Mother's Day

It’s been a while yet again! I’ve been in a bit of a fog for the past few months, which I’ll write about in the next entry.

On Sunday, in Australia, it will be Mother’s Day. Along with this day will come all the familiar thoughts and emotions that those of us who can’t have children often encounter. The grief and sorrow, and even bitterness sometimes, and the “why not me?” and “what did I do wrong?”.

Last year I met one of my friends, who also can’t have children, for lunch. She said to me that one of the hardest parts for her is the messages that accompany Mother’s Day that suggest children choose their parents. For example, “thank you for choosing me to be your Mum.” It sounds like a lovely sentiment – but there is a definite sting in there for us.

As my friend said, it implies that there are children who looked at us and went “Nup – not good enough – I’ll head over to the drugged up, abusive couple down the road thank you very much.”

Or, perhaps even more difficult to fathom, the children who did come along, but didn’t stay due to miscarriage, picked us but then changed their minds.

This really hurts. It really, really hurts to think about.

Am I saying that people shouldn’t write this type of message on their Facebook walls? By no means. They should if this is what they want to do. All I’m asking is to be aware that friends and/or family members who can’t have children might find it difficult to read these kinds of sayings, and when they do they may feel their hearts break a little for the millionth time.

Be aware and be sensitive, as it’s a hard enough day for us as it is.

Port Lincoln...

Well – haven’t I been a slacker!

It seems some months have passed since I’ve written a blog entry. I could come up with lots of excuses – such as it was Christmas and I’ve been adjusting my diet to help combat my fibromyalgia (which is helping – yay!) etc. But I’m not going to. I’m just going to get on with this entry!

Between Christmas and New Year, Kirby and I travelled with our friends to Port Lincoln for three nights. The purpose of our trip? To go out on a boat with Adventure Bay Charters to swim with sea lions.

Travelling on the boat to the seal lions

Dolphins joined us for part of the journey

                                                     

Me and one of our friends in the water

It was absolutely brilliant! Sea lions are endangered – there are only 10000 left – so swimming with them was a real honour.

The sea lions lazing around

In the water

I also loved the way the crew of the boat we went on to where the sea lions live were very respectful of the sea lions. We were not allowed to approach them, but rather we were to wait until, and if, they came up to us  –  which made it all the more special when they did.

Sea lions are so playful and cheeky! One of the crew put a floating line as a guide to where we were allowed to swim – one of the sea lions grabbed one of the floats and took it down to the ocean bottom (it was shallow water) and proceeded to lie on it!

Look what I can do!!

You can't see me!!

While we were in Port Lincoln we also visited Coffin Bay National Park, where we were fortunate to see an emu and his chicks (yes – the Dad takes on the child rearing responsibilities!), New Zealand fur seals playing, and a kangaroo. The beaches were so wide and white, and the water so clear. It was stunning.

Baby emus with their Dad

Loving life!

 

Beautiful remote beaches

Kangaroos camouflage so well! 

Fur seals playing...

The ferocity of the ocean

I’m writing about this holiday for a couple of reasons – aside from the fact that it was awesome. And those reasons relate to the fact that we couldn’t, and don’t, have children.

The view from our balcony at the Port Lincoln Hotel

The first is that our friends are in their early twenties – and we are in our early forties. It’s quite an age gap and yet we are good friends and we get along so well. The truth is that if we had children it is less likely that we would spend as much time with these friends, if any, because we would be mixing in quite different circles. People with kids tend to mix with other people with kids – and are less likely to mix with people from very different age groups. Lately Kirby and I have been looking more at what we do have in life, instead of what we don’t, and these friends are part of what we have – and they are a blessing.

The second is that we could just go away. We can go away, work permitting, any time we like. We don’t have to think about school holidays or making sure that the activities we do are kid-friendly. Kirby and I can take off on the weekend, or even just for a day, and do what we want. Of course, we have our fur-kids to think of – but they are so adorable that I think we’ll have to start a raffle with the winner being the one to look after them next!

Lastly – life is getting better. I still get sad about not having children – but what we have is amazing. Kirby and I have changed in the last year. It’s taken a while, but we have become more aware that we have a life well worth living and that we shouldn’t waste. It doesn’t mean we don’t feel a sense of missing our children though – that will never go away.

Kirby and I are spending more time with friends and family, going out to different places, and enjoying life. We even spent Christmas Eve putting together Lego – Kirby had a car and I put together Rey’s speeder from Star Wars: The Force Awakens! If that’s not geeky I don’t know what is!

