Friendships...

Late last year I was working through some issues that were particularly painful for me. There were more than a few nights lost to tears and sleeplessness. I am very lucky that I have Kirby to talk to and share my thoughts and feelings with, but what I wanted most at that time was a friend to talk to. I wanted to go and have a cuppa with a girlfriend I had known for years and cry my heart out. But I didn’t. I couldn’t think of who to call, or rather I could think of friends to call but I never picked up the phone. I never let them know what was happening and that I needed them.

When we were younger it was easy to catch up with friends on the spur of the moment. A morning phone call, “Coffee?”, and we were ready to go that afternoon. This was especially the case with my friends who were also my colleagues early last decade. Around lunchtime, a head would pop through my office doorway and no words needed to be said – we headed out of the office for lunch or coffee or just a quick walk.

Now it’s different. Most of my friends, especially those I made in early adulthood, have children of their own. They are busy – and I mean really busy. They don’t have as much time as I do and their priorities are, as they should be, their families. Many of their activities and social outings are with other parents with children of similar ages. This is very important, of course, because parents need the opportunity to talk with each other and share the experiences, knowledge, joy, and frustration of parenting. Their main source of support in this time of life, in raising children, is friends who also have children.

But, sometimes I struggle with that, in that I feel I am not part of the group because I don’t have children.

I really hope that my friends with children don’t get upset at this, as I love them all dearly, but there are times when it is very, very hard for me. And I do feel excluded sometimes even though I know that is not the intent – and in thinking about it that exclusion exists solely in my own mind – it isn’t real. But, I’ll give you a couple of examples so you know what I mean. A few years ago we were trying to catch up with two families at the same time, both of who have kids, but it was difficult to come up with a date that we were all free. The months passed by, and we found out that the families we wanted to see had caught up together without us at the beach. We had no idea and at the time I wondered if we had done something wrong. Another example is that it is very rare for us to be invited to our friends’ children’s birthday parties. I sometimes think that if we had kids we would be invited. I do understand that there has to be limits to numbers at parties, and that many of our friends are torn about inviting us as they don’t want us to be reminded of what we don’t have – which, in thinking about it, really is thoughtful.

I guess, from all of this, I feel different to my friends who have children. They have a different type of life to me, and lives that are often far busier than mine. And that is where my problem lies – I say “my” problem because the problem rests entirely with me, and not my friends.

I didn’t call any of my friends last year when I was struggling because every time I thought I would call one or the other I thought they would be too busy, I didn’t want to burden them with my problems, I didn’t want them to think that I only wanted to see them when I was in difficulty, and I was afraid. It sounds ridiculous now that I have written it down. I can see very clearly how all of this is my issue and not theirs. I know that if I had called any of my beautiful friends they would have, if they possibly could have, been there for me.

I sometimes feel that because I don’t have children I should have everything sorted out – that I should be the one who provides the support to my friends, rather than the other way around. In a way this is an insult to my friends, who love me and don’t need me to put across the facade that my life is all good. I realise that I need to trust them more. That I need to remember that they are my friends – that they care, and that they are willing for me to call up and say “help” sometimes.

I need to learn how to ask for help. That is what friendships are for.

Caleb and the fish...

Caleb…

After I wrote the last blog entry on names I realised that I had forgotten to include another name we had thought of for our son – Caleb Maxwell. Caleb is a name we both love. The name is Hebrew in origin, and there are a few different meanings attributed to the name Caleb, including dog, but we like it because of the meanings “whole-hearted” and “devotion”.  We would have been wholeheartedly devoted to our little boy.  The name Maxwell would have gone with it as this is the name of Kirby’s Dad, my Father-in-Law. Maxwell is a combination of Maccus meaning “great” and the Old English “wielh” meaning “spring” or “pool”. It really is quite a lovely name.

The fish…

On the 28^th of October last year I wrote about how one of our fish was getting ready to lay eggs, and how excited I was at the prospect of having new baby fish. Well, sadly, while I saw one or two tiny babies (fry), I haven’t seen any in about two months. Unfortunately few baby fish survive to be adults and it seems that this year wasn’t a good year for the babies. There are many reasons for this, including slight changes in temperature, the baby fish not being strong enough, and unconducive levels of pH, nitrate, nitrite, and ammonia. I am sad about it, but I also realise that this is nature.

Next week’s blog is going to be on an issue that I think about, and get confused about, a lot – that of friendships.

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…

Tattooed memories…

Photo by Gina Minton Kearns

I’ve been planning for a long time to get a tattoo on my shoulder blade for my children. It is based on this beautiful photograph by Gina Minton Kearns. The tattoo will be based on a close up of these children’s hands. I’ve often dreamt about my children holding each other’s hands and looking after each other, so this picture is a perfect representation of them.

