No Kidding 2020 Project: Day 18 - Remember

When I first experienced loss and for the ensuing years of infertility and loss and coming to terms with childlessness, there were many sleepless nights. My mind would race, go over and over events, trying to imprint it on my memory, afraid that I would forget the details, the pain that I was experiencing, the thoughts I was having about my experience. I was afraid I would forget everything I’d been through. I was afraid that forgetting was a betrayal of the babies I’d lost, of the losses my husband had experienced, and of my own desires. I was afraid too, that acceptance meant forgetting all of that.

It was odd, for me, because my memory has pretty much always been a real strength. I rarely needed to keep a diary, because I could automatically remember dates. I can remember conversations almost verbatim – it drives my husband crazy! Etc. But the fear of forgetting was strong. What I didn’t realise then was that I would never forget. And when I began recording first the hard facts – events, dates, timelines of my losses and treatments – and then my thoughts, I was freed from that need to remember.

But I also learned that remembering is not dangerous. Remembering experiences is how we learn from them. Reliving the pain, feeling everything that we felt at the time, is not beneficial, however. It keeps us in that timeline, restricts our development, and halts our healing. In those years of volunteering with dozens (100s?) of women, I’ve seen women and men who can’t move on, and who get stuck. I’ve found that it is a choice – even now I could put myself back into the mindset and emotions I experienced after my ectopics. But I choose not to, because it is not healthy. If someone really struggles to make that choice, or feels totally unable to do so over time, it is wise to seek help, as reliving, not remembering, is a feature of PTSD.  So the rule is to remember, not relive.

But why remember such a difficult time in my life? As I said, one reason to remember is to learn. By remembering my early days, I realised what helped me, and what didn’t. I remembered what stories I had been telling myself, and with the benefit of time and healing, I was able to question and challenge those. I was able to take lessons and apply them to new situations. Or at least, to know I should try to apply them to new situations, even if I wasn’t very good at doing it in practice! I’ve found that of enormous benefit in the last decade or so.

And perhaps best of all, it allowed me to recapture the love I felt. Instead of feeling guilty about the losses my husband endured, I was able to recapture the love and compassion I felt for him, for the way he dealt with the losses, for the ways he supported me. And instead of reliving the grief of losing my babies, I was able to remember the love I felt for them – before and after conception. (We all know we felt love for our babies, whether or not they were conceived or grew inside us.) Feeling that love helps me smile about my experiences. It helps me know I had it in me to be a loving mother. It helps me feel self-compassion and self-love too. Ultimately, my aim is not to remember the pain, but remember simply the love.

Remember. It helps.