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!
 |
| Frankie |
 |
| Minerva |
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!
2 comments:
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.
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.
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