Life goes on…

After losing Kora and Ava I found that I walked in a world that I no longer recognised. For us our world had coming crashing down and time had stood still. Yet everywhere we looked life went on.

It felt so surreal to me. We had lost our babies and were preparing to cremate them whilst others were going about their daily business. Tweeting what they were having for dinner, or posting about the mundane of their day. I say that with no offence intended but rather to highlight the ordinary.

We had no choice but to enter this world again as we are both self employed. We had no time off after leaving hospital to grieve our losses.

I would look around me in whatever social or business setting I was in and wonder how or if I would ever feel like I lived in their world again. I would wonder if the small things in life would wind me up like it does others, or whether my laughter would return and be as genuine as it had always been.

I wondered if small talk would return with the interest I would show before. It was like I was walking through life interacting with others as I had before but inside I was breaking. My heart didn’t feel like it wanted to beat, it wasn’t ‘in’ any situation.

I remember thinking nothing would ever feel the same again. To be honest, it hasn’t and I’m not sure it ever will. I have changed. I have a different perspective on most things. Things that use to seem important now seem trivial to me.

That’s not to say that I don’t empathise with others. After all everything is relative and we all have different strengths, capabilities, and coping skills. It’s just for me now whatever I face whether it’s making dinner, idle chat or something more serious nothing compares to the loss of our daughters.

In a society that watches After Life and sympathise with his grieve. Where people post how moving and touching the series has been. Where people well up or shed a few tears. I hope that one day society will have this same empathy and understanding of pregnancy loss, miscarriage and IVF. I hope that one day we will talk openly about this loss and that it won’t be an incredibly lonely time.

For now though, I will continue to live in your world. I will interact and engage as I am expected. I will appear to be the person you want me to be. I will shield you from the truth that we live in. I have learnt that life goes on even if I feel mine has stopped. Grief is my new normal everything else is the mask.

Pregnant 2-3 weeks

They say knowledge is power, well on this occasion I would argue it is more of a hindrance. Neil and I have been through so much trying to conceive, being pregnant and losing that we are now armed with facts most expectant people wouldn’t necessarily think about or know.

We kept taking the digital test as we knew the importance of the rise in HCG hormone. A rise indicates normally that everything with the pregnancy is progressing at the rate it should be. Low HCG or low rising HCG can be an indicator that something is not as it should be with the pregnancy. An example of this is an ectopic pregnancy when the embryo implants outside of the womb (usually in the tube). This of course is something Neil and I know only to well.

We kept taking tests for a few reasons. Firstly we wanted to keep seeing the positive as we had tested early therefore we needed to see it after aunt flow (period) was in fact late. Secondly we needed to know it hadn’t changed back to negative like before. Thirdly we took digital tests to ensure our HCG levels were rising.

This is where the problem arose. We got stuck on 2-3 weeks. I tested when we should have seen 3+ on the test. However we kept just seeing 2-3 weeks. Thoughts went through my head such as maybe this time I’m carrying just one baby so my levels are lower than normal for me. Maybe we were falling into the 3% who test and it isn’t accurate.

What was worrying me in particular was the lack of pregnancy symptoms. I had lost the metallic taste in my mouth, the nausea had gone, I wasn’t hungry and my sense of smell had lessened. I know that at 5 weeks it is normal for symptoms to come and go so I told myself and my husband that this doesn’t mean the worst.

But we were still very aware that the tests we were taken would show positive even if the embryo implanted in the tube or if we were in fact heading towards a miscarriage. We knew this from our past experiences where we have monitored how long it has taken for the HCG level to leave my body after our losses.

When we were pregnant last time when one of the embryos implanted in my tube, I had the operation on January 15th 2020. However my body still showed as pregnant till the 5th February 2020. It can take up to 11 weeks for the hormone not to show up on a test after a pregnancy loss especially if you were further along or carrying twins.

