Tuesday, 24 March 2009

Show down

A long time ago, a life time ago, I wrote a post on a forum about letting go. It was about 6 months after Maya died. I found it today

I am wondering if some of you would be happy to share how you came/are coming to a point of "letting go" of your precious son or daughter. Not of forgetting them or stopping loving them, but of saying goodbye in your heart, and of making a choice to live in the present. A choice to face the present and the future, which means, effectively, turning away from the past. A choice for life over death, a choice for what is, over what has been.I can feel this point approaching and it seems unbelievably unfair that this choice is before me. It is almost as hard as facing little Maya's death. I have been immobolised by rage at the thought of having to make this choice.... but I feel that it is something I have to do. Engage with now. Take stock of this painful, muddled exsistence, of my empty arms, of relationship complexities, of uncertainty about the future and (at the moment) my stupid job - and own it. Recognise that this is it. This is life, at least, this is my life (not what i imagined or planned I assure you!). It's the real thing, not something I have to sit through while I wait for the real thing to begin. These are the things that I need to begin to face, and I can't do it while all of my heart and mind and strength is with my precious girl. I have to gently say goodbye. And it splits me in two to do it.Where do you find the kind of courage that is needed for this? How have you "marked" this decision (ie, what did you do/say/write/draw/what ritual did you engage in/ was it witnessed by the people you love)?

The reason I have been thinking about this post is that I feel another such battle on its way. This time, it is about my future, not my past. It's a battle over hope, or at least a particular kind of hope, or hope in a particular kind of outcome.

I'm in the ring with God. I obviously won't win but I plan on giving it a red hot go. I demand to know why he is making me give over not only my past, but my future to Him. I want to know how He can be so cruel. Why He demands so much. And why He demands it from me. And why others don't have to give anything up, not even their illusions. Fundamentally, I do not want to give over, accept, let go, trust my future to Him because well fankly, He has proved himself to be untrustworthy. He does not hold my heart gently, but rather beats it again and again and again. He offers no protection, no sanctuary. He does not honour my love, for Maya and for all those little potential lives we have created together. He does not see it as worthy. He takes everything. He takes them all, those precious lives, big and tiny, and gives nothing in return. except inescapable beauty.

And like Jacob, I will not stop fighting until He blesses me. I will not hand over my tiny precious hope. I will not just give it up. Give me something God, something.

I did eventually give Maya into God's keeping. We had a little ceremony at her grave in which Jake and I said those words "We give her to Your keeping" . I did it, and wondered if possibly I was the worst parent in the world for doing so, but I knew that there was nothing else I could do for her while she was in the next world and I was in this one, so I gave her to God. I felt free after that. Strong and free, even though deciding to do it hurt so much. I still question that action sometimes, I wonder what it says about me as a parent. But I did it in love. I did it in love.

I wonder too, what sort of parent I am when I trust my daughter to Him and yet, do not, can not, will not trust Him with my own life.

Monday, 16 March 2009

My baby and embryos

I only seem to make ones that die.

In my arms, in my womb, in the freeze, in the petri dish.

All of them die.

And I just don't know if I can keep on with this for much longer.

You know you're getting near the end when stop taking HPT because you know that knowing the worst will be much worse than not knowing. And I was right, knowing the worst is worse than not knowing.

Doc wants to do more test - this time on Jake. But I am really not sure if I have it in me.

Monday, 9 March 2009


I f#@kin don't like this.

My first embie didn't survive.

My second embie had 100% cell rehydration (for those in the know about frozen embryos). If you are not in the know, well, it's good.

They put it back.

I have chest pains from panic. But I am not too worried, I googled and after reassuring myself that I was not about to die of either a broken heart or heart attack, I resigned myself to the fact that anxiety is going to be a part of this ride.

The momentum for life, both scientifically and spiritually, has to come from this little embie. I can provide the best environment possible, but as with all things to do with your kids, they ultimately need to do it for themselves.

Go embie. Have a will for life.

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

Game on

Yep. The next FET
Transfer Thursday.