"Infertileworld" - sounds like a weird gym..

This is quite a good article. It covers some of the many very valid points. These in particular really spoke to me:

Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It is not as easy as it seems, to just ‘move on’ If you lost a parent, would you be able to move on and forget so easily? I will feel better in time, but I will never forget my baby.

Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I never wanted an Angel. I wanted to hold my child in my arms, and never let him or her go. Knowing she is an angel doesn’t help me.

Don't tell me horror stories you’ve heard” I really don’t need to hear right now that someone else has had it ‘worse’ than me, even if their story has a happy ending. Hearing about someone else’s pain does not lessen my own pain.

Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone. It actually helps me to talk about it sometimes.

I thought the "angel" thing was just me... so many people seem to get comfort from it, but perhaps they don't! Maybe they're being gracious in the face of people saying "Oh you have an angel on your shoulder now." Bugger off, I'd rather a baby with Vegemite smeared all over her face, thanks all the same *smile sweetly*.

The only thing that strikes me about this kind of article, though, is... why are they always on websites like infertileworld.co.uk? Aren't they better placed on, er, fertileworld.com?? Because really, it's kinda like preaching to the converted and that's fairly defunct, I'd say. The same thing I found funny about my IVF Newsletters - yeah, sure, it's nice to know there are others in the same boat so you can nod your head along with it... but tucking them away inside Infertility publications is not the way to educate the people who really ought to be reading about this kind of thing.

Get out there and EDUCATE THE MASSES! Stick it on a banner ad on Ebay, off a flag hanging from the Harbour Bridge, on a St Kilda Road billboard, ....... on a parenting website......

Baby or Bust

Okies, I only now feel settled enough to chat about my visit to the homeopath yesterday.

I all honesty, I couldn't get out of there quickly enough, I was so disappointed. I primarily wanted to work on getting my weight back down - and my hormones back in proper rhythm - after the IVF cycles this year. I've put on 6kg since May because of the drugs and been charting since last week, to check ovulation and see what's going on with my progesterone, etc. Just a casual thing, not necessarily to "catch the egg", I just want to see if it's settling down, you know.

So this guy, all he could focus on was Ella! But, I mean, in a really negative way. Saying I was showing signs of suppression about her (BULL fricken shit) but then alternately trying to make me skip past the very significant fact that I have given birth, Hello! it's going to change my physiology a little dontcha think. And he was asking me all those indepth medical history questions about illness (fair enough, it's what I was expecting), but then each time I answered in terms of "since giving birth this or that has been different" he started seeming a bit exasperated that I kept using her birth as the pivotal point in my change in physical fitness!

Ugh, I felt like I didn't know myself and I really resent both him for putting me in that headspace and myself for allowing him to put me there! So disappointed. $90 it cost me. I feel like the process with him would be snail-pace slow, because he's going to waffle through all this mental shit that I'm past already. I refuse to pay good money so that HE can get to a point where he feels both comfortable about the fact that I've lost a child (and so many pregnancies) and also satisfied that I'm "moving on".... fuck that! I want someone who meets me where I'm at NOW, not how I was "the moment she died" (oh, keep reading, he asked me about that!) - because I'm not there in that heightened grief state anymore.

He seemed to think I was there so he could help us "make a baby". But I just want to get healthy. I don't think he quite understood me. Kept making disclaimers that it might not work for us for a while. Oh! And then came the deal breaker: as I was leaving, he says "Well...... at least you have plenty of time." I tell ya, I wanted to scream at him. But he would've gone "I thought so. Repressed." OOOOHH!! I'm supposed to go back in 6 weeks but I'm going to cancel the appointment. I don't need a practitioner who thinks I'm not "coming clean" with him about my mental state. Pfft.

What IS it with these know-alls who are so caught up in their own shock at being delivered the news about a baby that's died? I honestly think if I'd turned into a blubbering mess, he'd have been more comfortable with me. Well he can go to hell! He even asked me, "What did you do the moment Ella died?" Now, ok, I can guess why he asked that (to ascertain my physical/mental reaction to something so as to gauge how I respond to highly stressful situations), but it'd only be a guess on my part - because he didn't explain why he asked me that very very VERY personal question, and left me thinking he was just a ghoul wanting the most foul gossip to feed his own need.

Oh I was so fuming!

*sheepish* .....Can ya tell?.....

