Continued Connections

Back in November, I wrote about Connections. A few days ago, I was pondering why I still write here. I started late (though was writing elsewhere), but I've still been writing here for 14 years, which is a long time, and a lot of thinking around not having children, the joys of that (and there are indeed joys, believe me), the loss and the sadness, and how I managed to heal. No Kidding in NZ is only ever about my thoughts on living life without children. I've kept it separate from A Separate Life, and various other writing or travel blogs. (See About Me here to connect with those if you are interested, including a new travel blog.) 

Many people of my vintage no longer write about their journeys. They, like me, have found that their lives are no longer dominated by thoughts of being childless (or childfree, depending on the day), and have moved on. I'm loath to do that, though, simply because I value the connections I have here, and with others who are still writing. I keep a lot of those connections alive elsewhere - whether it is through social media, private messageboards, other blogs, or zoom chats, my life is so full of connections that have only ever come about because I tried to have children, lost pregnancies, and never became a mother. But meeting in person is something special, and on my recent trip I was able to do that.

In Liverpool back in November, I met up with a long term friend from the ectopic message boards. We had met in person once before. I was in Switzerland visiting a friend, corresponding with my Liverpool friend who I had unfortunately missed in the UK a week or so earlier. "Invite her over," said my generous friend living in Switzerland. So I did. And she came, just for the weekend, to meet me! It was so lovely.  (And once again made me so envious that so many of my friends were in the UK, and could more easily meet up with each other.) So when I mentioned I was coming back for a longer trip, albeit 15 or so years later (!!!), she said she'd love to meet. We arranged a day, met at a train station along with our husbands, and they showed us around the city of Liverpool. Our husbands seemed to hit it off, and we had much more to chat about than our long ago history of lost pregnancies. 

But we did, at one stage, talk about how concerned we were about political changes around the world. She mentioned that someone had asked who she was meeting that day (as she was not going into work). She explained that if policies in some states in western nations had been in place back in the early 2000s, neither of us would be alive. So it was something to celebrate, our survival of a dangerous condition, and also something to mourn, that women in the 21st century might still suffer under unthinking policies put in place by ignorant politicians, making doctors unable or unwilling to provide appropriate medical attention. Then we turned to happier thoughts, delicious Asian food, and finally a fond farewell.

About a week later, I met up with another friend from those days. We had shared an estimated due date - my second ectopic pregnancy, and her first daughter.  We had chatted a lot in those days, finding a shared interest in travel and politics and wonderful books. I stayed with her once when her daughter was very young, and we met up in London or in her gorgeous English village twice more. But she had a second daughter, and life became very busy. We drifted, our correspondence gradually petering out, except through social media. But I contacted her and asked if she was keen to reconnect. 15 years (or more) since we had seen each other, it felt as if no time had passed at all. Our shared love of books led her husband to suggest we all meet at a pub once owned by Thomas Cromwell and then Anne of Cleves. Promises to come to New Zealand hopefully mean our connections will continue.

I spent a lovely day with another friend from ectopic messageboard days too. She had gone the adoption route, which has its own difficult challenges, and certainly isn't a "cure" for infertility, as she stressed. The fact that she is a mum and now a doting grandma did in no way counter all the things we have in common. We hobbled (both of us with different injuries) along the Thames at Henley, chatting non-stop, catching up with each other, and it was very special.

Finally, in London, we had coffee and buns with another blogger and her husband. We'd only ever corresponded by email or social media comments, and of course, the occasional blog comments. But again there was that familiarity and closeness that I've found seeps through the screens into real life. If you like someone online, when you're being open and honest and heartfelt, you're almost guaranteed to like them in real life. Again, the husbands seemed to hit it off, and we chatted for ages. More promises of meeting in New Zealand give me hope of this connection continuing.

And on the weekend, back in NZ, I was chatting on Zoom with blogging friends I have still yet to meet in real life. We noted how important our online relationships have been. I was talking about how my husband and I grieved our pregnancy losses differently, and that was okay, because I had had the support of wonderful women online. And later as we moved into a No Kidding life, I still had the support of wonderful women online. It gave him the freedom to grieve in his own way, and I didn't place the burden of my grief wholly on him. That helped us both. It still helps me, knowing that other women (and men) know how I feel. These online connections are real, are so valuable, and I hope will long continue. 

That's why I'm still here. I have connections here that I don't have elsewhere. And I value them all.