Life – dance, play, work, laugh, love, cry, walk, see friends, listen to music, feel angry, do something.

 

It’s too precious not to.

An old soul...

We took the eleven year old daughter of our friends out on Saturday. We went on a dolphin cruise on the Port River in Adelaide and we even saw four dolphins! We were the only ones to see one of the dolphins which was pretty special!

Jess knew that Ari had died and in the car on the way to the Port she said about how sad she was that Ari was gone and how it must be really hard for us.

She said “He was like your child…so he was like my cousin too.”

Okay – I’ve got tears in my eyes right now.

This beautiful, amazing girl said so simply and honestly exactly how we felt about our Ari. He was our child.

She showed more understanding than many adults would and with such simplicity and honesty.

We adore her so much – she is a pure delight in our lives – and I know for sure she is an old soul.

We love you Jess! 

Me, Jess, and Kirby

The Port Adelaide River

One of the tall ships the "One and All"

Jess with her Dad, and Kirby with Ari when he was a puppy.
Jess can't remember a time when Ari wasn't around.

All the small things...

On Sunday it was a year since we put our beautiful cat Minerva down. She was 15 years old, and her kidneys were failing and she only had about 10 percent lung capacity. We didn’t want her to suffer. It was an honour to be there for her as she took her last breath and passed away while we told her over and over again that we loved her – and we still do love her.

In honour of her and the one year anniversary of her death I put her urn with her ashes in the sunshine. I lit some incense and Kirby and I sat and remembered all the funny things she used to do.

We laughed a lot recalling different things. Such as the time when I was blowing on the top of a bottle to make musical sounds, and she came running in, jumped on my lap, smacked me in the face with her paw, then got down and ran back up the hallway. I guess she didn’t like the music I was making! I recall sitting there stunned and then bursting out laughing hysterically – as did Kirby as he was a witness to it.

Thinking about Minerva and all the little things she used to do got me thinking about all the small things in my life that make life interesting, fun, humbling, and sometimes have me feeling wistful.

All the small things that I am honoured to have in my life.

So instead of writing more – here is a collage of just some of the small things I love.

Hugo and planes...

I was going to do a rather serious and contemplative entry today, but I’ve decided not to. Instead, I’m going to write about Hugo. I can’t believe he is going to be five soon – he’s certainly grown from the photo to the right!

We’ve looked after Hugo for the last two Sundays in the morning, which has been awesome. Each time Hugo brought over DVDs, but only once did we actually sit and watch a ½ hour episode of a show based on the kids’ movie” Madagascar”. The rest of the time we talked and played and had loads of fun.

And both times we made paper planes.

Last weekend we made paper planes from a kit that said “one minute” planes – which we thought meant they would take about a minute to make. Nope! It took us (well, Kirby) about 30 minutes to make the plane that Hugo had chosen. It was a fabulous red jet!

We planned to take the planes to a park a short walk away, which has a large open area. Instead we decided to go to the smaller park just two doors away.

I had also made a paper plane and I think I was almost as excited as Hugo as we headed to the park.

Hugo threw his plane and it went a fair distance across – he was delighted!

Then Kirby decided to have a go flying Hugo’s plane.

He picked it up and threw it.

A gust of wind came at the same moment.

And we stood and watched as the plane was taken by the wind, rose into the air, and flew off out of our sight.

Hugo wanted us to go and get it, but we explained to him that we didn’t know where it had gone. He’s a top little guy and accepted this and then we shared my plane for the rest of the time we were at the park.

I think what they meant, by “one minute” planes, wasn’t that it would take only one minute to make them, but rather it would only be one minute until they would be lost!

We are so blessed to have Hugo, to spend time with him, to watch him grow and develop – and to hear and watch the funny things he comes up with.

While he was at our house he announced to us that he and we had forgotten his four and a half year old birthday party. He was adamant that there should have been a party.

Me and Hugo on a dolphin cruise

Kids seem to go through an age where they believe they know everything. Hugo is at that stage at the moment and he announced to me that he knows everything. I told him he doesn’t and he repeated that he did. I then asked him what the capital city of Nepal is. He thought for a moment and said he didn’t know. Perhaps it sounds mean, but I said “see, you don’t know everything.”

But, I then told him that neither did I and that this is what makes life so much fun, because you always get to find new stuff out and learn new things, and that this is pretty cool. Hugo agreed – but the next time I saw him he again told me that he knows everything.

