Fertility

It’s not because you’re not happy for them… it’s because you’re sad for you…

Yesterday I spent some lovely quality time with my mum. It was great to see her properly and get the chance to have a proper chat without me having a ‘fuzzy’ head (either from prescription painkillers or recovering from horrific surgery).

We trawled through the rails of a new vintage shop (that’s a bit oxymoronic!) and had high tea at a Victorian tea rooms near my mum’s house.

It was wonderful.

However, the conversation naturally fell to babies.

As always.

As it will probably continue to be for a long time to come.

I joked to my mum, “If one more person I know announces they’re pregnant I’m going to go crazy!”

Obviously that’s not the case, but I am feeling incredibly down whenever somebody announces their pregnancy. I know I shouldn’t, and I know it’s horrible to be unhappy when somebody else is happy. But it’s very very difficult. Any of you struggling with infertility and this maternal ache that never leaves you will understand how depressing and lonely this whole thing is.

Last night I reactivated my Facebook account as I’ve felt a little out of touch with the world. It’s been a blessing and simultaneously a curse, being off social media. Going back on to social media has also been both a blessing and a curse. I scrolled down my “top stories” in a bid to catch up on ‘important’ news I had missed in the month I’ve been off the social network. There it was. One pregnancy announcement. Great… how ironic after saying to my mum I would go crazy at one more announcement. I didn’t go crazy. I didn’t express any emotions outwardly. Just another piece of me died inside. I felt selfish for being so pissed off at this person for being pregnant. I felt disgusted at myself for thinking things like “how come she deserves a baby and not me?” “for years she’s said she could take or leave having children and now she’s pregnant.” “she’s 40 and left it until now to decide she wanted a baby and she’s got one straight away.”

Then, when Mr Mad fell asleep last night, I lay in bed crying for an hour until I eventually dropped off into an emotionally induced slumber.

I know, I know, I’m a horrible, awful, mean person.

But I can’t even begin to put into words how heart wrenchingly difficult this whole experience is.

While she’s whinging on her status updates about not being able to fit into size 6 jeans anymore, due to her ever-growing bump, I’m sitting alone in an eerily quiet house wondering what my Sundays would be like if I had a toddler running around.

Somebody who shall remain nameless and faceless often likes to tell me I live a shallow existence (needless to say, this person is not, and will never be a friend). I wonder if she’s ever stopped to think that the reason I have a lot of possessions and a lot of things is because I simply can’t fill my life with children. That I wasn’t fortunate enough to have my baby 3 years ago, because he or she was gone before he or she even really properly existed. That I didn’t get pregnant “by accident” at 19 and spend most of my life travelling the world with my baby, bringing him up and spending quality time that I will never get back. I’ve spent years, by the way, wishing I could get pregnant “by accident”…. none of these things she even considers.

Sometimes  most of the time, I wish people could put themselves in my shoes, and actually feel what it’s like to be me and be going through this hell. Everything I have I would give up for a baby. I’m sure most, if not all, women who are experiencing infertility feel like this. That doesn’t stop us from feeling incredibly lonely and isolated.

It’s even harder when your partner doesn’t fully understand either.

They try, bless them, they really do, but I don’t really think men can ever feel what we feel, because they can’t carry children. They don’t have that innate instinct in them that makes their bodies feel the need to create and carry a child, or to mother a child. Mr Mad tries his best, he really does, and he’s an absolutely wonderful husband (to be!). But quite often he just doesn’t get it. Especially now that I’ve had surgery. He seems to think I am “fixed” – that the surgery was some miracle cure and now we will be able to get pregnant whenever we choose to. So now that’s a major issue too, because he doesn’t want to try anymore. Apparently it’s not the “right time”. Apparently we should start trying “next year after the wedding and our holidays that we’ve booked.” Obviously I can’t force him to try… but when I try to explain I just know that we won’t get pregnant within the next year anyway, he dismisses it and brushes it off. He doesn’t seem to understand how empty I feel, or how painful my need to be a mum really is. I don’t want to wait and prolong things again. I don’t care if I’m pregnant at my wedding. I don’t care if I have to cancel a holiday because I’m due to give birth. None of those things matter to me as much as having a baby… having a family… doing the one thing I have always wanted, above everything else in my life.

I just wish things would get easier, and that people would stop telling me, “it will happen soon, you’re young, you’ve got years yet.”

Like that makes any difference…

others pregnancy

 

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Moving on and letting go…

For reasons that can’t (or, rather, shouldn’t) be discussed on here, just in case, I have had a lot of thinking time the past few days. Furthermore, I’ve had a lot of time to realise sometimes (most of the time, actually) it’s good to move on and let go.

Elsa-Singing-Let-It-Go

I’m going to go off on a bit of a tangent now (what’s new?!) because while I was downloading that image it sparked an amusing image of me at work… I often wear my hair in a side plait for work as I don’t really have all that much time to get ready in the mornings (I’d sooner choose sleep, then going in early to get my printing and photocopying done before the mad rush!). Several times this year my kids (not my kids, rather, the kids I teach, but all teachers call their classes “my kids”… it’s both a blessing and a curse of the job!!) have mentioned I look like Elsa when I wear my hair like that. It’s cute! I like the idea of being both beautiful and deadly at the same time! I often tell them I am embodying Elsa and that if they ‘cross’ me I will freeze them! (Please note, sarcasm only tends to work with older children/teenagers, year 7s in particular get very frightened when you talk about freezing them!!)