People who loved me and who I had told that I was pregnant kept saying to me not to worry. This is said of course with the best of intentions and love. It is also said because stress and worry is not good for any baby. I told myself exactly the same. Yet it is much easier said then done especially when you know as much as we do. My biggest fear was that the embryo had implanted in my one remaining tube. If this tube had to be removed then our only chance of getting pregnant again would be IVF.

I also told myself that we were in fact blessed to be pregnant again naturally with only 13.6% chance. We were in fact in a positive position. We were pregnant but we also had 4 frozen embryos in storage. We had more opportunity now then we have had before.

Neil said for him it would be the waiting that he would find frustrating. If we were to lose this natural pregnancy then we would have to wait a few months for my body to return to a normal cycle before we could start IVF. Obviously we had already waited for this IVF due to the pandemic so when they announced that clinics could open we might not be knocking on their door immediately.

For me it was the emotional and mental impact. Dealing with another loss just felt an impossible task. Physically my body had taken so much impact with four pregnancies in under 2 years yet it was my anxiety that was screaming out. I have never been a very anxious person. I have always managed to convince myself of the realistic outcomes and to remain positive.

This pregnancy I knew too much and as hard as I tried to tell myself I can’t do anything to change the outcome. I have lost early and past the so called 12 week mark that people anxiously anticipate to mean as a safety mark. What was going to be was going to be! I couldn’t stop worrying.

I wanted to be blissfully and naively happily pregnant like I was with Kora and Ava. When the world put rainbows in their windows I wanted to be carrying a healthy and safe rainbow of my own.

To blog or not to blog!

I’ve been struggling to write this last week. I spoke with a good friend of mine and she made a comment about how people may not want to read my blog due to the current situation with Coronavirus.

She is a sensitive, emotional and empathetic person and a comment like this doesn’t normally leave her mouth. She is thoughtful and thinks about what she wants to say. I know her intention would not have been to hurt my feelings but there I sat in tears.

I was so upset about the comment that I reached out to a support group called SANDS that I belong to. I asked them what they thought about the comment and if she was saying what others were thinking. Should we not grieve and talk about the loss of our babies during the virus? Is the world more worried about what is happening now that all other struggles should be put on hold?

I received many comforting comments that helped me to look at it from outside the hurt I was feeling.

One of the most poignant comments was that our grieve doesn’t stop because of this virus in fact it can be more difficult when our life’s are on hold and we have more time to rest and think with very little support from family and friends who we can’t see at the moment.

Writing is very therapeutic for me and although I would love it to progress to a level where it reaches and supports so many others that have experienced similar, I am grateful for the outlet for my own benefit.

Ultimately we all grieve in different ways and we try and make it through the day in whatever way we can. Grieve is consuming and doesn’t stop because the world is going through a pandemic.

I share my blog in the hopes it might help or reach out to someone in a difficult moment. I share it because I want to change the way the world deals with pregnancy loss. I share it because it helps me. It is your choice to click and read it and I’m so grateful to the ones that do. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, this quiet support that I receive.

Against all odds

My sense of smell was heightened. I was retching at the dog poo bin. My appetite was decreased but when I was hungry I felt sick. All the signs of my previous pregnancies! My menstrual cycle wasn’t due for another 2 days but I went to the toilet that evening as I had enough of feeling sick and although in the back on my mind I thought I was pregnant, I thought the chances were very remote.

It had been just 3 months since I had surgery to remove my Fallopian tube and the baby. My menstrual cycle had been ridiculously early one month and stupidly late the next month. I felt like I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I had brought ovulation tests (something I have done very rarely) just to check I was accurate with my ovulation times. The strip had confirmed that I was still tracking correctly.

I had never given up hope of conceiving naturally after all Kora and Ava were natural along with another pregnancy in August 2019 which was a biochemistry miscarriage. My third pregnancy was twins again via IVF which resulted in the operation in January 2020 as mentioned above.

