Wayward wonderings...

Sorry about that!

I’ve come back to writing the blog a little later than I promised. Just after I wrote my little note on the 4^th September I got a lovely stomach bug and then a headache that lasted about a week, and so looking at the computer was limited to work and not much else!

Oh – and I said that I was going to talk about “Stranger Things”, but I got the name wrong. I’m going to talk about “Wayward Pines” instead. If you haven’t seen it and plan to I will try not to give any spoilers.

The premise of the show is that a select group of people have been selected to be put in cryostasis by a particular man who predicts that something bad is going to happen to humanity. The people are woken up some time later (a long time later) and often don’t even know that they were put in cryostasis, so they wake up rather confused.

Anyway – that’s a pretty all over the place, brief description of the show.

What got me thinking though, is that one of the key aims of the community of Wayward Pines is to increase the human population. And anyone who could not produce children was seen as unnecessary and were…well…I’ll say no more on that.

It’s a real commentary on what is important to humanity. Would it be the case if something happened to humanity and only a certain number of people could be saved that those unable to have children would automatically be left behind?

What if a brilliant poet or philosopher or teacher or scientist was unable to have children? Would they be left behind? Okay – so the scientist may not be as they would have something to “contribute” – which is another issue altogether on what is valued in society and what is not.

If Charlotte Bronte, or Plato, or Degas, or Beethoven, or Confucius were around and couldn’t have children - would they be left behind?

If the only thing that is of value when push comes to shove is the ability to procreate, then what would we lose? Who’s to say that those who can’t have children have nothing to contribute that is worth saving?

Art has been around as long as humans have been. Storytelling, music, all of that – crude as it might have been – were part of early human society.

Of course it isn’t an either/or – having a child doesn’t mean you can’t be an artist too!

I’m getting myself all confused now. What is the point of this entry?

I guess my point is that people are much more than just their ability to procreate, but when it all boils down, people who can’t procreate are seen as “not as worthy”, not as valuable.

But, we are. I say we are. I say we have a lot to give. We have a lot to give future generations. No matter what society says.

Like mud...

The Australian show “Four Corners” covered IVF this week – I’ve yet to watch it as I want to sit down properly and be able to focus on it. But, the following quote was in the synopsis on the Four Corners’ website.

"Embryos are like mud. You keep putting embryos on the wall of the uterus, eventually one will stick." Fertility Doctor

Yeah – you read right. Apparently our precious little embryos were like mud.

Okay – so I know what this doctor was getting at – they put an embryo in and they hope it will stay. But the analogy shows a lack of understanding and compassion as to what we go through. My embryos were real children to me and still are – they weren’t mud.

I actually felt shocked by this comment and began to feel upset as though this doctor was personally attacking my children (our embryos). I wanted to find out which doctor said this and call them and blast them into realising that they were stupid and uncaring and just plain wrong.

But, instead I tried practicing something I learnt recently – I took a few minutes to determine if there was a judgement that I was making that was leading me to be excessively angry. There was – I made the judgement that nobody should ever make comments like this.

The reality is that there will always be comments such as this. I can’t change that.

I also made the judgement that I needed to do something directly about this comment and make that doctor feel as bad as possible. But I don’t.

These realisations took a bit of the heat out of my anger.

Then I was able to think more clearly about if and what I could do about it.

And now I’m writing this entry to say to anyone who reads it – please consider what you say about IVF, our babies, and us, because words can hurt.

That’s all I need to do for now.

Back to it...

I knew it had been a while since I’d written an entry here, but I didn’t realise that it has been quite so long!

The last month and a half have been busy with a family wedding and work and so on. I’ve also been unwell. The pain in my side has become worse and I will be going back in for surgery in mid-June to see if that can be resolved. More of my beautiful fish died – it seems there has been a spike in pH in the pond which is now fixed. I’ve been sleeping a lot and have kind of been a bit of a hermit regarding my writing and this blog.

