Merry Christmas baby

It's Christmas time again,
And you're still not here.
This is, after all,
The most child focused time of year.
Last Christmas time
you were in my tummy,
It's so hard to believe
I'm still not Mummy!
You're bauble hangs
with your 4 siblings' baubles  on our tree
Will we ever have a Christmas
With our babies, your Daddy and me?
I'm hopeful for 2017
This may finally be the year
When, whether mummy or not,
I learn to love with peace here.

My review of the year

2016 has, in many ways been a year I'd rather forget. I started it pregnant and am finishing it childless with 2 miscarriages under my belt. But lots of good things have happened this year too. It's easy to forget the good stuff, the blessings, the happy times when there's been so much pain, loss and heartache in our year.

So, for my review of 2016 I've decided to leave out the sadness; it's all documented here anyway. When I have time I'll write a post about what God has taught me through all this suffering and what He's still teaching me. For now though, I'm going to attempt to remember one good thing, one thing to be thankful for for each month of 2016.

January: Not exactly a good thing but we were overwhelmed with love and support from friends and family when going through the missed miscarriage and surgery. This was also the month we went on a retreat day for Christian couples facing infertility and broadened our support network, an invaluable day.

February: I had a relaxing week off work to get over everything. I got to spend some time with my sister who I hadn't seen for around 18 months.

March: We had a brilliant holiday in Edinburgh catching up with old friends and reconnecting as a couple. Neil also started his new job at the end of the month meaning he could get back to doing statistics-y things which he loves and the extra money was very helpful!

April: We had a really lovely day out in London to celebrate Neil's birthday. We went to a fabulous bookshop so he was happy!

May: I ran a 10k race raising £500 for infertility network UK! Cried my way round and the time was rubbish but I did it! May ended with our annual camping trip at our church's festival where we both had a refreshing and spiritually fulfilling time.

June: I started medication for my third attempt at a frozen embryo transfer. At the time this was a positive and exciting as we were hopeful we would be luckier this time. Another positive is I coped much better with side effects this time.

July: I celebrated my birthday with a week off work and some trips out to local attractions as well as some time with Neil's parents. We had the embryo transfer this month too.

August: Sadly this was the month we had our second loss, much earlier this time, didn't even make it to scan. I'm thankful I didn't have to go through all the physical stuff again.

September: We went to a party celebrating my aunt and uncle's golden wedding anniversary. It was a lovely family time. Neil also got a promotion at work at the end of the month.

October: We had a really great little holiday on the isle of Wight, last minute thing but just what we both needed!

November: I started a new job! For the first time since 2007 I have a Monday to Friday 9-5 job.

December: We were able to have lots  of lovely time with our families and each other celebrating Christmas.

An apology and a pledge

I've come to realise that I have grown rather self involved and blinkered during this time of suffering. This particular trial has been going on for years now and doesn't show any signs of easing. It seems each time we think things are changing for the better we are dealt another blow and find ourselves back on our knees in prayer and despair. It is all too easy to let it take over and I think I have allowed it to cloud my life to the extent that I don't always notice when my friends and family are also suffering and going through set backs.

So, to all my suffering, struggling friends, I'm sorry for ignoring you in your time of need. This post is my pledge to change. I want to be brave enough to step out and encourage and comfort you. I want to help you and listen when you need to talk. I want to practice stepping out in this even, and especially when I am hurting. I don't want to be afraid of rejection or embarrassment anymore. I have received great comfort from a timely message or hug from a friend and want to be that for someone else. If I can be a comfort to others then I can be comforted by the knowledge that I am being more outward looking and it will take my focus away from me.

So if you are struggling with life just now please let me know if I can help at all, even if it's just to pray. And if I slip up and ignore your pain or talk only about me and my pain please forgive me and gently remind me of this post!

I know God has given me a gift of encouragement and I pray that I can start to step out in it more. My prayer is that as I lift my eyes from myself and notice others around me they will lift even further to the God of all comfort and encouragement.

Getting our ducks in a row

It will come as no surprise at all to you to hear that I pray every day that God will fulfill the desires of my heart and give me a baby. Recently, however I have been challenged to match these prayers with actions, steps of faith if you will. I feel strongly that God is in our ivf treatments despite the fact that it has been filled with complications and heart breaking disappointments. Us doing ivf was a huge step of faith and obedience and the troubles we've had have shaken that faith considerably. But we're still standing.

When I felt God saying I needed to match my prayers, hopes and faith for a baby with actions that demonstrate that faith I was surprised. What could demonstrate actively perusing my desire for a baby than doing ivf? But He has made me see I need fill my life with acts that demonstrate how ready our hearts and lives are for a baby. We need to get our ducks in a row.

With that in mind we have started to make significant changes to our lives. Next week we are picking up a new (to us) car. Our current car is fine but it's quite small and the boot is not big enough for a buggy. There are also issues with it that are fine for us as a couple to live with but could pose difficulties if we were to use it as a family car. The car we are getting is bigger and doesn't have the issues we have grown used to. And there's ample room in the boot for a buggy and other paraphernalia. It will be more expensive to run and it'll take us a while to pay off but we feel it is a step of faith. I've always known we would need a new car when we had a baby but I always thought I'd be pregnant when we did something about it.

The other major life change happening soon is my job. In about a month I'll be starting a job that has regular hours and is term time only. I currently work shifts that are very long and often very short notice. I would not be able to organise childcare around my shifts and the long hours would make working while pregnant quite hard. It is not just my desire for a baby motivating me to change jobs but my new job will give me a lifestyle much more conducive to being Mum! The fact that its term time only is a statement of faith for the future that I'll need to work around school term.

I need to be careful though. If I've learnt anything from all this its that obedience to God is not always followed by him fulfilling his promises to us. I need to guard my heart in this. Just because I'm doing these things to get my life and heart ready to have a baby doesn't mean I'm going to have a baby right away. It could well be several more years before God comes good on this particular promise to us.

Disappearing positivity

On a sunny Saturday in July this year I stood with Neil in our bathroom staring at a pregnancy test willing a second line to appear. You have to wait 3 minutes and we'd waited 1 minute and no second line was showing. We were starting to think this, our 3rd attempt at transferring a frozen embryo was going to end in a negative test as the first one had. Then I looked again and was sure I could see a second line appearing. I thought it was just wishful thinking at first. But sure enough after we'd waited the full 3 minutes there were definitely 2 lines. A second test came up positive straight away. I was pregnant for the second time ever in my life.

6 months previous to this attempt I had been in hospital having a surgically managed miscarriage after the second frozen embryo we implanted had stopped developing at six weeks. I carried my baby to 10 weeks but scans showed no heart beat from 8 weeks onwards. So as we took in the news that I was pregnant again we were understably cautious that this may again end in miscarriage. We were still hopeful though. I was pregnant again, this time we might get to meet our baby. We might finally get to hold a baby in our arms rather than our hearts. I was already feeling signs of pregnancy and started to let myself think about the future as Mummy again.

