At least I was
thinking maybe this was the case…
I realised a couple of
weeks ago that I hadn’t been thinking about babies and IVF and infertility. And
it surprised me, because in previous years I had always experienced feelings of
sorrow, guilt, and even anger, as April approached.
I was positive that this
lack of conscious thought about April meant the wound of not being able to have
children had healed. The scar tissue had become so strong that it wouldn’t tear
open again this year to leave my heart and arms empty.
It crossed my mind
that perhaps the souls of my babies had moved on. Maybe they had let me go and
I had let them go too.
I felt strong. It was over it. Time truly does heal all.
Then I went to the
supermarket.
There were prams
everywhere. There were babies everywhere from newborns to almost toddlers.
Parents held the hands
of older children, corrected their behaviour, laughed with their children,
called them back to their sides when their kids had wandered of, and, sadly,
there were also “parents” who seemed to take great joy in belittling their
children in public.
That old familiar
loneliness and emptiness arrived so suddenly that I struggled to keep the tears
in my eyes from falling down my cheeks.
We didn’t even get to
the stage of egg collection with our first round of IVF. No embryo was created.
Still, I think about the child we could have had – the little boy or girl who
would be turning six this month.
Who would that little
person have been?
We’ll never know.
I tend to think about
the child that could have been from our first IVF round as their due date would
have been our wedding anniversary.
When we married we had
a picture of what our lives would be like – and that included having children
and raising them as best we could. There were no doubts that this dream would
become a reality. After all, our friends and family were having children and
never had any problems – so why would we? It never even crossed our minds that
we would.
And I can never forget
those dreams or that potential child, and I don’t think a time will ever come
when I feel all okay about it. I will never be “over it”, and time doesn’t
really heal all.
 |
| Our wedding day... |
I also know that missing
my child doesn’t mean I’m not strong. Perhaps it actually means I am strong –
because I can think about our children, grieve for them, while still being able
to love and feel and live.
Happy sixth birthday
angel child.
2 comments:
Time heals, but it doesn't mean that occasionally we don't knock that wound, and get some of that old pain back briefly. I think anniversaries (of loss, of due dates (actual or simply possible), etc are often much more painful too.
I do love your thought that missing your children whilst going on and living and loving and feeling is a sign of strength. I agree. I often say that we survivors without kids are the true success stories of infertility. No, I'm not modest. I'm honest! lol
That's a really good point Mali - time can heal - it gets easier, but some times the wound can feel very raw. And I love honesty!! :-)
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