So, that time I miscarried …

I am spending the weekend at an intensive for my Diploma in Sound Healing. No idea how I make my words seem so light when snot covers my face and I’ve shed so many tears that my cheeks are hard and stinging, but whatever.

We started the day by going within and listening to our nervous system. Sounds bizarre, but massively interesting. Mine was making all sorts of sounds and there was a lot of darkness and heaviness and sadness. Also, bizarrely, two skeleton heads. This was all very interesting to me because I was feeling quite zen. The external was not reflecting, or even conscious of, the internal machinations of my nervous system.

The day continued and all was okay. We finished with a sound bath that was so beautifully orchestrated, my consciousness left and I was no longer in the room. It was divine.

I left to drive home, feeling very very zen. Returned some messages and started driving. About fifteen minutes into the trip, I started crying, like from nowhere. And I had no idea why.

I’ve been going through a massive transition, and I know I’m shedding all that no longer serves me so that I can ascend, so I surrendered to it and kept driving, just feeling, not overthinking.

Arrived home, had a hot shower, posted a video and Facebook post, ate dinner, ate some shit, watched an episode of Five Bedrooms, started crying again and haven’t stopped.

My thoughts went to friendships. I’m not very good at them. I’m quite dysfunctional, truth be told. And having lived quite an odd life, I’m not married either. I don’t really know how to be with people. I feel like I overstep sometimes, don’t step in enough at others, and pretty much have always just got it wrong. I overthink or over expect and just don’t get it. I also give a lot because I feel I need to so that I’m ‘normal’.

When I miscarried, I told people I had started bleeding. Realistically, that’s all I probably told them. I think I mentioned it was profuse. I didn’t understand it was a miscarriage. I was so cranky for flying when I was trying to get pregnant, knowing it could cause a miscarriage.

Anyway, I thought I’d reached out for help by telling people there was no pregnancy, but no one came. It was a hard time for me. I was alone in a way I never had been. Except for maybe the sexual abuse. Maybe, just maybe, that connection forced the shut down that has been in play ever since. And there were some who offered, but I didn’t know how to say yes.

Tonight, I’m lying here, thinking about how awkward I am in social situations and how I really don’t get friendship because I’ve always fucked it up one way or another, and then I jump to the extreme alone-ness I felt in those two days after I lost my baby.

I think it scarred me. Irreparably. I don’t believe anyone will come. I deal with stuff differently as a result. In a good way. I use my journey to empower and support others. Balanced perception.

I’m terrified of expecting too much from people. I’m terrified I’m getting things wrong and not doing it properly. I am having those feelings where you wish you could just pack the car up and spend the rest of your life running. Meh.

I have been told that I don’t reach out. I do. I just don’t know how to do it so that people get that I’m reaching out. After my miscarriage, I spoke to people about how upset I was that they didn’t come to me.

They all said one of two things: I usually do things on my own or if everyone didn’t know you needed help, then it’s on you for not expressing it clearly.

Tonight, I release that narrative. I surrender that story. I surrender the pain of the miscarriage and not being a mother. I surrender that I’m a failure and not good enough and not deserving of better. I surrender the guilt I felt that I had hurt so many people. I surrender the shame of being broken for so long. I surrender the anger, the unbelievable pain, the frustration, the need and desire for people to be any different to what they are. I surrender that I don’t think I am worth more than this collective misery.

I accept that I am here to serve, to empower, to heal, and I am grateful for all that I have learned through all of my life experiences.

I have fought many battles, many injustices throughout my life, and I’ve fought them alone. I am strong. I do support other people. But I sold myself for less than I was worth, and I surrender the story of victim that enabled that to happen.

I am in transition. That is my new certainty. I do not need to know where I am going. I just need to look for and heed the sign posts.

First though, I’ll feel this old pain through a new narrative, and then I’ll surrender it before I dust my crown off.

And then I’ll blow my fucking nose.

Time to Say Goodbye

This is the final weekend of eclipses and marks a new phase for all of us. The last eight months or so have been very unsettled and resolutions will now be seen to manifest. The past is the past, and our presents belong to clean slates.

Wow. I’m struggling even to write this. I’ve been absent from here. I have left teaching and have been establishing new routines and new ways of being. I am happy and significantly less stressed. And, I have started writing the book that my soul has been called to write for at least the last couple of years, if not longer, subconsciously.

Today, though, I needed to say goodbye to my grief about not becoming a birth mother during this incarnation. I will be eternally grateful that those people closest to me have not given up on me. I am still invited to the baby showers of my extended family. Difficult, but I am truly grateful.