Little did I know, standing in that bathroom, that I would not even get to be knowledgably pregnant for a week this time. On the Thursday after the Saturday I took the test I was at work and had a niggling feeling that something had changed, something was different. I can't really explain it, I just knew I wasn't pregnant anymore. I was discussing pregnancy symptoms with a colleague and realised I didn't actually feel any of these things anymore. I actually found myself lying and pretending I still felt sick etc. I'm not sure why exactly, I guess I just wasn't ready to think this might be over yet. I know pregnancy symptoms come and go but I just knew. I was on a sleep in shift so I couldn't do anything about it till Friday. I got home on Friday morning exhausted as I'd had a disturbed night so I thought a sleep might make me feel better. If not I'd buy a test when I woke up. I didn't feel any better when I woke up so I went out and bought a twin pack of tests. I remember seeing a sign on a door on t.v. that said 'do not enter if pregnant'. I burst into tears and said to myself that I could go in there because I wasn't pregnant anymore! The test was as negative as they come, this was over. The following week provided 6 more negatives and my clinic finally let me come off my meds. 10 days after the first negative test I began bleeding. As the loss occurred around 5 weeks it's known as a chemical pregnancy. Implantation occurred and my hormone (chemical) levels were high enough to be detected on a test but development halted and miscarriage  occurred almost immediately after implantation. If this had been a natural pregnancy I probably wouldn't have even known I was pregnant. It would just have been like a late, heavier period. But I did know I was pregnant; I did know I was having a miscarriage not a heavy period.

Physically this loss was not as big a deal as the first but emotionally it was huge. Due to my dodgy chromosomes our embryos have been through genetic testing and they are only transferring embryos that are chromosomally normal. These embryo transfers are not meant to end in negative cycles, miscarriages and chemical pregnancies. It may be that all three occurances are just 'one of those things'. It may be there's something else going on. I'm now going to have tests to find out. But at the time it felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world again. We had worked so hard to recover from losing our baby and getting a positive again meant we could start to hope again. But it was over before it had even begun. It felt so cruel. I felt I was having to grieve for a lost pregnancy as well as a lost baby. I sank into a depression deeper than I've felt throughout this whole process. I am now coming out of the depths but I'm still sad that I keep losing my babies. When we had the miscarriage there was a process to go through and an obvious event to mark. With this chemical pregnancy I just stopped being pregnant. It all happened so quickly which I think is why it hit me harder. This was supposed to be the pregnancy that brought hope into our grief. Instead it piled grief on top of grief. I struggled to find God in the dark places but I knew that He is sovereign and knows what He's doing. I can now see that I sank into his arms and I am letting him rebuild my heart.

We have one more chromosomally normal embryo left in the freezer. I'm having some tests before we transfer it. I don't know how that will go but I know that God loves me and is all powerful. I don't know why I keep losing my babies and why we are struggling so but I hope that by sharing my stories others will know they are not alone.

A note on loss... and hope

Disclaimer: This post covers loss and grief. I am very honest about my experiences with loss and resulting depression. If you are grieving you may find it hard to read but please press on, there is hope at the end. I know it may also be hard to read if you know me personally, I am very honest. If you prefer not to read the hard stuff please miss out the second paragraph (not including this disclaimer).

As I write it is the 25th of September 2016. So far this year has been marked by so much grief, sadness and loss for so many. It seems like every week I have learnt of another family who have been plunged into the depths of grief after losing a dear loved one. At times it has felt like I have heard of a new loss every day. There have been so many cherished people lost this year. People in the public eye, parents, spouses, children, grandchildren of people close to us and dearly loved unborn babies of friends, even our own dearly loved and much longed for unborn babies on two occasions. 

In all this loss there have been some very dark times. The world has seemed like a very dark, unforgiving place for much of this year. I feel like I have been sad for most of the year. When we had our second early pregnancy loss I fell into depression for some weeks and am only now starting to come out of it. I couldn't control what was happening to me, what was happening to my babies and I took it out on the people around me and on myself. I couldn't understand why so much death and sadness was happening to so many people. I still had faith in God at the time and still believed Jesus was on his throne but I couldn't understand all the sadness. I sank so low that I harmed myself in an effort to control some of the emotion I was experiencing. Thankfully I recognized the depths of pain and that I wasn't coping and got help quickly meaning I was only in the absolute depths for a few weeks. I am learning to love myself again and indulge in self care instead of self harm. I am coming out of the depths and moving forward.

I have been able to move forward and cope with new losses and grief because I have rediscovered the hope I have always had. I have hope in a God who endured the devastating loss of, and separation from his only Son so that we can be reconciled with him. I have hope in a God who loves me and forgives me time and time again. I have hope in King Jesus who reigns over this world every day and in all circumstances. I have hope that the people who have passed away this year who also knew Jesus are in heaven with Him living a life free from suffering. I have hope that our babies are in heaven being cared for by their heavenly father. I have hope that I will see my babies again. I have hope that we will be parents in this life because God has told us we will. I have hope that I can control my own identity because I am a beloved daughter of God.

I expect more grief and loss will happen this year but I am not going to let it consume me. I am not going to let myself get so low again because I have hope in a good God. I know that Jesus is on his throne and that he reigns over all things, even grief and loss.

The infertile carer

I work as a support worker looking after adults with learning disabilities. I love my job but it often tugs on my heart right where infertility and baby loss have left it bruised and battered. I regularly find myself brutally reminded that I don't have my own children to care for in the ways I care for the guys I look after. It's also painful when they call me Mum and I have to laugh back 'I'm not your Mum!' Inside a voice is shouting 'no, you're not anyone's Mum!'

Sometimes I can see it as a positive thing. Kind of like practice for when I do finally get to be Mummy. But at the end of the day I've been doing this type of work for nearly 10 years now; I think I've had enough practice! There are plenty of things I do at work that are specific to the client/support worker relationship but every day is punctuated with tasks that would typically be a parent's responsibility. I do the laundry for my clients, prepare their meals, attend to their personal care needs and even feed them in some cases. I do these things without thinking but sometimes something breaks the monotony and it strikes me that I'm acting like a mother for these guys. When they joke that I'm like their Mum my heart breaks a little that I don't yet genuinely go by 'Mummy'.

One of the guys I care for has recently had a decline in health and is now reliant on us for pretty much everything. He wears incontinence pads so to all intents and purposes we have to change his nappy. Now changing and cleaning an adult is very different to changing a nappy on a baby but it still gets me. Some days I'd just love to go home and change my baby's pooey nappy instead of only having to deal with them at work. Now don't get me wrong, I gladly do these things for this man and it breaks my heart that his health has declined to this extent. I'm just trying to paint a picture of some of the particular struggles I face as an infertile carer.

