Unprecented times = unprecented feelings.

Here in Aotearoa, we’re in Lockdown. Everyone is isolating at home, except those who work for essential services (places that look after our basic needs). We’re expected to stay close to home, and only leave the house to go to the supermarket, medical appointments and for some local exercise. Those that can, work from home. It’s quite crazy, but it’s saving lives, so I’m ok with it.

Anxiety shot up when the lockdown was announced – so many unknowns, so much out of our control, feelings of loss….loss of the life as we knew it.

And yet while I had all these unpleasant feelings, they had a certain familiarity about them. Quite similar, in fact, to going through years of fertility treatment. Which probably explained why I felt so tired so quickly – so many feels to carry, on top of still carrying all the infertility load. Great, a second round of feeling like you’re watching your life fall apart in to many pieces.

I’d been struggling to find things in the future to look forward to as it was, but having the few things that interest you, such as international travel, taken away, had me feeling like the world was closing in on me.

The chance of us trying one last round of fertility treatment, has always been very slim – but there was a tiny ‘maybe’ hanging there…..but when your embryos are on the other side of the world to you, and you’re now trapped on an island…it starts to feel like your world is ending, and that yet another choice is being taken away from you.

Hard not to question the universe/fate/life, whatever you call it – did I piss someone off super badly in a previous lifetime? What is the point of anything?

I don’t begrudge the lockdown. In fact, I’m pretty strict with the rules. It’s what I’m good at….following the rules, and caring for others. It’s the only way I know how to survive.

But sometimes I wish there was a bit more than just surviving to hold on to.



I’ve always been quite a sentimental person. Collecting souvenirs, making photo albums, writing diaries, remember the stories behind who gave me what for what birthday etc.

I’ve kept birthday cards, Christmas cards, letters etc from childhood through to now. I always enjoyed trying on Mum’s wedding dress, and ball gown. I think somewhere I even have some of the cards/love notes Mum and Dad gave each other in their early days together.

When I travelled I kept ticket stubs, and brochures of places I went, sticking them into photo albums when I returned home between trips.

The thing is what happens to these things? Who am I ever going to show them to? I have often thought I might end up writing an autobiography so keeping the letters and journals made sense, as ways to remember what happened at various points of my life. But currently I’m not sure why I’d write one, or who would even want to read it.

My husband’s family like telling their history to each other, passing stories down to the next generation. They also have tea sets, chinaware, silverware and pieces of furniture that get passed down. We were given a fish serving platter as a wedding gift that’s probably about 100 years old. It’s pretty neat having these things with stories that come with them.

But I’m left wondering, what do I do with them all? I’d always thought we’d have kids to pass things on to, and so have held on to things that I possibly wouldn’t have, but did just in case any of our children were interested. The things from my husbands family will no doubt be passed on to the niece and nephews on his side of the family to keep them going down the generations. But I’m not sure my family cares so much – they’ve tended to give me anything with any sentimental value, for safe keeping maybe, or because I was the only one who cared about such things.

Like the piano we have. It was the one my mum taught me to play on (the lessons didn’t last long, a teacher/student relationship wasn’t so good for us, even though I was only 8), Mum had stopped playing it years ago, and while I’ve had good intentions to get it tuned and take up lessons again, I never get round to it. Mr would be quite happy to see the back of it, and we’ve had the odd argument over it. But sometimes I wonder if maybe he has a point, do we sell it or give it away to someone who will use it, clear up some space in our house, & remove the responsibility of looking after it. What if it turns out down the track I miss it? Or we do end up having a child and I wish we still had it for them to learn on too?

What about all my diaries? Do I keep them in boxes in the garage just in case? Or do I do a declutter, and send them on their way? I briefly read one of my teenage ones when we last shifted and I was sorting things out, and my main thought was I didn’t want anyone else reading them. So do I get rid of them now (one never knows when ones last day might be) to be safe, or do I keep hold of them just in case I do ever write that autobiography.

Or my wedding dress? If I could currently fit it I might consider making it into a cocktail dress to wear again, or maybe I could keep it in case my niece gets married and wants to wear it (can’t see that happening, she’s got quite different fashion sense to me, and she has her mum’s dress waiting too). Or do I give it to someone who can’t afford a wedding dress, or to the charity that turns wedding dresses into funeral outfits for stillborn babies….