I am also grateful that they all fell pregnant after most of my healing had been done, when there is some residual around Baby Showers, but nothing else.

Today, I had to resolve the last part. I didn’t know it before today, even though I had a feeling I wasn’t entirely good, but today I knew for sure.

I have been good with people falling pregnant, being pregnant, having babies. I haven’t been okay with Baby Showers and couldn’t understand why. I figured the actual baby would be more difficult to handle, but no. Not for me.

About three days ago, symptoms of anxiety started to surface. I wasn’t sure I would make it to the Baby Shower today. I kept breathing and talking sense to myself, and I knew in my heart that I needed to make sure I went. People can’t be sympathetic forever, and there comes a time when you stop being invited to events. There also comes a time when you need to move on within yourself.

I worked this morning (not that I necessarily call Sunday’s client, work at all). I came home for a shower, put the dress on I had been wanting to wear, felt overdone, and changed, resulting in feeling boganesque. I wasn’t going to win by changing outfits continually, so I stayed dressed this way, resisting the urge to wear yoga pants, cons and an oversized cardigan.

The anxiety became stronger. I started to experience heart palpitations and nausea. I questioned why I committed. At this point, I stopped, took some deep breaths, and acknowledged that I loved these people. That’s why I committed. Because I’m grateful I was invited and because I want to be part of these children’s lives because I want to be part of their parents’ lives.

These are my people, and I’ve been very absent for a very long time. IVF altered me and made me not me for a long time and I lost a lot. I didn’t know how to come back and I don’t want to lose these people.

I cried on the drive in. Thirty minutes of increasingly feeling worse. I willed myself to stop crying and to stop shaking. I tapped whilst I drove.

Even though I’m feeling exceptionally vulnerable, I completely love and accept myself.

Then, I forced myself to fake smile and visualised talking to people and feeling safe, confident, unimpacted. I debated calling ahead, asking to be met outside, asking to not go in and giving the gifts and apologies and running away. I debated turning around and going home. I debated pulling my head in and just going.

I arrived, took some deep breaths, grabbed the gifts, and walked to the door. I hugged the Mum to be and thanked her for the invitation. I spoke to my mum to be sister and burdened her for a while, then went outside to relieve her of my angsty self. I started to breathe evenly and calm myself. I spoke to people. I interacted. I think I did okay.

I left to see members of the birth family.

I drove home. I cried most of the way. I felt ridiculous. Then I spoke to myself and loved myself like I would others in this position, and I owned my grief.

It is okay to still feel this way. It is okay to hurt. There is no time limit. There is no pressure. This was the time. This was the place. This is the beginning of a new phase. I had to grieve and cry out this residual from my old phase.

It is okay. I am okay.

Whilst I had been in the shower, I had had an epiphany or realisation for why Baby Showers are such a struggle. I share this in case one day you, or a friend, or family member, go through something similar.

Baby Showers are a celebration of motherhood. And it is important to celebrate this journey.

As a middle aged woman who has failed in this society to bear children, for me, this celebration is hard. For me, it highlights my inability to conceive and carry, and it highlights that I don’t live a normal life, have never been normal, and probably won’t ever be normal.

As a middle aged woman without children, you don’t tend to fit so easily into this world. You can carve out your spot, but you don’t belong to the motherhood tribe. You can’t talk about your kids or share wisdom about raising children, with others. Often, the first question you are asked is if you have kids. Or you aren’t asked, and people assume. After all, you look old enough now to be a mother, so you must be.

I don’t think we realise how much the expectation of women is to mother. Until you can’t. And then it becomes very clear. And I think the expectation marginalises those of us that cannot fulfill the expectation. Especially those of us who try and fail.

I dunno. I’m writing about childhood trauma. If I hadn’t miscarried in 2013, my baby would be turning four next week. Maybe that’s why Baby Showers are hard. Maybe, but not likely. Meh.

IVF Healing

There will always be the tiniest twinge in my heart when someone tells me they are pregnant. Always.

I think though, that would be the case regardless of whether I had tried to conceive or not. Regardless of my own infertility.

I am at the point now where I am very grateful that people close to me choose to share their news with me. I think I’m at the point where I am almost normal. As normal as I could be lol.

I think the twinge would exist anyway because we always question, in some moments, whether a different path would have been better. Well, actually, I don’t question that anymore. I can see the paths I have followed to lead me here. I am grateful for them. I think I am beginning to fulfil my human potential.

I think the twinge is the emotional memory of loss. Whilst I am grateful I never carried to term, I do think of the child I miscarried. A few times each year really. I think how life could have been different for me. And, without being callous, I do believe my life is in a more suitable place for who I am.

