We always thought we would have kids. We started trying when we believed we were ready. A month went by, then two months, six months, a year. Nothing happened.

Something was wrong, but nobody could tell us what - and they still can't to this day. We tried IVF three times but our results were not good. We were devastated.

Eighteen months after our last IVF cycle, we knew we would not be having our own children. And, somehow, we have moved to a life that is much different to the one we thought we'd have.

This blog is about what we do now we know we won't be having children - the thoughts, dreams, realities, sorrows, and joys that have become our new life path.

I hope you will enjoy what I will be sharing, and I hope that if you are at the point where life without children is a reality for you, that you might find some hope and inspiration here.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Empty arms and sweet cats…

The other day I was on Facebook and checking out the activities and latest photos of my friends.

It suddenly struck me that most of the photos I was looking at were of my school friends with their children.

There was one photo in particular where my friend was pulling a face in a photo with her son and daughter (they were also pulling faces). It was a gorgeous snapshot of an ordinary, but special, family moment.

My arms suddenly felt very empty.

It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but sometimes my arms ache to hold our children. I feel like there is a heaviness in my arms where they should be, and I almost feel that if I held my arms out long enough they would come into being and smile up at me.

I could almost believe it if it weren’t for the heaviness that is in my heart because they are not here with us.

That night I went to bed and had a bit of a cry. Our cat, Minerva, was curled up on the pillow next to me as always, and then our black cat, Frankie, jumped up on the bed with a chirrup and stared at me. She then nestled her body and head into the crook of my arm and put her paw over my stomach (as much as she could anyway). I’ve never heard her purr so loudly!

My animals always amaze me by how they can pick up when I am upset and will sit with me and do what they can in their own ways to comfort me. It’s especially touching when I am missing my children.

I should add, though, that later on when I had stopped crying Frankie bit me because I wasn’t patting her in quite the right way! That’s my girl!

You won't believe this, but the song The Lovecats” by “The Cure” just came on!! Great song! 


Anonymous said...

Hi, I have been married 9yrs, 4 IVF cycles, 2 miscarriages and am coming to terms with the fact that I may never be a mother. I tell myself I am grateful for everything else I have been given in life - wonderful husband and good job - but the pain does not seem to go away. It was nice reading your blog.

Kate Bettison said...

It sure is a journey. Sometimes it seems that I have fully come to terms that we won’t be having children, but then the pain will rip its way into my life once again. I don’t think, unfortunately, that the pain of not having children ever completely goes away. What’s been important for me in meeting that pain has been finding ways to honour it – I give it space and time, I think about our babies that could have been, I spend some time in solitude just being. It might sound strange to say “honour pain”, but for me, if I try to ignore it then it festers and becomes too big to handle. If I meet it and let it be there without trying to control it – it becomes less powerful and I can enjoy life again. Don’t force yourself just to focus on the positive - this is a big deal and grief is necessary. And you are not alone. My thoughts are with you.