I’ve had a few things to sort out in my mind before I felt ready to write again.

In regards to my last entry, one of my readers asked about endometriosis and what the symptoms are. There are many symptoms, and one of the best places I’ve found to read about them is on the Jean Hailes website, and the video Understanding endometriosis is really informative and I’ve shared that with my family to help them understand what endometriosis is all about (it's the third resource from the bottom of the page).

Last weekend there was an article written by (yet another) a woman who had gone through IVF and talks about how difficult infertility is, has ended up having a child, and is telling the rest of us not to give up because “you know, miracles DO happen. I have one sleeping upstairs right now.”

I still find articles such as this frustrating. Really – who is this woman to tell us that miracles happen? How often, really, do miracles happen?

Well – at least this woman is trying to be positive and encouraging. On the flip side of the coin, some of the comments on the article were just down right cruel toward people who are struggling to have children. It’s fine to have a difference of opinion, but why be nasty about it?

One woman suggests that our wanting children is the same as wanting any “commodity” and that we have some kind of sense of entitlement to children, and from her “Buddhist” perspective desiring to have our own children is an EGO-TRIP and will only end up with our suffering. Many people pointed out to her that compassion is one of the key principles of Buddhism, but she didn’t seem to get that point. I had an interesting debate with her, but eventually gave up – there’s no point trying to talk with someone who just wants to be right.

Oh – and she also claims to have infertility envy. Yeah – you read right.

To be honest – just thinking about what she, and some others, wrote brings up the angry wild beast in me. I won’t share with you the names I want to call her that are rolling around in my head – but I’m sure you can imagine what they might be. I’ll just say that she’s a great big meanie-head.

Why am I sharing this? Because there are going to be times when people are going to say cruel things to us – we who want children so much but can’t have them. It’s like we deserve the judgement and criticism for wanting children more than people who don’t particularly care about kids, have them anyway, and then treat them like dirt.

It’s getting easier with time to let these remarks and comments go without latching onto them, but given what I’ve recently been going through the comments by this woman really stung. I felt fragile and anxious and stuck.

Ironically, it was thinking about this woman’s version of Buddhism that got me back to feeling settled again.

For some reason I wanted her to be compassionate to me, but she wasn’t being compassionate. I made it my mission to get her to understand my perspective, but she wouldn’t. There came a point where I could either go crazy trying to change the way things were or I could let it all go. So, I let the anger go and watched it float on by – and I still am letting it go and float on by whenever the anger about what she said arises in my mind.

I like to think of Buddhism in terms of a river. Your self is sitting on the bank of a beautiful clear river and all different leaves float by from all different types of trees. You try to control them by creating a dam, but that just stops the flow of the river and all the leaves come together and form an indistinct sludge. You try to capture the leaves using a scoop, but that just stirs up the river and the clear water becomes so murky that you can no longer see the bottom. You try to push all the leaves away from you with your hand, but they just stick to you instead. Eventually you learn that all you need to do is watch the leaves float by.

All of the leaves represent different emotions – anger, sadness, happiness, love, guilt, joy, satisfaction. None of them are seen as “better” or more “worthy” than others and none are meant to be latched onto or pushed away. They are what they are – you see them, you feel them, you appreciate them for what they are, you may even act on them, and then you let them go.

This is what I try to do with my emotions – but it’s not always easy because I’m human!

The anger comes around, I see it, I feel it, I act on it if I am able and it would be healthy to do so, and then I let it go.

I’m going to leave it there, except to suggest that, if you are interested in a book that I have learnt a lot from, have a look at “The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking” by Oliver Burkeman.

I just realised that I mentioned this book in April last year – so you can be assured it’s a favourite of mine!

An unwanted child...

There has been a story in the news this past week about a woman in Sydney, Australia, who dumped her newborn baby boy into a drain pipe. She intentionally dropped him into the drain, where there was a 2.5 metre drop, expecting that the fall would kill him. The baby survived for six days (nobody knows how!) and was rescued after passing cyclists heard his cries. He has been taken to hospital and is reportedly stable.