Not being a birth mother enabled and empowered me to rebirth my life, albeit not by conscious choice. I like my transition. I like that I’ve travelled. I like that I’m learning and growing. I like that I meet wonderful people. I like that I’m steering this ship.

There is life after failing to become a mother to my own child. There is good life. It has taken a long long time to appreciate this, but I have definitely arrived here now.

I am grateful for life.

Anniversaries and Endings

Today is the anniversary of my miscarriage. I feel it every year. This year has been no different. I am going to Demartini it before the next one.

Earlier this week, I decided I needed to do something for myself tonight to honour me and movement forward. I am attending a local Red Tent Women’s Circle. I’m nervous – new people and no idea what to expect – but it feels right and it’s about saying yes to every pull and every calling.

A short post. My head has been processing so much. I am going to be writing a series of reflection posts this coming week to make up for my absence.

Anyway, to all of the women I know and love, who have also endured baby loss, much love.

A Rollercoaster of Emotion

Well, it has been a while. Today, my brain won’t let me do anything else until I have blogged. Not sure I am quite ready to put down the emotional rollercoaster that is my brain every year at this time, but meh. What can you do. I must blog so that I can achieve other things lol.

I cried myself to sleep last night. Unexpectedly.

A friend of mine had commented on a Facebook post by Em Rusciano. Em was due to give birth yesterday, but miscarried earlier in her pregnancy. It was such a heartfelt post, something resonated, and I just released. No prize for guessing what the next thing will be to work on when I return to therapy in January. I will, under guidance and not by myself, Demartini the mother out of my miscarriage. This morning I awoke feeling emotionally hungover. I can feel the cogs turning in my mind, a lot of processing happening, I can’t access most of it yet.

I head back to my permanent teaching position in ten sleeps. Yes. I am counting down. Why do we do that to ourselves?!

I have had a phenomenal year. My goal was to heal from the investigation, and for the most part, I have. I do not think I carry any anger anymore, especially towards the people that I used as a symbol for all that went wrong last year (and not the people you would expect). I feel quite calm about returning to work from that perspective. However, this year has really solidified for me the people that regard me as a concept and those that value me. This is a good thing moving forward.

I carry concerns that I will fall into past patterns at work upon my return. I have no desire to be the person I was when I left, almost a year ago. I no longer desire to mentor any adults in the workplace; I no longer want to be the ‘go to’ person for all and sundry; I no longer want the long hours and excessive workload, watching those that I have supported drive through those gates to liberation before me.

My life has moved. I have moved. My values have changed. I am no longer the person that I was; I have liberated myself from the cage I had imprisoned myself in.

I think I felt a lot of shame and a lot of guilt. I had always wanted to be a teacher. I didn’t stop to think that teaching takes many forms and doesn’t necessarily just happen in a classroom. I was, and am, grateful for all of my years in formal education. I grew into myself, forged new paths, and inspired and empowered many. My legacy in education may not have reached award status, but my impact has been significant. So, I felt guilty thinking I may have outgrown it, shame that I wasn’t being grateful by needing to move away from it.

One of my clients had to watch a TED Talk to use as a related text for an assessment on “Discovery”. We were deconstructing it on Wednesday. It spoke to me on so many different levels.

Emilie Wapnick’s “Why Some Of Us Don’t Have One True Calling”

It sort of sums me up. I think I am a multipotentialite. I am a teacher, but I think my main calling, and this has been a recurring theme in how I teach, what I teach, and in who I am as a teacher, is that of healer. This year, even in my tutoring business, what I am really doing, ultimately doing, is healing the fragments within all of us that we carry with us every day. My multipotentials come in the myriad of activities I have engaged in through teaching and outside of teaching. I am always doing many things.

So, the shame and guilt I have felt have given way (or are in the process of giving way to) an acceptance that in our society, living and moving unexpectedly, requires courage. And, I am courageous.

When you are unhappy in life, and we all have moments – mine just became a long term series of moments, it is imperative that you do something to change it. It takes courage, even to mix it up a little, let alone to take leave to see what else is out there. I have always said that all change takes twenty seconds of courage. Thank you eternally, We Bought A Zoo.

We can all do twenty seconds.

It will take the same courage to go back, to be authentically me, to stand by the changes I have made this year, and to remember that I am worth putting me first. And, I can do it; I know I can.

This year has been successful beyond measure, a true legacy to my friend Natalie. It took me a while to make my promise to you real, but I will live with passion and energy. I will not waste my life, because I know how much you would have given to still be here breathing and living yours.

