A valued life

I’ve been thinking about value a lot lately. In marketing, and especially in marketing services (though not just services), value is an important concept. What has value to one person doesn’t have value to another. Understanding what constitutes value is important in being able to appeal to a particular client, and to understand what aspects of our services we need to promote. I love teaching value to my marketing training clients, because so many have never thought of themselves or their skills that way. Sometimes it can be a shock for them to learn that who they are doesn’t have intrinsic value to the client. Rather, it is what they do for that client that has value. Though of course, who they are contributes to that.

I think that this is the same in real life, and especially life after infertility. Our perspectives determine what we define as success, and what we define as value. I look at some people I know. They’re worked hard all their lives, risen in the corporate world, but have they actually done anything of value?

Single-minded pursuit of success can be an incredibly selfish thing, and can leave a lot of bodies in a person’s wake. Though not always. Still, maybe their corporation has an important product, or maybe by climbing the corporate ladder they’ve been able to mentor others, or provide their families and others with financial support. The value to me isn’t that they’ve become <insert title here>, but what they’ve done as they’ve reached those heady heights. I admire Bill Gates, not for establishing a hugely successful company and becoming a billionaire, but for what he is doing now, his approach towards eliminating malaria and other diseases, his humanity in action.

I watched Survivor the other night. (Confession: I drafted this months ago!) I thought about Jeff whatshisname. He’s spent 20 years of his life overseeing egotistical people fighting for money, and selling that to the world. Some would say he’s successful. He's certainly rich. But would I want to spend my life that way? Has he provided value to the world doing that? You could argue he has provided entertainment for millions. But if he hadn’t, someone else would have filled the void. Maybe, by being a calm and sensible voice, he has role modelled appropriate behaviour. Maybe he’s used his wealth to make the world a better place. Or maybe not. My point is that his prominence and wealth don't on their own make him valuable. I guess it comes down to how we define success.

In the same way, we can look at other people who are parents. When we are so often feeling less than, simply because we haven’t brought another being into the world, or raised another being when their parents couldn’t, I find it can be useful to think about life this way. I’m not trying to diminish the role of parents, simply put it in perspective. Now, some people will assume that if you’re a parent, by creating another person you are contributing enormously to the world. Others would say that it’s not simply a numbers game, positive or negative. But is being a parent inherently valuable? It depends on a huge range of factors.

Whilst I try not to judge, I think to an extent it is inevitable. We respect some people, and not others. That's human nature, even if we're trying not to be judgemental. In doing this, though, I wish our societies assigned value based on how much better a person will leave the world. On who they’ve helped. On whether they have been selfish, or not. On whether they’ve been kind. On their values. Not just on whether they have been a parent. Or not.

Resilience

I've realised over time that much of what I write about here is resilience - learning what it is, how to develop it, how to use it now I recognise what helps and what doesn't. Jjiraffe at Too Many Fish to Fry has written a lovely post about resilience here, and I urge you to go and check it out.

As I was reading her post and the comments, my first reaction* was that I didn't realise I was developing resilience, as both through my ectopics, and when dealing with the loss of any possibility of having children, I felt alone, lost, and weak - anything but resilient. I had no idea what to do, how to grieve, or how to behave, so I was flying blind. But as I look back, I realise that some of the things that came naturally to me were examples of resilience. Other things I had to learn, over time and through trial and error. Ultimately, I think the most important lesson is that resilience doesn't mean not experiencing pain, avoiding our emotions or situations, or not being able to feel what we feel. Instead, I believe that it means working through them and looking to a positive future.

*  Other thoughts on resilience may follow.

Still not kidding

Twelve years ago yesterday (or today if you’re in the US), my efforts to become a parent came to a screeching halt. I’ve written about that before here. I didn’t think about it until late yesterday afternoon, and when I did, it was just to mark the moment.

It made me think though. Twelve years on from that day, almost thirteen and fourteen years respectively from my ectopic pregnancies, and years before that since we started trying to get pregnant, I am writing and thinking about life without children. I almost wrote “still writing and thinking” but by use of the word “still” it implies that thinking about our lives without children is something that has or should have an end date. I don’t believe that is true. I have friends who weren’t able to have children, and who never went down the forum or blogging routes. We rarely talk about our lives without children. We simply talk about life. But just because we don’t talk about it, just because they don’t write about it (as far as I am aware) or advocate for people without children, I can’t say that they don’t think about their lives. Just because I write in public – even if under an easily broken pseudonym – it doesn’t mean that my thoughts about our lives are any deeper or more detailed or different.

The truth is though that, here at least, I have actively identified as a woman without children. I don’t do that through pain (any more) or bitterness. I like to think I do it for advocacy, to join my voice with that of others, to help other women without children to feel less alone. Maybe too we help friends and family to understand what their loved ones are going through. Maybe my experience might help others to believe they’ll be okay, and maybe it will help them to move through the grief, up into the sun. I write openly and as honestly as I can. I try not to kid myself, or you, that life is anything but the way it is. I try to keep this a no kidding zone.

Ultimately though, I would like to be able to help those who don’t give a passing thought to us to stop, think, and understand what life is like for the 1 in 5 women who will not be mothers. I’m working towards that. That’s why, 12 years later, I am still writing and talking and thinking about leading a no kidding life.

Unworthiness - let it go

 

When I saw this quote, I realised that it explains so much of the pain of those of us who can't have children - especially in the early days. If we believe that we are unworthy,  then it is easier to think that others also see us this way.  Holding onto our unworthiness just invites pain and judgement in, yet it is hard to let go, to be kind to ourselves, to stop judging.

Once we stop believing in our unworthiness, it doesn't matter what others think about us. We know, deep in our hearts, that worth or lack of worth has nothing to do with whether or not we could have children, whether or not we are parents. Realising this, believing it, lifts a burden and liberates us - from our own judgement, and from that of others.

Cheating on #MicroblogMondays

Some #MicroblogMondays, I am at a complete loss about what to post. I might just have written a long post only a few days earlier. I might have had a brainwave in the weekend about what to write about, and then promptly forgotten it. I might have too much to say, and feel limited by eight sentences. Or, like today, I might simply feel devoid of inspiration, having had a late night, an early morning, and spent much of the afternoon arranging a long weekend away with my husband.

So I thought, " ... maybe, reblogging would be an idea." It's cheating, yes, but still it might be helpful if I pull out an old post, along with all the wise or funny comments. (It's helping me, at least!)

So if you’re in the mood to reread one of my old posts, go read this one, way back in December 2010, in my second month of IF blogging:

All Those Questions