Hugo and our niece Ella

What can you do!

He is a cool little guy

.

Bathurst with our boys...

Kirby, my husband, could possibly be the biggest motor racing fan in the world. You name the race and he will be there – and if he can’t be there then he will be watching it on the television.

For his fortieth birthday Kirby wanted to go to the Bathurst 12 hour race in New South Wales, and this is precisely what we did in the past fortnight. Some people may think I was dragged along to the race, but I actually enjoy motor sport too – although after three days of it in a row I could quite happily not see any motor sports for a while.

We had a fantastic time watching the cars, meeting some of the drivers, walking around the Bathurst circuit including going to the top of Mount Panorama. I do not know where the drivers get the nerves to drive down that part of the track! It is so steep!

We were sitting in the grandstand on the first day watching the enhanced performance cars in their qualifying race. A man and a woman walked by in front of the grandstand with two little boys in tow. I looked at Kirby and said “we would have been good parents to boys – how much would they have loved this?!” Then started to cry a little and Kirby sat and held my hand for a minute.

Six years since our last IVF round and I still get those moments when the reality of not having children is like a raw wound. I still wonder “what if”, I am sad that we don’t have our own children to share experiences like Bathurst with.

So, the more the years go on, the more I know that not having children is going to come back and sting me from time to time. I will cry and I may feel angry because we don’t have kids or guilt because I am enjoying my life even though we don’t have children.

It’s something I am going to have to accept, and in some ways embrace if I can. After I stopped being upset I thought about how it would have been to have our children with us. I imagined their faces lighting up as the cars roared down the track, how they would have had the energy to run about on the top of Mount Panorama while Kirby and I struggled on behind them, and the photos we would have got of them with their favourite drivers. It made me smile.

I can’t have my children in my real life, but I can have them in my dreams.

Bathurst was brilliant...

Going down Mount Panorama
- and this is not the steep part...

The 12 hour race is about to start...

Cookies...

Cleland and children...

There is a wonderful place in South Australia, in the Adelaide Hills, called Cleland Wildlife Park. Whenever we go there, or anywhere where there are animals to be truthful, my inner child comes out to play. I love animals and quite often ask random strangers if I can pat their dog.

A few weeks ago Kirby and I took the daughter of our friends, Jess, and one of her friends from school, Georgina, to Cleland. It was for Jess’ birthday, which was actually in June, but the year was so unexpectedly busy for all of us that we were only able to find a day to go recently.

I love spending time with the children of our friends and family. The children are all different ages – from six months old to thirteen years old. The stages they go through, the interests they develop, the characteristics they have, are all so fascinating.

It is true that we would have loved to watch our own children change, develop and grow over the years. I often think about what they would be doing now and one of them, the child that would have come from our first cycle of IVF, would have been starting school next year. I can never forget our children and I wouldn’t want to. As the years pass I will think about them and how they would have been turning thirteen, eighteen, forty, and sixty. I will wonder what they might have done with their lives and what they would have been interested in. I will always wonder about them and keep them in my heart.

We are so fortunate, especially because we can’t have our own kids, to have so many children in our lives – children that we love so very much.

Jess and Georgina absolutely amazed me with their imaginative play in the car on the way to Cleland, with their tender attention to the different animals at the park, with their humour, with their sense of adventure, and with the knowledge they have about wildlife and the environment.

Both girls are nine years old, but they quite capably told the koala keeper, when they were getting a photo with a koala, what koalas eat and how they only eat certain eucalyptus trees, and how koalas use their noses to know which leaves they should eat. The koala keeper looked at us and said “Well I guess my job is done!” I think she was pleased with how much the girls knew.

I don’t know what our children would have been like or what they would have been interested in, but I suspect they may have loved animals if they took after me even a little bit. Whoever they would have been, I would have been delighted if they had the loving, interested, compassionate, and funny characteristics that both Jess and Georgina have.

I would have been absolutely delighted.

I love you Jess and Georgina.

The curse of the boys…

Last week ended up being busier than I expected and I didn’t manage to fit in the extra blog entry I had hoped to write.

So, here it is now!

Our family has many more boys than girls. When my Mum was pregnant with me she never entertained the idea that I might be a girl as the chances were I wouldn’t be. My Grandmother on my Mum’s side had eight children with only two being girls, and my Grandmother on my Dad’s side had four boys and no girls. Mum and Dad were thrilled and stunned when the doctor told them they had a daughter.