I firmly believe that our souls find peace when we are walking the path we are supposed to walk. My soul had been restless and scared for years. She liberated herself this year and she will not go backwards.

I do not know what the future holds for me. I know that I return to my school full time in a week (ten sleeps) and then five days a fortnight next year. I know that my tutoring business is going to be fine (most of my clients have already re-booked for next year – humbling and surprising to me – such is my naivete, and I have new clients booking). I know that the outline and focus for my book found its shape yesterday. I know that I have some ideas for an online business to source and build during January. I know that I am excited to start programming for my school students and to be back in my classroom next year.

I am moving forward. I am where I am meant to be. I am not stagnating again. I will continue to wholly love and breathe, embracing change and the moment with passion and wonder that I could be just this blessed.

I should stop there. It was inspiring and empowered and strong. However, this post is a true example of my brain, my rollercoaster. Be grateful you don’t live in it lol.

Much love …

Grieving is an unpredictable process 

It’s been a big week. And a difficult week in so many ways. I am emotionally exhausted. And through all of the events of this week I have had a quieter but ever present reel of dialogue and emotion playing in the background. 

I know that grieving is a process. And I know that it is normal for triggers to release more healing opportunities as your footing becomes more solid, each time your footing becomes more solid. And I know that one day the triggers for a broken heart will become less because I will have made complete peace with the loss. 

But this week I have been very sensitive to babies, talk of babies, talk of miscarriage, talk of pregnancy. This week I have wanted to curl up in a corner and just cry my heart out. 

And I haven’t. 

Until my drive home just now. 

I left my location quite suddenly. I could feel a shift in energy and knew I wasn’t going to be productive in that environment. It was time to leave. Tiredness suggests I shouldn’t have even gone out tonight. But, meh, it was dinner with extended family. 

Shortly into the night conversation turned to pregnancy and miscarriage. And this week, I’m not as at peace as I have been. These types of conversation have created underlying anxiety for me this week. My miscarriage has been tormenting me. 

More than that though, it has also given rise to a recurring series of decisions I make in phases. Quite probably the real issue that I need to resolve/learn from/be at peace with. 

I am not very good at all about talking about my issues. I don’t make much time for them. I made one attempt to talk this week, and that was successful but probably too short. So, I’m getting better. 

But the worrying aspect of me not talking is that I think it connects to my fear of being vulnerable, and then shunned, which would elevate my lack of feeling of self worth and value. There is a recess in my mind that tells me continually (and I foolishly listen) that I am here to serve others. That is my purpose and where my worth and value as a human being resides. 

Pfft. 

Intellectually I know this is bollocks. Emotionally … Hmmm. And so, in a week where I probably needed to hide in the forest, I have continually given of myself, even when I didn’t want to or wasn’t up to it. And not one of those situations has been successful. I have depleted what energy I had and I have been involved in several instances where I have laid things out as I have seen them in a cold manner. 

And that doesn’t help anyone. 

When I have said I need a break or I really can’t do that, I have allowed myself to be coerced into acting against my better judgement. Because I am here to serve others. And the underlying dialogue to that is, I am not worth as much as you and my needs aren’t as important as yours.

And no good has come of it. 

Oprah, I’m hearing the whisper now 😉. 

15th December 

It is probably counter productive to write this I feel the need to acknowledge today beyond the mere private. 

Two years ago today I arrived home from my daughter’s Bali wedding and miscarried. I bled for three days non-stop, like a tap. It was the loneliest time of my life. And the months after were the most difficult times of my life. My body was out of control and my friendships all shifted. 

I am no longer in that place, and the snow globe that is my life has settled. 

Today though, I acknowledge the child that may have been had fate, the universe, God, whatever we call it, not intervened. For a short while I was pregnant and carrying life created from my genetic material. 

❤️

IVF Revisited 

I had an epiphany on Saturday night. Albeit in a drunken stupor – maybe my mind was free to process the bigger questions on a great night – I realised that whilst I have ‘healed’ for the most part I have struggled to integrate my post IVF life with my pre IVF life. 

I knew when my time to let go of IVF came. I knew I would still struggle with aspects. I knew when my time to apply for fostering came. I knew I still loved all of the important people in my life, but the people pre IVF I have struggled to fully integrate back into my life. 

I have wanted them in it but I didn’t know how. 

So much of the IVF journey is a solo journey. You can share it through words but I don’t think the words really do the reality of it justice. It is something that needs to be experienced to be understood. Add a painful miscarriage to that with months of unending bleeding following and whilst you know the experience has changed you, corrupted your innocence, you don’t quite realise the impact for those that don’t know how to reach out to you to be there. 

