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!