Skyla on Odi's day bed...

This past week my cousin Alicia, her partner, Pike, and their two year old daughter, Skyla, were over from Laos visiting family. It was the first time we had met either Pike or Skyla, and they both won us over very, very quickly. Pike is such a lovely man, and Skyla is a real character – as you can see from these photos of her.

Skyla and me

There was a family gathering on Wednesday night which Kirby and I couldn’t go to, but we were lucky enough to have Alicia, Pike, and Skyla stay with us on Tuesday night – so we got them all to ourselves!

Pike, Skyla, Alicia and the kangaroo

Alicia, Skyla, Pike, and the pelican

The next day I got to take Alicia, Pike, and Skyla to Cleland Wildlife Park so that Pike and Skyla could see their first kangaroo. Skyla has no fear of animals at all and was fascinated by everything she saw. Alicia, Pike, and Skyla got a photo of them holding a koala, and we fed birds in the wetlands in the park, and went face to face with emus.

Hugo doesn’t have any cousins here in Australia and so we like to get him involved with the children on my side of the family – we tell him that they are not really his cousins, but that we can say they are anyway. Hugo came over on Tuesday night to meet Alicia, Pike, and Skyla, and the two kids got along really well. It’s true that Skyla bopped him on the head with a toy car when he wouldn’t let her put her car on the cat’s scratching ramp, but overall they played together and laughed together and danced together all evening.

Skyla and Hugo

When it was time for Hugo to go home Skyla and Hugo gave each other a big cuddle. Kirby headed down the hall to the front door, and you’ll never guess what happened next.

Hugo and Skyla followed him, hand in hand, chatting about something that only they understood. 

It was an incredible, magical moment. It was not only adorably cute, but it was the photo above, my tattoo, come to life. I was really touched and it is a picture I have stored in my memory bank so that I can take it out and cherish it for the rest of my days.

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!

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! 

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.

Life passes by...

Twenty one years ago, almost to the minute, I was studying for my final high school exams which were being held the following day. My parents were both at work and I had books, pens and papers scattered over the dining room table.

Suddenly the roller door to the garage went up. I looked outside to see Mum and Dad in the car – Mum’s face was white and Dad’s expression was grim. Something was wrong.

Mum and Dad came inside and told me to sit down. I didn’t want to because I knew when I did I would hear words I didn’t want to hear. I had no idea what, and I didn’t want to know.

I sat down and Dad said “Ben was killed in a motorcycle accident last night.”

I remember feeling like I had been punched in the chest, I couldn’t breathe, and there was no sound from my mouth – no scream, no cry, nothing.

Ben and me

 Ben was (is) my older cousin. We actually didn’t know he was my cousin until after he died – Mum and Ben’s Mum found that we had a common recent ancestor about four years later. Even so, I had always felt that he was like a cousin to me.

Ben was only twenty one when he died.

Ben has been gone now for the same number of years that he was on the Earth. I wonder what he could have and would have done by now if he had lived. And, it’s made me reflect on what I’ve done in the past twenty one years, and who I am now.

I have done many things – got three degrees including a Masters, owned my own apartment, worked at different jobs, fought my way through different health conditions – even if it is to the point of living with them rather than getting rid of them. I’ve found my soul mate and got married. Obviously, with Kirby, I’ve gone through trying to have children and the hope, fear and grief that accompany that journey.

This is all important stuff, and I’m not dismissing any of it as every single thing I’ve done has brought me here and helped to make me the person I am.

The only thing I wonder about now is – if this is me, is this the me I want to be? Without a doubt I want to be married to Kirby, I love my friends, my pets, my family – but who am I really in all of this? What do I want to do with this life?

I think I’m going through the kind of crisis that most people go through when they are around my age – the kind of crisis that leads one to wonder, “Is this it?” A few months ago one of my precious friends said to me “this isn’t what I signed up for.” I can relate with this right at the moment. Life is good, don’t get me wrong, but I want to do something more – I want to be something more.

The only problem is that I don’t really know what something is.

I’ve always thought that since we can’t have children I would do something else – something that matters – with my life. In the past few years I’ve thought about it, talked about it, made some steps towards it – but then I seem to get a bit scared and run back to hide behind a rock or disappear behind a grove of trees.

My brother, Paul, me and Ben

Well – enough already. I need to get some gumption and start doing. I need to stop thinking and start acting. I need to stop worrying about whether I’m on the right path, what people will think, and anything else that is holding me back.

I need to do this for Ben and I need to do it for our kids.