Part of me just wants to get rid of everything and start a fresh, with no memories or sentimental value, but part of me things I might regret that later. Maybe the desire to start a fresh is just a way of trying to hide from the grief, and the constant reminders that the children we wanted are’t here to pass things on to.

Puppy Love

When I was 4 a large dog put a paw on each of my shoulders and licked my face….in a friendly way….but to me it was terrifying and I had a fear of dogs for a very long time.

As a child I never had a pet – other than a few tadpoles which we released once they were frogs. I bought my husband fish one birthday and we had then for a few years….I fed them for him while he was away, but they were his….after the first few months I found them a bit boring to be honest.

My husbands family had dogs growing up, and he has always liked dogs.

Over the past 5 years or so I’ve started having more to do with dogs, friends of ours have some, so every time we visited I got more and more used to them. Then for a while my brother lived close, and he has a dog, so when they went away she would come stay with us instead of going to the kennels. It was great, I had a part time dog – all the fun, without the expense haha. And in there friends kept trying to convince us to get a dog – then their dogs would have a playmate when they came to visit. And with my husband being away a lot everyone agreed it would be good company for me….even the counselor thought it was a great idea.

But Mr wasn’t so keen….he didn’t want the responsibility, making it hard to go away spontaneously, or having the pick up the poo. I started to wear him down though, talking about fostering dogs instead of getting our own – so we could try it out. He said we should get our own instead.

We couldn’t decide on a breed we both agreed on…..and then the conversations stopped….when I asked him about it, it turned out he’d changed his mind. He didn’t want to get a dog after all. I was upset, and upset with him for not talking to me about it.

Fast forward to near the end of last year (and several conversations with the counselor encouraging us to get one) and Mr said let’s get a dog after all. I was dubious and uncertain. Around the same time friends of ours mentioned they were planning on getting one of their dogs pregnant. So we decided if they did we’d get one of their puppies, as their dog is lovely, and it would be nice to have that link.

Everyone talked about how good a dog would be for me, how healing it is having a pet. No one thought about how it might be triggering for me, least of all myself…until we made the decision to get one of our friends puppy.

There was the waiting for her to go on heat, and have a date with the puppy dad.

Waiting to find out if she was pregnant.

Mr started telling everyone we were getting a puppy later in the year…..before the puppy was even conceived. Straight to happy & excited for him. No worrying about what if’s. Appearing to have moved on from the past trauma.

Everyone told me how exciting it was, how excited I must be. It just felt like going through IVF all over again. Waiting. Uncertainty. Waiting for disappointment. Waiting for heartbreak.

The dog got pregnant, friends had seen puppies on a scan. Yet another milestone similar to IVF.

And still I couldn’t day dream. Couldn’t get excited. Dogs can miscarry can’t they? Puppies can be stillborn?

We tentatively started discussing puppy names. Arguing over them. Choosing is hard. Trying to choose reminded me it’s probably the only name choosing I’ll ever do. We never chose names for the babies we lost (other than pet names).

And then the puppies were born. And yes I was excited that day, getting updates and photos. Looking at the lovely photos of happy mama dog. Watching her lick and feed her babies. So adorable.

And at the same time, a reminder that I’ll most likely never get to nurse a baby, care for my own baby.

I am looking forward to when we get to choose our puppy, and bring it home, and building a relationship with it and watching it grow.

But I’m also stressed, about how I’ll handle such a big change and responsibility at the same time as sitting Uni exams, and at the same time as trying to carry all these feelings that keep swamping me.

NB Not my photo, and not my puppy.


Plan B….or C….or ??

Back at the beginning of 2015 I started University – studying psychology and sociology. I was at a pretty low point, having been through many unsuccessful rounds of IVF/FETs. I’d always wanted to get a degree, and I thought maybe going to Uni would be good for my mental health. I also thought once I had my degree I could become a counsellor….and provide support to people coping with IVF and loss. Who better right – first hand experience would make me a great match for this career.

Of course all my dreams about completing Uni included taking time out for a baby….
I didn’t take time off for miscarriages though….sometimes I look back and wonder how I managed to get my degree with all the other things that were going on in our lives. Other times my perfectionist bitchy voice in my head tells me I should have coped better. Duh!

