Daily Mail Online...

Well – I’ve been a bit naughty leaving it for a month to write a new entry…can I blame the holiday season? I think so!

To make up for it – I’m doing two blog entries today…

The first…I am very excited to say that an extract from my book “When You Can’t Have Kids” has been published in the Mail Online. Along with lots and lots of photos of us, and our family, and our dogs (Ari and Odi are now selling autographed copies of their photos at $5 a pop as they believe they are famous now…I’m kidding of course!)

Ari and Odi

My own reactions, apart from being thrilled, have surprised me. Reading the extract, after not having read my book for some time, has brought about some of that old sorrow I used to regularly feel.

It’s not overwhelming, but there is a definite wistfulness and wondering why not us. I’ve also been sincerely moved, almost to tears, by the comments of support that I have received from friends, family, and from complete strangers. The book is doing exactly what I wanted it to do – to let people who can’t or are struggling to have children know that they are not alone, and to give people in the wider community some understanding about what it’s like to not be able to have children.

I’ve also read some negative comments about the extract – and these have impacted on me as well. I’ve felt a bit hurt by some of them, but at the same time I know that there is more support than not and that the comments that are negative are generally due to a lack of understanding or to a personal view. However, I also respect these people for making their comments and will always defend their right to make them.

You know – even if I never sell another copy of the book (although I hope I do!) I would still be delighted with how it has turned out. A cathartic process for me in writing it, support for those in similar situations to Kirby and me, and helping people to understand more about infertility.

It’s all I hoped to achieve.

His favourite food...

This is a conversation that my five year old nephew and I had a few weeks back when we were at a restaurant and I had ordered a vegetarian pizza. I love this little guy – and I’ll bet you can guess what his favourite food is!

Him: Aunty Kate – so you’re a vegetarian?

Me: Yes I am.

Him: Why are you a vegetarian?

Me: Because I’m healthier when I eat vegetarian food.

Him: Oh. You’re healthier. And is that the only reason?

Me: I also like vegetarian food.

Him: Hmmm….I find it hard to believe that you only eat vegetarian food.

Me: Well – I do.

Him: Well – lucky there’s vegetarian sausages then!

Mirena and me...

Before I really start this entry I want to make it very clear that what I am writing applies to me only. In no way is this medical advice or suggesting that what happened to me will happen to everyone. Talk to your doctor about your situation and what is right for you.

Okay – now that’s out of the way!

A few months ago I wrote about how I have extremely heavy periods to the point of being borderline anaemic, and that I was going to try the Mirena (a new wave IUD) (you can read that entry here). Just over three weeks ago I had it put in and initially it was great. No bleeding, no pain (except when it was put in), and I was positive it was going to work for me.

Well – not so much.

 A few days later I started having slight mood swings – I would go from being happy to weeping for no reason that I could identify. It wasn’t nice, but I thought it was just an adjustment to the Mirena and would pass.

But, it didn’t. It got worse. I went from happy to weeping to happy to weeping. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was still determined to keep going with it until my review with my doctor just before Christmas.

But, then... Okay some back story first. I first got depression when I was 22 years of age (so almost 20 years ago). It started soon after a client at my work thought it might be a good idea to stab me when I went on a home visit and I had to fight them off. I ended up leaving that job, but depression came along with me.

Over the first ten years or so I tried many natural therapies and counselling and so on to try and overcome the depression – but, despite people trying to convince me otherwise, mine is a chemical imbalance and I have to be on medication. It took me a long time to accept this and only then was I able to work with my psychiatrist to find a medication regime that really suits me.

Until we found that regime I regularly had an episode of depression (perhaps two to three a year which lasted a month or more at a time). I would be in a black hole where I had no energy, I had no decision making ability (I would wear the same clothes day after day, eat only bread, and stare at the TV unable to change the channel because my brain just didn’t work properly).

Believe it or not – it was the in-between times that were often the hardest; those times when I was sinking into depression and I didn’t want to believe that I could possibly be having yet another episode.

This is still hard to reveal to people, but I did do self-harm. When I first became sick I attempted to take my own life (through overdose) and it was a rose that saved me. I took tablets, then looked out the window and saw the sun shining on a rose – and I realised I didn’t want to never see such a vision again – and I called for help. I also scratched myself on my thighs to the point that I bled, and there are scars where I did so.

Well – I haven’t had an episode for almost four years and I haven’t done self-harm in that time either. My life has been really good – I’ve learnt that I don’t have to be happy all the time and that I don’t have to fight all the so-called negative feelings. I used to be scared that any sadness or anger meant I was getting depressed – but I now realise that they are normal part of the spectrum of emotions (at least most of the time). I can sit with these feelings and not fight them, and I think this has helped, as trying to fight them was exhausting and I believe contributed to my depression.

Okay – back story finished.

