Really? Two Years already?

Sometimes it feels like you’ve been gone forever.  And sometimes it feels like you’re still here on this earth, just still living on another continent with a lot less phone calls and contact.

The last two years have been full of ups and downs.  We had a blast at your memorial service with your old military buddies and I think you would have enjoyed the send off you were given.  Like you always wished, a fish eagle cried out as we scattered your ashes into the river to disperse through the land you loved so much.  It was a perfect moment, one I’ve thought about a lot in the time that’s passed.  I will never hear the cry of a fish eagle again without thinking of you.

There has been a lot of healing that has occurred in the last two years.  I’ve come to realise that there were many times that you were just plain shitty to us, and that allowing myself to forgive you for those times would set me free from them.  So I’ve forgiven you.  You know the times I’m referring to.  They’re in the past where they belong and while I will never forget the shitty times, I can remember them without the bitterness I used to feel about them before.  And for all your shittyness, there was good too.  Good times, fun times and lots of crazy laughs.  I will never forget playing “pazant” at that one party in Namibia where your buddy got so dizzy he fell into Mom’s prized roses and the times when Moz and I would invite all our mates over and we’d do fashion shows for you and Mom.  Yes there were times when you didn’t do such a great job, but overall there were more good times than bad and I think that’s all a parent can aim for.

While you’ve been gone, I’ve experienced a pregnancy and become a Mom.  You know how much that meant to me and I can tell you, that you were absolutely right when you told me to never stop fighting for this privilege.  I wish you had gotten to see me pregnant.  I wish that my son would’ve got the chance to meet you.  Cos while you often said that you would’ve sucked with a boy, I think you two would’ve actually had a riot together.  He’s cute Dad.  I think you would’ve loved his mischievous giggle and the gap he’s got between his top front teeth.

I find that as time passes I think of you less often.  Must be because the grief I felt at your passing is healing.  The touch point of how you left us is not as tender as it used to be.  I’m happy for that.  Maybe it’s because my life is full and busier than ever now.  The hole is filled to overflowing.  I’m happy for that too.  But I’ll hear a song or a sound that reminds me of you every so often and I find that I smile when that happens.

I know, that writing these words means nothing to you.  You are gone and getting them out is merely a form of catharsis for me.  But I wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you today and I am missing you still.  Not as much as last year granted, but you are missed.

Take care of you, Dad.

xxx

Thoughts on Motherhood

Before I was blessed with Kade, I would spend a lot of time asking my friends who were mothers what motherhood was like, how it changed them, how their lives were effected by it and so on and so forth.

I got many different perspectives on motherhood from my friends, but the one thing that stayed consistent in their stories was how challenging the first few weeks were.  Challenging but also truly amazing.  I was told of how husbands and wives fought like cat & dog during those first few weeks, how resentment grew from the woman’s side cos she was doing it all while the man slept blissfully in their bed.   I was told of how their babies snuggled into them, almost melted into their arms and how wonderful that feeling was.  I was told that reaching the 6 – 8 week mark made all the difference.  Lots of stories.

I had created an idea of what it would be like in my head, one which I admittedly had coloured with rose-tinted glasses. 

Then I had one friend who told me that becoming a mother was the hardest transition in her life and that it quite literally left her with absolutely nothing left to give of herself to the people around her. 

I could not understand how being a mother could stop you from supporting your friends who were also facing life.  How becoming a mother and achieving the ideal of having a family could cripple you as a person for anyone or anything other than your new baby. 

But I was not a mother myself and felt that I probably shouldn’t judge.  

I was accused of not being supportive enough of this friend who had become a mother within a short period of time and was battling to adjust to the hardest transition of her life…

At the time, I was dealing with the loss of my father, working through my own grief whilst supporting my mother, sister and niece through theirs, had just received a negative on our 5th ART procedure on the day my father’s ashes arrived from overseas and was still in the aftermath of dealing with the “what could have been” of our chemical pregnancy from IVF # 4. 

I had to stop giving of myself to others and had to tend to my own emotional well being or lose myself in the process and lost that friendship cos I put myself first for the firt time.

Now that I am a mother myself, I still don’t understand where she was coming from.  Her argument was that she had not had the luxury of time to prepare for motherhood.  But with respect, in my opinion there is not a woman in the world who has that luxury.  Whether you become a mother by experiencing pregnancy, through adoption or via surrogacy, in my experience, you are quite literally thrown into the deep end when that baby comes.