My cousin and I share my Grandmother on my Mum’s side, and until the girls were born last week there were five boys amongst my cousin and his siblings.

So, again, there wasn’t a great deal of expectation that the twins would be girls. But, they are!

My cousin announced the birth of the girls on Facebook and the comments that followed were congratulatory and full of love for the entire family. But, there were a couple of comments that I found hard to read.

They were “Yay you broke the all boy curse!!!” and “yay not more boys”. I realize these comments were made in partial jest, but I still don’t see the need to write them for two reasons.

The comments were directed at me – however, it is difficult to hear people inferring that having more children of one particular gender is part of a curse. No baby, regardless of gender, is part of a curse. Every baby is an incredible miracle – regardless of whether that baby is the sixth boy in a family with no girls, or a baby brother for a first born girl.

I would have been incredibly happy to have children of any gender. They could have been girls and boys, all boys, or all girls. It wouldn’t have mattered to us. I wouldn’t have seen any of our children as part of a curse. They would have each been special regardless of gender and we would have treated them as individuals with their own personalities and interests. After all, children can be the same gender, but that doesn’t make them the same as each other.

This leads me to the second concern. I wonder how the second, third, fourth, etc. child who is the same gender as their older siblings feel s when they hear or read comments that infer that the birth of a younger sibling of the opposite gender is the end of a curse. Do they feel they were not good enough because they were just another boy or just another girl? Do they think they are not special and unique? Do they feel that they weren’t really wanted? How many boys or girls in one family does it take to form a curse?

This bothers me. No child should feel they are less valued because of their gender.

It doesn’t take much for a child to feel insecure – and these kinds of comments put a child’s security, self-esteem, and happiness at risk.

Perhaps I am being too sensitive in thinking other people should be more sensitive in what they write and say, but these are my thoughts and concerns and I believe they have value.

To end on a humorous note – one of my friends was pregnant a few years ago. She and her husband already had a daughter and some people they know asked my friend if she was hoping for a boy. She replied that she was actually hoping for an elephant…I love it! 

BLESED in Thailand…Chiang Mai

I forgot to tell you about something that happened in Sukhothai that was really challenging at first – martial law was declared across Thailand. I found this out on the television one morning and I had no idea what to do. Should I be heading home? Should I be going to the Australian Embassy? Should I be hiding under the bed?

I contacted Kirby via email and he researched and found out that it wasn’t too much of a problem in northern Thailand – and even in Bangkok there weren’t too many issues for tourists. So, I decided to stay and go on to Chiang Mai. I was nervous, but I went anyway. What is that saying? Feel the fear and do it anyway?

So, onto Chiang Mai…

My room just left of the stairs...

I had an amazing hotel to stay at, ManathaiVillage. It really was like a little village surrounding a gorgeous pool. My room was so sweet and I had a little patio out the front of my room with chairs and a table. I sat there every morning with a coffee working out what I was going to do for the day. I was, and am, so happy that I booked over a year ago and therefore got a substantial discount on the room. 

The amazing pool...

The four days I spent in Chiang Mai really weren’t enough and I intend on going back again one day. But, I did fit a lot in during those four days.

Beckie (who was with me at BLES) told me about the Healing Family Foundation and said it was worth a visit. It is a foundation which employs people with (mainly) intellectual disabilities to do weaving which is then made into products such as clothing, bags, coasters, and bookmarks.

Healing Family Foundation...

Beckie was right – it was well worth the visit. I got to meet the people who are employed there and see them weaving. The artistry of these people was brilliant. They got to choose the colors and patterns that they wanted to weave every time – and every time their creations were different. And they were happy and that is the main thing. The man who formed the foundation did so because his own son was born with an intellectual disability and he didn’t want his son to end up poor and potentially on the streets. I did a lot of my souvenir shopping at the Foundation! 

The Stupa...

On one of the days I joined Anne and Laurent on a trip to Doi Inthanon National Park. It was about an hour and a half drive away and we hired a taxi driver for the day. The day started with a visit to Napamaytanidol Chedi and Phra Mahatat Napaphon Bhumisiri (which is a Chedi built to honor the 60th birthday of King Bhumipol and Queen Sirikit. The King’s Chedi was under renovation, but it was still worth visiting, if only to see the beautiful gardens.

The beautiful garden...

Vachiratharn Waterfall...

