Getting through, staying whole, and thriving

I found a quote the other day which I liked, and in following up who had said it originally, I went down a rabbit-hole of wonderful quotes, and spent an hour being inspired. The quote I was looking for was from the wonderful Maya Angelou, and when I found that, I found some of her other words that also apply to those of us who wanted to have children, however late in the piece, but who were unable to become parents. In fact, they take us through the gamut from that intial shock and grief, to finding ourselves, and emerging feeling strong and victorious.

“The only way out of something is all the way through it.” - Maya Angelou

Oh, this is so true! When I had my second ectopic pregnancy, I thought I knew all about ectopics. I thought I could get through the sadness and loss more quickly as a result, or even skip it. I was wrong.

“You may not control all the events that happen to you,
but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” 

I love this. It’s how so many of us feel about not having children. We wanted them. We have suffered loss, and we will continue to suffer loss. But we are not less because of that. We are not reduced. We are just changed from the people we were, or thought we were. In fact, in many ways we are stronger and better.

And finally, she said,

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”

I’m still looking for the style, but otherwise, my life is exactly this. I can’t think of a better way to come out of infertility, and into a new, No Kidding life, with this as your mission in life.

 

 PS. I was thriving when I took this photo of water lilies on the Chobe River in Botswana last year.

 

Looking back on the blog: 2023

This week seems to be my week of reviewing 2023. It feels a bit weird, because I’m actively looking forward to 2024, I’m enjoying the arrival of summer (a fan on behind me, windows open all over the house, bright blue sky and sunshine, pohutukawa in bloom all over my suburb) and I’m full of enthusiasm for new projects this year. (I hope it lasts!)

So, back to the blog. I wrote 57 posts here in 2023, a few more than the last couple of years, but really I’m staying stable, which is at least encouraging, in my 14^th year of blogging here. I like to review my blog for the year, so here goes looking at some recurring themes:

So, back to the blog. I wrote 55 posts in 2022, a few more than 2021, but still fewer than 2020. There is still food for thought, but as I joked to a fellow blogger the other day, I am not afraid of repetition! But as I review my blogs from the year, as usual I see some themes. I don’t think I’ll list the posts I talk about here. Because I know that different people might take different things from them, especially as many posts started off with a grumble, then finished with a positive, or vice versa.

Speaking of grumbles, I do feel as if I grumbled a lot more in 2023 than I did in previous years. I wrote at least eight posts specifically about grumbles, or perhaps with acknowledgement of losses. 2023 was a year marking a lot of losses, a 20^th anniversary of loss, would-have-been 20^th birthdays, etc. And I just didn’t feel that great. And I decided that it was worth pointing out that even 20 years later, in a life that no longer focuses on childlessness, there are still ouch moments, times when it all comes back to me, times when I feel the losses.

That said, I also wrote eight posts about simply living my life, and enjoying it, embracing it. Posts about choosing our lives, being No Kidding and Happy, came easily to me in 2023 too. How about that for symmetry?

And the majority of my posts were about finding perspective, healing, and finding strength and compassion. Sometimes externally, but usually from the hard-won knowledge that comes from experiencing something first hand. My favourite post of the year was in this theme, and ended with the line, “I might have lost my blissful ignorance, but I have not lost my bliss.” Transformation from Trauma lays out how loss and infertility has changed me, made me more aware of my frailty, but also more confident in my strength. Like many of my posts, it was inspired by another blogger. Thanks for the inspiration, Jess!

I am constantly amazed and delighted to find so much wisdom in the comments of my posts - as I do every year. I am so lucky to have wise and compassionate readers, and I am so lucky that you are all still visiting, adding your perspectives, reminding me of the "BothAnd" (thanks, LLL!), putting alternatives.

Which once again brings me to the fact that the first week of January is blog delurking week. Yes, I know I’m late. But do leave a quick hello in the comments (I’m fine with anonymous comments if you’re shy) or send a quick email to me at nokiddinginnz at gmail dot com. I'd love to know who else is reading here.

