Loss and the community

The lowest time of my life was when I was going through pregnancy losses and infertility. The loss of my parents was less traumatic, both because it was signalled in advance, and because my life really was separate from theirs on a day-to-day basis. But the pregnancy losses, infertility, and discovery that I would never have children changed my life - or rather my vision of it at the time - in a fundamental way. There was a lot I had to come to terms with. Failure to get the outcome I had tried to achieve. Isolation and "otherness" from society. Recognition of my own mortality. Acceptance of my body's limitations. Judgement, pity, and condescension from others. The list is longer than this. I also remember a time when I really didn't want to go on. Though I'm glad I did.

I've been thinking a lot about that in recent weeks. How I don't want to feel those depths of despair again, but how I know I will. How I got through them and came out the other side. How I had my husband with me during that entire time. How physical touch said volumes when words couldn't. How isolated I felt from most of my friends who were actively parenting at the time. How finding my tribe online really helped. How my family wanted to understand but didn't. How people were afraid to talk about it with me.

It's weird how that going through a health issue is both similar and yet very different. Similarities include  finding that "worst case scenarios" can and do suddenly get worse and worse, and each time we adapt. Loving each other becomes so much more important. Taking enjoyment in the little things helps us cope. A focus on what's important - food, sleep, connection - also helps. Oh, and the platitudes too are the same. "It will happen" turns into "get well soon" or they'll "pull through, I know."  I'm remembering too that emotional turmoil is exhausting. 

But there are differences too. And whilst I'll talk about this more in the future. There's one difference that has been startling. Friends and family are concerned, offer help, send or bring food. I've told them to pace themselves - at the moment we don't need too much. There is community support, both in health terms and in support networks. So far, no-one has really distanced themselves from us - digitally or physically. Certainly not unexpectedly. But having a particular illness that is known and understood in the community, even if it is rare and aggressive, brings connections and support that pregnancy loss and infertility did not. There isn't the shame or judgement or just silence that I experienced around infertility and pregnancy loss. 

Isn't that sad? Even though I welcome that unfamiliar level of support today, I feel sad that people going through infertility right now still feel that isolation. And just want them to know that we have been there, and understand, and send love.

 

 

 

Disrupted plans

I started blogging here when I was at least seven years past learning I would never ever have children. I'd done a lot of grieving, expressed some of my feelings online with friends in a restricted space. I've never done the full emotional download onto my blog that some others have done. And now I know my blog is connected to my own, real name - as connected as I feel to Mali, who has been my online persona since 2006.

I remember some years ago seeing someone say (online, not one of my beloved bloggers) that their plan for their childless old age was to stay healthy. At the time I remember thinking (and writing here) that that wasn't a plan, it was just putting their head in the sand. My parents lived fit and healthy lives, but the ends of their lives were difficult. Genes and cancer had other ideas. Looking at them, I knew I needed to plan. I know now how right I was.

I just thought I'd have a few more years before they were necessary. My husband and I are going through some pretty serious health stuff right now. It's caused me to realise that even my relatively cautious plans have now been blown out of the water. I'm going to take a step back from No Kidding in NZ. I'll still blog, but just not every week. Because there's a lot going on in my head at the moment, and I don't want to write it all down for public consumption. And it's hard thinking of topics to write about when my every thought is about another issue. 

But living in the moment helps. Finding joy in a lovely day, good food, a joke. I wrote about it in my 2020 Healing series, and Gifts of Infertility under Mindfulness. It helps each day pass. I don't apologise for the repetition.

 

When friends have to be our family

A friend reminded me a while ago that family isn't everything. She's someone who has stepped up for childless uncles and aunts, and knows my story very well. One of the few IRL friends and family who reads here. We've both had to help parents and in-laws in their old age. And she's starting to downsize for a move towards her own family - not far in distance, but a big change - to fund the retirement lifestyle they want to have. (Again, another reminder for me to clean up here. Yes, the universe is trying to tell me something.)

I made a simple comment about having to ensure we are somewhere safe earlier than most people might have to think about it. People with children that is. And she reminded me that when family aren't around - either because of geographical (or emotional) distance or their non-existence -  that friends are there to help. And even friends kids. She pointed out that we've been friends for almost 30 years, and her kids have always known we are part of the fabric of her life, even if we don't know those children well now (they're grown and in their 30s themselves). She's sure they'd be around for us even if she or her husband couldn't be. And I've been reminded too that others feel the same way. 