Initially we intended to see a waterfall and then go back to Chiang Mai, but we found out about a hike that would take us up the mountain and through some incredible landscapes. We kind of wanted to go, but kind of didn’t as the sign said the hike would take 2-3 hours even though it was under four kilometers (about 4.5 miles) in distance. Eventually we decided that we would do it, and we were so happy we did. The hike brought us to incredible gullies with old rainforests, a cloud forest, open areas that could have been straight from Scotland, and a perfect vista from the edge of the mountain to the valley below. I admit I was a bit scared walking along the trail next to the edge of the mountain, but really it was quite safe. The mountain is actually the highest in Thailand (around 2,565 meters) and technically is part of the foothills of the Himalayas, so I can now say I’ve been to the Himalayas (kind of…)!

The view down to the valley...

The cloud forest...

The old moat...

There was so much more that I did in Chiang Mai, but I’ll tell you about one of the best things I did while I was there. I started out the morning thinking I would do a tour of the temples in Chiang Mai’s walled city, but after two very crowded temples I decided to do a walk following the wall boundary of the old city instead. It was a long walk at over 6 kilometers (around 6.7 miles) in above 35 degree Celsius (95 degree Fahrenheit) heat, but it was worth it. The ruins of the walls were incredible. It was amazing to be able to look at and touch walls that were built in the late 13^th century and walk on bridges across a moat that was built around the same time. It was quiet in many of the sections and I loved the freedom of just seeing what I could see – rather than planning on seeing particular things. I saw beautiful flowers, some kind of tunnel that (while blocked now) would have led somewhere under the old city walls, stunning fountains, people fishing, kids playing…it was awe inspiring. 

Ruins of the old city walls...

And this was all while a military coup had come into play. There was a curfew between 10pm and 5am, there were no television broadcasts at all (not even the movie channel), and there were soldiers with machine guns around the place. If anyone had said that there would be a coup while I was in Thailand before I left it might well have stopped me going at all, but when I was there and it was all happening it didn’t change the love I had (and have) for that country and its people. I felt quite safe.

Thailand is my second home and I will be back there again.

It was an amazing, life-changing, trip. I learnt so much about patience, about what is truly important, and what people can achieve. It also made me realize, as I wrote in the entry about BLES, that I have not truly been following my dreams.

It’s strange to think that if I had children I would never have gone on this trip. This isn’t because people can’t go on holidays when they have children, but rather I probably wouldn’t have thought about it and I would have wanted to spend my holidays with my kids. I certainly wouldn’t have thought of going to Thailand on my own, and I loved going all on my own to Thailand.

What does that mean? Does it mean I no longer care about not having children? No it doesn’t. It just means that I have really embraced a different life to that I would have had if Kirby and I had children. My life as it is without kids is neither better nor worse than the life I expected I would have with kids. It’s just what my life is. And I love my life.

I am BLESed.

What's in a name...

It’s been a while since my last blog entry – I blame Christmas, New Years, and a husband home from work to annoy me. Well, okay, not the last bit – it’s been lovely having Kirby home for the past few weeks and I’m not looking forward to when he goes back to work next week.

There are lots of things I want to write about, but many of them are more serious, and I want to start of the year with something a bit lighter (if that’s the right word). I want to share with you the names we picked out for our children before we even started IVF.

I always thought I would have boys rather than girls, so let’s start with them…

Jacob Arthur

Jacob is a very old Hebrew name and we liked the sound of it – it was strong, but simple. I’ve since found out that Jacob means supplanter – which basically means “undermines” or “supersede by force or treachery” – so the meaning isn’t all that flash. I still like the name, though – and what’s in a name anyway!

My Great-Uncle Arthur and my Grandfather

Arthur is my Dad’s first name, although he is called by his second name, David. He was named after his Uncle Arthur who died at the age of 22 in Bougainville in World War Two. That is my Great-Uncle Arthur in the photo with my Grandfather, Vivian Sydney. I like the idea of honouring our ancestors by using their names for future generations. Arthur is Welsh and means “bear”.

Samuel Kirby

Samuel is a name Kirby and I both liked very much. It is another old Hebrew name and means “God has heard”. It was the sound of the name rather than the meaning that appealed to us. Similar to Jacob, it is strong and simple.

The use of the name Kirby is kind of self-explanatory. Samuel would have had his Dad’s name as his second name. Kirby’s name was a family name on his Mother’s side – it was his Grandmother’s maiden name. It means, depending on the source, “the village with the church”, or “land beside the church”, and is potentially Scandinavian or Old German.

