have a roof over my head, and what's more, I own it. (well, a few bricks of it at least).  Many of you know I've been complaining a lot over the past year about not being able to sell this place, and now, thank God, we have. And I am so grateful, to even have it, let alone to have sold it. We get to have a fresh start, in a new home, leaving behind the sadness these walls contain.  I know how lucky I am in this respect.

I love my job. I do! How may people get to say that? Yes, since my world fell apart, there are aspects of it which I find hard...but on the whole, it is challenging, engaging, interesting, well respected and well paid.  Plus I get a great pension deal! In a country where unemployment is high, and job satisfaction is low, I am one of the lucky ones.

I'm grateful that I live in a country where treatment is not only available, but free. I love the NHS. It frustrates the heck out of me at times, but we are so lucky to have it.  When I get frustrated talking to american friends about their latest treatment and that they get it pretty much instantly whilst I have to wait weeks at a time, I remind myself just how much they are paying for that treatment.  I wonder often, what we would have had to pay for our two days with Bertie? Would they even have given us two days, or would we have had to prove we could pay first? Could we have paid? It doesn't bear thinking about.   Nor does the end of the line with help trying again. But I know that the end of the line would have come a lot sooner for us if we didn't have the NHS helping us on this journey.

I am grateful that I had him. Not that I lost him, never that, but I am grateful I got to experience pregnancy, and moreover that I got to meet him. I am grateful for the ways in which he has changed me, I believe for the better, you may not agree.

I am grateful for my faith. Although I question it daily, I am so grateful that I know he is in Heaven, he is watching me and waiting for me, and that I will see him again. Without that, I don't think I would have survived this.

So please don't think me maudlin, or grief-focused, or ungrateful. I am not. But. Despite all of this, my son is not here, and I would give up all the material stuff in a heartbeat to have him back.  The one thing in the world I want is being denied to me, despite having all my ducks in a row, despite being oh so ready to be a mum.  Yes, my husband and I have each other, and yes, I have a nice life in other ways. But had Bertie lived....I would still have all of those things and so much more. I'd be whole.  Had I been blessed with a rainbow...I'd be broken but patched up. I would have a purpose.

Christmas pain

It's come, the grief wave. As I expected, though I thought not yet. Not yet, I thought I had a bit longer to cope. It hits unexpectedly, in a moment, in a kind gesture from a friend. The missing him. The missing piece.

For so long now I have been so focused on the next baby. I must get pregnant again, then it will be ok....but it won't will it? The grief will still be there. Christmas will still be painful.  One photo, one beautiful/painful memory and I'm in bits. Longing to hold him again, longing to smell his hair. To feel him wriggle free because he's a big boy now and he wants to run, not sit on my knee. My heart torn once again when I remember he will never run.  That tomorrow I will take his Christmas gifts of red and white carnations and sparkly red robins to his grave.  Christmas eve because I can't bear it on Christmas day. I can't bear the missing him and I can't bear the guilt.

I can't bear it.

Never. ending. torture.

I miss him.