I’m not sure where this post is heading which pretty much goes against how I usually construct these. There is so much going on in and through my head at the moment.
I hurt my back yesterday. I am in pain today. Ebbs and flows. Incapacitation. Hurts to sit, hurts to stand, hurts to lie down. Bizarre place to be in.
There are so many people having babies or falling pregnant at the moment. Also a bizarre place to be in. It’s been almost fourteen months since my last failed IVF attempt and almost nine months since I decided to stop by not accepting my sister’s offer of donated eggs. Mostly due to finances and future quality of life.
I still twinge though, every time I see a pregnant woman or hear of a pregnancy; I’ve only not felt that once in almost six years. I sometimes wonder if it will ever stop, hoping that it does.
I have locked in the dates for my foster care assessments and training sessions.
When you struggle with fertility everyone says that foster care is there as an alternative. Even I have said it. But what I am realising is that it isn’t an alternative to being a birth parent. There is nothing that is.
And that’s okay.
But I’m going to stop suggesting it that way. It is a completely different scenario. A completely different mindset is required.
You aren’t a parent, you are a carer. You have the responsibility of raising a child and providing them with opportunities, but they are not your child. They are in your care. Not yours.
And I’m good with this. I’m looking forward to providing a child with opportunities they currently don’t have access to. I’m looking forward to inspiring them to heal and to be all that they can be. I’m looking forward to building a family. A modern family. And I’m okay with what it is.
I think realising and acknowledging the difference has been important for me. I was always so worried that I wouldn’t cope if I had to give the child back. Now I understand that that would be okay; in ideal circumstances that would be the best for the child and my impact isn’t lessened even if a child’s time with me is short.
They are not my child. They do not belong to me. Realistically, no person belongs to another. But I needed to really get this before I could proceed. So I am grateful that I finally understand that.
And so, the sting continues.
But now, as a result of missing out, I try to put my needs first. I don’t often succeed at this point, and when I do, I often feel guilty. But I am a work in progress, hurtling towards evolution … Happily.