The “mother” is being charged with attempted murder – and yet it seems has been allowed to name the baby.

The Department of Family and Community Services has said the act was one of desperation.

I know I don’t know the facts and maybe I’m being overly unsympathetic – but there is no justification, no circumstance, and no level of desperation that makes what this woman did anything but evil. I know there are such things as postnatal depression, but what she did – which was premeditated and with full understanding that the baby would likely die – is inexcusable.

You only have to look at the location of the drain and the structure of the drain to know that this was not a spur of the moment, impulsive act. She had to go to the drain which is quite isolated off a major road. Once there it would not have been easy to put the baby into the drain given that its entry was low down and quite small.

Why, why, why can someone like this have a baby and I can’t?

Most of the time, now, I am okay with not having a baby. I have a good life and I pursue all sorts of interesting things and I spend amazing times with the children we have in our lives. Then something like this comes about and I cry for hours wondering whether there is any fairness in the world at all.

And why should she have any right, whatsoever, to name this tiny, precious, baby boy?

God?

Got any answers?

I didn’t think so.

New Story from Sydney Morning Herald

You don’t know unless you have kids…

I get quite frustrated and upset when people say or write this statement followed by whatever it is that they think people who don’t have kids don’t know.

Okay – it’s true that because I don’t have children I can’t possibly know exactly what it is like to parent a child 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I know that. But I’m not totally ignorant about children either.

These kinds of all or nothing statements completely disregard the knowledge I do have about children and the feelings I have for the children, and other people, in my life.

There are many things people who don’t have children supposedly don’t know.  I want to mention a few of them:

Kids are gross and dirty. Trust me – I know. While changing my three week old niece’s diaper she did an almighty, runny, smelly poo and then stuck her foot in it. It’s not the only time I’ve changed pooey or wet diapers, or cleaned up snot, or wiped up vomit (sometimes all three substances end up on me…) And, oh my goodness, the smell of poo when children are teething! Nothing else quite like it…

Kids take their time. When you’ve sat with a child for an hour trying to get them to take a few more mouthfuls of their dinner, it’s not that far of a leap to realise this is a regular occurrence.

Kids need you. On many occasions when I’ve looked after children there have been times when whatever I was doing was put aside to hold a crying child, a child having a tantrum, a child who wants a cuddle, a child who is tired, or a child that really needs me to play with them right now.

Kids are too honest – meaning they may say things that hurt feelings. I’ve been told that I didn’t need that extra biscuit by one of my nieces. I ate it anyway - it was chocolate...

Kids break stuff and hurt themselves. Yep – we’ve lost ornaments and dishes to the hands of children, and the kids we love have taken tumbles and falls while we were looking after them. That’s why we have children’s paracetamol, Disney character band aids, sunscreen and insect repellent for children, cough medicine for children, and a dust pan and broom at the ready, in our own home.

As a parent you would put your life before theirs – you would plead that your life be taken in place of theirs. You would put yourself in danger to make them safe. I would do anything to make our nieces and nephews safe, even risking my own life – and I would do that for our friends’ children too.  I don’t have to be a parent to have that level of protective instinct and love.

Speaking of love – one of my least favourite sayings is “You don’t know what real love is until you’ve had children.” Seriously? So my love for Kirby, my love for my family and friends is not real? I actually find this offensive. I love my nieces and nephews with a love that is so tremendous that I sometimes feel like I must be shining with a boundless happiness. That is real love as far as I’m concerned. And, let’s face it; there are parents who don’t love their children. Parenthood isn’t a guaranteed path to knowing what real love is.

Nobody can know what it is like to live anybody else’s life. I get it that I don’t know what being a twenty four hour, seven day a week parent is like – but I do have knowledge and feelings and fears about the children in my life. These are real and I will not let them be disregarded. My experiences and feelings are mine. I feel deeply, I care deeply, I love deeply, and I know stuff.

