Monday Miscellany: No Kidding style

I baked the bread, and it was easy and delicious. I have now got several new recipes I want to try. (There’s a Roquefort/blue cheese and walnut loaf that sounds to die for!)And thanks to Elaine for the (very logical) suggestion that I slice up the bread I haven’t eaten and freeze it. I’m going to do that in the future. If I make rolls or buns etc, I’ll give them to neighbours. Especially as Easter is coming up, and I want to try to make Hot Cross Buns again.

I became aware too late that this last weekend was the Day-that-shall-not-be-named in the UK. I hope my readers there passed the day peacefully, and took a little time for themselves, and to exercise some self-care. Sending hugs. I’m hoping by now you can recover and dismiss thoughts of the day for another year.

If you are on Facebook, the page for World Childless Week is reposting all the submissions from WCW last year. There is some wonderful thought-provoking material there that is, I have to say, much more digestible when it is drip fed to us at a slower pace. I'm enjoying reading individual's thoughts, and having more time to think about them. It’s well worth a look!

Speaking of Facebook, there is a (recently discovered) feature that allows you to stop notifications for particular dates – if there are dates/events/posts that are painful, or you’d prefer to forget, you can opt not to see these in your reminders. 

Finally, if you have followed my Insta page (@nokiddinginnz), you’ll know how completely slack I have been at posting links to my posts recently. Apologies - I’m planning to do better.

 

 

#Microblog Mondays: Miscellaneous

1. Mother's Day actually passed quite easily, probably because I didn't leave the house, and avoided Fb. Though in a way, not having to celebrate Mother's Day (other than the night before having dinner with my mother-in-law, where a visiting prodigal son was the focus, rather than the mother) has meant that I think I feel a freedom from it, and I felt surprised to realise that maybe the day doesn't really have any power over me any more.
    
2. I was talking with my FIL, about a project he had been working on, and said I would help him finish it and get it printed in a book so we can give it to all his offspring and their families, when of course he qualified that he was indeed doing this for the grandchildren. I'm not sure why he felt the need to say it to me, of all people, so I acknowledged it, then commented, "it's funny how the childless ones are the only ones who bother to ensure the memories are there to pass on to the next generation, isn't it?" I'm tired of pretending that the fact I have no children is irrelevant, and that there's no cost to dealing with his focus on his grandchildren all the time, and to be honest, it felt good!
    
3. An aside from a visiting BIL, when he saw the Mother's Day card I had made for my MIL, was that clearly I had "too much time on my hands" being able to do these creative, but thoughtful, things for my in-laws. The snide dig was there, undeniably - I'm childless, therefore I have nothing better to do with my time - and it found its mark, briefly, though ultimately, I just roll my eyes loudly at this Busy Olympics Parent vs Non-Parent petty competition.
    
4. Best news of all, my cast is finally off, though walking will be tentative for a while! 

Time, friends, gifts

I've often talked about the gifts in my life as a result of my ectopic pregnancies, and infertility.  The ability to help others through tough times, and knowing that I helped, also helped me make sense of my losses and what has come after.  But as I've said before - and this won't be the last time I say it either - the biggest gifts were the friendships I established.

On our last night in the UK, I jumped on the train and sped off to Reading, an agreed central meeting spot, to rendezvous with three friends I first met on-line.  We became friends first back around 2002-3, and that was solidified with a fantastic working relationship over about six or so years that ended just last year.  But our friendship endures.

Those early years of knowing each other involved us talking about our losses, our efforts to build a family or complete our families, and to support each other.  But time heals. Now we are a normal (well, not so normal, quite mad in some respects, but you know what I mean!) group of friends.  We talk about about the kids of some, the pets of others, the spouses, brothers and sisters and parents, struggles with money, weight, bodies, jobs, and getting older.  We know that underpinning all this is the fact that we were brought together through shared losses and grief.  But we know now that it is love that keeps us together.  Love, respect, and enthusiasm for the future.

I felt sad leaving these amazing women.  I was beyond grateful that they agreed to get together to coincide with my presence there.  I know that it was a considerable sacrifice for at least one.  I don't know when I will see them again.  But I don't (I can't) doubt that I will see them again.  It might be two or three years, or it might be ten or twenty years (I hope not).  And in the meantime we keep in touch through the internet.  Love will ensure we see each other again.   What a gift that is.