The further through I got, the more complicated I realised it was. To register with appropriate professional boards I’d need to be a registered psychologist, not a counsellor. Also I was doing the wrong degree to become a counsellor. At the end of Undergrad I applied for the Psychologist programme….but didn’t get in. That’s ok, I could do my Honours degree (a post-grad qualification that follows an undergrad degree and includes a research dissertation) and then reapply. Becoming a psychologist providing support for people dealing with infertility and doing research in this area was my Plan B. If I could do that, maybe I’d have done something worthwhile, and actually be good enough, since I wasn’t good enough to reproduce.

Then our fifth miscarriage happened. Just as we moved house. Turns out that’s about my limit, and I barely survived the rest of that semester, and only just pulled off the grade requirements need to apply for the psychologist programme….. For the sake of my health and my marriage I decided to switch to studying part time. A wise idea for a change.

This year I am finishing my Honours degree, and I’ve now started working part-time. It’s full on, I’m still struggling with my head space. I’m still struggling to find a way to live in this world I don’t feel I belong in. And I’m not sure who I want to be when I grow up.

I’m not sure if I want to be a Psychologist – for a variety of reasons. But I’m also not sure if that’s because it’s so competitive to get in that it seems easier not to try. But also when I think about giving up my job to study full-time again, it actually makes me a bit sad since I like my job. I’m not sure I’m in the right place (or if I ever will be) to support people going through IVF, being that a large number of them will get the ending I always wanted. Maybe I’m just tired….this is my 5th year of studying after all….I kinda like the idea of having weekends again….

Part of me wonders if I was chasing the idea of being a psychologist because I thought I’d then feel good enough and that I’d have something worthwhile to contribute. Besides wanting to be a mum, the only other real goal/dream I had was to make a difference in other peoples lives. But maybe the work I’m doing already fulfills that, maybe I don’t need to be a psychologist in particular?

So I don’t know what Plan I’m up to or if I even want one – cos sometimes I wonder what’s the point of everything.

Sharp Moments

Again, I haven’t written for a while – surviving life takes up quite a bit of time and energy! And while I’ve had various ideas of posts to make, sometimes it feels like other’s have already posted on the same thing, so do we really need another one? I’ve also been having vague thoughts about setting up an entirely new blog with quite a different focus, so while I um and ahh about that I just don’t do anything for any blog haha.

I’ve had a few little unexpected moments lately that were like a stab to the heart, so I thought I’d just write a list of them. Might be a good way for people not living this reality to see how some of the most ordinary occasions can be painful…..and maybe you can add your own moments to the list in the comments?

  • Going to a cycle shop with a friend for them to look at new racing bikes, see a parent & child come in to purchase the child a bike. Not likely gonna get a chance to do that.
  • Friends talking about their family holiday of a life time, going to a theme park. Probably won’t do that now, yes I know I could go without kids, but then I’d be surrounded by all these families having a good time….
  • Niece starting intermediate.
  • Nephew getting prizes in sport, & the whole family congratulating him. I’d dreamed our kids would get raised in that supportive loving relationship.
  • TV shows you used to love, suddenly having pregnancy &/or a baby in them.
  • Sitting in a cafe, when a father and infant come in – just seeing the little cuddle shared, wishing it was my husband I was watching.
  • Seeing a young child at the local grocery store, buying things for their parents. I’d always dreamed of raising our child/ren in this location so they could have the safety and freedom I didn’t get as a kid.
  • When your walk to get coffee takes you past the local park where all the local kids sports teams are playing their Saturday games.’
  • Listening to your friends talk about socialising with their school mums group. Knowing that even if they occasionally invite you to events, you’ll always be on the periphery.
  • Doing a job that means you see mention of all the organisations around the country that support Mums, Babies and Families, and knowing you can’t escape a society that prioritises pronatalism.
  • Driving past the beach on a sunny day and seeing all the happy families hanging out together.
  • Logging on to FB, and seeing pregnancy announcements.
  • Logging on to FB, and seeing pregnancy loss announcements. Especially when it falls within days of the anniversary of your last loss.
  • Going to the airport, and getting blindsided by the MASSIVE billboard advertising the fertility clinic you used to go to.

It really does feel like there is no escaping reminders, but maybe I’m just over reacting?

Depression? Grief? Depressed Grief?

With my psychologies studies I’ve read quite a bit about depression (not that I’m in anyway qualified to make diagnosis or anything though) and also read about complicated grief (a ‘disorder’ that’s in the Needs More Research section of the DSM-5 – the manual for diagnosing psychiatric disorders etc). The more I learn though the more questions are raised rather than answered.