The odds were now against us. Before IVF we had no fertility issues. We chose IVF due to my age and it had resulted in my Fallopian tube being removed. So now I am 40 years old with one tube!

Ectopic.org.uk states “It affects 1 in 80 pregnancies in the UK and women who suffer have to face the physical trauma of major invasive treatment, their own mortality, the impact on their future fertility and the sad loss of losing their baby all very quickly. This can be a very frightening and distressing experience”.

They also state that our fertility or rather our chance of conceiving naturally is now 70% rather than 100%. You might wonder why it is not halved. An egg released on the side with no tube can travel down the other tube as it can move to collect the egg!

So 70% is ok odds but if you then add my age and our chances of falling pregnant each month when ovulating having only one tube the percentage is 13.6%.

I have never given up hope even if the odds were against us. We have a healthy sex life and it has never been about just making a baby. We do track when I ovulate because of my age but that is all we do.

Due to Coronavirus our IVF was cancelled and we were ok with that at the time because we thought it was about protecting the embryos due to unknown affects of the virus. We agreed we would continue as normal naturally but we knew our chances were low (we were also come to terms with this especially as we have 4 embryos in the freezer).

So I peed on the stick. Although I felt pregnant already I was sure I was going to see a negative so I hadn’t even asked Neil to be there. Instantly the test was positive! Looking at me was a cross. I asked Neil to come to the bathroom and I showed him the result. His reaction was similar to mine, disbelief.

We have been in this position before in August 2019 when I tested early and got a positive only to test again 2 days later (I felt different) to see a negative instead of the positive.

As you can imagine with what we have been through over the last two years we felt apprehensive. So needless to say we tested the next day with a digital test to see it say PREGNANT 2-3 weeks! We tested again the next day and the next day and the next. Our anxiety is heightened as we have been the 1 in 4 on three occasions. Our happiness is shadowed through anxiety but there is a hope and we see the rainbow!!! Fingers crossed this is our rainbow.

A Different Kind of Mother

What image do you conjure up when you think of a Mother? Is she radiant? Does she have an apron on with children sat in high chairs? Is she worn out and not looking her best? Do you think of a Mother who doesn’t have any living biological children?

I believe I became a Mother before I delivered my biological babies. As previously stated in other blogs I was a foster carer for numerous years and also a step mum.

Interestingly, most people that know me do not think of me as a Mother. Friends have stated to me “you will know, when you are a mum” or when we go out they talk about their children and refer to each other whilst leaving me out of the conversation. I know this is not intentional as my friends have very good hearts, it’s why they are my friends. I quietly think to myself that maybe they will be coming to me for advice when their children hit teenage years.

I guess it’s just because I don’t tick the conventional mum box. Yet, during this pandemic I am again a full time mum and Neil has selflessly taken on a fathers role.

You see just under 3 weeks ago a previous foster daughter arrived on our doorstep. She had fled her semi self independent flat (with was staffed with support workers) due to a horrendous robbery and attack. She was knifed in the face, beaten and kicked and ended up with a black eye. I have seen the video footage and it honestly makes me sick to the stomach to see the fear in her face.

She had informed her social worker (who rang her 5 days after the attack) that she felt unsafe and very anxious in what was known to her as her home (even if this was a temporary stop gap). She wanted to have her safety ensured and ultimately wanted the new placement she should have been given around December time (the attack happened in March).

I have been in her life since she was 12, she is now 17 and she has always known my heart, arms and door is always open to her. So during the peak of the pandemic she traveled from Nottinghamshire to Portsmouth.

People who know me well (which is only a very small handful of people) will tell you that my heart is on my sleeve, I am sensitive. I am the type of person who hears the crunch under my foot and instantly feels awful as I know it is a snail I’ve just killed. I eat meat but I buy it at the butchers for compassion in farming (I was veggie for 10 years before it was easy to be one). I can’t watch animal programmes even if it is nature that the predator gets the prey!

Why am I telling you this? I’m justifying my sensitivity and emotions. I feel the system has let this young person down immensely and still is but I want you to be aware that I’m personally involved.