Girlies' big day out

Jazzmena: Wasn't today's walk fun! Boy I'm tired though *swans around*

Pepperini: YOU'RE tired! Yeah, well, you weren't the one who had to stick her snout in the mud and SNIFF, you heard me, SNIFF for MY toy. Look at me, I'm caked in it. I was shaking, I couldn't stop looking, I got so worried....

Jazzmena: That's right! I took your toy in the mud so you couldn't get it while I had a drink.

Pepperini: You could've helped. I was slopping around in there for ages and you just trotted around me thinking I was playing with you.

Jazzmena: But I'm so cute. I can get away with anything.

Pepperini: That's the last time I let you have my toy. You nearly lost it for good.

Jazzmena: Lost what toy?

Pepperini: *thinks* It's like living with a 6 month old.

Somebody please... make it STOP

I feel violated. I feel like I need a shower. Why can't I look away? It.Is.So.Disturbing.

I speak of course, dear reader, of Daryl Somers. Singing on Dancing With The Stars.

And if singing wasn't bad enough..... eugh, he has to shimmy (presumably because he's compere on a ballroom dance show and thinks it's fitting) and bite his lip like a badboy.

Dear God. Why did I have to see that? Suppose it could have been worse.

He could've been drumming as well.

He's a homee-whatto?

I have an appointment this arvo with a new homeopath. I mean, new for me, he's been one for many....years. Oh, forget it. Anyway, it marks a new direction for me. Or rather, one I'd lost my way with. I actually look for the most passive alternatives in most things - especially my health and how to overcome pain and illnesses. But I haven't been to see anyone specifically about getting my physical wellbeing back on track since I gave birth last January. I'm really really looking forward to it. I want to be told what to do to lose this weight. Today, I weighed myself. I am now officially only 1 kilo under what I weighed when I was 30 weeks pregnant. Let me decipher, people: that's not good!

I trust that this is the key, rather, one of the keys to the many doors on this journey.

Behind door #1: We did IVF so we could come out the other side satisfied that we don't need it. And 6 kilos heavier. But who's counting?

Behind door #2: The belief that we are moving ever forward, towards a family that is biding its time. It's not in OUR time that our family will come to us, it will happen at the right time for our babies and what they will contribute to the earth and society when they get here. They're simply not quite needed yet. I LOVE this thinking. And thoroughly trust it. As impatient as I am with the little sods for not getting here sooner. So it's not quite perfect, but Jeeeez.... me 'n Steve, we're good enough for anyone, surely. *doing my best bargaining stance like a shonky car salesman*

Behind door #3: Our bond with Ella didn't happen by chance. She really DID choose us because she knew, come hell or high water, I'd shove her message in everyone's face! Funny thing is, there really isn't "a" message. But I am lovin' her work: the realisations and 'taking stock' that people have been sharing after reading her story... well, I have no words. It simply blows me away and I am so humbled by it all.

Behind door #4: This is my dirty little secret room. This is where I keep my cynicism and impatience at this whole journey to becoming a parent (of a live child). I can be as holistically-viewed, accepting, "all in good time"-ish as they come. And mostly, I am. But sometimes I don't feel nearly quite as gracious as I am perceived to be. I therefore reserve the right, when behind this closed door, to make voodoo dolls, scream the paint off the walls, shout vile vitriol at happy people on the telly (especially that freakin' Britney Spears, ugh and whatserface, you know.. the one who married C'mohhhhn! Leyton) as long as I leave it all behind this door.

Dammit. I just KNOW this guy is going to make me cut out alcohol and coffee today. *sulks* I knew I should've downed one last bottle of champers last night... And just for Axel-f and Mizz Pesky: "See? I'veshtill gottit". But dammit to hell anyway.

The web effect of the web

I often get emails like this from strangers:

(My cousin's) life may not have been a long one but it was for a greater purpose,he taught people real and pure love.As is what your darling angel has done,her life had a greater purpose and by the way you have told your story,and the impact it leaves i think she is serving it still.
i hope i haven't rambled too much,you and Ella have made an impact on me and even though i love my children more than life itself i will think of Ella every day and cherish my kids more and never take them for granted,as you just never know what life has instore for us.
Thank you so very much and i wish you nothing but the best in your life.

I was actually just updating my website when the email came in. And what better time to shamelessly plug our home business than now...