It's not just the practical things that tug at my heart. This morning I took some clients to church and one of them had a major strop/tantrum in the lobby and continued in the taxi back. Now we have guidelines and procedures in place to deal with these behaviours and we followed them but sometimes I find myself sad that it's my job to deal with tantrums not my home life. It actually sounds ridiculous doesn't it?! I want my own child so I can deal with their tantrums in public! It doesn't help that this particular lady (in her 50s) had full blown, foot stomping, thigh slapping tantrums much like a toddler would.

There's another reason this job feels like preparation for parenthood; sleep deprivation! I work very long hours, often 14 hour shifts with little break and do sleep in shifts where the quality of sleep is never the same as at home. I also have to listen to and answer the same question for hours at a time and deal with some pretty major situations on very little sleep. These guys often don't get me at my best! Now I'm not complaining about my hours or shifts here; it is was it is and I do my best. God steps in and gives me energy when I need it most. But when I come home exhausted I realise that I'd much rather be an exhausted parent than an exhausted support worker!

As I said before I love my job and I count it a privilege to serve God in caring for these guys. I love praying with and for them and do so every day. I wouldn't change my clients for the world. I just thought that by this stage in my life, at 33, the subject in that sentence would be children not clients.

If only you knew

I've wanted to write this post for a really long time. Infertility and baby loss is a secret pain, a private tragedy. People on the outside looking in cannot see the depths of grief, the rivers of tears into your heart. They only see a childless couple remaining childless through the years or a child(ren) growing older without a sibling coming along. They don't see the months of trying unsuccessfully. They don't see the failed ivf attempts, the financial struggles, the difficult decisions, the marital struggle, the miscarriages. They only see what we haven't got. They don't see what we long for so desperately. They don't see what we've lost.

But that doesn't seem to stop some people passing comment. "You've been married 6 years? Didn't want children then?" "Better get trying, you're not getting any younger you know!" "You're so lucky you don't have kids, you can go on holiday whenever you want!" "You can have my kids, they drive me crazy!" "Oh you had a miscarriage? Well at least you know you can get pregnant." "Only the one child? When are you going to have another one then?" "Don't you think your son/daughter would want a little brother/sister to play with?" "Trying to get pregnant? Just relax! You're trying too hard! If you relax I'm certain it'll happen for you. It happened that way for my husband's cousin's sister's best friend's dog sitter's wife!"

These comments and more besides seem to come to us all on this journey, usually when you're feeling at your lowest. They often come from complete strangers or loose acquaintances at best. This means you have to bite your tongue and give a polite, acceptable response. So you smile and say something like "Oh no we don't have kids yet, hopefully one day". Or you laugh off their suggestion that you have their kids with a giggled "I'm sure you love them really!" Society forces those of us walking this painful road to live a double life. People who see fit to pass comment on our lives when it's really none of their business never get to hear what we really want to say in response. But what if they did?

"You've been married 6 years? Didn't want children then?" "Yes we want children! We've wanted children like forever! We have five babies in heaven now and have been to hell and back in the process. We would both give absolutely anything to hold our children in our arms. Just because we don't have children doesn't mean we don't want them. I see your husband is bald, he didn't want hair then?!" Better get trying, you're not getting any younger you know!" "We have been trying our socks off for bleeping years! We have tried more ways of getting pregnant than you've had hot dinners. Our tree of paper baubles in memory of the five babies we've lost to date testifies to our years of trying, not that it's any of your business! And yes I know I'm not getting any younger! My decreasing  ovarian reserve reminds me of that at every test. And for your information each birthday that passes during this infertility journey reminds me all the more that I'm not getting any younger! Each time I see a pregnant lady or a mum with a baby a little voice inside reminds me I'm not getting any younger." "You're so lucky you don't have kids, you can go on holiday whenever you want!" "Lucky?! You call having to inject countless meds, battle horrible side effects, insert vaginal pessaries, have your heart crushed by negative pregnancy tests, ending up in hospital on a drip lucky?! You call being told our baby had died lucky? Seeing a positive pregnancy test slowly turn negative and knowing that your third pregnancy has gone and taken a bit of your heart with it is lucky is it? And actually we can't go on holiday whenever we want. We have to pay for treatments and tests, we have to precisely time intercourse for optimum fertility and have to think about menstrual cycles if we want to go away. And even if that wasn't true do you really think we'd rather go on holiday than have children?" "You can have my kids, they drive me crazy!" "You need to be careful when you say this. If you catch me in the right mood I may just take your kids and I'm sure you don't really want to give your kids away. But really I don't want your kids, I want mine, but they're in heaven! Know your audience, taking your kids for granted in front of someone who faces a daily ache for a child is not wise!" "Oh you had a miscarriage? Well at least you know you can get pregnant." "Yes I do know I can get pregnant! Knowing that is not going to bring my baby back though is it?! What good is knowing I can get pregnant really?" "Only the one child? When are you going to have another one then? Don't you think you're son/daughter would want a little brother/sister to play with?" "Yes I only have one child and I don't know when I'm going to have another. If I had it my way we'd have another by now but that's not happening not that that's got anything to do with you. And it breaks my heart that I can't give my child a sibling to play with. (Author note: as these comments relate to secondary infertility which I do not have experience of I have imagined the responses. I have used some of what I've heard from others who do have that experience. Apologies if it's not accurate.) "Trying to get pregnant? Just relax" "Relax! Yeah because relaxing is really going to make my chromosomes suddenly sort themselves out and reduce our risk of miscarriage. Relaxing is going to bring back all my lost babies is it? And I'm really happy for your husband's cousin's sister's best friend's dog sitter's wife. I'm happy just relaxing worked for her. BUT IT'S NOT WORKING FOR ME!!!!!"

For me personally I am going through this journey as a Christian and have grace from God to deal with these situations. That doesn't mean I don't have those thoughts though. And I often use God as a sounding board for my frustrations. When faced with these situations I try (not always sucesfully) to pray for the person passing comment and to be gracious in my response. That said I often wonder whether they would pass such comments if they actually knew. If only you knew...

I am a swan!

The other day Neil was walking beside the river when he heard a mighty slapping noise. He looked around and found the sound was being made by a swan. It was running along the water about to take off.
At a prayer meeting recently a friend was praying for me and said I was like the ugly duckling. I didn't see myself as beautiful like God sees me. She said that to see his true, beautiful self the swan had to soar above the water & see his reflection. I have to do that too. I have to trust God to lift me above my circumstances so I can see myself as He sees me.
I have been struggling with how I see myself recently. I've gotten so lost in all this infertility and loss I've lost sight of who I really am. I don't see myself as beautiful. I see myself as flawed, not a real woman. I'm working on having a better image of myself and this reassurance from God that he sees me as beautiful really helps.