And whether you comment or not, whether you’re a long time reader or have just stumbled across me for the first time, I wish you all a safe and happy 2024!

Note: This is an annual nod to Mel, who used to run the Crème de la Crème, where we would list our favourite post of the year. It always provided inspiring reading. So even though it doesn’t happen officially now, I hope that you too will list your favourite posts from your own blogs, on your blogs, for us to enjoy again (or for the first time).

 

My wish for 2024

Having survived a Christmas with a teen and a three-year-old (and their parents), I was thinking about what actually hurts me now. It’s not really the loss of those experiences, if I’m honest. The three-year-old gave me much joy, as did the fifteen-year-old. They also made me glad that, right now, I do not have those ages in my house. They’re great fun, but they’re both a lot of work in completely different ways. And as I said last week, they’re not MY kids. And what I missed was “MY” kids, whoever they might have been. I don’t allow myself to miss them now because it is impossible to know what they would have been like. The possibilities are endless, as would be the pain if I allowed myself to imagine it, so I just don’t. It’s pointless. So I don’t.

Anyway, what I was starting to say (and got distracted), is that what causes me pain now are barbs that paint me as other, as less, as someone who “doesn’t understand,” as someone who is inferior because I haven’t had that experience, or as someone to be pitied. Directed personally at me, or comments made generally by people I don’t even know, the unintentional comments, the slights, the deliberate or unconscious othering and ignoring of my/our situations hurt. These are what set me apart, remind me that I did not have an experience that so many people had, and imply I am not a full equal member of society. Yet I’m not really allowed to talk about my experiences as a comparison, though I do when I can. If only the “as a mother” comments could be responded to by the “as a childless person” comments – both negative AND positive. If I felt I could talk about the personal growth I’ve been forced to undergo just as a parent is forced to “grow up” when they are responsible for a little one, I think I would feel more seen, more included in general society. If I could acknowledge both the loss and gains of being childless, just as a parent has to acknowledge that they lose when they also gain so much when they have children, my life might feel more “normal.” Of course, I’m sure many parents feel they can’t talk about the hardships of being a parent. I’ve always thought that was ridiculous, and it needs to change. We all need to empathise more with each other, to see each other's perspectives, and to recognise all our collective griefs and joys.

That’s my wish for 2024, which will have begun in New Zealand by the time I post this, and beyond.

Happy New Year, and I wish you all the very best for the coming year!

The night before ...

I had another post planned, but it is Christmas Eve, and I am exhausted, though thankfully almost all preparations have been made for tomorrow. Like women all over the world right now! By the time you read this, it will be the 25th, and then it will all be over and we can just relax.

The three-year-old is very cute, a little overwhelmed by all the strangers he's had to meet in this house, very well behaved, and very sweet. All I can say is that I don't feel envy, simply because a) he's not my child, and b) at this stage in my life, I wouldn't have a three-year-old, and so can't relate. It might have been hard twenty years ago to watch him, but so far, it has been easy to simply be a loving observer.

We've set out the Christmas cake and glass of milk for the sleigh rider to eat when the presents are dropped. The stockings, which I bought thirty years ago thinking I might have children and we might have big family Christmases together. are under the tree. are spread out for my nieces and great-nephew, and for my husband, my sister, my brother-in-law, and myself. The first time I've ever used them. My sister pointed out that she, her husband, and her daughter use hers (which I gifted them 15 years ago when my niece was born) every year. But it's different to do that when you don't and have never had a child in the house. Continuing a tradition you started with a little one is easier than trying to start a tradition when it feels as if something is missing. So I'm feeling it a little, though not bad.

Whether or not you celebrate Christmas, I hope that you are relaxed and happy and get some peace over the next day or two. Sending love to you all. And I'm going to make a cup of chamomile and eat a piece of Christmas baklava!