I have no idea who this person is or how she came to read Ella's Pages. But I thank her from the depths of my heart because she's given me a feeling that happens so infrequently - she's written to me as one mum to another. The internet is really, a lot of the time, the only place I truly feel like a mum. When I see people in person, they're either too afraid to say anything or feel that "whatever" has already been said, so it's rarely if ever brought up or mentioned again. It's like they think, well there's nothing else to say - and I suppose there isn't. Except that kind of silent barrier goes up again, and I feel unable to simply say "I'm having an off day" or not even that... just "I miss Ella". I can miss her and not be about to jump off a cliff, but I think people can't comprehend that that's possible. And because the walls go up, I don't get to simply say I miss her to people. They rush to try and fix things, or alternately they rush to suggest a solution. Sometimes I just wanna say it! That's all, full stop.

It's so different to be a mum (or dad) yet not have your child here. The acknowledgement that I am a parent just simply isn't there, not even from people with whom I interact regularly. But I mean, who would think to say anything? What's to say?! There is no "parenting" going on in our house, it's not around us. We are parents by technicality only. I wouldn't say to my friends or relatives, who have small children, "You're a parent!" blah blah blah, because it's obvious by the children you can see, hear, talk to, that they are parents.

But the friends who let me talk about Ella at the drop of a hat, without breaking the silence after I've spoken with some drivel.... they're the ones worth their salt. I wonder what my old Dad would say (about these women who might be blokes) if I told them they are, without exception, the friends I've met online. Hmmm.

I myself don't even know how to be properly acknowledged for the life Steve and I created together. And this is the part that makes me feel so hollow inside: it's the waiting at a shop counter, thinking "If only she'd see the photo of my little girl in my wallet, then maybe she'll ask if I have any kids and I can tell her I have a daughter but that she's just not with me anymore". More often than not, they don't ask. But when they do, it's almost worse. They get so upset that they might have upset me! My only chance to tell someone new that I am a mum, and they wreck it by changing the subject.... *sigh*....

So I write. I write about my girl all the time - if she was still here, pushing dolls in a pram, or watching Sesame Street or helping me make cookies, I'd be writing cute anecdotes about it on here. I'd be sharing the events of her growing with everyone who'd listen. To continually honour the memory of a 4 week old baby is proving less difficult than I thought - given emails such as that one *above* I'd say we're doing a pretty bloody good job of getting the message of her purpose out.

I just made a batch of muffins and I looked out into our beautiful but empty living room... there was no one there to call over to lick the bowl. So lucky Miss Jazz got to lick a spoon (ewww, which I will wash thoroughly!). But I just had to share the moment with "Someone". And if it can't be my daughter in these times, until another child comes to bless our lives, it'll end up being one lucky dog or the other.

They'll get fat if this next baby takes too freakin' long.

Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog.

Lesson 1 - Getting your dog to pose for the perfect sit photo:

Take Dog 1's favourite bouncy Kong toy. Hold it near the camera. Dog 2 will want to sieze first available opportunity to snatch Dog 1's chance for retrieval of said toy, so will also be at attention. Point and shoot.

I love tormenting my dogs in the name of art.

See, this is what I mean

I have been looking forward to tonight ever since we received the invitation. One of my oldest, dearest friends is having her 30th celebrations tonight. We lost touch for a few years and reconnected last year, it was just days after Ella died and she called me out of the blue. I have tears now just remembering how lovely she was.

She told me she had been having trouble conceiving too. Two m/c's to date. And she was pregnant again and hesitant that the baby would live. Well, live he did, and boy what a gorgeous little munchkin he is. I finally got up the nerve to meet up with them when he was about 13 weeks old. And I cried. With joy for her and a tugging at my heart that I'll probably always, always have now when I see any new baby of a good friend for the first time. And she was so lovely. I had a quiet weep and she was just quietly with me as I held him. It felt so good.

Why did I get all the way to tonight and now feel so ratshit about going then? The weather doesn't help, it's soggy here (pfft what's new!). And I am low. I have to go and put on makeup. A nice outfit. Steve's not home yet and we leave in half an hour. It will be rush, rush, rush to get there on time and that, paired with how I'm feeling, is leaving me feeling a bit flustered.

It's something I am still learning: to brace myself just to step out in public and go meet people who are so wonderful..... but have babies! Why?! It only happens every so often now, and NOTHING I can see triggers it. I'm just relieved it doesn't happen often. The worst part is, she'd be bloody wonderful to me if I 'fessed up and told her my insides felt torn. I've been firm friends with this gorgeous girl since we were 7. I love her to death. I love her son! And then there's forever that little partition that comes up, that reads "You have a baby now, I don't know what it feels like to bring my baby home and watch it grow and nurture it. I can support you through your pregnancy because I know what that's like. I can cope while you're pregnant. I hate myself for being like this, but somedays I may not be able to cope when I see you even if your baby is not there.... simply because you have one."