I was thinking about the swan Neil saw and the swan related word my friend brought and It struck me that the two are connected. The swan that Neil saw was  about to soar above the water like the one my friend talked about. But to do so it had to put in an almighty effort and there was a lot of noise, splashing and water displaced in the process. That is how it is with me. I'm about to soar above the water; to see who God has made me to be; to move into the freedom of being that person. But in order to soar I have to go through a whole lot of noise first. There's stuff in my life that needs to be displaced before I can fully see who I really am in Christ. I just have a bit more noise to make and a bit more splashing to do before I can figure out what that stuff is and get it out of the way. Watch out people, I am a swan and I'm about to soar!

Empty nest syndrome

I have empty nest syndrome. Yes I know that this is a phrase used to refer to people whose children have grown up and left home. And yes I realise I have never actually had any living children. But having an empty nest describes how I feel precisely just now.

You'd think I'd be used to coming home to an empty, quiet house after nearly 5 years of infertility etc. But I'm not used to it. It's one of the hardest things of this whole process. I think it's exasperated by the fact that I work shifts and often come home alone when Neil is out at work. This is not how I envisioned my life to be at 33. It's not that I don't like my life as it is now, I just thought things would be different. I thought that my home would be a child friendly environment by now. I had imagined that instead of coming home alone to an empty house. At 33 I imagined I would be struggling through the door with a tantrumming toddler in tow and a hungry baby in the buggy. I'm also sad for Neil. He should be coming home to little ones eager to see Daddy. I give him a warm welcome if I'm here. We have a good life just not the life I've imagined for us.

A few years ago we visited the penguins at Edinburgh zoo. They had little dishes built into the poolside in their enclosure. These dishes were their nests and each one was occupied by a penguin couple. When we visited the chicks had just hatched. Each little dish was home to at least one little bundle of fluff being cared for by its parents. Each dish but one. There was one penguin couple whose eggs had failed to hatch. Their nest was empty. The keepers said that the two penguins with the empty nest could often be seen paying attention to the chicks in the other nests. The keepers gave them extra attention so they didn't get carried away with the other chicks. That picture of the penguins with the empty nest has stayed with me over the years. It made me realise that society gets it wrong sometimes! The common use of the phrase 'empty nest syndrome' implies that the nest has been full before it was empty. Actually sometimes you make a nest and make all the preparations for a child and things don't go to plan. Sometimes your nest is always empty.

I find it really hard not to be jealous of friends and even strangers who get to go home to children. I have to remember that I am living the life God has for me. Like those penguins with the empty nest I like spending time with other people's children but, also like them, struggle seeing my own empty nest in amongst other's full nests. I find it hard to maintain friendships and relationships with those who have what I so desire but I am trying. Those penguins really benefited from being amongst other penguin families & the same applies to me. I have always struggled with boundaries and friendships & this situation just complicates things. I need families around me but sometimes I don't make it easy to be around me. And sometimes being around families is not easy for me.

My prayer is that one day my nest will be fuller. For now, though, I will learn to enjoy life in an empty nest.

Due

You were due yesterday. Our hearts should have been full of excitement and anticipation for your imminent arrival. Instead they are full of sadness and disappointment. We should have been trying to get our heads around bringing you home and learning to look after you. Instead we are trying to get our heads around the fact that another of your siblings has joined you in heaven. This one stayed with me for an even shorter time than you did. Our hearts should have been bursting with love for a new little person. Instead they are breaking at the fact that our babies never stay with me long enough for us to meet them. We still love you all though and look forward to meeting our ever growing heavenly family. We should have been getting our house ready for you, hanging a mobile above your cot. Instead our nursery remains just the spare room & we are hanging yet another paper star on our family memorial tree.
You were due yesterday.

Yesterday was a big day.

Yesterday was a big day. It marked one year since our 8 embryos were created. It has been quite a year! All 8 embryos survived to 5 days and were biopsied for genetic testing and then frozen. A few weeks later we found out that 2 embryos were chromosomally abnormal and would not be viable so we had to let them perish, our first 2 losses. Another 2 embryos were found to have chromosome issues that may or may not result in a viable pregnancy. Those 2 remain frozen and we will decide what to do with them when we need to. Due to complications we weren't able to have frozen embryo transfer till October. That transfer ended with a negative pregnancy test, our third loss. We were shocked, we didn't expect it to fail. Thankfully we were able to try again straightaway. That second transfer gave me my first ever positive pregnancy test. Sadly it ended in miscarriage in January, our 4th and most profound loss.
Yesterday was a big day. I started taking medication to prepare my body for frozen embryo transfer number 3. I have already been buffeted by side effects but am coping. I don't know what's going to happen with this embryo. I'd love it to develop into our first baby we can hold in our arms. However as our turbulent year proves we have no way of knowing. I am trying my best to trust God but it's hard. A few weeks ago we were at the annual festival for our family of churches. It was an encouraging time. I was reminded that we are not alone and that friends and God are for us in this. I was also reminded that we took a leap of faith in doing ivf. I am still convinced that ivf is God's will for us at this time but have no idea what is going to happen.
Yesterday was a big day!

Run baby run!

Tomorrow I'm running in a 10k race to raise money for Infertility Network UK. It's the climax of my physical recovery from miscarriage and the start of getting ready for transferring our next frozen embryo. As I've been training for the race I've been thinking about the inevitable comparison with the metaphorical race of life. Going through infertility and miscarriage is like running up a never-ending hill. I'm tired, it hurts and I can't see how I can possibly carry on. But those feelings come in a physical run too. And on the most part I carry on and feel much better for it at the end. I'm really trying to carry that through to the metaphorical race of infertility but it's really hard when you can't see the end.
Last night was one of the hills in my metaphorical race. We went to the monthly board games night ran by our church. It was overwhelmed with families with really young babies. At least it felt that way to me! I lost my baby while these mums were pregnant and seeing them all together felt like a huge reminder of what I've lost. One of the babies belongs to some friends who we are enjoying getting to know better. I've been trying to psych myself up to hold their baby since she was born. Last night I did and shortly after she started crying so bad they had to go home. I know it wasn't about me but boy that was hard! It made me want to run and hide right there. But I didn't and what's more I went to church this morning. Yes I cried my way through the service but I was there. We were able to get prayer at the end from some good friends which really helped. I do feel like I am falling apart a lot of the time. There is some other stuff going on in my life just now too and I don't feel strong enough. But I have been reminded that I don't need to be! God's strong enough to carry it all.
So tomorrow I'll be running my physical race thinking about my metaphorical race. I may feel like giving up in both but I know I can survive both races.