Last year one of the Uni papers I was doing looked at assessment tools used for diagnosing mental illnesses. As part of the course we were given some of the self-report scales to complete so we could experience what they are like (in preparation for sometime in the future when we may end up assessing and/or treating someone). The ones I completed gave me a score indicative of having severe depression and anxiety. Kind of confronting, but also quite understandable – it was about a month after my 5th miscarriage….I wasn’t exactly in a great space.

A few months later we started seeing a counsellor. She talks a bit about feeling peoples vibrations/energy – not really my kinda thing, but in lots of other ways she’s a great fit for us as a couple. Sometime in our first few sessions she mentioned she didn’t think either of us were depressed, just grieving deeply. Again understandable.

Fast forward a few months. I wouldn’t say I’m in a great space, I don’t love my life, I still struggle getting through most days. But compared to back then, I feel I’m doing a lot better. I get out of bed much easier, I exercise 5 out of 7 days a week (most weeks), I mostly eat ok, I’ve been putting in full days of uni work when months ago I struggled to get off the couch and settle in at my desk. I make more of an effort to socialise, and have even been going out of my way to spend time with my niblings.

At our recent counselling appointment (we hadn’t been for a couple of months what with Christmas and holidays etc), the counsellor asked if I thought I was depressed. (She used to be a GP so was coming from a medical space when suggesting this). I didn’t really have an answer. Generally I think I’m just grieving. There’s no time limit on that right? And when every day, everywhere you go, you’re confronted by what you want but don’t have, smacked round the head by reminders of what you’ve lost, surely it’s understandable to not be the best company all/most of the time….

Where is that point that grief becomes depression? When does one think about medicating grief? I read a blog post a while ago that touched on this – but I can’t for the life of me remember who’s blog it was, if you know the one I’m talking about, please link me below! If I remember rightly, it talked about maybe we need to focus less on diagnosing people who’ve been though infertility treatment with depression, and focus more on creating space for allowing their grief. But then at the same time, maybe all the IVF drugs do mess with our brain chemistry. Maybe antidepressants are a good way of rebalancing the brain after all we’ve been through. And maybe it’s as much about trying to be a nice person to be around for those close to us, as it is about finding ways to cope with the world easier?

(Image found on Pinterest, not sure who to credit)

Boxing Day Blues.

While Christmas Day itself was a non-event, as desired, it still resulted in feeling fragile. We had 8hrs in a car driving home, and besides the brunch we’d made together before leaving, we survived on petrol station food (only thing open on Christmas Day!) & candy – so by the time we arrived back in our township I was tired & cranky, and full of feels. I can only assume it was the sitting for hours with too much space to think that brought the wave of feels on. Mr then insisted in popping by his parents for a quick Christmas drink (they live 2kms from our house…), being social was the last thing I felt like doing, but he didn’t want to wait til the next day when we’d be fresh (he was going back to work late morning) so I reluctantly agreed. They’re super positive people, I sometimes wonder if they can even feel ‘negative’ emotions, so when I said “I’m ok” rather than “I’m great”, they jumped on the phrase, asking “why only Ok?” – I think I was also feeling a bit defensive, feeling like they expected me to be great because we’d been away, and I’d got my way of not having a family Christmas…..who know’s, I’m good at making stuff up so that could all be in my head. I managed to brush the inquisition off by saying I was tired from being in the car all day. They of course went on to tell us all about what Mr’s siblings were doing for the day, and all about the grandkids etc. Last thing I wanted to listen, to but I tried to appear interested & present. Then they showed a video clip of the youngest grandkid walking (he’s only just started)….the phone was handed to me so I watched that clip then set the phone down, however my FIL said ‘oh there’s another clip, just swipe for it’, I really didn’t want to watch another video of someone else’s baby walking, so just said “It’s ok” and set the phone down on the coffee table. Unfortunately it was within reach of him and he picked it up, found the clip and held it in from of me to watch….no escaping that then. Luckily Mr didn’t insist on visiting for too long and we were home shortly afterwards.

I never can tell if he just isn’t aware or if he chooses to ignore it if I don’t seem to be in a good mood because he doesn’t like dealing with the uncomfortableness. He never acknowledge the visit might have been difficult…he loves hearing about his niblings so it probably didn’t cross his mind.