Eurgh. I don't care what Van Morrison reckons, my mama never told me there'd be days like this. Nope, I'm with John Lennon on this one, Nobody told me there'd be days like these...

About moi

This is so tragic, my profile is too huge to look "noice" in the sidebar, so I am just going to slot it in here as a post. And this way, I can highlight all our m/c's! It'll be fun!

I live with my husband Steve, our two dogs, 12 yr-old rescued-from-a-shelter kelpie, Pepper and young Tasmanian-devil-petshop-bought-terror-pup Lab, Jazz. No really, that's what it said on the tag of her cage. And we bought her anyway (are we nuts??).

And here's a 'brief' history of our lengthy efforts for a family:
Jan, 2000: Pg first try, m/c @ 13wks
Took a break until 2002 - or, since I'm being caring and sharing, I'll be honest: we had 6 months of marriage counselling in 2001, following a breakdown in communication largely to do with the unresolved blow of having our first m/c. Best thing we ever did (er, the counselling, not the d&c....).
Jan, 2002: Pg first try, m/c @ 5wks
March, 2002: Pg next cycle, m/c @ 4.5wks
April, 2002: Did tests for multiple m/c, discovered Steve has a balanced translocation (chromosomes 11p:22t) which results in 1 out of 3 pregnancies ending in m/c due to trisomy/monosomy or mixture of both involving those chromosomes.
Sept, 2002: m/c @ 5.5wks
Took 9 month break. Went to a homoeopath to treat candida brought on by all the pregnancies, and lost 10kg's.
June, 2003: Our lives changed forever when I fell pg first try again with our miracle baby Ellanor, born 10 wks early in Jan 2004, without any effect of the translocation but with an unrelated congenital heart defect - she died at 4 weeks of age due to complications of a gastric virus in the NICU.
Since July 2004, we've had three more m/c's, done 2 cycles of IVF with PGD over the past 5 months, and we're still waiting patiently for that one elusive baby to call our own and share our lives with.

Despite all this, and all uncertain protests that we can't possibly be "ok" from the PIL aside, we're loving life (you can do it you know). And that new show, House.....

Free, free, set them free

Yeah, THANKS for that, Sting (or Gordon Sumner, however you know him).

When I was absent-mindedly singing along to this song this morning ("when you want someone, youcando youcando youcando the same" etc.), coming out of the bathroom after I'd showered and with radio still blaring, I'm greeted by a muffled - and very typically boyish - trumpet sound from under the covers of the bed where my dearly beloved was still snuggled up.

He normally calls it "heralding the morning." Today he just said he was simply doing as he was being told. Setting them free.

Does she have any REAL friends?

*Groaaaaaan* Ugh, it's begun. The concerned questions from the older generation that I'm not "normal" because I write to people on the internet. Steve was talking on the phone last night to a concerned relo who was talking about it. I can just imagine the hushed tones.

"Does she have any *hushed* friends?"
"Yes of course. There's Jan she met online, Rachel she was stalked by and who contacted her..." The list goes on.
"We're worried about her. Perhaps she should join a group. You know, when I was having trouble, I joined a knitting club, perhaps something like that would be good for her."

Yes, and I can really see me fitting in rather uncomfortably with a bunch of people whom I desperately don't want to ask me if I have any children. Because then it'd start again. Do people fully understand just how much of a stigma there is surrounding the parents of a baby who has passed away? I'm fast running out of people who even make eye contact with me as the months wear on and we still don't have a babe in arms anywhere in sight, to tell the real truth! No. Steve and I haven't been fair and relieved these people by producing another offspring. I'm afraid they'll have to be uncomfortable with us a tad longer.

The trouble with the olds of today is..... they haven't moved on from the knowledge that this thing called "the internet or something" is not just a few businesses pushing their wares (sometimes illegally) online. I mean when it first started, it was a bore to search, you couldn't find what you wanted, Broadband wasn't in existence so it took longer than an ep of Family Ties to wait for any sites to download. And now, you can hook up with people you would normally not have the privilege or benefit with whom to do so in real life. I'm thinking of the wonderful friends I've made, locally and interstate, heck and even overseas. We chat often. How lonely, sad and tragic would I be if I was still just kicking around with the same old people I knew from my last job and a few stragglers from high school, just to say that I have friends. I have friends! Four very close ones in particular who would do anything for me, I'm sure, as would I in return. I'm not sure they're not balding 50-something men pretending to be mums who have similar interests to me until I meet them all in person (there's one more and although she says she's given birth and shows us photos of some delectable baby, my father wants to know how can I be "sure" she's not a bloke?), but I'm fairly certain they're female (although you can get some pretty convincing-looking wigs these days).

