The different life lived: 20 years on

Infertility and pregnancy loss and childlessness bring a lot of anniversaries. I have the positive test anniversaries, the loss anniversaries - when the losses began, and ended, when I was hospitalised, and had different procedures - the date I knew I'd never have children, and many more. It's a lot. I've heard people say pick a point and grieve. That doesn't work for me. As the year moves on, as the weather and trees change, flowers bloom, there are so many reminders. That's loss. Anyone who has experienced it in any way will recognise the way it can stay with you. Of course, the last year I've had a lot of 20th anniversaries, and there are a few more to come. The ones with the zero seem more obvious, and they hurt a little more.

This last week it was the 20^th anniversary of my second ectopic expected due date, 31 August. I knew by January that the pregnancy was being lost. Later, I also knew that a good friend from the Ectopic Pregnancy online group was due to have her baby, and we shared the same due date. She had her child, and I never resented it, even though I had expected I might. I am grateful for that. The truth was that I mourned the loss of MY baby, and her baby was not mine. In fact, I felt a connection to that baby (and met her a few years later). Some years the date creeps up on me, and I barely notice it. Most years I’m fine with it, acknowledging what never was, and time passing.

This year though, I have known it was coming. I've felt it more. Perhaps it is the significance of the 20^th anniversary. The acknowledgement of that baby's 20th birthday. Perhaps it is the knowledge that I’m the only person in the world who thinks about it. (My husband doesn’t remember the date, and I don’t like to bring him down by reminding him. It's bad enough that tomorrow is Father's Day here, and he's acutely aware of that.) Perhaps it’s the thought of the childhood completely lost as they would have left their teens this year. It's always the loss of the adult life never even started. Perhaps of course it is also the life never lived by his/her parents – the life we never got to live. It's all made it a little harder this year.

We lived a different life. It has been a good life. Filled with adventures and experiences and friendships I would never have had otherwise. With many more years yet, and many more good things to come, I hope! But every so often, I need to acknowledge what has been lost, and the passing of time. And so today, I do that.

Losses and last resorts

When I was undergoing investigations and treatment for one of my ectopic pregnancies (I cannot recall which), at the entrance to the hospital car park, one or two anti-abortionists waved signs and shouted at cars and visitors to the hospital. Ectopic pregnancies are not viable, they are dangerous, and can and do lead to maternal death. At the time, I was given a standard ectopic pregnancy medication, methotrexate, to end the pregnancy. Even the Catholic Church acknowledges that ectopics require treatment, and are never viable. But every time I entered the hospital, I wondered what vitriol would be hurled my way if they knew what treatment I was given. But they didn't make me feel guilty. I felt guilty enough that my body had not worked properly, and that I had no choice. That the baby I had been ready to welcome would never in fact make it. No, I felt nothing but anger towards these protestors who were deliberately hurting women (and men) like me who had no choice. And to take it further, they were hurting women (and men) who felt that they had no choice, for whatever reason, and so had to exercise choice.

Enduring pregnancy losses, and infertility, and living a life without children, has only made me feel even stronger about this. Just as I say that many of us walking the No Kidding paths had no choice in the matter, even as others mistakenly tell us we chose to live childfree, it is the same for women seeking abortions. So much about abortion is that the women making the decision have no choice - so many women have missed the opportunity to have any other choices because of financial situations, abusive relationships, failing contraception, illness (physical or mental), poor education, ignorance, foetal abnormalities, etc etc. It's a last resort. A last resort that shouldn't be taken away.

Up until recently, abortion in New Zealand was part of the criminal code. Abortions were available, and funded, but women still had to get the approval of two doctors before it was possible. This wasn't difficult, if you had the means, but I'm sure that for poor, rural women, it was. Not to mention the indignity that women who knew what they needed or wanted, and knew all the alternatives, still had to ask two doctors to acknowledge that they had made the right decision. This situation has now changed, doctor sign off is not required up to 20 weeks, and abortion has been decriminalised. All parties now say they would not change the situation. I cannot imagine how furious I would be if that changed. 

So I feel for my US friends and family and readers. As I've also said on A Separate Life here, I want to let you know that we are all thinking of you. As my Prime Minister said, "it is a loss for women everywhere."

Stars that adorn the sky

I was pleasantly surprised today to open my newspaper (yes, I still get a paper one) and find a two-page spread on issues around baby loss, from pregnancy loss through to the death of an infant or child. In particular, it talked about the emotional difficulties and the practical support available (with examples of when this doesn't always work), with real life examples. You can find the article here, though you might wish to read with caution.

The article was written to mark the launch of a new government website providing information for those suffering pregnancy loss such as miscarriage, still birth, fetal abnormality, neonatal death, and infant or child loss. I could have used that back when I had my ectopic pregnancies, and I am delighted to see it existing now. It will be a resource for those suffering, for friends and family, and for employers. This was badly needed, and is an excellent resource.

I’m happy too to see that it received coverage in a major newspaper, although it was harder to find on the newspaper’s website. Baby loss is so common, yet so rarely discussed, that any publicity like this is a step in the right direction.

The name of the website is Whetūrangitia - a Maori word that refers to a person dying as a star returning to the sky to join their ancestors. Our lost children as stars in the sky is a beautiful image, and one that I hope gives comfort to the users of the site.