Now for the girls…

Ruby Grace

If you read my blog entry from the 10^th of July last year you will know about the dream I had where my Grandma was standing at one end of a long hallway and I was standing at the other. A little girl (about two years of age) was toddling toward me and my Grandma said “This is Ruby – you will look after her now”. From that moment, if I had a daughter, she was going to be named Ruby. Ruby is English and means red gemstone. I still love the name.

Grace is Kirby’s Grandmother’s name. I’ve always liked this name as well, and it goes with Ruby so well. Grace is Latin, although some say it is English. It has numerous meanings assigned to it, including “God’s favour”, “good will”, “favour”.

Audrey Margaret

Kirby and I both love the actresses Audrey Hepburn and Audrey Tautou, and picking Audrey as a name for our potential daughter was based purely on these two women. I like the meaning of Audrey as well, which is “strength”, as I always hoped our daughter would be strong.

Margaret is the middle name of both my Mum and my Nan. It is said to be of Greek origin and means “pearl”. I think that this meaning suits both my Nan and my Mum very well as they are both rare and precious. Nan has passed away, but she is still rare and precious in my mind.

Esme Kate

Esme has a bit of a stigma here in Australia as it was the name of a character in a long running soap opera in the 1980s called “A Country Practice”. Esme Jacobs, the character, was a bit of a gossip and put her nose into everyone else’s business.  A few years ago I saw a character on television, although I can’t remember the show, who was funky, strong, and feminine, and her name was Esme. I figured the name Esme deserved a chance at redemption, and it really is a nice name in my opinion. It is a French name and means something along the lines of “loved” or “esteemed”.

And, finally, Kate – well, that’s my name. Although not really. Kate is short for Kathleen, which is an English form of the Irish Caitlin (which is Gaelic). I always thought I would use Kate for the second name here, but now I think I would have used Kathleen, or even Caitlin in honour of my Irish roots. Oh, and Caitlin means “pure”.

So, there you have it – what our babies would have been called if they had lived. I still think they are awesome names…

What I wish for her…

There is a precious little eight year old girl in our lives who is the daughter of our friends. Her name is Jess. She is so bright, caring, and funny, and she has a keen interest in the world and everything in it.

Just recently Jess told me about the cans and bottles she was collecting from her home to take to recycling, and she asked me to guess what she would be using the money from the cans and bottles for. Before I could make a guess she said “I’m giving it to a tiger sanctuary, or was it lions? One of those.” She amazes me.

A few months ago I took Jess up to Monarto Zoo. It is an amazing place where all sorts of animals have large areas in which to roam in an environment as close to their natural habitats as possible. The zoo has cheetahs, African painted dogs, chimpanzees, meerkats, and many more animals. We met up with my parents and my nieces, and some friends of ours and their children at Monarto.

As we drove up the road leading to Monarto, Jess asked what the grass was which covered an open area alongside the road. I told her that it was native grass that goes grey when it doesn’t get enough water, but when it rains it will come all green again. Jess said excitedly, “I’ve never seen grey grass before!”

A few weeks ago Jess’s Mum and I were talking about her upcoming fortieth birthday and her plans to have a costume party where people come as what they want to be when they grow up. Jess joined in the conversation and said she would like to own an animal sanctuary. I said to her, why not? She is smart, she loves animals and other people do it, so why not her? I can see Jess doing something in conservation or in helping out humanity – something that will be really special.

On this past Saturday we had a BBQ at our home and Jess was there. We were talking about her Mum’s party again and I asked Jess what she wanted to come as, and she said a princess.

I must admit it floored me a little. I thought she was going to say a zoo keeper or veterinarian or something similar. It struck me as unlike her. But, then I remembered what childhood is really about.

Childhood is about exploring different things – interests, places, friends, identities. Children try on different selves, really, and see which ones fit and which ones don’t, and this is very important. There are so many paths for children, and one of the most common for little girls is an interest in fairies and princesses. It is quite normal.

The biggest hurdle, though, is for the child not to lose themselves in the process of exploring the options before them.

I truly believe that Jess’s heart and soul are in the realm of caring for the world – the environment, animals, people. Her face shines from the light that resides in her heart when she talks about these kinds of things.

So, what is my wish for her?

That she tries on different ways of being in the world. That she takes enough risks to find herself, with the sense to stay safe in her journey.

And, mostly, that she comes home to her true self when adulthood arrives.

I wish this for all of the children in our lives.

A Piece of Heaven...