I am not disrespecting the career or profession of social workers (I’m sure there are good ones out there) I’m just highly disappointed from my experience of the social care system.

Since being in Neil’s and my care (we are not registered foster carers, nor are we being paid, or legally responsible in any way) her social worker has not rang her but rather returned her calls. They have not checked if Neil and I are working and can provide (we are both self employed and have not worked due to the pandemic). Our home has not been checked (a virtual tour could have been undertaken). They have not checked if she even has a bed or a room here. She has and is safe and well provided for.

Her anxiety is obviously through the roof due to the attack yet her mental health and well being has been neglected. We have organised some emotional support and registered her at a doctor’s within one week of arriving however her social worker has not ensured any of this.

Her belongings are still in Nottinghamshire and the placement is being ended on the 1st May so she will be officially homeless. There is written guidance to say that a child in care should where possible should be able to pack their own belongings. So it will come as no surprise that she wanted to ensure all her belongings were packed and safe.

Her social worker discussed a man in a van bringing her belongings to our house (without asking if we had the space and assuming we could take it all, we of course will accommodate this). The social worker text her to ask her to get the train from Portsmouth to Nottinghamshire so she could supervise the pack. Yes, you read that right! She was expected to travel at 17 being classed as vulnerable and following a horrendous attack during the middle of a serious pandemic on public transport by herself!

We asked her to call her social worker and stated that we did not want her to travel via public transportation so we will drive her if they can cover our petrol (we have no money to fund this ourselves as we are not earning).

This is only a snap shot of how the system has failed THIS young person. Unfortunately she has been let down by the system since leaving my care at the age of 13. I fought to keep her (it was also what she wanted) but her social worker at the time felt she needed to be in a children’s home rather than a foster home.

I am not writing this to belittle the children’s service or any social worker. I appreciate we are in a pandemic and these key workers are probably pushed to their limits. I am writing this because that is my concern! The system (let’s face it the world) was not ready for a pandemic of this size and I fear for the young people in the care system that will be affected.

I am also hopeful that this young persons situation will be resolved I’m just unsure of any time scales and the impact on her as she approaches 18 in 10 months! Her social worker has not found her an appropriate placement and the ones offered so far have been refused due to the inappropriateness of them.

I’m hopeful because I see the young person before me and she is resilient, strong minded, sensitive and adaptable. I am proud of the young person she has become and I hope that as a different kind of mum I might have had some influence on who she has become.

So, I may not be a conventional mum but I have sat in A and E with a young person that has self harmed or tried to commit suicide again. I have been punched and kicked by a young child who can’t express their emotions effectively due to a chromosome disorder. I have attended parent evenings and supported children with their homework. I have picked up the phone and listened when their world is crashing down around them. I have held my babies in my palms. I have attended their cremation. I have carried them all (maybe not all in the womb) but all of them in my heart.

They were dead inside!

I mentioned in another blog that I was 1 in 60,000 women that induction of labour didn’t work. I was in hospital for 10 days in total with my babies still in my womb. My bump was obviously there for all to see but it was only Neil and I that knew our babies were dead. I was not the blossoming, glowing pregnant woman that others may have been fooled into believing at first glance.

It was one of the hardest and surreal times and something we never expected or considered when I was pregnant. The professionals would advise us to go for walks around the hospital and it’s grounds to help the labour start. I remember being so fearful.

I was fearful that people would ask me about my pregnancy after all we are generally inquisitive people and like to engage and communicate with others (it’s in our nature). I was fearful of my reaction and their reaction if I had to answer a question such as how many weeks? I was worried someone would tell me I looked glowing when I was dying inside just like my girls had.

It meant that through this fear Neil and I spent almost 24/7 in the hospital room. Especially when the consultant put a balloon up my vagina to break my waters. I never knew this was a thing until then! It looked like a very unattractive attached garter (see below -don’t worry it’s only my leg in shot)! I was worried I’d be out walking with Neil and my waters would break around people. What to them would seem a joyous occasion would be for us the start of a very awful goodbye.