Anyway… yes…

My last blog post was very negative, but I won’t apologise, as I was feeling very negative at the time. I was feeling let down and hurt. I needed somewhere to vent and release my emotions and writing has always always provided that outlet for me. Nobody can take that away from me, especially now I have found my little corner of the internet with people who relate to me and understand me (thank you, lovely people, for sticking with me throughout this horrific, emotionally draining journey!!).

I’ve had time to reflect, because I am not back at work until Thursday (hooray, finally! I can have social interaction again!!).

This evening I went through all of the old backups of my old computers (I have a habit of keeping everything, even if it brings back bad memories) and I deleted every single trace of my crazy ex. Several years have passed since I lived with this moronic demon, and I literally have no reason to keep any ties to him whatsoever. The restraining order has lapsed, granted, but I doubt he will ever attempt to come near me again. For some reason (maybe sentiment, who knows?!) I was keeping hold of photos, little mementos, copies of messages/emails etc. This evening I permanently deleted them all. I need to let go of so many things in my past that have been holding me back, and for no good reason either. I am finally in a place in my life where I can say that most things are good. I need to remind myself of that, too. For a start, I have Mr Mad, and he is absolutely wonderful. Yesterday I also realised that I am incredibly lucky to still have my parents. My parents are wonderful. No matter what, they back me up and support me. After losing both my grandparents at a relatively young age (Grandad at 16 and Nan last year at 23) I have a new found appreciation for my parents, as I realise they will not be around forever (although I really really wish they could be!) Take yesterday, for example, I made the 50 minute drive to my parents’ house (also my childhood home) and I spent the day sitting in the garden with my mum, dad and brother, chatting, reminiscing, helping my brother set up his new iPhone (which was a birthday present from me, because he’s still a student and deserved a) bringing into the 21st century and b) a treat because he’s had a rough few years with his health). I spent so long with them in the garden that I didn’t even realise I was getting sunburnt! But I did realise something… no matter what, I will always always have unconditional love from my family, and that isn’t something to ever take for granted. I have wonderful parents and a wonderful brother. They have always supported me, despite the thousands millions of mistakes I have made, and they are always there when I need love and comfort.

This brings me on to my next ‘epiphany’…

This evening, I sat soaking in the bath (with my horrifically sunburnt shoulders well and truly out of the hot water!) and, for the first time ever, thought “What if teaching isn’t actually for me?” Don’t get me wrong, I love my job… well…. I love the in the classroom bit… making children’s lives better, introducing them to a world of literature and language and showing them everything you can do when you have a proper grasp of the English language, showing them that they can succeed, no matter what background they’re from and no matter what challenges they face in life. However, the British education system is gradually being torn apart and ruined. There are so many politics involved in teaching now, I don’t even know where to begin to explain to my international followers (so I won’t even try!!) It’s also a very very intense job. You have to commit at least 60 hours a week to it. Your work doesn’t stop when you get home – it carries on. I am concerned, majorly concerned, in fact, that when I eventually get my little miracle, I won’t be able to spend enough time with them, and they will grow up so quickly and I will miss out on so much. I don’t want that. I want to be a mummy. I want to be there. I want to witness all of the important moments. I want to pick them up from school and ask them about their day. I want to spend evenings with them and have a proper bedtime routine, bathing them and reading them a bed time story, without constantly having “I hope this doesn’t take long as I have a shit load of marking to do and resources to  prepare for tomorrow” in the back of my mind. I want to be. 

I obviously haven’t made a concrete decision yet, as it was literally an hour ago that I opened my mind to the possibility that I could do something else. I always felt like I was born to teach, but what if that isn’t actually the case? What if I am actually meant to do something else, but I’ve never taken the time to explore other options, as I was so hell bent on becoming an educator?

It’s a lot to think about.

But something I do know for certain…

I am determined to be happy.

I am determined to make the most of whatever precious time I have on this earth.

I am determined to get to the end of my life with few regrets, and I hope those regrets are “I wish I’d done xyz” rather than “I wish I hadn’t done xyz.”

As a teenager, I was a geeky, weird, strange goth girl who nobody liked. As a (relatively) young adult, I am still that geeky, weird, strange goth girl who nobody likes… but, y’know what, I’m actually beginning to be okay with that. I like who I am, I am happy with who I am, and it’s people’s quirks that make them individuals and make them interesting. I will never be a sheep, and I will probably never fit in. But that’s okay.

I have decided, particularly as a middle finger to those who have tried to bring me down, both recently and in my past, that my mantra for life is going to be this…

don't let anyone dull your sparkle

I sparkle in my own way. And I like it. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.

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Another set back…

…and one I can’t talk about because I’m constantly being watched/spied on by people who have no authority to do so.

I do hope they don’t know about this blog, but currently I am believing anything is possible.

I feel awful this evening. Like I have been hit by a tonne of bricks and I will never ever recover.

I am struggling to find the positives in anything right now.

This condition, and this surgery, has literally destroyed my life, in more ways than I ever thought possible.

All my life I’ve been the girl who never quite fit in.

I really thought that as an adult that would change – that I’d finally find people I could connect with and could trust. People who wouldn’t want to destroy my life just because they don’t like me.

Well I was wrong.

The adult world is even more brutal than the child/teenage world.

Is there a term for lower than rock bottom? Because that’s me right now.

I have no strength.

No positivity.

Absolutely nothing to pick me up out of this dark, deep abyss.

All I want to do is give up and give in.

There is no fight left in me and I am broken.

Completely broken…