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.

 

 

 

Quotes in homage of the No Kidding blogging community

I love a good quote. Regular readers know that already! I love finding that someone has perfectly, succinctly, eloquently expressed an emotion I have not previously been able to articulate. Or when I read a quote that has expressed a feeling or belief I have had, and I see it validated in print. (If only I could memorise them all when I first read them.) Quotes can go a long way – much further than a too-wordy blogpost! And so, today’s post again highlights thoughts from the insightful Maya Angelou:

“If you are always trying to be normal, you’ll never know how amazing you can be.”

This seems to be made for the No Kidding community. We feel ever so normal until we find we will never have children. All of a sudden, we are isolated, judged, and seen as different. Not normal, even. But look around at our No Kidding blogging community. They embody this quote, and are truly amazing. I hope they know it.

“When you learn, teach, when you get, give.”

As a lifelong learner, I love this. I think it is also a special strength of our blogging community. Going through something difficult teaches us so many things. My Gifts of Infertility series is evidence of how that worked for me. This community gives us so much support when we need it. Passing it on through our blogs, and giving and taking the community support that has grown here, helps many. Teaching as we learn, giving as we get. This is such a good example for our lives.

And last but never least,

“You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anybody.”
                                                                                   Maya Angelou

 

 

Community and support groups

I’ve had infertility and No Kidding support groups – official and otherwise – in my life now for over 20 years. I have been enormously thankful to one group in particular which helped me through the hardest years of my life, and where I made friends who are still there if I need them (and Bamberlamb has found her way here, to the No Kidding/CNBC blogging world.) And of course, I have you, my fellow bloggers and readers, who have been part of my life, and supporting me, for 12 years now (I just passed my 12 year blogging anniversary). It has been invaluable. I’ve met – in real life and online – some wonderful women. I consider myself very lucky.

But sometimes I have wondered. Do these support groups help, or hinder? They can provide a wonderful outlet for venting, so that we can go on and live the rest of our lives calmly, or a space where we can contemplate our situations honestly, without fear of judgement, a safe place where we can grow and blossom. But sometimes I fear that some groups also provide an echo chamber of views, where those who don’t want to grow or who don’t have the resilience to do so can stay, feeling part of a group, but not really growing. I’ve certainly heard others – who maybe have never needed such support – disdainfully expressing this view. They see support groups as places where we can wallow and feel sorry for ourselves.

As a result, I used to worry about this every so often. Was I being self-indulgent in continuing to write about not having children, in focusing on what I don’t have, rather than looking forward and feeling positive? I worried that I was self-pitying, and that I didn’t want to move on. I worried that I was wallowing. After all, I have seen people struggle with this, here and in other groups, and I know what it looks like. Some people don’t seem to ever come to terms with their fate, to accept their lives, and to embrace the advantages and gifts of their life. But by far the majority do manage to move forward.

That’s the thing about balance, isn’t it? Maybe I just see some people at their lowest, when they’re feeling most vulnerable. Maybe they just need someone to listen? To understand? Maybe, by listening, we give people the chance to grow and develop and emerge back into the light at their own pace, when they are ready. That should be celebrated, not denigrated.

That’s why I love blogging, and bloggers. People are able to work through their issues on their own blogs, or in comments. I’ve often said that I don’t always know what I’m going to say until I sit down and write a post. It helps me figure out what I think. That’s a quote too, I think from Stephen King. “I write to find out what I think.” So I want to thank you for being here for me for so long, for being part of my group, for sharing your own issues and concerns that have made me feel part of a loving, wise community. Thank you for allowing me to be honest, to grow, and to figure out what I think. In doing that, you have brought me peace.