We are not alone, really!

Last Sunday we spent the morning cheering on runners in the local half marathon. They had their names written on their numbers so we shouted out their names and have encouragement to individuals. People would hear their names and turn and thank us. At times our calling people by name made struggling walkers start running again. It made me realise that our infertility and miscarriage journey is like a race. Our friends and family have been great at cheering us on and giving us individual encouragement. However, lately I've felt like we've been running along a patch with no supporters. No one cheering us on, no one encouraging us by name. I think it's partly because nothing is really happening just now and I'm getting impatient. Also partly because I've not been able to get to church for six weeks and the midweek groups are on a break. Life has been super busy and we have been physically alone for a few weeks. We did have a lovely week in Edinburgh and were reminded of support from afar by old friends. I know we're supported, I've just not been feeling it lately.

Anyway, cheering on the runners and seeing them encouraged reminded me we're not alone. I was further reminded of this truth at church that afternoon (due to the half marathon). A word was brought about Jesus being alone in his suffering on the cross which led to an opportunity to pray for people feeling alone in suffering. I raised my hand in response without even realising what I'm doing. I was having a hard time in church. The feeling of being alone was weighing very heavy and tears were already rolling down my cheeks. We were prayed for by friend and people around us and I had a real tangible reminder that we were not alone. It was a special moment.

I'd love to say that during that prayer time the heaviness lifted and I have no longer felt alone. I did feel wonderfully supported and loved but I've had a hard time shaking the feeling of being alone all week. I'm really struggling emotionally at the moment and I don't know why. I burst into tears at the smallest thing, often at work, and feel like I've got no soft edges at the moment. I feel like a horrible person and it's hard to pray. All this is exasperating the feelings of being alone as I feel like I'm not worth people spending time with me. Work is quite stressful at the moment which doesn't help. I know I'm not a horrid person but am going through a tough patch just now. I do no we're not alone. We have the support of friends, family and God, I just need to believe it!

The storm of restoration and hope

Last week we went on holiday to Edinburgh, where we met, married and lived till 3 years ago. It was the first time we'd had quality time together since the miscarriage and really felt like coming up for air in the midst of our infertility and loss storm. I called it our restoration holiday and it definitely felt like that.

It was so nice to have quality time together to reconnect and just be together. The last year and a half every spare moment together has been spent on project IVF one way or another. Even when we've focused on our marriage it's been obvious that something else had been our true focus. We were able to talk things through and just enjoy time together.

We were also able to catch up with old friends and share battle stories together. They are fighting very different battles to is and each other but the 2 separate friends we had proper catch ups with have both had recent sufferings to deal with. They are both fighting with God alongside them in the battle as we are trying to and it was encouraging to hear stories of challenges and of hope. It also helped me realise that you never know what battles people are fighting. Infertility is, often, a really long and drawn out period of suffering with no real end if you never manage to have a child. It's also a secret battle as these things often are. You deal with things internally and many things exasperate pain inadvertantly but you carry on fighting.

Being together has helped to restore our relationship and our resilience for future battles. It has also helped to restore my hope that one day I will be Mummy. The IVF failure and the miscarriage seriously rocked my faith in God. He promised us children and twice we got close then it was taken away from us. I didn't know what to do with that. I still don't if I'm honest but I feel like I can trust God again. He's big enough to deal with my doubts and uncertainties. What's more he's tangibly been with us through all the dark times and let me get angry and whatever at him! I don't know why we've lost our babies and I probably never will but I know that God keeps his promises so we will have children. I can have hope in that. It's struck me that God never promised we would have the first baby I got pregnant with. Just because we lost these doesn't mean it's the end. We still have embryos frozen and even if we didn't the promise still stands.

We looked round the national gallery while we were in Edinburgh and came across the painting pictured in this post. It's a painting of Niagara falls by an artist I've not heard of. To me though, it speaks of our infertility and loss battles. The churned up, stormy looking waters represent the months of grief, countless IVF complications and difficult diagnoses and marital tensions. This takes up most of the picture. There's also a snapped off branch at the side which signifies surprises along the way that we get snagged on. If you look closely you can see people watching the rushing waters. I'm sure that's what some of our wonderful support network can feel like, that all that can do is look on at our stormy waters, it's only us in it, a lot of the time. However the stormy, messed up waters are not the complete picture. There are little patches of brightness and still waters. To me those are the happy times in the midst of the storms. They are the little flashes of hope that we can miss it we're not careful. The other thing I noticed in the picture was the small rainbow in the bottom right-hand corner. In the world of infertility and baby loss a child after loss is often referred to as a rainbow baby. This gives me an obvious reference to our baby that will come to us after all this storminess and struggles. It's also worth noting that there are some rough waters beyond the rainbow. A healthy reminder that our struggles will not all magically end once we get our rainbow baby. We will love our baby and be over the moon that our prayers have been answered but are under no illusions that our lives will be free from suffering after that!

Support through the pain

We finally made it to an infertility/miscarriage support group some days ago. The group started towards the end of last year and was something I knew we needed to be part of. However my crazy, short notice rota has prevented me from getting there till this month (it's a monthly group). There weren't many people there but it was such a worthwhile evening for us. Sharing stories and frustrations with people who have been through and are currently going through similar experiences was a beautiful if painful thing. A running theme in the stories shared was how easy it is to feel lonely and isolated during infertility and miscarriage. I have certainly felt that although I've had lots of support lots of the time. I'm incredibly grateful for my support network but miscarriage and infertility is such a hidden grief it's possible to feel lonely even when surrounded by supportive friends and family. Hopefully over time I can build relationships with other women in the group and we can break through the isolation together. I've found great support and release from isolation by spending time with friends who have been through similar experiences however they have kids. Sometimes that is a comforting reminder to me that children can come after tragedy. Sometimes it's a painful reminder that I'm still in the trenches. I love those friends and don't want to stop getting support there but if I can be a mutual support to someone in the group well, great!
After the group I had a virtually sleepless night. I found myself reliving my miscarriage experience in my mind and it felt even more raw and painful than when it happened. I'd also pushed myself hard in a running session that day and was in physical pain from that which didn't help. It meant the next day, which was a12 hr shift was one of the hardest days I've had in a while. I made it through by getting people to pray for me and managing to fit in a20 minute rest away from everything. I'm not going to stop going to support group because I think the benefits will far outweigh the difficulties. Next time though I'll make sure I cover myself in prayer first as I can't relive the pain every month.