Christmas Day was finally over, and I naively thought that was it. However, Boxing Day came, and with it a whole new wave of feels. I’d been so focussed on surviving Christmas I hadn’t put a care plan in place for the days after….silly really, when I know in the past the days after have been just as hard. Mr went back to work and there I was at home with only myself for company……I don’t much like my own company at the best of times. I’d thought I’d be focussed and super productive on my Uni work and therefore not have much time for feels. Unfortunately it’s really easy to be thinking & feeling stuff about non-uni related things at the same time as doing Uni work…..though my productivity levels were nowhere near as high as I need them to be….distracted by the feels, and having had a week of indulgent eating, I just wanted to eat my feels…..yes I had medicinal ice cream in the afternoon.

One too many Christmas Pregnancy Announcements finally pushed me to log out of my social media accounts and take a break – I’d planned to for the time we were away, but hadn’t…justified to myself by the fact I was watching lovely twitter people donating to charities on behalf of other twitter people (if you’re on twitter look at the #nzsecretsantasubstitute hashtag for some kindness stories). The irony of course, is without the distraction of social media, I’m even more alone with my thoughts, but scrolling mindlessly through social media just leaves me feeling lonely & left out, and reminds me of my childless state, so either way I can’t win.

Thankfully I have some fun plans in place for New Years Eve and the days that follow, so hopefully as I get further away from Christmas and closer to the New Year, the feels will reduce in intensity for the time being. And hopefully I’ll be visited by a burst of productivity that will see my Uni work actually progress! And thankfully my favourite local cafe reopened today, so at least I have good coffee to get me through!

Did you get caught out by the Boxing Day Blues too?

2018-09-07 00.18.04

Surviving the Festive Season.

If you’re like me, then from about the time you’ve been pregnant for, oh, say a minute….you’ve started dreaming of a future with that baby. This years pregnancy was no different, in the short few weeks of pregnancy I’d imagined many times over what it would be like to have a new born next Christmas (we would have had a 6.5 week old if we hadn’t miscarried). So from when we found out this pregnancy was no more, I had started dreading this years Christmas. I’d found the last couple of years hard enough, the joy of the season stolen by years of infertility treatment and loss. The thought of pasting a smile on my face to make it through a day of family, where the kids would be doted on by loving grandparents (and a loving aunt & uncle, cos I wouldn’t deny those kids my love), where the family themselves are almost ‘picture perfect’ (such a loving, functional family I’ve decided they must be abnormal!). Not helped by the fact my family has had more trials this year, resulting in more separateness in those relationships. Christmas is a tough time when your family is difficult, and you don’t have the children you desperately want.

I read various blogs on tips for surviving the season, looking for the magic solution and my desire to just run away got stronger and stronger. Unfortunately, Christmas is yet another area where my husband and I aren’t on the same page so a lot of the tips I read aren’t quite so helpful because they rely on you both wanting to avoid/manage the season. He loves his family, he loves spending time with them, doesn’t seem to be affected by the same bittersweet pain I get from being with the kids and the others. To him they’re his niece & nephew, they’re not a reminder of the cousins our kids should be growing up with. Me playing with them seems to just be me being an Aunt, whereas for me watching him play with the kids reminds me of the great father he would be, and how much I wish I could have provided him with a child. For him the only way to have a Christmas, is to spend the day with his family. And due to the tension in my family, and the nature of his work meaning at best he’s home for about 12hours on Christmas Day, all the past Christmases have been spent with his family.

So when I admitted to myself that what I really needed to do this year, was have a year away, just the 2 of us, making some new, non-traditional memories, in the hope of having a clean slate next year…..it was a struggle to get him on board with using his annual leave to do something other than spend time with his family. In a time filled with other marital stress it was a tricky situation to navigate, lots of tears were shed, and we even had to communicate via written letter. Here’s an excerpt of what I wrote (with a few changes to keep it anonymous), trying to get him to understand why I needed a year away from family Christmas.