About last week…

I wanted to talk briefly about last week’s post “What kind of mother…”.

Sometimes in my posts, like last week, I can sound incredibly harsh on myself and sometimes I wonder whether I should share such dark emotions and self-judgment on “When You Can’t Have Kids.” I don’t want people to think I am a negative person or that these types of thoughts and emotions are a significant part of my life.

So, why do I talk about the darker side of me?

I decided when I started “When You Can’t Have Kids” that I would be very honest with you all as to the experiences I have. This includes the good times, but it must also include the not so good. It must include those experiences that hurt, are frustrating and are hard to admit to. Like everyone, I’d rather people think I have it all together, that I am happy all the time and that I have brilliant self-esteem. But, I don’t.

I am mostly a happy and positive person and I love my imperfect life, but sometimes that dark little voice that says “You are terrible, you are not good enough” pops up in my mind and heart.

I want this blog to help people who are in a similar situation to me. It’s true that no two people have exactly the same experiences, but I am sure that everyone has times where those dark emotions call by for a while. If I share mine, then I hope it will help other people to realise that these emotions are normal – they are nothing to be ashamed of. We are all human and that means we have low times. Let me say that again – we ALL have low times.

Happy me in Port Germein, South Australia,
with Conservation Volunteers Australia

I do – and I want you to remember that when you do, I am here thinking of you, understanding as much as I can without being you, and sending you a great, big universal hug.

Lastly, I want to thank Milly and Robin Mary for their comments on last week’s post – your support for me means the world. And it makes me realise that while I want to be there for others, others are there for me too – and that touches my heart more than you know. 

A realisation...

Last night, after writing the blog entry yesterday “The darker side of me…” I had a startling realisation which I wanted to share with you.

When Kirby and I did our second round of IVF (the first where fertilisation of my eggs was actually successful) only two of the eggs survived to become embryos (well, technically zygotes – but I hate that term). On the day of transfer the doctor said that due to my age they would only put one of the embryos into my womb, and freeze the other. I was under 35 years of age and they only transfer two embryos after 35.

I didn’t fall pregnant, and sadly the other embryo died the night after the transplant.

While this is very different to the decision Mary and George had to make, are there not some similarities?

The doctor didn’t want to transfer both embryos because of the potential complications with twins. I wasn’t happy about this, but neither Kirby nor I argued for the chance of life for both embryos. Perhaps the one that wasn’t transplanted might have survived? Did we not choose one embryo over another because of the potential risks of having twins, even though we knew there was a risk we would lose the embryo that was not transplanted?

While Mary and George’s decision was much later on and Mary was pregnant, we still were in the position where we made a choice between our two embryos, and this could well have led to the death of both. We trusted what the doctor said, and we lost both.

We could have potentially sought other opinions, although time was a factor, but we didn’t. We could have demanded that both embryos were implanted, but we didn’t.

We were devastated to lose both and I felt much guilt and sorrow afterward.

I cannot comprehend what Mary and George went through, but the similarities, small as they are, with regard to choices has increased my compassion for them even more.

The darker side of me...

I know that everyone has thoughts that come along that they would rarely admit to as they point to a darker side within them. Nobody wants to acknowledge that they have a side of them that thinks things that are horrible and sometimes mean, let alone admit to other people that these thoughts occur.

I have had such thoughts this week, and as I mentioned in my last blog entry I thought long and hard about whether I should write about them and share them with you all. I have decided that being honest and sharing them is good for two reasons – firstly, by writing about them and acknowledging them I believe I will take away their power, and, secondly, by sharing them perhaps some of you who have had similar experiences will realise you are not alone.

So, here’s what happened…

There was a show in Australia from the late 1980s to the early 1990s called “Acropolis Now”, which was a comedy based on Greek heritage. One of the actors, Mary Coustas, played Effie and she was hysterically funny.