No less a woman

Today is international woman's day, Sunday was mother's day. It's got me thinking about the way infertility and miscarriage have changed the way I think of my identity as a woman. I know there's more to womanhood than bearing a child and being a mother but I feel that there's a certain expectation of those roles in today's society. Everything seems to be geared towards children and families and there seems to be an expectation that the natural progression for a woman is to become a mother. I long to be a mother but it's not happening for me. I have moments when all I want to do is hide from all things baby and child related but that is really hard to do. I'm speaking as someone who wants to be Mum but can't but I'm aware that there are plenty of women who don't have the desire or inclination for Motherhood. Maybe it's because of the intensity of my desire or the obvious failure of my pregnancy but I feel like society views all woman who are not mothers as failures. I'm making generalisations here and taking about the overall view of society as a whole. I'm part of an amazing church community where I feel thoroughly supported and not at all like a failure. However the Church doesn't decide what's on TV or in newspapers or sold in the shops. It does feel like my status as a woman is lacking something and society seems to rub my face in it a bit! I'm not moaning here I'm just trying to figure out how I think about my own identity. Ultimately I know my identity is in Christ, I am loved by God whether I have a baby or not. I'm also a mother even though I have no living children. It's just hard when society seems to equate being a woman with being a mother. Especially when I would give anything to be a mother of living children.

When will this get easier?

I hate what infertility and miscarriage does to me. I hate that it makes me feel like a horrible person. I was on the tea and coffee rota at church this morning so had to be in a particular place. While I was stood at the back of the hall serving a new Mum came and sat down next to where I was standing and feed her brand new baby. Obviously then people started coming and talking to her and cooing over the little girl. I couldn't help but hear what people were saying and see how people gravitated towards them with a smile. I managed a quick glance and a smile but couldn't bring myself to say anything. My heart was breaking. I so want it to be me people are congratulating. I managed 5 minutes of forcing myself to smile through the tears and serve the tea and coffee. Eventually though it was too much. I said I needed to go to the bathroom and ran off. Once safely locked in a cubicle I burst into tears and had a good cry. This ordeal has the potential to turn me into a horrid bitter women. I'm trying really hard not to go down that road. I'm trying to let God use me in my weakness and brokenness but sometimes it's just too much. Of course right now I have a painful physical reminder that I'm no longer pregnant which doesn't help. I feel like I have failed this morning. I feel like as our miscarriage was weeks ago I should be strong enough to deal with new babies by now. Please note the I feels. I do not think these things. I wish my ache for a baby want so raw it interrupts my daily living. But it is and I just have to get on with it I guess!

Tough day

Today has been a day full of pain both emotional and physical. It's probably been the hardest day since my surgery. Why has today been so tough? Well today was the start of my first period since my miscarriage. Physically it's different to what I'm used to, heavier and a lot more painful. This is normal apparently. Emotionally it's been like experiencing all the feelings all over again. As well as the physical symptoms being more intense in guessing a lot of what I'm feeling is due to the emotional symptoms also being more intense.
On Saturday we'll be celebrating being married for 6 years and also going to the wedding of a friend. Both happy things. However, I'm really struggling as Saturday approaches. All through this journey I've wanted to be pregnant for special occasions, Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, that kind of thing. When we got the positive in December I thought I'd cover them all. Managed to be pregnant for Christmas but then it all ended. I thought then that I'd be 15 weeks pregnant by our wedding anniversary this year. I'm now approaching that wedding anniversary with a bodily reminder that I'm no longer pregnant. I've also always wanted to attend a wedding pregnant. I'm back at square one and really sad about that.
This all feels like such a struggle. After years of struggling I finally got pregnant then I miscarried. Right now I don't know how I'm supposed to carry on. I know God loves me and uses everything for good but how can there be any good in this? My prayer is that someone reading this blog finds it helpful.
Miscarriage and infertility are battles that I think need to be talked about more. Tommy's, the charity that supports people with baby loss among other things is currently running a #miscourage campaign. I've decided I'm going to add my story to their cause. I need a few days to gather my thoughts but wanted to commit myself to writing it here. Have included that commitment in this post as a way of focusing on what might be something good (sharing my story) on such a rubbish day.

Pain gets in the way

As I was walking home today I noticed a slightly harassed looking woman pushing a buggy coming the opposite way on the pavement. The baby in the buggy was really screaming. When I saw her I felt strongly that when we passed I needed to say to her "you're doing a good job". I don't know but I have a feeling this urge came from God. However, she was far enough away that I had time to think about whether I'd say it or not, and as I was thinking my pain got in the way of me being obedient to God. Instead of thinking how I would bless this stranger I started to get jealous that it wasn't me looking harassed and pushing a screaming baby. I was thinking all about me and getting cross at God again that the miscarriage meant my one chance to date at having a baby slipped through my fingers. With all that going on when we did pass I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Instead I consciously made eye contact and smiled at her. She half smiled back but probably wasn't as blessed as she would have been had I said the words. I wanted to at least show her somebody cared by smiling and noticing her. Don't feel like it's enough though.
I actually thought I was doing OK with all this. Oh well, I'm not going to beat myself up about this. I'll take it to God, receive grace and try better next time!

My Motherhood Challenge

Recently social media has been full of posts celebrating motherhood. People are nominated to post photos (sometimes 3, sometimes 5) that some up for them what it means to be a mother. As an infertility blogger and a recent miscarriage survivor I've decided to write a post in response to what is known as the Motherhood Challenge.

Firstly, let me explain my feelings when I see these posts. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people celebrate the gift of motherhood and I enjoy seeing pictures of other people's kids. For whatever reason this gift is being withheld from me for the time being but that doesn't mean I can't be happy that others get to revel in that gift. However, unsurprisingly these posts cause me pain. I was pregnant after four years of infertility, I thought I'd finally get the gift of motherhood. Now that's been taken away from me. When I see others celebrating being Mum I can't help but feel jealous and sad that I'm excluded from that joy for now. These posts also make me think of those who are mothers but who struggle to find anything to celebrate in their motherhood. Those whose children do not live with them, those with children with challenging special needs, those who have lost children, or mothers. I know my pain is vastly different but I feel a kind of kinship with these women.

My Motherhood Challenge is very real. For me the challenge is becoming a mother in the first place. My challenge involves difficult ethical decisions, uncomfortable procedures, needles, hospitalisation, artificial hormones, pessaries, suppositories, mood swings, ovulation tests, negative cycles, many internal scans, monthly grief and so many complicated emotions. As a carer for adults with learning disabilities my daily work is very maternal. So for me my Motherhood Challenge also involves longing to do the things I do for my clients for my own children.

As the Motherhood Challenge is about photos I've taken 5 images that represent my Motherhood Challenge. The first is a tree from which hangs 4 paper stars we made. Each one represents an embryo we've lost, through abnormal genetics, negative cycle or miscarriage. The second is a glass I painted, the big star is for the miscarriage and there are 7 more signifying all 8 of our embryos. The 3rd is just a tiny proportion of the paperwork we've had to wade through. The 4th is the helium balloon we let fly off in memory of our lost baby. The final image is taken from the website of the charity I used to work for. It represents the maternal aspect of my job.