We are all in a position where one day we are women, wives who are carefree and able to do things at a whim without thinking too much about what we’re up to and the next day we are Mother’s where our every decision effects this tiny helpless perfect being in every way.

We are all thrown into the spiral of sleep deprivation, of caring for our children, the endless, feed, burp, change sleep cycle that commands our lives for days and weeks on end…  We all need to adjust to having this tiny being  rely on us for their very livelihood.

Honestly, nothing you’ve thought of or researched or asked can prepare you for it.  It changes you indelibly.  Becoming a mother is incredibly challenging cos you’re holding all these balls up in the air and at any time they could drop and we put pressure on ourselves to be perfect.  To do the very best we can for our children.

It’s the hardest job we’ll ever do as women.

BUT it’s also the most amazing job we’ll do.  There is so much joy and so much reward in this thing called motherhood.

For me, being Kade’s mom has been an experience in filling me up instead of an experience of emptying me out.

I’m the first to admit that I wasn’t very good at physically being there for people in those first few early weeks of his life, I was SO consumed with my love for him, with my desire to care for him and to be the very best I could be for him, but I was always thinking of my friends who are still facing the challenge of infertility.  I was still praying for them.  And when they reached out to me, I reached back and comforted/advised as much as time would allow.  I remembered to be there for my close friends when it mattered most, as they faced small anniversaries of troubled times or failed cycles. 

Kade has been the salve for my soul.  My blessing, my miracle boy.

He has filled me to overflowing and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

Daily Grind

Bone clenching, gut renchingly tired

Eyes stinging from strain

Feet drag through mires of mud

Everything is an effort

Breathing is hard

Blinking is a danger – too close to sleep

Brain tells you to just keep going

Do all you can to get through the day

When all you want to do is curl up in a ball

And dive headfirst into sleep

Glorious restful sleep…

It does not come

the rest it alludes you

Sleep tempts you

Sleep covers you

Sleep drags you under

Yet you wake….

Bone achingly tired and exhausted

To start again

I take you with me…

I take you with me every day

Expecting to get a call from you

Lamenting how long we’ve been apart

I take you with me everyday

Memories I play over in my head

That laugh you had

The smile you had

The love you had of life

Swinging me round and round

Kissing Mom in the kitchen

Hugging us all the time

Tears you shed on the birth of the apple of your eye

Those blue eyes flashing with anger and forgiveness

I take you with me every day Dad

Forever in my heart

The Internal Debate

The last week has really had it’s fair share of ups and downs, thankfully more ups than downs but when the downs have hit, man they’ve hit hard.

During the down times I’ve been doing the whole “why me” thing.  Why did we have to fall on the wrong side of the statistics AGAIN?  Why couldn’t my embies just have held on and gone all the way?  Why do we have to face our 5th big ART treatment in 3 years?  Why does it seem like God is answering everyone else’s prayers and is sidelining mine?  Pity party deluxe.  Makes me want to vomit.  And slap myself silly.

The thing is this.  I am extremely sad that our pregancy was a chemical one.  But I’m also excited that we managed that much.  Cos it’s a hell of a lot more than we’ve ever managed before.  And it DOES bode well for the future.  If it can happen once to have implantation take place it can sure as heck happen again and also may very well go all the way.

I was thinking about how good I’d felt through this last cycle.  About how everything felt like it was falling into place.  If I’m really honest, I knew for those few days that I was “pregnant” that I was “pregnant”.  I really felt the hand of God on me during the whole process.  And I’m understandably a bit confused as to how this could have turned out like this.  How He could have let me feel a little bit of the miracle only for it to not be completely fulfilled.

I thought back to what I had said in the beginning of the cycle.  “Let His will be done”.  I think I did a good job of standing on that statement throughout the treatment.  But now?  Now I’m wobbling on that statement, cos dudes, this “will” sucks.

I do still believe that our miracle is coming.  I just wish I could know the time frame I was looking at.  I know He loves me and I know He feels my pain.  I just really hope that next time round, He say’s Yes to the miracle that we’ve all been asking for.

