Bamberlamb: A Tribute

As many of you already know, our fellow No Kidding blogger, Bamberlamb of Its Inconceivable, passed away last week. Her last post was a year ago, telling us of her secondary cancer. I know she touched many lives, including my own, and I send love to all those who have been affected by her death.

I first knew her as Lambsie, on the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust's messageboards over 20 years ago. In the years I was going through two ectopics, she was experiencing her second and third. She was such a voice of fun, but also, and always, of compassion. Understandably, it hurt her when others did not show the same compassion to her. So like me, she sought and found understanding online.

We spent a few years online together when we were trying to conceive and/or recovering from our losses. Most of those who were online with us went on to conceive and have children. (After all, only about 10% of women who have an ectopic pregnancy do not.) But Lambsie and I did not, along with one or two others, including the author of the wise "inside out" comment I referenced in my post last week. 

I was lucky. In early 2005, I travelled to London to meet a bunch of women from that messageboard, and went on to stay with a few of the women I had connected with. I spent a lovely few days with Bamberlamb and her adored husband. They had a great relationship, and thought the world of each other. I know he has been her carer in recent months, and has done everything he can to make those comfortable and enjoyable. I hate to think what he is going through now.

Eventually, after several years of being present and supportive of other women, our role became more official, albeit anonymous. We both became EPT moderators, and given an official pseudonym. The moderators had a private site where we could seek confirmation that our information was correct (we were assisted by a medical lead, who had access to some of the world's leading specialists in ectopic pregnancy), share how to deal with difficult people, and work through our own issues. We did that together on an almost daily basis, for six years. 

Bamberlamb/Lambsie had a wonderfully kind way with words. Even if privately she might have been frustrated with a person's attitude or insensitivity towards others (as we all were from time to time), outwardly she was the voice of kindness, of compassion, and most importantly, of no judgement. She never made it about* herself. She was always so eloquent, she always found the right words for the right occasion. It was a skill I often envied. But rather than envy, I tried to learn from her. To know what to say that might help, and most importantly, what not to say. I fall short, I am sure. But I will keep trying, for her.

I met up with her several times in trips to the UK, and I have memories of noshing on cream cakes with her at the House of Commons on the banks of the Thames with some of our friends and colleagues, and a lively dinner with some other friends afterwards. The last time we met in person was 11 years ago. Sadly, she wasn't up to meeting on my last trip, and I completely understand that. My visit was just a little too late. It is frustrating having international online friendships and not being there in person. If I could have made meals, popped in to help with the cleaning, or run errands for them, I would have. I know many of us would have. Just as we know she would have done that for us too. I at least wanted her to know how much she was loved, by so many of us all around the world.

I wish I could have heard her sing in her choir, beyond the one youtube performance I was able to see a few years ago. I'd have loved to have been able to support her. Likewise, I know she was a talented artist. However, she once told me that her losses took away her love of drawing. I like to think that she used that talent, her observational skills, and her  ability to see light and dark and shades, in other ways, not least in her blog.

She gave me credit for starting Its Inconceivable, and becoming active in the No Kidding community. I know that, like me, she missed the messageboards when our roles ended. The support we gave each other also helped us, and without that, life was a little lonelier. It was why I started blogging here, and after a few years of encouragement, she started too, bringing another voice and different perspectives to our number. And she became much more active than I am in one of the UK-based childless communities, continuing to support others even when she was going through something terribly difficult.

Right up to the last, she kept her wonderfully whacky (and sometimes wicked) sense of humour. It is what I will always remember about her. Her humour, and her compassion, and enormous capacity for love. Love will be the prevailing emotion I think of when I think of her. What better legacy could she leave in this world than love?

 

* This post is not about me. Please focus any comments towards Bamberlamb/Lambsie.

From the Inside Out

Online connections last. I've just had the pleasure of a weekend with an eminent childless not by choice blogger, Pamela, who was visiting NZ. As one of my ectopic messageboard friends* said to me over two decades ago (and I've quoted her before here), we got to know each other from the inside out, so meeting in person meant that we had to fill in the gaps. Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings? What work did you do? etc. My blogger friend said that she agreed. "It is as if our souls connect at a deep level, and everything else is filler," she said. I liked that.

Once again, though, I found that meeting someone I've only ever known through the internet was remarkably easy and relaxed. Once again, I was reassured that these internet relationships are real, that we really do get to know each other in a different way, and that you can tell who you are going to like and feel comfortable with (or not) well before you meet face to face.

We were focused on getting to know each other, talking about the future or recent past, but inevitably conversations about Not Kidding came up, just as parents might share the things they had in common. Thoughts about what links us, about relationships with parents, and about ageing without children were inevitable topics of conversation. But they certainly didn't dominate. They were, like our childlessness, just a part of us. And it was wonderful. Plans will be made to visit them in their country sometime in the future.

I was also given some food for thought for future posts, but as they only left yesterday, I might have some cogitating to do first. 

