Your 4th Birthday

For your birthday, I made coconut ice for some of the people who loved you. I put it in a little origami paper box that I made, and wrapped it in bubble wrap and posted it to them.

It had a little note in it which read

" In memory of Maya, who would be four

and for all the others we have held in our hearts and hope"

And I am sorry that you have to carry all that weight. That somehow, the death of other little tiny sparks of hope get hitched onto your death. That your death becomes more than your death, it becomes a symbol for all the little deaths, and eventually, the death of hope.

It is not fair of me to put this on you. But I am so sorrowful and I don't know where to put all these other little deaths. They break my heart too, just as your leaving did, but they go so silently, and unmarked. I want them known too, at least a little. So I let them hitch a ride with you. And I let others use your name as a short hand way of expressing all the grief and pain of these four years. I do it myself sometimes. I can barely tell where one sorrow ends and the others start.

But I am sorry for this. Because, it's not yours to bear. It swamps the memory of your sweetness, as if all you ever brought to us was sorrow, when in fact, what you brought was joy.

So I made coconut ice. It seemed fitting for a four year old girl, or the idea of such. Pink and sweet, a little old fashioned, nostalgic, a taste of childhood.

I will be dreaming of you this birthday. Aching, when I wake and loose you again.

Little girl

I love you.

Love your mum

You see

The pee stick did have two lines on Friday, and again on Saturday. Which is what made me think that just maybe I could give up IF for lent. The "yeah right" was you know, being superstitious as we all are, me pretending that it wouldn't happen so that it would.

I thought it would.

I really did.

But on Monday you couldn't see the second line, only a shadow where the line might be if there was going to be one. And today my beta was a big fat 4.

Why does my body not hold on to my babies?

Why don't they stick?

Lent

This year, I'm giving up infertility.

Ha. Yeah right.


(as long as I don't get it back after Easter).

A new decade

I didn't really think much about the fact that it was a new decade until a friend left a message on the answering machine (a little trashed) saying good riddance to the last and aren't we all glad to see the back of it.

Yeah.

Mostly.

I mean it was the decade from hell but, damn it, it may contain the only five days of my life where I got to be a mum. That's so precious to me and I can't throw it out with all the other shit that surrounds it.

I'm trying to come to terms with that fact. To think about it without tears taking over. To not get consumed with anger at the injustice of watching so many, so so many of my friends and family have babies, and with such ease while I (to the surprise of all involved including my RE) have not managed to fall pregnant again, or did for so short a time that it barely registered. I can feel the anger turning into a type of bitterness. I don't want to become that person but I am struggling so hard not to. While it brings freedom, forgiveness is pricey. I have a long list of injustices that I perceive have been done to me, more so in this last few years rather than at the time of Maya's death. But I think the hardest thing for me to come to terms with is essentially, how unchanged, the people close to me seem by what I have been through. I feel like the universe is continually kicking me when I'm down, and feel betrayed when I don't see those close to me shake their fist at God on my behalf. Surely they would get angry if they saw someone beating me? It seems to me, that they carry on, thanking God for blessing them, and refusing to alter the view of how-the-world-works one tiny bit. I find that painful. I just wish my family would express the sentiment to me of standing beside me being angry at God about the amount of pain I have been in and am going through. They may well experience this and have just not shared it with me. Who knows. But I am finding it a hard not to judge some close people, for what feels like a failure to take up my cause.

And I don't know what to make of this. Obviously my view is skewed at the moment by the amount of pain I experience. Is there any truth in these feelings? or is it an excuse to keep people away and then get angry at them for it.

I feel a lot like my dog. His leg was broken in three places from being kicked when he arrived at our house. (not speculation, I know the house he came from). In fact, not only that, he was dehydrated as he was in so much pain he was unable to drink,. A series of operations, pins and extended vet visits and he was OK. Two years later he had another operation, this time on his front leg (same side), which took months and months to recover from. Being a needy dog, he wants to be close so always comes and sits at your feet. Being a dog with a history of trauma, he bites you when you move your feet too fast, or too close, to his left side. Which leads to a rather comical show of coming close to people and then biting them. But in a way that feels like me. I want the comfort of being close to people, and then I bite them if they say or do anything that comes near my pain, or memory of it. When I say "bite" what I really mean is judge, because I never actually say something to the person. I just get angry at their insensitivity. And when I say "judge" what I really mean is feel more pain. They don't understand. They are not even trying to understand. etc.

I have enough insight to realise this cycle does not serve me well. What I don't seem to have at the moment is the skill to break it. Or the wisdom to distinguish what is a genuine grievance that needs addressing, from my knee-jerk response at the pain of being around close family/friends and their babies/pregnancy etc. The same trauma response that my dog has. He nips my foot even if I haven't touched him, in anticipation of pain.

