What Childlessness Taught Me

This is the first World Childless Week I have not really joined. Ironic, when I was named this year as People's Champion. But it has almost passed me by. Oops. Though I think I have a good excuse this year. Go and check it out (link below) and see all the activities and submissions and webinars that are still to come.

I did however write a submission, and you can find it here, and other wonderful writing here (and I've included the links below to follow easily) on the theme 10 Things You Should Know About Me. (Mine is the first on the page). 

These are ten of the myriad things that childlessness (and pregnancy loss and infertility) have taught me:  

1.      That being childless was not a reflection of my worth, and that I have nothing to prove

2.      That I would learn many things from adversity; some good, some bad, all useful

3.      That finding joy in little everyday things can be a lifesaver

4.      That what people say to you or about you says so much more about them than it does about you

5.      That it is okay to be vulnerable, and to surrender to loss to allow new hope to grow

6.      That I need to take care of myself

7.      That there is no Next Big Thing, just life, and that’s enough, and can be wonderful

8.      That honest self-reflection is life-changing; writing online was my way of doing that out loud

9.      That all these things add up to resilience, but being resilient doesn’t mean we don’t hurt, and being strong doesn’t mean we don’t feel weak

10.  That I will be okay, even when unexpected horrible things happen. That knowledge (or at this stage, hope at least) is giving me strength following the recent death of my husband.

 

Useful links:

https://worldchildlessweek.net/ 

https://worldchildlessweek.net/10-things-you-should-know-about-me 

https://worldchildlessweek.net/weds26-2/what-childlessness-taught-me

 

World Childless Week People's Champion

 I am honoured to tell you that I have been selected as this year's World Childless Week People's Champion.

You can find the announcement here on the World Childless Week website. A more detailed bio and comment is here. Oh, and a big close up photo of me in front of one of my camellias.

I have long supported World Childless Week, writing submissions and urging others to do so as well, to ensure a variety of voices are heard. It's a truly international venture, based in the UK but celebrated and recognised throughout the world, and including contributions from women and men across the globe.  

But I have been writing here (and prior to this, on the Ectopic Pregnancy website) for years before that. Come November, I'll have been here at No Kidding for 16 years. My commitment to providing a safe but honest space for women and men who are facing a life without children has been unwavering, and I am proud of that.

I want to thank those who nominated me for this honour. I have my suspicions that I might know who they are (😉), but whoever it was, I am grateful for the recognition. If there's one thing I've learned on this community, it is that they are giving and loving, and that support goes both ways. Sending love to you all.

 

  

 

Helping others helps

I've had a rough few days. It comes and goes, but is tough when I don't get out and see people. But today, I had arranged to see a friend before she travels for a few months. I will miss her when she's gone. One less person to put on my "keeping-me-sane" roster. It's not that full either. 

But during our brief chat, we mentioned two things that are useful when we travel. The first is a debit card with good exchange rates and easy use (the Wise card), and the second was an esim. She asked for help. Because we'd met close nearby, it was easy to drop back to her house and work through setting both things up. She's iPhone and I am android, but the apps are generally the same, so after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing and back and forth, we managed to set up both apps on her phone, upload some currency into one, and purchase and install the esim.

I left feeling so much better than on the drive there. Though driving home via the bays, seeing the harbour at high tide in full sun, helped too. 

Grief and its toll

I've always said writing helps. And it really does. But in the absolute depths of grief, writing has been, and still is, too hard. I could pour my heart out here. But I've never really done that in this space, not in the midst of the experiences, not as I am trying to roll with the feelings, and just get through each day. Yet my brain keeps trying to make sense of it. So today I've been trying to write things down - yes, actual handwriting! What a novelty. But at times, it just feels that that is what my brain needs. 

It's now been almost seven weeks. The passage of time feels unbearably cruel. Yet I feel as if he is still with me.  Because he is with me and he always will be; we have over 40 years of memories together. They will never go. And so it's not a case of having to reprogram my brain, which I talked about after the final diagnosis that I would never have children. I'd been so used to thinking "when I have children" that I needed a complete brain reset. And that was hard, every realisation a sharp shock. Especially when the prevailing attitude from everyone around me was always that I had to keep hope. "Think positive" - ugh! But this is different. I've had over a year knowing that he was going to die, though we didn't think it would be quite so soon. But that doesn't make it any easier.

I'd forgotten how exhausting grief can be. I'd forgotten too how exhausting it is trying to "stay strong." Just as any of us who have been to child-centred activities would get home feeling depleted, anything I do now that is a reminder of D (which is pretty much everything) takes a toll. Staying strong - ie not weeping and wailing - with friends (even when the tears do come) or with tradesmen or lawyers or at the damn supermarket takes a toll. Even writing through the grief takes a toll. Which is why I'll stop here today. Thanks for reading. And if you are suffering loss in any way, recognise that it takes a toll, and be kind to yourself.

Childless, and now, Single

My husband died late last month. It still seems unbelievable to write it, let alone say it or live it. In the end, things happened quite quickly. We spent a (largely) peaceful week or so in the local hospice, with (mostly) wonderful staff and volunteers, and space for family and friends to visit, and a nice view across a valley, much like life here at home. I was able to stay with him the entire time, which was a comfort to us both.  

My sister and brother-in-law, who had stayed with me just a week or so earlier when he was in hospital, and had fed me and supported me and chauffeured me when I was exhausted, jumped in their car on very short notice to drive seven hours to be here to support me. They were amazing, took over everything, made the hard phone calls, organised the small gathering we had to honour him, and helped organise people too. Other family were here, and after they all went home about 12 days later, friends have been checking in on me. I have been lucky to have that support. 

But having so many people around so intensely was at times overwhelming. I felt I had no time to grieve. But maybe that's why we do it that way. The brain and heart has to catch up with reality. And now that I'm alone, I can mourn freely, whenever the moment hits me, knowing that I can also be strong around others.  

One thing that has surprised me is that receiving messages, texts, emails, whatsapps etc, having actual conversations chatting about anything, makes me feel much less alone. They are real connections, and very important. Physical presence hasn't been essential every day, if I've been chatting to my sister-in-law in Australia, or my friend in Thailand, or my sister in the north. Messages are also much easier to respond to, when I weep at the drop of a hat. (When writing this, for example.) Responding to heartfelt messages takes a toll though, so I am doing that very slowly.

Thanks to neighbours and wonderful blogging friends, my freezer is almost overflowing with food. Cooking is not so much the problem. Going out to the supermarket is. I went once, and was surprised how hard it was - walking past his favourites, picking up only enough for me, answering questions at the checkout. So knowing there are ready-made meals waiting for me is a great relief. I am extremely thankful for their support. 

I have a long list of things I need to do. Some of it feels overwhelming. Some of it is routine. But it is all hard, though I'm trying to force myself to get at least one thing done each day. I'm not sure how soon or how often I will be able to write here again. I might need the outlet, I might need privacy. 

We were together since our university days. We grew up together.  We shared everything. Together we learned and explored - ideas, activities, and the world - in ways that we might not have done apart. I am who I am because of him. But now I have to learn to be alone.