 

 

Note: Photo above was taken on our childless walk through the local botannical gardens

* She wrote a lovely guest post here some years ago - https://nokiddinginnz.blogspot.com/2016/01/guest-post-sarahg-on-living-life.html

 

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.

Connections

It constantly delights me to see internet friends meet up. It happens less rarely for me, simply because I’m on the other side of the world from most who read my blog, or who used the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust messageboards with me all those years ago. It’s just a fact that most English-speaking people are in the northern hemisphere. That said, I’ve had several internet friends come to visit and stay (New Zealand is a great tourist destination, and Wellington is conveniently situated for a visit, hint hint!), and I’ve imposed on a few (they didn’t get a choice!) in England in the past too. Or we’ve met up for a wonderful day in sunny Slovenia! I’ve still to venture back to the US and Canada in the last 15 years. I have a bunch of internet friends there I can’t wait to see. I think The Husband is going to have to come over a week or two (or even three) later, to give me the time and space to meet up with these friends. Sounds like a plan, don't you think?

Without exception, it was a joy to connect in real life. Online, I've found that our personalities still come through, and we don’t even have to talk about what originally brought us together to feel that connection. (We often don’t, if there are husbands around who are less open to discussing ectopics or infertility or childlessness, though sometimes they surprise us!) We've often said everything we need to say about those topics, and we can just enjoy getting to know each other again in real life.

Connection – however we find it – is so valuable to our sense of value, our feelings of belonging, and worth, to finding wisdom, and to feeling okay about ourselves. Connection – whether it be in person, or online – is part of what makes us human. It sustains us through difficult times, even when real life relationships might falter. Or it fills gaps, meaning that we don’t expect everything from our “in person/real life” friends and families, taking the pressure off, and allowing us to feel grace. Hopefully, around this week, I am rejoicing in a few connections again. (I'll explain more in due course, if all works out). I hope you have found people for this. If not, this is one of the reasons I am still here. And it is certainly why I cherish the relationships I have with my readers, and with other bloggers.

The importance of connection as we age

Loribeth highlighted this article about the importance of networks as we age. (She’s so good at telling us about articles that make me think). This is, of course, particularly important for those of us who do not have children (or for those whose children do not live nearby or are estranged or busy etc), to ensure that we have ongoing connections in our lives. But it is also something we are, as a community, quite good at, precisely because we haven’t had children we rely on to provide comfort and assistance.

It noted that the pandemic was particularly hard on elderly people, who lost that face-to-face, day-to-day contact with a range of people that aids our well-being, whether it be the cheerful person making our coffee, or the packer at the supermarket who is always helpful, or the people at the gym or exercise class who chat as we change. Poor health also affects people of all ages getting out and about making human connections. Lacking those day-to-day interactions can be awfully isolating. Especially if we already feel isolated because we don't have children. Just seeing change in our local environments can feel isolating. Our local Post Shop (post office and small store) is closing. I never knew the two who run it really, but they knew me, and I knew them, over 20-30 years. Likewise, we miss our favourite brunch place, and the two men who owned and managed it. We had our regular chats, exchange of travel information, and gripes about silly people. They were part of our network, and I miss them.

Online friendships were acknowledged in the article, and I’m really glad about that. We’ve come a long way in the last 15-20 years! I remember back then hearing a contemporary of mine scoffing at the idea that people look for support online. “That’s just sad, isn’t it?” she said disbelievingly. I was appalled at her naivety. I knew from personal experience that internet friendships can be real, close, supportive relationships that can provide more support and nurturing than our real life relationships. They are an important way we connect with others, and are vital for our well-being if we can’t get out and meet others who share our experiences. Yet we also all know that they can’t pop over to help out if you’re sick, or meet for a coffee or a drink, or give you a hug if you are sad. And we can't give love in that way either. We’ve all said it on each other’s blogs or in messageboards or whatsapp or fbk groups etc etc. “If only we could be there to give you a hug!” And every time I say it, I mean it.

The article then mentioned a woman who started a group of “elder orphans” – people who don’t have spouses or children to depend on. Though I have a spouse, neither of us have younger relatives we are close to in this city. (There’s one – a cousin’s niece, but we don’t really know her). And if one of us isn’t here, then whichever of us is left will definitely be an elder orphan. I love this idea of forming a group. Social media makes it so easy to do these days. We can connect with people in the same locations, as well as online. I’m definitely going to bear it in mind.

I know I’ve written a lot of this before, though in slightly different contexts. I think I write these posts as much as a reminder for me to get out and about, as I do for you. Because I suspect you are all already better at this than I am! Being self-employed since my 40s hasn’t really helped me forge new relationships. Although it has helped me nurture the ones that might have disappeared. And I have plans – I just haven’t joined that photography group yet, or another book club, or found somewhere to volunteer (because I can’t commit to doing something weekly if I’m going to be travelling two months in, etc). But they’re all on my list of things to do sometime this year, or next! Anyone have any hints on how you make and keep connections?