Keep the Calm…

In an effort to keep calm, I thought I would post these amazing pictures of waves, they are calm.  They are tranquil and they just might keep my mind off the wait that shall not be mentioned…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fertilized

I know it’s silly to be worried about a fert report when you’ve always had good fertilization rates, but honestly one just never knows if they’ve fertilized or not and for me I find the wait to find out if they’ve fertilized or not THE most stressful part of a treatment. 

So I sat twiddling my thumbs this morning, totally not concentrating at work, talking to friends on skype, drinking loads of water and tea (still pushing those fluids, last time my OHSS only struck 2 days after ER) and pretty much doing anything and everything to make the time go by until I could call the lab just after 10h00.

Each minute was ticking by soooooo slooowwwly until finally it was time for the call.  I got voicemail. SHIT!  Called back right away, got a human, and then stood in the freezing cold (was standing outside my offices, top secret status on this IVF you know) waiting for that all important update…

S.E.V.E.N!  We have 7 beautiful embies growing.  I asked about the other 3 being “possibles” and she said there was no note about them… So 7, seven, seve, and 7 in whatever other language you can think of.  Thank you God!

Now we pray that they continue growing well…

Jumbled Up

My emotions are jumbled up.  BIG time.  I’m incredibly sad.  I’m angry.  I’m hurt.  I’m scared.  I’m hopeful.  I’m confused.  I’m anxious.  I’m excited.  And many others that I’m battling to articulate right now.

Sharon’s miscarriage has really sucker punched me.  I’ve always made no bones about the fact that I love God and that I pray to Him.  When Martiza was going through her GIFT, I prayed for her and Jerry often.  And I got a sense of peace and love when I prayed for them.  I *knew* it was going to be a successful treatment for them.  I just knew.  Then came Shaz’s turn.  I got that same feeling of peace and love when I prayed for her and W.  So in turn I *knew* her FET was going to be positive too. 

Then she got her positive test, I changed my prayers for her and W.  I changed them to prayers for a healthy full term pregnancy.  I felt peace for them.  And I felt like this was the one that would go all the way.  I just thanked Him for answering so many of our prayers and thanked Him for the baby that would be testament to His Grace.  And I have to say that I am SO shaken that my feelings were so wrong.  How could I have misread the feelings I felt I was getting from the Holy Spirit?  Was I just so eager for it to be what I wanted that I was fabricating those feelings?

Then I have to admit that  we’ve decided to move ahead with our next fresh IVF in November.  We based this decision on a couple of things.  Number 1, that there is no good time to head into treatment.  There will always be *something* to hold you back.  Number 2, Cliff wanted to do it sooner rather than wait.  This man has done enough stuff over the last 5 years for me when I wanted them that I could not deny him this (and in my heart of hearts I wanted to move ahead too so it was kinda a no brainer but anyway) and Number 3 that when I prayed about this decision I got a sense of calm and peace about moving ahead with this treatment in November.  The worry is creeping in cos now it seems like my discernment of the peace and calm might not be as spot on as I thought it was.  I might have forced myself to think I was feeling it cos I wanted to feel it.  The thing is I still feel it when I pray about it now.  So now I’m confused.  But excited and hopeful too.  See?  All jumbled up.

I’m trying so hard to not let the fear that is stemming from the hurt I feel for my friend overwhelm me.  I need to get my head right.  I need to get into the place where I can allow my hope and faith to open my body up to the possiblity that I can be on the receiving end of this miracle.  Its hard.  But I’m trying.

Today

Today marks a place in time when I was in my mind celebrating the fact that I was finally going to be a mother.  It was going to be the day I finally got to give Cliff a book I bought him last May.  It was a day for happy tears.  Today was going to be a day where I was going to worry about how I would break the news on this blog.  I did not want to be too over excited as I would be mindful of the fact that there were still so many of you in the trenches trying to attain that holy grail of pregnancy.

Instead, today my heart is very sore.  Instead of being excited to get beta results, I am trying to heal my heart cos I already know that it’s over and that my dream is over.  Instead, today I am bleeding – both physically and mentally.

But it’s not been all doom and glood today.

Today two dear friends got great news.  The one got an excellent fert report and the other finally got to see a heart beating on a scan.  This is wonderful, excellent news, and makes the fact that today is sad for me, not as sad as it could have been.

And yet, I still sit here and wonder – what could have been?  I wonder how on earth I am still in that trench we call infertility…