Triggers

Many of us talk about triggers, reminders that catch us unawares, surprise us with their sting, and shock us that we are still finding pain in what-might-have-beens even many years on.  I do it myself.  I think I'll always have triggers.  But how I react to them, how I process them, is changing.

One of the things I love about FB is that I can stay connected (or make connections) with people I know who live offshore.  Very few of my FB friends are day-to-day friends.  Mostly, other than family, they’re overseas friends I hold dear.  As some of you may know, at 17 I was an exchange student in Bangkok on the AFS programme.  There were about 44 international students on the programme, and we shared a unique and amazing experience – that of being Thai teenagers for a year – that forged deep bonds.  We all made life-long friendships there.  Wonderfully, as a result of FB, we are all reconnecting, 30+ years later, older, hopefully wiser, but still those same enthusiastic, idealistic teenagers at heart!  Once again we are becoming part of each others’ lives. 

So I read the status updates of these far off friends with a lot of joy.  But every so often … for example, right at the moment, one of my closest of the AFS friends is visiting her daughter who is about to give birth.  Proud grandmother-to-be is posting photos of her pregnant woman, and her husband. She's not going overboard - just one or two lovely photos.  And I can cope fine with the photos, but of course there are the comments too – “is there anything more beautiful?” etc.  Those always bring a tiny twinge, but one I can acknowledge, and then move past.

In comparison, another of my AFSers (as we call ourselves) has just returned from a visit back to Thailand, and has been posting photos of herself with her Thai family, and with her American family on the trip.  She talks joyfully of introducing her boys (young teenagers) to her Thai life, and what she considers (as many of us do) to be her second home.  And for the first time in a long time, I let myself think how wonderful that would feel.  Because that’s one of my regrets – that I wasn’t able to pass on some of that incredible experience to another generation, to help them understand another culture, to help them understand me, and what I went through too.  Yes, I’ve been more lucky than most, and have been able to make Thailand a part of my marriage, introducing the country and people I love to my husband, as we spent three years living there in the early 90s, a decade after my teenage experience.  But still, it stung.

My initial reaction was to post.  But I didn't want it to be another “woe is me” post.  Because it isn’t really.  It’s part of who I am, and that’s okay.  I mean, I'm 50, and at this age, we all have regrets, we all have “what-ifs” and the associated triggers.   Infertility is just one of mine.  But in some ways, perhaps equally in terms of regularity of reminders and a stinging shame, so is the loss of my once-slim body, and my resultant self-consciousness over my less-than-perfect shape.  Or the fact I've chosen sanity and creativity over an exciting international business career.  My triggers aren't just about infertility.  As many of us have said, we are more than just our infertility, after all.

And I know, as I've written before, that I am just as guilty at triggering other people’s regrets by posting about my travels, my “gelato reports” and photos of beautiful places, or simply the fact that I have been lucky enough to take several months off even after redundancy and job loss.  And I know that if I want to do this, and talk about it, and have it acknowledged, then I can’t begrudge others for their happy “grandma” pics or “taking my boys to Thailand” pics and posts.  Because the upshot is, they are not judging me and my life by posting about theirs, and I'm not judging them by posting about mine.  We’re just sharing our lives, sharing what makes us happy.  And that, after all these years, is what is important.

Social Networking and Infertility

I think I’ve been lucky that I’ve never really been surrounded by lots of friends/family who were pregnant or had young children at the same time.  As I've said before, my family and friends have, very considerately, stretched out their child-bearing years across for over twenty years (oldest niece is 32, youngest is 4), and so I’ve never felt too bombarded by pregnant bellies or newborn babies.  I read this morning about a woman who has just been through a pregnancy loss and who complained that she had a grand total of twelve pregnancies in her immediate circle.  I cannot imagine having to deal with that. Because the truth is that infertile women can find it difficult being surrounded by pregnancies, newborn babies, and children.