For years I’ve loved Christmas – after the Christmas when I had appendicitis and could barely even open presents because I was in so much pain, Christmas became about family for me. That was when my favourite Aunts and Uncles might visit, our house would actually be filled with laughter for a change, there’d be people chatting round the table at meal times, unlike the silence we often had when it was just the immediate family. I could actually have conversations with people, rather than just listening to my dad or brothers talk at me. It was probably then when I really learnt to love cooking and baking for people, the family that visited always appreciated what I made – and even said so. And I loved the camaraderie of preparing meals with my relatives. There was more fun in our house then. So Christmas became even more important, because that’s when I got a taste of the sense of family I’d always wanted. When I joined your family Christmas’s, it took a bit to adjust to because you had different traditions, and different ways of doing things – but that sense of family was there from the beginning. I was overwhelmed that first Christmas with your families generosity and inclusion – well I have been all the time not just at Christmas. From really early on I knew I wanted a future with you, and I started to imagine how wonderful and amazing it would be when we had children, for them to grow up in that environment, with such generosity and love and fun and laughter and attention. As your sister’s had their kids, I imagined even more how wonderful that would be for our children, how they’d get to have a lovely relationship with their aunts and uncles and cousins. I could picture it. And I did picture it, every Christmas. And then we started trying to have a baby. I remember us being unsure about how we’d managed Christmas and going to Queenstown for my brother’s wedding (when it was first planned for the end of Dec) because we thought we’d have a new born. But we didn’t because by then we’d found out we needed IVF. And then we got pregnant, and I imagined being pregnant at Christmas, and then we weren’t. A little of the shine of Christmas wore off, but not much. And then we had the Christmas with the chemical pregnancy just days before, that really spoiled the festive season, and the same year there was all the drama with trying to do Christmas with my parents separately. And then we were pregnant again, and I imagined next Christmas being pregnant, and how the one after that we’d have a baby, and how that would be with your family, and how spoilt and loved our child would be by everyone. And then we weren’t pregnant any more. And I wanted to avoid Christmas completely, but it was important for you to be with your family, so I tried. I did less Christmassy things than I normally would leading up to Christmas because I wasn’t feeling it, and I wanted to conserve my energy, so at Christmas I could keep a smile on my face, and ignore the pain in my heart so as not to ruin everyones day. And then last Christmas we had a tiny bit of hope again so I didn’t feel I could ask for a Christmas off, I wasn’t keen on Christmas, and well, nothing with my family felt Christmassy, but we did it, we had Christmas with your family the way they wanted it, but I could still see in everything we did that Christmas all the ‘what ifs’ – that was the Christmas we should have had BabyX with us after all. And then this year, for as long as our BabyY was with us, I had imagined the rest of this year, and into next year. I had imagined having Christmas with a newborn, finally we’d have that Christmas we’d talked about, that I’d dreamed about for years. And then that was stolen from us too. And on top of that every year at Christmas someone in your family says ‘Christmas is all about the kids’…..which as we haven’t managed to produce kids for Christmas to be about (and remembering I often feel like its my fault we don’t have kids) leaves me feeling even more pain about Christmas. You talk about how emotionally drained you are from all the years of treatment and loss. That is how I feel about having to go through another Christmas, trying to smile and pretend my heart isn’t broken, and not wanting to ruin the day for everyone else, but also seeing our BabyY & BabyX & other losses in every element of the day. That’s why I want to just do something different this year, just with you. So we can make some new and different memories. So that at the next Christmas I can actually participate in it, and find the joy again, & be fully part of a family Christmas again.

Our counsellor got it straight away, but of course she’s never going to tell us what to do. Eventually he agreed, reluctantly. We booked accomodation at a place we’d never been to together, so we could do different things and make new memories together, and where we knew no one so there’d be no expectations to socialise. Apparently when he told his family we wouldn’t be around for Christmas, his sister was upset “because the kid’s wouldn’t get to see us for Christmas”…….it probably had a more to do with the reasons he told her for us going away, than her specifically, but to me, the fact that that was her first thought rather than “oh shit, my SIL is really struggling, how can we make things easier for her” says a lot about this whole f’in pronatal world we live in. I was concerned they would try to recreate Christmas on another day – which I didn’t want to do…it’s not about the calendar date, it’s about the activities that make up the day. So we arranged to have a casual BBQ with a small secret Santa gift exchange the night before we left – control what you can right.