And seeing that in myself pisses me right off. Broken things can be patched up, but the scars are always there, and scar tissue (whilst amazing and miraculous) just doesn't work as well as normal tissue.

Which is a way of saying I don't want to be a broken thing, on the defense against things that might hurt me, always ready for the pre-emptive strike, angry at people who seem essentially, indifferent, no-different, for having witnessed my suffering. But a part of me feels that to just give up that anger might be betraying myself at some level. And that is the thing I am finding difficult to resolve.

In happier news. I am pleased to say that I had an excellent non-pregnant holiday in Tasmania in which I drank lots of lovely pinot, and ate piles of oysters, prawns, lobster, locally smoked products (the trout was amazing and it was bacon like I've never had it before) and unpasturised soft cheese. We camped, cooked (check this out), hiked, ate, and drank our way around a small part of this small island. It rocked. And it went for three whole weeks, so when we had finished camping at one lovely pace we got a little sad about leaving and then moved on to a fabulous eco stay in the Wilderness, then to another delightful campsite or bnb. I could feel the knots in my back slowly undoing themselves, I got hungry, slept well (things I hadn't felt in a long while) and had a lot of fun to boot.

And I will post some photos of the happy (and a little fatter) Barbara enjoying her holidays. And if you need any tips for travel in Australia, I'm the girl to come to. I think I rock at holiday itineraries.

Christmas

It's hard facing this time of year again.

for me, it's my birthday, Christmas and New Year in three weeks.

The marking of time scares me. It says each time that it's another year. Another year older. Another year without a child. Another year of grief, depression and sadness. Another year that I will start with "maybe this year......." as i have started the last 3.

One time , someone asked me if I felt any closer to becoming a parent while doing IVF. And the answer is no. With each failed cycle, each birthday, Christmas and New Year, I feel a little further away. There is more distance between me and my little girl. The memories blur slightly, I can't remember the name of her NICU Dr, the pain of missing her is less, which is a relief and a sadness.

The future?

I did another cycle, hot on the heels of the last one. It was all fine but I overstimmed and was unable to transfer due to high hormones. I was collecting a lot of water in my body cavity and not peeing enough compared to what i was drinking. I missed a few days of work (again). Felt bad - again. On the bright side, at the end of the PGD testing we froze four healthy embryos and I can have a drink and I didn't have to do the 2ww over Christmas

Which sets the New Year up for a run of frozen cycles, which I can stand. Damn it I can do a fresh one these days without raising a sweat. The physical holds no fear for me. But recovering again from the heart break of a failed cycle..... That terrifies me. I hate it so much. And of course it always co-incides with a pg or birth announcement. I try not to carry too much self pity in this regard but 4 nieces and 5 kids between my two best friends (for a start) in 3 years has hurt me more than I care to admit. Because no matter how I try and think about it, I can't seem to shake the feeling when I am with them, or, more accurately, when I come home, that I am standing in the darkness staring through a lighted window.

So. it's off on another holiday. I know I haven't been posting often but I do try to follow your stories and comment, so please forgive if I miss something over January. The holiday plan started as a trip to Bhutan and has ended as 3 weeks in Tasmania. The whole - what if I'm pg? thing - yeah right! But I'm not complaining about 3 weeks in Tassie. It'll be about food, camping and music. In that order. We have our priorities right.

If your Christmas can't be merry, may it at least be peaceful.

Much love

B

Thanks

For your caring support.

I was touched and uplifted by you dear people leaving thoughtful messages.

Of course - I'm both completely alone, and with a crowd of many in that experience. As we all are - as some of you pointed out.

I guess what makes a difference for me is having someone know. I've given up expecting people in my life to understand this experience. I have found that expectation to be unhelpful as it leads to an intense anger as they inevitably fail at doing that. It's not fair to expect people with living kids to imagine their babies dying in their arms. To imagine their family not existing...... Because they do exist, and to ask them to imagine otherwise is, at some level, a betrayal of what is. And yet, it is the experience many of us live each day, and, 3 years later, it can still knock the breath out of me. So, I have given up telling people (who I can see) what is happening for me, I've shared some of the practical details, but where I am at emotionally, what I'm feeling.......... by and large I keep it to myself (apart from my husband, and even sometimes from him).

It's kind of sad but kind of OK. I am learning to be my own support. To hold myself - so to speak - to check in on my inside people and have compassion on them. To give them protection, time and space.

Sometimes though, it's not enough. I just need someone to see.......

So thanks for baring witness.

Your capacity to show love to me, a stranger, is the kind of miracle that helps me believe in spite of everything.

humbly

B

inside

I feel so beaten

and alone