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!