If you have read any of my blogs before you have probably already guessed that this of course did not work and my waters did not break as the professionals had hoped.

1 week and 2 days later on Saturday 18th August 2018 the hospital thought it would be a good idea for us to go home or be around family for a break from the hospital before they started to overdose me with yet more Prostaglandins (gel inserted into vagina to induce labour).

My brother and his wife had just moved into their new house and were having a housewarming party. I really needed some normality but was very anxious about being around people (especially if those people have no idea what it is like to be carrying and waiting to deliver your dead babies).

We decided to pop along for a few hours and my brother made sure he told everyone about the situation so we didn’t get any awkward congratulations!

We forgot though just how hard this can be on others and it was in fact my auntie (closest person I have to my mum) who kept mentioning our babies. My auntie has lost a son and understands fully the grief of a parent but I guess we didn’t think about her grief for our girls until that moment and the implications on her seeing us there looking pregnant. We had asked her to be a surrogate nan to Kora and Ava.

I think we were so overwhelmed in our grief and so exhausted from being in the hospital we didn’t really think what it was like for anyone else at the housewarming till we arrived. I can’t tell you how much I needed a large glass of wine (I, of course, sustained)! Needless to say we didn’t stay long.

We had visits from Amy (Neil’s daughter), Neil’s dad and his fiancée and 2 of my amazing friends. The pain in all of their eyes and hearts was so raw and obvious. When you are walking around with your dead babies inside it is so difficult to think about the impact on others around you. I remember Amy looked at my bump when she arrived and burst into tears then she kept looking at my bump with such sadness. I felt like I was letting so many people down.

The next day we delivered Kora and Ava. I had a fever from the overdose and was on an antibiotic drip. I had gas and air to deliver them but the pain I felt in my heart, nothing could touch. I delivered the girls in 2 hours 1 min (Kora 1 hour and then Ava 1 hour 1 minute) on Sunday 19th August 2018 exactly 10 days after the scan where we were told they had no heartbeats.

I hope that if I ever fall pregnant again we get to carry full term and deliver healthy happy babies (I feel I’m destined for twins). I hope we never have to walk around knowing our babies have no heartbeat. I hope we never have to look at smiling faces of people that assume our pregnancy is going to plan and that we are stupidly happy.

To all those that have experienced similar my heart truly goes out to you.

Disappearing hope!

How often are you looking at the time? It’s strange that we have been forced into a situation where we stay in and often have little to do or struggle to get through the demands of the day. I think I have looked at my watch more times then ever before!

I fall in the category of less to do. I don’t have to juggle my job around the children and be their teacher too. I am the woman on the list that states person without children asks the time to check if it’s too early to have a wine or posts how clean their house is (I’ve not actually posted this)!

Don’t get me wrong, I somehow fill my day. I fill it with numerous activities that when asked I can’t quite recall my productivity! I undertake lots of things throughout the day and I do this to keep myself sane.

I would love to trade my position to be at home spending time with my children even I know I would be a shocking teacher and I certainly wouldn’t win an award for best mum.

Instead today I received a letter from our IVF clinic stating that they will not be starting any treatments before the end of May. This did not come as a shock to me. It’s frustrating as some of the main reasons are to reduce the demand on the NHS (I get it, I appreciate it but I wonder why others are allowed to conceive naturally during this time).

In the letter it stated that we should use this time to be healthy both mentally and physically to prepare for our IVF journey when it commences. This got me thinking. I don’t know anyone recently that was more prepared to become a parent then most of the people I know facing IVF.

We watch our weight, we take our vitamins, we don’t drink during ovulation to period and through any IVF rounds. We support each other when and where we can with the daily struggles each can face in this journey of infertility.