One day, God willing I'll be able to do this kind of thing for real but for now this is my Motherhood Challenge.

Overwhelmed

I should have been 12 weeks pregnant today. We should have been spreading the news far and wide. I may have even been starting to show. Instead I'm back to trying to stop myself turning into a bitter, jealous woman each time I see my friends, or even strangers, interacting with their kids. This is really hard and it doesn't seem to be getting any easier. I'm really struggling with my moods. One minute I'm laughing and joking with friends the next I'm yelling at Neil for yawning! And after moaning when I first miscarried that I wasn't crying I'm now finding it hard to stop the tears.
Yesterday I went to a friend's hen do for the afternoon then played board games with hubby and others at our churches board game evening. I had a lovely time and I really enjoyed myself. But at the same time I found it really hard. I felt like I had to wear a mask. It was like I was laughing on the outside yet crying on the inside. The grief was trying to show though. I found my speech was really effortful and felt like my lips and tongue were moving much more slowly than they should. I found myself making several silly mistakes and taking ages to remember words or get the right word out.
In addition to the grief of the miscarriage a friend lost a very long battle with cancer a few days ago. Everything together has left me feeling unbelievably overwhelmed. I've also worked over 60 hours in 8 days with many many dramas to contend with. So I'm exhausted in every sense of the word.
At church this morning there were a couple of testimonies of amazing healings. I found it really hard to listen to them. I believe God can heal and it's great when he does that for others. But we prayed for 4 years for a baby. God performed healing miracles in my body in preparation for pregnancy. Then my first ever pregnancy ends in miscarriage. Many people prayed for years for my friend and yet she never received her ultimate healing. I love God but I have many questions just now.

Put yourself in my shoes

I'm currently reading Hannah's Hope by Jennifer Saake. It expounds the story of Hannah from the bible and uses it as a basis for a bible study around the subject of infertility, miscarriage and adoption loss. Hannah's story runs parallel to the authors own experiences and she picks out perspectives for different people involved in a couples journey through infertility. Last night I read the chapter that talks about how friends and family can support a couple. It stated out from a perspective of how I, as an infertile woman can be affected by things people say or do that don't mean to hurt or offend but do. It also talked about how to deal with the times that people deliberately flaunt their fertility in your face. This was in reference to Hannah's treatment from her husband's other, very fertile wife, Penninah. It basically said that you don't know what secret hurts the other person is carrying or the reasons behind their behaviour.

At the end of each chapter is a section aimed specifically at people supporting couples through this journey. This chapter ended with some direct advice for friends and family about what to do or say and what not to do or say. Reading it I found I agreed with almost every word and it was exactly what I want to say to my amazing support network. I couldn't put it any better myself, so I won't! I'm going to quote most of the last section. I'll leave out the bits that are not relevant to our situation. If you're reading this and you know us please remember these aren't my words but they are what I want to say to all you lovely people! If you don't know me hopefully you can use it as advice to support a friend or to pass onto friends if you're a fellow traveler on the infertility journey.

"Communication is imperative. You can have all the general guidelines in the world, but you can best minister to me by getting to know my heart and learning my triggers for rejoicing or heartache. When in doubt, ask me directly.
In some ways you are in a " no-win " situation. If you ignore me when it is time to send out baby shower invitations or birth announcements, it may make me feel all the more removed from normality. Yet if you do include me and I'm having an especially hard day, I may feel you have been insensitive. One idea might be to send me the same baby shower announcement that you are sending to all of our friends, but inside include a handwritten note acknowledging that you know this might bring me pain. Let me know that I am free to come or not, as I so desire, but that you love me and are praying for me.
Miriam wisely relates,

My grief has made me vulnerable, thus sometimes I misunderstand what you say to me or take your words the wrong way. Please be patient with me. I do not want you to feel like you can't say anything to me or share from your heart, for I desire for you to talk to me and be my friend now more than ever! Please do not always wait for me to take initiative to get together and talk. I need you to be the one reaching out to me. It reassures me that you haven't stopped caring about me and still desire to be with me even when it's tough. And please, don't just assume things about me during this time of mourning. Ask me and let me share with you what I'm learning.

If my miscarriage was "early", don't think my baby was any less a person, any less my child, any less significant, then if he died later in life.
I know that somehow God can work even this for His good purpose, but right now I need you to validate my grief.
Above all, please keep me in your ongoing prayers. And every now and then, call me on the phone or drop a note in the mail just to remind me that you are praying.
(Please visit www.hannah.org/resources/friends.htm for additional resources.)"

I wasn't expecting that!

The pain of this miscarriage keeps surprising me. I've just spent a lovely afternoon round at a friend's house. We had a lovely chat and I had some lovely times with her kids. Such a good distraction and a lovely change from these four walls. So I was really taken by surprise when I found myself walking home beset by uncontrollable sobs. I worked out the most painful thing for me at the moment is seeing parent child interaction. My heart aches for that, even when that interaction is getting cross and annoyed with your kids. When I got pregnant I thought I'd finally get that interaction for myself. Well that pregnancy ended in miscarriage so now we're back at square one. I don't know if we'll ever get to be parents, I believe we will but I don't know it for sure. The one real chance we had has been ripped away from us. I visit this friend loads and have done all through our battle with infertility. In fact she and her husband have been the only people I could face setting interacting with their kids at particularly difficult times for us. I guess that's why I was surprised by how upset I got today. I'm not going to stop seeing this friend as it's good for me. I guess I'm going to have to get used to getting upset at unexpected times. I found it really hard today to come home to an empty house. I'm glad I went today but it's made me realise how cruel this situation is. For four years I've been walking round with a massive unmet desire to be a mother. At the end of last year, after a traumatic year had tossed that desire around, I thought that desire was finally going to be met. I started to feel pregnancy symptoms and made plans. Now I'm suddenly not pregnant again and don't know when or if I ever will be again. The last time I was at this friend's house I was still pregnant. As it happens baby was already dead but I didn't know that and was battling that day with morning sickness, probably due to the hormones I was taking. It struck me today that now I'm back to being the not pregnant friend of Mummy. This is rubbish!

Bye bye baby

I had surgery on Thursday to complete my miscarriage. I'm almost recovered physically so we've decided this weekend is about saying goodbye and starting on the road to emotional recovery. We had a little private moment yesterday letting a balloon into the sky and praying for our little blob. That needs to be just between Neil and I and God so I'm not going to share any details of that here. But as part of our weekend of saying goodbye we thought we'd try our hands at a joint blog post. Hopefully it will give some insight into the ways something like this affects men and women differently.