This is accentuated now by the arrival of Facebook.  It’s a great place for women to brag about their kids or pregnancies without leaving the house.  In the past infertile women may have been able to cope with the occasional interactions with friends or family with children, because we would be able to plan these interactions, prepare ourselves, brace for the emotions that might come, and have a time limit on the encounters if we found them difficult.  But with Facebook, we never know when we go into the site what we will see.  We are suddenly shocked by scan or baby photos, or – in my case these days – the fortunately so-far-occasional grandchildren photos.  I emphasise photos, because these are hard to avoid seeing, and because they can elicit an almost instant emotional reaction.  Gushing status updates are both easier to avoid.  We can stop reading as soon as we realise what they're about.  But a photograph can't be unseen.  In an instant there is often a visceral punch in the gut from a baby photo or photo of a successful ultrasound (when so many of us only have memories of unsuccessful ultrasounds).  So on Facebook, infertile women can either be in a permanent state of bracing ourselves – an emotional state that can be tense and exhausting -  or we can be ambushed, suddenly pierced by a painful reminder.  And so for some, unless they de-friend their entire circle of Friends, Facebook is doomed to be an inescapable, painful mothers-and-babies party. 

Understandably therefore, I read a lot of complaints about Facebook.   I’m lucky.  I don’t have too many people with babies on Facebook, though as I mentioned the grandchildren are starting to arrive, and my friends with kids rarely post about them (have I told you how much I love my friends?), or simply aren’t on Facebook.  But I’ve taken certain precautions to protect myself too.  This goes beyond just infertility protection.  I do it for privacy reasons, and to make Facebook work for me, rather than the other way round.  My tips for avoiding annoying encounters on Facebook are probably obvious.  But this is what works for me.

I hide the profuse posters, block those Farmville etc apps, and don’t receive email notifications of posts.  This allows me to access Facebook when I want to, and how I want to.  If I want to check up on a profuse poster – or someone who is going to post a lot of baby pics – I’ll go into their page from time to time, when I feel like it, and will comment or visit then.  It means I don’t have to wade through a bunch of shared sayings, photos and chain status updates (that I hate).

I occasionally post something that I will make available only to specific people or groups (the Custom share option).  I recently posted something about a strong earthquake here in Wellington (7.0).  I deliberately didn’t make it available to my friend in Christchurch, who has experienced probably hundreds of similar earthquakes over the last two years.  She didn’t need to hear me moaning about the one that scared me!  I also block one particular guy from my more frivolous postings.  He’s a friend, but he’s judgemental.

My security and privacy settings are quite rigid.  I’ve set that I’m the only one who can see tagged photos of me.  I don’t allow (I don’t think at least) others to see what I “like” etc.  I want to control what is out there about me, as much as feasibly possible.

I don’t allow “friends of friends” to see what I’m up to, and I really wish others would do this too.  I’ve been surprised with the occasional newborn baby or scan photo because of friends of my nieces making everything available to “friends of friends.” 

Perhaps the step that has protected me the most is that I have deliberately kept my number of Friends low.  I’ve added people I genuinely love and want to stay in touch with.  I don’t even have my in-laws.  They wouldn’t understand my regular “Chardonnay Time!” updates.  I have no-one from my business life on Facebook.  I’ll use LinkedIn for that.  I really can’t understand people who fill up their friends list with people they don’t really know, or who are colleagues they only know in the most peripheral work terms.  A friend of mine has over 600 friends.  He is a lobbyist, so this is business for him.  I guess it helps him.  But he rarely posts anything – varying between the occasional economic comment and his latest golf score.  But he probably has no desire to use Facebook in the way that I do.  If I had business colleagues as Friends, I’d almost certainly block them from almost all my status updates.  I don’t want my business colleagues knowing I’m scared after an earthquake, or where I am on holiday, or seeing photos of me, or watching the jokes I have with some of my (slightly crazy) English friends.  And if I want to talk about infertility, I certainly don’t want to share that in my business life, or with casual acquaintances.  It’s not relevant to our relationships, and isn’t something I talk about.  (Though admittedly, if I talk about infertility, I don’t make it accessible to my full Friends list, and I tend to restrict who can see the post.  Though as the years go on, I’m less and less bothered about who sees what I say.) 

There’s a lot of negative commentary about Facebook out there.  But I love it.  I connect with friends who live overseas, friends I no longer chat with regularly as I did perhaps 10 years ago, friends who were exchange students with me 30+ years ago and share a special bond, and family who live far away.  I connect with my adult nieces far more over Facebook than I would otherwise, and find it so much easier to maintain relationships with people I care about.  It is a wonderful tool for me.  But I think that’s because I’ve carefully thought about it, and how I want to use it.  I hope you have all been able to find a way to make it work for you too.  I hate that the thought that you might feel tortured by it on a daily basis, or feel dread when opening the site rather than eager anticipation.  Because we all deserve more than that.