I personally exercise regularly and ensure I am relaxed about trying to conceive and our IVF rounds. It’s not easy but I consider I am quite good at it considering the desire to be a biological mother is and can be extreme.

I can’t explain the shift in my mindset since covid-19. I have never been very good at coping with things outside of my control yet I am very relaxed at the moment with this.

I don’t know if it’s because we are self employed and have no money to get by because our jobs stopped over night or if it’s because I have Alissa here with me (previous foster daughter) that I am supporting. Or maybe it’s because after our first round of IVF we ended up with fertility issues so our chances of falling pregnant naturally again have been significantly reduced with taking my age into consideration as well, or maybe it’s because somewhere in my mind I feel like my opportunity is disappearing.

I actually thought about dismantling the empty cot, packing the baby changer and other baby things away. I’m not giving up (I’m like a dog with a bone when my mind is made up) but I am accepting the fact that I can’t do anything about any of this.

I write this today from a calm place. A place where I am grateful for the fact I have been pregnant, I delivered my babies, I am a mum! Ask me tomorrow if I still feel the same and you could come across a woman on her knees in tears that my chances are slipping away right in front of my eyes. However for now I am the calm before the storm.

Obsessive Mummy

We all know the ones right? The ones that from the moment they fall pregnant they bombard us with every tiny detail, be it in person or via social media. You know the scan pictures, the bump at this week, the baby just kicked, morning sickness, tiredness and then the baby arrives!!!

It becomes constant uploads of the baby with the 1 week old cards and so on. The first smile, the new outfit photos, the jab appointments, the midwife visits, the sleepless nights and so on.

It’s a continuous stream of information about their baby or child. Every single moment documented! I promised myself when I feel pregnant, I would not be that mummy.

True to my word I didn’t post the scan picture on my Facebook. It was my husband that announced our news to the world. A very rare thing for him to do but I think he was just on top of the world expecting identical twins.

I didn’t talk about my pregnancy with anyone except my two closest friends and of course my husband Neil. To them I would share the details but they weren’t the details you see on social media. I talked about how I didn’t have the pregnancy glow or discussed the amount of weight I was piling on due to expecting twins. I talked about the fatigue and additional supplements I had to take due to it. I talked about feeling butterflies all the time from their movements and our excitement and how we were preparing our best for the arrivals.

I have one photo of my bump. It’s a bitter sweet memory and I very rarely look at it. I took it the day after the scan when we were told their heartbeats had stopped. I’m stood in the nursery in front of the wardrobe mirror. It dawned on me that I had not taken one photo of my baby bump. When I look at the photo I treasure it but I see the pain in my eyes. I know that my babies are dead in that photo.

Neil wrote a beautiful statement on his Facebook to inform everyone as he had originally uploaded the scan photo. We had lots of sincere messages. I guess that’s why only Neil and my closest friends really felt our loss because we had not shared much of our journey with anyone else (not even immediate family). We were in our own joyous bubble and desperately providing and preparing our nest.

It felt like by the time our immediate family and friends knew a little about our pregnancy it had ended. We didn’t get to share all our baby names, or reveal their gender. I don’t believe my own father and brother have ever even seen my scan photo. They don’t know what pregnancy symptoms I was feeling or even many of our feelings.

What became a real heartache for me in particular was the fact that the nurses had taken our pregnancy folder and inside were our scan photos. We never got them back. Fortunately I had given Amy (Neil’s daughter) copies from our first scan that she attended with us and she very kindly sent me electronic copies when I asked about a year later.

So now I get it! Now I will never get fed up or annoyed with the mum that constantly posts about their baby or child. I won’t get annoyed with the expectant mother and father that constantly update us on every single detail. It’s like a dagger to my heart sometimes when I hear the news that someone has just had their healthy living baby but it’s not resentment. I might not react immediately or in the way that I should due to my own sadness but I am sincerely happy for you.