The truth is, I work from home and don't much feel like socialising these days. I think it's more to do with knowing who I am now and not needing to fit in anywhere, paired with losing Ella of course, and less to do with the fact that I am dysfunctional and should be joining macrame clubs at my local community centre. I have made some of the closest, most decent friends I've had in my entire life over the internet, and have many more people who care about me and whom I care for in return. We do care! We care if we have a good or bad day, we sweat the small stuff and the big stuff with each other. And I for one think it's marvellous.

But tell the older generation and they wouldn't believe yeh.....

A Word to the Wise...

Just following on from this discussion...

Honestly there are so many different angles to this, that it couldn't be covered in one (already extremely long) post. As one person described, it's like the tip of an iceberg. So true. And I could go on all day about other aspects (and don't you worry, eventually I will run dry of all the angles before I'm finished here... eventually) but who wants to listen? It gets too hard after a while to mind your p's and q's doesn't it? No, better to just lump it back on those doing the grieving! And to rebut that kind of thinking, I make the point: The people who avoid you after something like this, in some respects, are just as hard to take or cope with as the ones who are in your face about their children!

Only recently, we discovered we have people around us who don't know how to "be" when they see us, we hear they feel guilty... presumably about the fact that they have a baby. I wouldn't know for sure, they have never discussed it with us! Which means they either don't know how to begin to approach this with us, or how to come to terms with it in their own personal headspace. It shows me they maybe do care about us more than they make out, but this is a funny way to show it: by putting the responsibility to "fix this" all back on us, that once again, we are not "coping" and need to "see someone". What? And until then, you will just sit back and wait? And judge me and my opinions in the meantime? Hmmmm. Methinks the problems may lie elsewhere than with me and Steve.

I've found we have only lost touch with a few people - it is most certainly not just their loss, but their children's loss. It's very hard to explain to someone why you can one day be strong enough to get on the floor and play with their kiddy, and yet next time you see them .. well, you'd simply rather not even go.

This "black and white" doesn't happen! It simply doesn't exist in my world anymore, not regarding when I'm ok with other children/babies. How do I explain I might be ok today when I plan to see you on the weekend, but when the day comes I might have woken from having a vivid dream about my daughter and simply don't feel like it. When I call off our pre-arranged visit, or drag my feet and seem distant or fake if I make myself go, I feel judged. Watched. Certainly not forgiven. Surely I'm past my grief! My daughter died almost 2 years ago! Heaven forbid I should go back on my word that I am ok with being around your child... why, it was only yesterday I told you how cute I thought she was.

I can see how confusing this is for those who don't live it. Doesn't mean I can stop my feelings, which is why we need the support of the ones who haven't lost. Just for you to understand this sliver of the iceberg, this slush cone's worth, would be such a relief.

We are going through this every minute. Those around us only have to really cope with us, or think about all these sticky social situations, when they're around us. Hardly seems right that we let you, the ones not grieving, off the hook so often over many things - literally every second conversation - yet we are expected to remain on the same old even keel. The parameters by which we are judged, and let's face it, we all make observations whether or not you'd go as far as saying they're judgements, cannot remain the same as they were before we lost that precious child of ours.

You don't bring me flowers

Ok, now I've got you. I spent three days setting this up. I had so much to say! So much to share. What I ate for breakfast, the Mark Latham diary, the fact that I can't get a pair of shoes with a decent insole to save myself. But now, to be honest, I have work (paid work, the stuff that keeps my doggies' tum tums filled) and I'm jacked off about it, to say the least. I mean, the timing of it, how inconsiderate! Don't they know I have to write about... nothing?

But who am I kidding? Even though this thing is as empty as the Tinman's chest *go on, knock, it echoes* I know I'll be back. Most likely today. I do have things to say. And dagnabbit, if you're going to come in here, you're going to hear them. It's no one's fault but your own, make no mistake.

In the beginning...

A girl called kirril started a blog. Would they come? Would they read? Would they care!!!!

Ack, not to worry, there's always chocolate and alcohol.