Last Sunday night, on a current affairs television show, Mary and her husband, George, shared their story about their difficulties in having a child. I didn’t see the show, but I read about it a few days later and I was naturally moved. They had tried for 10 years to have a child, and Mary had recently had a book published “All I know: a memoir of love, loss and life.”

Mary fell pregnant in 2010, when she was in her mid-forties. A scan revealed she was having fraternal twins. It would have been such a joyous occasion. But, at the nine week scan a third heartbeat was found. There were triplets – two paternal and one fraternal. But, was it good news?

Mary and George’s doctor was not happy and explained the risks of having three babies, especially when two of them were paternal. There are risks of cerebral palsy, low birth rate, and complications for the mother in terms of gestational diabetes, among others.

After consulting with five different specialists, Mary and George decided to do a reduction, where the twins would be aborted by having a substance injected to stop their hearts. They would die and would most likely be reabsorbed into Mary’s body.

The reduction was undertaken, but a few days later a scan revealed that one of the twins was still alive. They did another reduction.

There is a risk to the remaining baby when a reduction occurs, and sadly the remaining baby, a girl Mary and George called Stevie, was still born at 22 weeks.

The good news is that Mary is now pregnant again with one baby, due at the end of this year, and everything seems to be going well.

 As I read the article and found out about the triplets, the reduction, the stillbirth of Stevie, the book and that Mary is now expecting again, I felt my rage growing stronger and stronger. I was fuming. I cried my eyes out in frustration and the unfairness of it all. What was it that bothered me?

Here is the dark part – my thoughts as they were then:

           Multiple pregnancies:

o   It’s not fair that they got a multiple pregnancy when I can’t even get pregnant with one baby.

Then the reductions:

o   How could they kill their own children?

o   How come they got pregnant with three children, only to throw two of them away? Why couldn’t I have had them?

o   How could they go through a second reduction? Why did the remaining twin have to die?

The book:

o   It’s not fair that just because she’s famous she got her book published. And it’s a bit raw waiting to announce her pregnancy until after her book was released. What about my book and my experiences?

Stevie:

o   Why did they get to hold Stevie when I never got to hold my children? I would give anything just to hold my children for just a little bit, instead of having only two black and white photos of embryos to remember them by.

Pregnant again:

o   It’s not fair that they are pregnant again, when I can’t have a child and I have done nothing wrong.

So, I’m not always the understanding and compassionate person that I would rather the world think that I am.

These thoughts and questions and the associated feelings lasted into the next day. I was so ashamed to think that these were coming from me. How could I think so badly about someone I didn’t even know? I didn’t know their full story, and I know that they are not bad people – so where was all this coming from?

To be honest, I still don’t know where it all came from or why. I could say it was unacknowledged grief on my part, or that there’s a hidden rage within me at the unfairness that we can’t have a baby, or that I am frustrated that my experience seems to be less important than someone who is famous, or that…

I’m not sure it’s any of those reasons.  I can’t make excuses for what I thought or how I felt. It was all what it was. The scariest part for me was that I didn’t know how I was going to break out of those negative and shameful thoughts and feelings. I hated it and I detested myself. It was like another me had taken me over and it was dark and cruel.

In the last few days I’ve learnt something more about compassion – something that I never realised before. Compassion isn’t always a natural response. Sometimes we have to make a decision to be compassionate. And that is what I realised I had to do. I had to decide to be compassionate.

So, I have been practicing this. I can never know what it would have been like to be in the position that Mary and George were in when they considered the risks of having triplets and then making the decision to do the reduction. I don’t understand the decision because I’ve never had to make it. But I can try to understand what a terrible decision it must have been for them to make. Having to choose one of your children over another must be one of the most heart wrenching experiences anyone could go through. I am so sorry that this happened to them. After reading more about their tragic experience I found out that they consulted five different specialists – it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. It wasn’t easy. They are not bad people – if anything they are people who truly wanted to do the best they could for their children. Thinking about it now I want to cry and I want to wrap my arms around all of them – Mary, George and the triplets.