We do not know the journey that mother and father had to conceive their baby. Due to the taboo subject of infertility and pregnancy loss we will probably not know if that is their rainbow baby (a baby after miscarriage(S). We don’t know if that is the only child they will have for whatever personal reason. We don’t know if they are sharing every detail because they have limited time with their children. It may be their first and they are filled with the excitement of expecting.

So I welcome and embrace the obsessive mother and father. I welcome the constant flow of details and I hope that if we are fortunate enough to have a successful pregnancy and baby(ies) then I’m sorry in advance if I bore you with every significant detail.

I will want to treasure every moment by documenting it in some way. As I unfortunately know that being pregnant doesn’t always result in a living baby. I know how important every memory is as we don’t know when it may be the last or only one we have. I will record a pregnancy video throughout so that if I am not around to share it with my child(ren) they have something to hold onto.

I hope that one day Neil and I will be those parents that complain of lack of sleep from them or wish for some much needed “me” time. I hope that we become the parents that get frustrated with the daily challenges of raising their children. I hope that we will sit down in the evening with that much needed glass of wine and wonder if we are getting it right!

I guess what I’m trying to say is please do continue to share your precious moments at any stage of your pregnancy or parental journey. Share those memories and moments no matter how insignificant you think they are. Don’t fear that others will get bored of your constant updates or rather just don’t worry about what others think of your updates just treasure every single minute through the hard and good times. I know I will.

Bitter sweet

We should have been given a scan photo today of our embryos implanted safely. We should have come out and rested, wishing and hoping for the embryos to stick! Wishing that this time they would stick in the right places! We should have been filled with hope today. Embarking on our two week wait again with optimism that this time it would work out.

Instead we are staying at home helping to save lives (a crazy statement I never thought I would write). Rallying around our elderly neighbours, supporting our vulnerable. Our IVF cancelled due to the pandemic. A decision we did not make for ourselves but a decision we understand even if it is so bitter sweet.

The cots still lay there with their beautiful bedding, waiting for the day that they get to cradle alive baby or babies! The nursery a sea of colour for our expected bundles of joy. A book shelf with babies first books which holds instead the book “how much do I love you”. The book that came in the memorial box given to parents who don’t get to take their babies home. A play mat under their cot that they didn’t get to lie on. Two hearts as empty as the cots!

At my age i worry as I sit on the nursing chair (just now and then) that time is against me. I know you have just pictured me as a crying mess, eyes all blotchy and swollen, with a very red face! I am not that person but could easily be as after all I am human and there is no shame in being that crying woman that sits there hugging the outfits my babies never got to wear. After all we all grieve in different ways and there really is no right or wrong way. It’s about survival, managing and coping. I marvel at the men and women I come across that have dealt with the loss of their baby/babies, their infertility or their IVF journey.

I look around our beautiful nursery and a tear escapes. Fear and sadness intrudes in that we may not get the chance to become parents to babies we bring home due to a pandemic out of our control. Age is against us and no one knows how long this virus will be around or the implications on pregnancy. The hope and optimism could so easily become lost in the fear of losing our chance. Yet we refuse to break down the cot, part with the changing table, nursing chair or baby products. We are not ready to give up yet. We will not lose all hope just yet.

Somewhere inside our hearts we keep the hope for each other. Somewhere we know that what will be, will be. That we will be just fine. When you have lost babies you gain a strength you didn’t know you had. You face the world a very different way. You’ve faced the unthinkable of losing your child. We continue together to face whatever the world has to throw at us next. And if that is a life without living children then I know that we will be just fine together. We will embrace our lives and live every moment.

Of course we wish that our future is one with babies. We have a lot of love to give but we are at peace for now with what we can’t control. It’s a difficult place to be but right now with a world where you can’t attend your loved ones funeral we feel we need to count our blessings and hold onto the good we have. In a world where people are missing out on seeing their loved ones or watching their grandchildren grow we count our blessings again.

Stay safe little embryos and maybe one day we will meet again!!!

When I count my blessings I always count my husband twice. X