Life fills the void

The last week or two, I've been reading old posts and comments (10-15 years ago) from the infertility community. It's been interesting to see how my perspective - as someone who did end up on the road less travelled living a No Kidding life - is often completely different to both those who were desperately hoping to conceive and have children, those who were hoping to adopt, and those who became parents. 

I know that I'm reading these posts now as someone who has been living this life now for 22 years, who has had time to develop perspective, and who looks at the world from a very different viewpoint. But after so long, it has surprised me to see, so blatantly, some of the judgement towards those who might live a life without children, the self-congratulations for those who did not have to face the issues we might have had to face, and the pressure that was then put on those who were still trying, desperately believing that they would "join the club" or "climb out of the trenches" (in the terminology of the blogging community at the time) as mothers. And yet, I doubt that any of those people at the time realised what they were doing.

Here's a radical thought. Perhaps I was lucky not to be part of that community when I was going through pregnancy loss and infertility and treatments. How hard it is to be infertile and feel the pressure from society, governments, and family. How much harder it must be to feel it also from your fellow infertiles, who have that need to see others get the desired outcome so that they know it is possible for them, too, to get it. To feel the pressure to never give up, and to feel the judgement of doing so. To be someone's "worst nightmare." It encourages me too, that I haven't really been a part of that community (or only in passing) or felt that pressure, as our No Kidding blogging community has grown.

How important it is to now be part of a community that can take those people - the ones who suspect or know that they won't end their infertility stories as parents - and tell them they will be okay, that the wounds heal (even if scars remain), and that their lives can and will still be good, happy, and filled with joy. I want to tell them that the judgement dissipates. It's no longer top of mind for any of those who've been through infertility - regardless of their outcome. It fades away, to an extent. But more particularly, i want to tell them that we become so much better at dealing with that judgement. We learn so much more about our own selves, develop our own perspectives, and grow in confidence. We learn that the judgement tells us more about the people judging and their issues at the time than it ever says about us. And that makes it so much easier to dismiss.

I'm so proud of all my fellow bloggers - each of them have shown the way through the difficult times. We are not giving blind messages of hope above reason. We are showing them, with our own experiences and lives, that one day, this will only be a part of them, each year a little smaller, a little less painful. That it won't always be all-consuming. That life fills the void. 

And right now, my life is filled with, well, readjusting back into real life* after an amazing three months away. Enjoying the little things - summer, the tui in our garden, tennis, tomatoes and basil, music, and good books. Savouring life after being absent and then sick. I hope your lives are equally full with these precious little things that make life worth living.

 

 

* See A Separate Life's recent post, Right Now

Living life

It was my birthday yesterday. I went somewhere fun. Doing distinctly childFREE things. Enjoying the opportunities I have because I did not have children. Yes, I might have still done these things if I’d had children (especially as any children would now be at university or graduated). But my priorities might have changed. My expenses would be different. My life would have been different. Neither life is better. But I’m glad that there are days when I can embrace what I have, rather than bemoan what I don’t have. That’s what life is all about, isn’t it? 

At Petra, 11 years ago

Life makes my life meaningful

I was recently asked, “what gives your life meaning? Who, or what, is meaningful to you now?”

It was a good question, because it made me think. The answer to “who?” was easy. My husband. Wider family and friends too, but ultimately him. We have been together longer than we haven’t. We have shared a life together with all its ups and downs, cared for his parents together, aunt-ed and uncle-ed together, experienced losses and disappointment together, built careers and then said goodbye to them, and we have explored the world together.

“What?” was a little trickier though. I thought about what makes me feel as if I have done some good in life, and that was meaningful to others. Oddly, until I was writing this, I didn't think about the things I did as part of all my jobs, providing development and opportunities to people in countries in the Pacific, Asia and the Middle East, even though I am very proud of those projects. But I did think about my online writing and moderating. Whether it has been here, on other blogs, on messageboards, or even just corresponding with readers, writing has helped me figure out what I think and believe and value. That in itself is enormously meaningful – it has affected how I think about myself, and how I think about and act towards others. It has also taught me that helping people can be enormously rewarding, even when they don’t want to hear what I might be saying at the time, it might be useful to them later. And it has opened a world full of wonderful people.

But then I thought some more. What else makes my life meaningful? I don’t produce great art, I don’t currently volunteer anywhere, I’m not a major influential figure in anyone’s life except my husband’s. I would not be specifically missed in anyone's day-to-day life. But I have accepted that. I'm okay with it. I know I'm loved, appreciated. I have good relations with my family and friends. I thought for a minute. “You know, what?” I said. “I think it’s just life.” It felt so right when I said it. Yes. My life is meaningful, and I find it meaningful. Just living, and living life, gives my life value. Not in a selfish way, but in a grateful way. I have this wonderful life, that could disappear at any moment (health, death, accidents, earthquakes, or the sky could fall). Of course I find it fulfilling!

My life is not extraordinary in any way. My house needs a lot of maintenance, my office is a complete mess, I need to build my social network beyond the few friends I see regularly, and we need to move/downsize in the next 2-10 years. But I’m so lucky in other respects. We have enough (we hope) for our retirement, we can travel and have amazing experiences, see amazing places, and meet amazing people, I have reasonable health (a chronic health condition has been quite well managed so far), I get enough sleep and almost enough exercise, and there is so much in my life I love to do – like writing, chatting with friends online and in person, cooking, exercising, enjoying nature, photography, reading, and just learning about things – that I never have time to do the things I feel I “should” do. Life is meaningful just because I have it. That’s privilege, for sure. But it’s also full of gratitude, enjoyment, learning, love, laughter, kindness, friendship, family, and adventure too. Surely, that’s more than enough.