In thinking about it – all the other thoughts and questions were secondary to my upset at the reduction. These were side-issues. It seemed as though Mary and George were being rewarded after they had the reduction – at least that’s what it felt like to me initially – and I didn’t understand why they were being rewarded for such an act.

But, they aren’t really being rewarded. I’m sure that, except for being pregnant again, Mary and George would give everything back just to have Stevie turning three this year.

I think I will finish this entry now. It’s been a long one. I realise there may be negative criticism about me after this post and I am open to it, but please remember that I am only human and I am being honest where I could have chosen to keep all this to myself.

There is still a hole in my heart which sometimes is filled with negative thoughts and emotions, but I am trying to fill it with love and compassion. It is not easy – but I am trying.

And – I have decided to read Mary’s book. I think it will be helpful for me, even if Mary and George’s story is different to mine and Kirby’s. No doubt I will write about it in a future blog entry.

The Pain Olympics

A couple of weeks ago there was a segment on a current affairs program about women who have chosen not to have children and the way they are viewed by society. The build-up to the story was intense, while the story itself didn’t really add much that was very meaningful.

There was a discussion on Facebook on the segment (both before and after the airing) and, wow, did people get nasty! I couldn’t believe the treatment people with extreme view from both sides (those who want kids and those who don’t) levelled at each other. It disgusted me really.

I have always supported a person’s right to choose whether or not to have children, and I added this to the debate:

Many people still assume it’s a choice to have or not have children. It’s not always – I’ve lost two babies through miscarriage and had three unsuccessful rounds of IVF. I wanted to have children, but it’s not going to happen. I was asked one time if I think people who could have children and don’t are selfish. No – I don’t – my blog covers this and other issues with being unable to have kids. With the pressure on people to have children in this society, I think it is incredibly unselfish and brave to stick with not having children, as the judgment on people who don’t want children can be very harsh. What I can’t understand is why hard core people from either side (who want to have children or who don’t want to have children) feel the need to judge each other, say cruel things about the other’s choices, and do not try to accept that people are different. We may not all have a choice about having children, but we do all have a choice as to how we treat each other.

I got an interesting response that indicated I was naïve about the situation (in terms of I don’t know how hard it is when somebody chooses not to have children and is judged for that choice), and that most of the judgment was from women who were bitter because they couldn’t have children. Basically I was told that people who want children and can’t have them are given far more understanding and support.

I was somewhat disconcerted about the responses I received. My point of the above entry was to say that as someone who couldn’t have children I absolutely respected people’s choices not to have children. I didn’t say I understood what being judged for that choice was like – it’s true, I don’t know what that would be like.

The thing that really got me, though, was the assumption that it is somehow easier for those who want children but can’t have them. I want to set a couple of things straight about that:

• ·         It is not always the case that every person who is unable to have children gets support and understanding.
• ·         IVF clinics (at least in our experience) don’t provide much support – especially when they realize you are unlikely to be a success story. They kind of dump you at that point.
• ·         Comments leveled at us can really hurt – such as insinuations that we gave up too easily, that we are putting money above having children, that we are selfish for not keeping on trying, that we don’t have enough faith that we can have children, that God has judged us as not being worthy to be parents – trust me – I have had all of these comments directed at me at one time or another.

I know it can be hard for people who choose not to have children – but it’s not always. People who can’t have children and want them may get more support – but not always. And, why exactly does it matter who gets more support and understanding? The pain exists for both groups – and as far as I know there are no gold medals given out in some kind of Pain Olympics for who has it worst.

Well – that’s my rant for today, except for one last thing. Why was it that the segment only interviewed women? Surely, there are men who choose not to have children – I would be very interested in their experiences too.