What has been the hardest thing about this experience?
Cara: For me this miscarriage has taken me completely by surprise. We did IVF with PGD to lessen the risk of miscarriage. After the miracles preparing my body for IVF and the difficult year we had with treatment I thought once I got pregnant that would be it. I don't understand why God would let us go through all this to finally give us a baby after 4 years then take it away. I know he's promised us we'll have children so how can I believe God keeps his promises when this promise has been ripped away from us?

Neil: The hardest thing has been supporting Cara. Of course we've both lost a baby, but she has all the physical side to deal with as well. And while I do want to be a father, she has the mothering instinct hard wired in a way men can't hope to understand. If we ever find ourselves in the same position again, I am definitely staying with her in the hospital!

What, if anything, has made this experience easier to deal with?
Cara: It's been amazing finding out just how many people have been through something similar. It's a horrid thing but there's something comforting about knowing we're not the only ones going through this.

Neil: As Cara has mentioned in a previous post, last weekend we were at a special event for Christian couples facing infertility. The love and support we received was incredible, but in addition the timing (we booked on the event long before we knew about the miscarriage) helped remind me that God is in control, however hard that is to believe when it's all happening. Also I should say that my work have been very understanding and given me all the time off I need.

What are your hopes for the future?
Cara: Obviously I hope for a baby to come from at least one of our remaining IVF embryos. More than that though I hope that I can learn how to trust God again and rest in him to find my comfort. I know he is faithful and keeps his promises and I want to believe that is true for us again. We're having a break from treatment because I want to believe that God will be in the next treatment, I'm not there yet.

Neil: I know I'm going to be a father one day, because God has told me so. How that comes about - IVF, naturally or adoption - and when, I can't know. And I'm sure there's a lot more heartache to come, although I really hope we don't have to go through this past week ever again! Hopefully, as well as eventually having children of our own, we'll be better placed after this to minister to other couples going through something similar.

This journey is really, really, really rubbish, and that's OK!

Yesterday we went to an amazing day of talks, worship and ministry for couples going through infertility. I thought I'd write a post outlining some of what I learnt and took away from the day.

We are not alone
It was a powerful and also slightly uncomfortable experience sitting in a room full of strangers when you know something highly intimate about each of them just by their presence there. Listening to couples share different experiences of this wilderness journey was liberating in a way. I think I have quite a good support network among my friends and family but there is a unique support that can come from people who are there or have just been there. Infertility and miscarriage is such a raw, painful experience it was nice to not have to explain why I'm struggling.

Only God knows when life begins
One of the sessions dealt with some of the ethical considerations faced by people going through infertility, particularly related to IVF. One of the main questions addressed was when life begins. This was one of the main issues we wrestled with when deciding whether to do IVF. Particularly as we weren't able to only fertilise a small amount of embryos due to needing the PGD genetic testing. The answer given to this question in the session was that only God knows when life begins. We need to make our own decision and be able to live with that decision. Then God will honour us in that decision even if we're wrong. Given that we still have 2 embryos frozen that have inconclusive genetic results this was refreshing to hear. There is no right answer. We need to decide what to do with them and be able to live with that decision. Then God will honour that decision.

Jesus is bigger
This was a line in one of the worship songs we sang. I know that Jesus is bigger than this miscarriage but I didn't believe it till yesterday. Jesus is bigger and hence with his help we will get through this horrid experience. I also realised that Jesus is bigger than fear. We did IVF with PGD to negate my high risk of miscarriage due to my genetic issue. Now our first ever pregnancy has ended in miscarriage. I definitely had a huge fear of miscarriage. Now I'm in it that fear feels justified. But Jesus is bigger than my fear and he will carry us through. I'm also finding I'm reverting back to fears and phobias I lived with for a large part of my life. Particularly my phobia of being sick and the related fear of eating, particularly in public places. It made eating in the hotel on Friday and conference centre yesterday a bit of a challenge. I think it's a coping mechanism. I've not really cried for my baby yet. It's like my brain is saying 'let's be scared, we know how to be scared and anxious. We don't know how to feel this grief.' Yesterday, in the midst of my food anxieties I realised Jesus was bigger than my fear. It didn't mean I could eat without anxiety but it did mean I could trust that God was big enough to carry me through the fear.

Even when we're annoyed and angry with God we love him anyway
This was a big thing for me. I am angry at God, really angry. This baby was the result of 4 years trying and came at the end of a traumatic year battling through IVF. This was our God given baby. Now he's taken that baby away. How can that be anything but cruel? I can't, at the moment reconcile that cruel act with a loving God. I'm sure I will but not yet. But the message yesterday was that even when we're feeling furious with God we still love him. Because that's how relationship works. It made me realise that I do still love God, even though I'm angry with him. I hadn't realised both things could be true at the same time.

Infertility struggles can go on for decades and it's really, really rubbish. But that's OK!
This was my main take home message from the day. I hope it doesn't go on for decades for us, and due to our age it probably won't, but it might. We might have a child, we might not. It's OK to be a mess, to find it hard, to struggle. It's OK to not know how to cope. We will find a way through this, with or without a child but it's OK to struggle through it. We need to make sure we live life during the struggle. For me I'm going to train for a 10k race once I'm recovered from the miscarriage. It's my way of having a different focus for a few months and get healthy in the process. Then we'll be good to go into battle in the second half of the year with another try at frozen embryo transfer. And if I have difficult, rubbish days along the way, even during recovery, that's OK.

Numb

Have been trying to write this post in my head all day. Don't really know what to say. We had a follow up scan this morning after no foetal heartbeat was found last week. The scan confirmed the baby died at 6 weeks gestation, so 2.5 weeks ago. As I've not passed baby yet it's classed as a missed miscarriage. I have to go to my GP tomorrow to start the discussion about what to do next. Basically I either wait for it to happen naturally (which can take 6 weeks), take medication to induce passing baby or have surgery. At the moment I'm leaning towards surgery but we'll see. We're going to a Christian infertility retreat day on Saturday which includes a session on dealing with miscarriage. Turns out the timing is perfect.

As for how I feel the only word I can find is numb. Even though I think I knew, because I'm still technically pregnant (and feel it) I can't believe it's over. This baby has been 4 years in the making, I'm not ready for it to be over yet. You'd have thought I would have been in tears all day but I haven't shed a single tear. I don't really feel anything at all. I always take days, sometimes weeks to start to feel the emotions of difficult experiences. I feel like there's something wrong with me at the time, like I'm a robot. I want to deal with the weight of emotion linked with this sooner rather than later and an praying that God will let me cry and start the grieving process now. I guess it's a coping mechanism but I want to feel this now, not have it hit me weeks later. This happened with the negative cycle we had in October and was uncomfortable. I know there's going to be a lot of emotion to deal with here so I want to deal with it gradually. I think the retreat day will help me with this.