On Saturday night, I realised that I had been scared to reach out to my pre IVF people, my extended family. It is so easy to shut yourself down emotionally to others, scared of being hurt and/or rejected, that even after time has passed, you still don’t know how to come back to your self. Your core. 

With a grin on my face as I type this, my epiphany, and consequently my way back to one of my oldest best friends, was through an extreme consumption of alcohol – something I haven’t done in so many years for a multitude of reasons, and something she is so strongly opposed to usually that even she would laugh at the irony. It helps because I have suffered from my excess. But I let myself go back to her and luckily for me, she let me. 

I am now quite positive that my IVF journey will never be truly over because I am not sure it is possible or even remotely desirable for it to be over: it happened, it changed parts of me, it has not destroyed me nor my desire to be a parent, and ultimately I am more empathetic and stronger as a result. 

Every step in my life demonstrates that I have lived with conviction, with strength and from love. 

And for that I am truly and eternally grateful. 

  

Sunday into Monday: A Mixed Bag

I slept atrociously last night, and I woke up feeling so heavy and nauseated this morning as a result. One of those sleeps that is interrupted but you feel like you are asleep the whole time because it is almost as if you are starring in an exceptionally long dystopic feature film. Horrid.

The alarm went off at 6, I went to the loo, and then straight back to bed after carefully resetting the alarm to ensure I would get to work just as I needed to be there.

Sick. A heavy feeling, like not enough sleep, and then nausea. But not enough that you could throw up. Yuck. I think it could be the pasta I ate last night; I think I may be allergic to pasta.

I am struggling a bit with a few things. I am alright. Just my head can’t switch off. There are always thoughts whizzing around.

I say that I am an empath. What this means is that I am very susceptible to the energies around me. I take them in. I protect myself from drowning by taking time out. After coming home from New York though, the relentless negativity and pain that some people close to me are experiencing is impacting, none of my strategies have worked with any of them.

One person I know is being bullied quite ridiculously. It makes no sense. It seems to be about power. But power is always lost, even non-existent, if one must hurt others to retain it. Power has already become an illusion, or delusion. Interesting. I just don’t get bullying; I never have.

And a fair few kids are experiencing a real inability to see their future and its potential. I see magic in this world every day. I think I choose this. So like, even today, feeling crappy and a bit sorry for myself, I was still very conscious of the positive, of the funny, of the moving, of the lovely. I believe that my gratitude practice has achieved this for me, for which I am grateful hehe.

There are also so many women having babies. So many. Newborns pepper my news feeds and pregnant bellies are everywhere. Man … and then I had to answer some health questions for something, and I had to talk about my miscarriage, inability to conceive, and stopping IVF treatment.

I think there will always be a part of me that finds this reality, from time to time, very overwhelming.

I have my new path developing. Paths, really. I have re-prioritised some aspects of my life and am deliriously happy with these changes, the movement, etc, but sometimes … well, suffice it to say, it still twangs.

So I left work earlier than I usually would, arrived home and put my Skechers on (with my good dress lol) and took Max for a walk around the neighbourhood. He pooed, comfortably, and I debated leaving it there (mwah) before being a responsible pet owner/dog walker and collecting it in the plastic bag I took with me. It reeked.

There are some cute little houses in my neighbourhood, and then there are houses that sorely need some love. I don’t get it. I love building a home. If I had my own place, I would treasure it. I was thinking this as the fresh air embraced me.

You can have negative thoughts outside; they don’t pull as much. And then they stay outside. In the pinking sky. With the cooler night air circulating. And people arriving home.

Serenity.

Bliss.

Peace.

I loved it. What a difference a walk, fresh air and a descending day can have.

Needless to say, an early night for me.

To my dear friend …

There are no words that will take away your pain and I am sorry for that … Some of the things that people will say will wound like a knife scraping over a burn. And I am sorry for that. You will cry and be miserable, not wanting to go out, not wanting to risk seeing pregnant women or babies or small children – and that’s okay. Do what you need to do. Your healing is the most important thing for you to do. People will think you are selfish, some may say it. Let them. This is a time for selfishness. It is important to be selfish. You are in pain and you have suffered a significant loss. Selfish is okay. 

You will be okay. 

You will smile again. You will laugh again. You will feel happiness again. You will conceive again. It will go to term. You will be a birth mother. 

You are now a mother. A mother who lost her child. And you will be alright. 

It’s a journey. And everyone’s journey is different. I am one of many women who have survived it. You will too. But don’t feel pressure to get there quicker than you do. Do it your way and in your time. 

It is okay. And you will be okay. 

❤️