On Saturday my Mum and Dad, Kirby and I, our nephew, Hugo, and our friends’ eight year old daughter, Jess, went to the Beach House. The Beach House is a two storey building by the seashore with waterslides, a carousel, a little train, mini golf, bumper boats and much more.

Mum and Dad had decided that instead of giving Hugo a gift for his third birthday they would take him there – and then Kirby and I were included and then Jess, who Hugo adores, was invited too.

It was a magic day. The kids thoroughly enjoyed themselves at the Beach House and afterwards flying a kite on the beach.  Although I’m not sure who enjoyed the kite the most – the kids or Dad!

When Kirby and I realised that we weren’t going to have children one of the things that hurt most was that we were not going to be giving Mum and Dad grandchildren that they would be able to live close to. My nieces live in another state – a two hour flight or a three day drive away – so Mum and Dad only get to see them a few times a year. I was looking forward to Mum and Dad being able to have grandchildren nearby.

But, perhaps it is that very hurt that has made Saturday so very special and precious. For a day we had a glimpse of what it might have been like if we’d had children. Kirby and I looked like every other couple who were there with their children and parents – nobody who didn’t know us would have thought twice about whether Hugo and Jess were our children or whether Mum and Dad were the doting grandparents.

It was nice. It was better than nice. It was a blessing to spend a day in this type of heaven.

The best bit, though, is that even though Jess and Hugo are not our children, they love us and we love them so very much. We get to spend time with them and every minute is precious. And Mum and Dad love them too.

Sometimes it’s hard not to have what other people have, but when we get a little piece of heaven like we did on Saturday, it is such a beautiful thing.

My boy

Last night I got to hold my four year old son’s hand as we walked through the parking lot of our local shopping centre. We had picked up some groceries for dinner and he had been fairly good throughout the expedition, although his bottom lip stuck out just a little when I told him he couldn’t have the chocolate he was eyeing off.

I was anxious to get my boy out of the rapidly cooling autumn night air and into his seat in the back of our white hatch back. But, really, I had nothing to worry about. He was perfectly warm in his thick parka and his hazel eyes were nearly lost behind his blue beanie hat. Still – I was looking forward to getting him home, giving him his dinner, getting him into the bath and then bed for a story before sleep time.

I strapped him into his car seat and kissed his cheek. His grin lit up his little round face.

As I closed the car door I noticed an older couple – perhaps in their sixties – watching me with a look of great consternation.

And I knew why.

I was pretending. I was pretending to hold my son’s hand, pretending to put him in his car seat, and I was pretending that I would take him home and get him all warm, snuggly and safe in his bed. I was pretending it all.

I knew I looked foolish to them. But my boy, my son, seems so real sometimes. I can see the smattering of freckles on his face, I can talk to him about his day, and I can try to get his light brown, straight hair into some semblance of order.

I want so much for him to be real, and I am torn between giving up my fantasies and acting normally or holding on to the closest I would ever get to my son.

The strange thing about last night is that my pretending and the stares of the older couple were all within the confines of a dream. I was conflicted about holding onto the fantasy of my child from within a dream.

I woke up this morning feeling desolate and empty, as I do after I have dreams about our children. There is no reality, and not even a fantasy in a dream, that will ever give me our son.

Kicking butt...

Then again – since the last entry – I’ve realised that sometimes I do need to be a bit harder on myself. There are times to hold my emotions and thoughts like little, fractious children, and times when they need some boundaries and a reality check.

On the weekend we went to a picnic to celebrate the first birthday of our friends’ little boy. It was held in the Botanic Gardens in Adelaide and, despite the weather people telling us it would rain, the sun shone through the entire afternoon. Our friends organised a wonderful afternoon tea with cupcakes, dips, savoury biscuits, and fairy bread. There were carrots and healthy food, but it was a party – and I tended toward the fairy bread...

As more people arrived the number of children grew exponentially, including a few children that were about the same age as our child would have been (even one sweet little girl who had was born on the same day as our child would have been due – she had a dinosaur birthday party – how cool is that!).

I wanted to get into it all – to play with the kids – but I felt fragile and uncertain. It came to a point where my eyes became disobedient and the tears started. I caught Kirby’s eye and said I was going for a quick walk. He was straight onto it that something was wrong.

We found a little secluded seat and sat while I cried a bit. I felt guilty and told him not to make a fuss and not to tell anyone where I was or that I was crying. It wasn’t about me that day – it was about the beautiful little boy whose party it was.