Of course, I was fully expecting our trip away to be amazing, full of fun and laughter, easy – and putting pressure on myself to make it this way. To prove to my husband we could have a good time together, and that it was a good choice to go away. I should have seen it coming, but I’d been so busy and exhausted that week I didn’t have time for self awareness. Our first morning away I was woken by the yelling, laughing and crying sounds of kids having the quintessential Kiwi summer holiday. Followed a few hours later by the lovely arrival of period cramps. Hormones & heart ache, such a lovely combo. It’s hard to be good company when you’re feeling dizzy, nauseous and crampy. Which of course made me feel even worse, that he wouldn’t have a good time & would regret agreeing to going away. That it wouldn’t be a good trip for us to reconnect with each other. That it wouldn’t be the solution to Christmas I was looking for.

I got even shittier with the situation and myself as we wandered around the township we were staying, and it was filled with happy families and pregnant bellies.

The grip the hormone gremlins had on my brain and body eased somewhat, and we did have good times, did things we hadn’t done before (like horse riding on the beach) and made some nice memories. I also realised it was better than a family Christmas – despite all the reminders, it was just the usual reminders I’d get on any summer holiday, rather than specific Christmas reminders to our family. I allowed myself to accept that while it was easier than dealing with a family Christmas it was by no means easy, and nor should I expect it to be.

Because after all there is no escaping the pain of heart break.

DSC_0741 (1)PS This is one of my own photos for a change.

World Kindness Day 2018

Today, Nov. 13th is World Kindness Day. It’s my kinda day – with all I’ve been through I’ve lost my belief in a lot of things, but I still believe in kindness….probably even more strongly. A charity I’m part of, Good Bitches Baking, has the goal to make New Zealand, Aotearoa the kindest place on earth. Gotta love a good ‘fuck off’ goal, and I definitely love this one. They’re asking people to start conversations about why #KindnessMatters to you, and to make some noise about kindness. So I thought I’d write a post about the different kindnesses I’ve been on the receiving end of during our infertility trials. (And it’s a good way to take a moment to focus on the positives and feel gratitude which they say is good for healing…win win really!)

  • My best friend lives in another city, several times she posted me ‘just because’ gifts and sometimes she even posted me cake. Besides the fact I love getting mail, having something pretty or sweet turning up unexpectedly in the mail really made my day – it was what got me through another week sometimes.
  • My Mother-In-Law and Sister-In-Law, on a couple of different occasions, left dinner on my front door step while my husband was away, so when I got home from University classes I didn’t have to think about making myself dinner. And there was generally enough for another night or 2 too! Having one less thing to think about freed up a little mental energy which made a bit more space for coping.
  • A friend, who (in the nicest possible way) I hadn’t thought was super close, sent us flowers after the 2 miscarriages she knew about, and recently texted to see how I was doing, knowing it was about the time our baby would have been due.
  • My siblings and parents chipped in for two of my sister-in-laws to surprise me with a night away, winery tour, shopping, sunshine & lovely company. It’s a good distraction when you feel like your world is falling apart.
  • My brother stopped by to say hi, and brought me coffee.
  • A new (as in length of time we’ve known each other) friend offered hop on a plane and come spend the weekend with me so I didn’t need to be alone with my grief. That thought meant a lot. Same friend also sent ‘just because’ gifts that really showed she knows me.
  • A person I met in an online support group, joined my Christmas Ornament swap, and sent me an extra special Christmas decoration along with the ornament. Sometimes people you haven’t actually met in real life can be life savers.
  • Friends got together and organised the delivery of a care package after our miscarriage.
  • Another brother and his wife, bought us a plant to remember one of our babies by.
  • The nurse that prepped me for my first D&C, called me a mum, and very gently talked through the process.
  • Dr Devora Lieberman from twitter sent me a copy of her book.
  • A group of friends who I met through Twitter, but have transitioned to offline friends too (not that online only friends are any less!) organised a email roster – so I got an email every day of our last treatment. It was truely an amazing thing, to receive an email from someone who cares about you, every day, with no expectations of engagement/response. A small moment of care & distraction that got me through each stressful day xx

And while I’ve mentioned a lot of ‘things’ being delivered or given to me, it’s not about the things. It’s about the fact that someone took the time to think about me, and to let me know they were thinking about me. I can feel lonely at the best of times, so when life is a struggle those lonely feelings can amplify, having someone reach out in those times really makes a huge difference.

Let’s keep this conversation going – what kindnesses have you given or received? Why does #KindnessMatter to you?

*Disclaimer: this is by no means an exhaustive list of all the kindnesses I’ve been on the receiving end of.