Family doesn't have to be focused on only parent-child relationships. It can have a much wider definition. Blood, or not blood. Related, and not related. We need to remember that.

Vulnerability

Further to my post last week, maybe a renewed sense of vulnerability can encourage me to make some changes/put in precautions. Things happen. Little things. Big things. But we can't stay with our head in the sand thinking that "things won't happen until we are old." Because "things" don't always wait!

I know that those who are childless are not the only ones who feel vulnerable at times. Those who have children who aren't close - either geographically, or emotionally - must feel the same vulnerabilities. Those living alone must have a heightened sense of their own vulnerability. It is yet another example where the saying "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" doesn't work. It also reminds us we're not immune from bad luck. Ignorance truly is bliss. But I'm not sure I'd like to go back to the ignorance, despite everything. 

Sending out love to anyone who is feeling vulnerable at the moment. You are not alone.

 

Ageing without children: Self-motivation needed

I have been thinking a lot about ageing without children recently.So far, I've talked a good game, but haven't done very much. I need to work on my to-do list. I'm still young enough that I don't have to have done anything major just yet, but a recent conversation has inspired me to get cracking! Here's an update on previous posts:

Making a Will that I am relaxed about with still hasn't eventuated. We made Wills before our trip to Europe last year, and they are okay. We changed quite a few things, and had a number of deep conversations and made different decisions than ten years earlier. But it still feels a bit piecemeal. We really need to settle on something we can live with (or, more accurately, die with) for the next five or ten years. It's really hard when some members of our family don't need any money, and one or two others do. It's difficult too when we actually want to make a difference in the wider community, and in the medical research community, but can't really decide where or how. A quandary.

I know I need to think about a Power of Attorney. But aside from the Husband, I don't really want anyone else making decisions about me! I know that's not realistic, and I know I could write something like a living Will. But how likely is it that people will follow it? Sigh. Chalk it up as still on the list.

Downsizing our lives is much higher on my list now than it was a few years ago. There are a lot of things to do before we move - we have major maintenance to do, and want to finish off a few other jobs around the place. But it is something I'm much more aware of. I need to look around for where we might live, get an idea how we can downsize. Our current place is three-four bedrooms, and quite large. We've lived here since the 1990s, and whilst we've cleaned out quite a lot of things over the years that we no longer need or want (eg university papers, etc), there's a lot more that needs to be done. I did some decluttering last year, and felt good about it. So I'm hoping I can get into that some more this year too. But the frugality I was raised with, and my resultant need to keep things that might be useful in the future, means that I struggle a little with this.

On the bright side though, I'm not really acquiring new things, unless they are replacements. I'm wearing a T-shirt today that I just realised is over ten years old, and yet I think of it as relatively new. Sure, I have newer T-shirts. Yes, we want a new TV, and need new armchairs. But I don't feel the need to shop. I find that quite liberating. Yes, I like new things. Yes, I will buy new things if I need them, and get pleasure from that (if I can find something I like). And no, I don't want to be like my MIL who, in her late 60s, told me that at her age she shouldn't buy new things. She lived for another almost 30 years! But I'm not establishing myself or my house either. So I can be much more picky about what I spend money on, and what takes up space in my house. I like that. 

I think we will need an interim place - somewhere without stairs, and more manageable than a section on a hill with lots of greenery - for the next ten years. I'm starting to think about where that might be, and how we might live. We survived for three months in one bedroom apartments, but I think we need something slightly bigger. But we don't need a house this size. And we need to clean it out long before it becomes too hard. 

Ultimately, the plan is maybe to move into an assisted living facility. I've read some No Kidding bloggers who are horrified at the prospect. I'm not. (I think I can see another post coming about this.) Hopefully, we will still be able to afford to do that. Prices are rising rapidly, and our income is not. Trump-induced stock market falls do not help retirement savings! At the same time, we want to continue to travel. So we're being quite frugal in our day to day lives. I like to think that a few dollars saved on my groceries somehow compensates for a three month trip overseas! Yes, I'm delusional!

Finally, building my social network is slow. I'm socialising with friends regularly, but still haven't joined any groups to extend my friendship circle. Yep, like everything else, that's still on my list.

Please forgive the repetition. I think I use these posts as motivation to actually get things done! Let's hope it works.