I asked Kirby if he could get some money from my purse and go and get a coffee – to give me time to calm down. He walked back to the party, but returned fairly quickly without coffee to say that they were opening presents and did I want to come back to the party. I was still upset, and I didn’t want anybody to see, so I said no. I told him he should go back – particularly as he was chief photographer for the day.

I sat there for a few more moments feeling miserable. We had bought a gorgeous little book about animals, with different materials for each animal that could be petted, and Batman pyjamas (I’m Batman…shhh! (Big Bang Theory reference…couldn’t help myself…)), and I wanted to be there to see our friends’ little boy open the present – to see his reaction and those of his parents.

My higher self – or whatever it is – suddenly piped in and said “Snap out of it!” It was very firm and I was a little shocked, but I did, in fact, snap out of it. My eyes were still red, so I was thankful for sunglasses, but I went back to the party in time to see our present opened and the fascination our friends’ little boy had for of his new little book. It was heart-warming and I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.

After that I thoroughly enjoyed the party – not that I didn’t before, but I did feel out of place. I was able to interact with the children for whom they are and smile and play and talk to other people with happiness and contentment.

I don’t know if anybody noticed my disappearance and realised why I took some time out, but I think some of my friends did. I am so thankful for them. They didn’t make a fuss, they didn’t ask if I was okay, and that was exactly what I needed at that point in time. I didn’t want be the centre – I wanted to get on with enjoying the party. But, at the same time I know they love me and understand and that I always have their support. I am a very, very lucky woman to have these people in my life. And I am very, very lucky to have a husband that loves me and is my rock. And I am very, very lucky to have so many gorgeous children to love and cherish. 

And I am very, very lucky to have a higher self to kick my butt when I need it.

My insights...

So what were my insights from last week?

I’ve done some more reading on Yoga, in particular, this week, and the premises of Yoga are very similar to those of Buddhism. Enlightenment is the goal – but this isn’t some airy fairy transcendental experience. You don’t go off flying into the air or suddenly have the wisdom of the entire world at your disposal. It is much more subtle than that, but it’s also something I have most definitely not achieved…not yet at least!

Part of trying to achieve enlightenment is to cultivate a kind of detachment. I misunderstood this for many years in that I thought detachment meant being devoid of any feelings or even caring for the things around and within us. You just let everything happen and feel nothing towards anything in particular. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Now, I’m the first to admit that my understandings of Yoga, Buddhism and Hinduism are far from complete – I have a lot to learn – but this is my understanding at this point in time.

Experiences and emotions happen – both good and bad. The trick is to try and let them happen without feeling attached to them – meaning that you recognise that you are feeling sorrow, but realise it is not who you are; you lose your job, but you realise this is also not who you are. There is something deeper – the real “you” or “me” – that is centred and can gently watch thoughts and emotions as they move through our minds and hearts.

This, as I understand it, means that we can experience a deeper sense of self and we can more easily experience happiness because we choose not to latch onto negative emotions. This doesn’t mean we don’t feel negative emotions – it is kind of like sadness turns up and instead of your mind going on “Oh no, here’s sadness again! What have I done wrong? I shouldn’t be feeling sad! This is terrible! I’d better try and fight it and get rid it!”, your mind simply recognises “I feel sad”.

So, how does this relate to last week? I tried to control my negative emotions, I put too much emphasis on trying not to feel these negative emotions that it was almost like the call of the wild to them, and I gave them power. Once I realised that I just needed to observe and be compassionate toward them they lost that power. They moved quickly on and I had space to realise the happiness and love that is in my life right now.

It also put me in a place where I could think about our child with love. I could picture them surrounded by my love and I realised that they are there – they are just not physically with me this time around. I also had the realisation that nothing would make up for the fact that we couldn’t have our child – and I needed to let that go. I needed to remove the expectation that the life I have created will provide full compensation for not having our child.

I feel freer now. I feel like I can enjoy the different parts of my life because of what they are. I enjoy conservation volunteering because I want to do it. I enjoy my pets because I love them – they don’t need to fill a void – they shouldn’t have the responsibility of filling a void. I spend time with my nephews and nieces because I love them – not because they are replacements for our own child – I love them for who they are and how they are in our life.

I certainly haven’t got anything sorted out for good – I’m not enlightened yet! I know there will be times when I will have experiences similar to those of last week – but perhaps next time I will be quicker to realise what is happening and to remember how to be with it, instead of trying to fight it.