Last week I was flipping backwards and forwards between being fine and weeping. I even cried when I was leaving to go to the shops and had to leave my pets – I felt like my heart was breaking. Then, mid last week I went into the bathroom feeling so sad, I picked up some tweezers, and ran them across my thigh. It was only a light scratch, but it shocked me so much. I called Kirby and told him straight away and then told my Mum as well. It was clear that the Mirena was messing with me.

Last Monday I went to my doctor and told her what happened. She immediately said that the Mirena was coming out and that it was going to come out straight away. I was so relieved – especially because she validated that it was the Mirena and I wasn’t going crazy.

The first day after it came out wasn’t easy as I still felt emotional, but now I feel like my usual self again, much to the delight of Kirby, my parents, my parents-in-law, and my dogs and cats too (and of course me!)

Now what is quite confronting is that the options available to me now are going to be much more invasive and more permanent. From what I understand, the options are a uterine ablation (where the lining of my uterus will be destroyed) or a hysterectomy.

I admit – I’m anxious. I have no idea which one the gynaecologist will recommend and which option I will take up.

But, I’ll know soon enough. I have an appointment with a gynaecologist two weeks today and with the one I hoped to see (as she specialises in peri-menopause and all the fun things associated with it).

Well – I think I’ve rambled on enough for today. I’ll certainly let you know how the appointment goes, and in particular how I’m feeling about it all, after my visit to the gynaecologist on the 17^th.

Adieu till next time! And, are you ever going to laugh at my next entry!

New fish babies…

The sadness continued after my last entry as on the following weekend the last of the four babies I bought in recent months, Clancy, died. This left little Angel alone and quite despondent. I know that fish used to be thought of as quite brainless – but research is showing that they do have emotions and form types of friendships with other fish.

So, poor little Angel (who is normally quite outgoing) was hiding behind the rock in the pond, barely eating, and not coming out to see me when I called to him.

I couldn’t leave him all on his own and so I cleaned the pond thoroughly to make sure there were no remnants of whatever it was that made Clancy, Dickon, Ned, and Loki so sick – this even included wiping over the water snails so that there was as little algae as possible on them. Kirby and I then went to a pet shop (NOT the one I went to before!) to get three new babies.

I couldn’t decide between three different types, so I got one of each – an orange comet, a yellow comet, and a calico fantail.  After the staff member put the three fish into a bag for me to take them home I asked her if the fish all spoke the same language – you know, because they are different types. It took a moment for her to realise I was joking!

The babies have settled into the pond nicely. As soon as I put the bag in the pond Angel was out from hiding, doing crazy swims around the pond, coming up and looking through the plastic bag at the newcomers, doing another crazy swim, then peeking into the bag again, and so forth. Needless to say he is a happy little fish now with his new friends.

I named the yellow fish Uthai (which is Thai for rising sun), the calico fish Dana (which is Irish Gaelic for cheeky – which suits her well), and the orange fish Jupiter – just because it’s a cool name.

I won’t forget the other fish I had – and these new fish don’t replace them in my heart – I still love Clancy, Ned, Dickon, and Loki. But, there isn’t a quota on the love we can feel and so I can easily love my new babies as well as, and not instead of.

Beautiful Clancy

From top to bottom - Dana, Uthai, Angel, and Jupiter

Sadness...

I haven’t written a blog entry in the past few weeks as I have been too tired and too sad to do so.

It began about a month ago with the death of one of the four baby fish I bought to add to my small pond. I only had Ned for about a week and he just didn’t do well and eventually passed away. This was soon followed by the death of Loki (another baby) late last month due to mouth rot, and then Dickon, Saturday week ago, from rot around his tail. I tried everything I could to save them – putting them in a separating tank in the pond, antibiotics, water changes…nothing worked.

Then, on the 26^th October the gorgeous Naamfon, an elephant who arrived after I went to Boon Lott’sElephant Sanctuary in May 2014 and who I was looking forward to meeting, died.

Then last week, it was 23 years on the 4^th November since my cousin Ben died in a motor cycle accident. He was only 21 years old, and the older I get the more I realise just how young he was.

Also on the 4^th November I found out about the further tragedies that had befallen BLES the day before. The beautiful bull, Somai, had died, and three of the dogs, Peanut Butter, Marmite, and Hugh (all of whom I spent many happy hours with at BLES) had been poisoned and had died as well – all on the same day.

Then, on the 5^th November I found my beautiful fish, Harriet, ill in the big pond. Harriet was about eight years old, but always a little delicate thing. She died on Friday morning.

On Saturday, after I buried Harriet wrapped in a tissue, with a bit of plant from the pond, and two bits of food to take with her, I wept and I felt so empty.

So much loss. It was, and is, still so much to take in. I expect to see my babies in their ponds swimming happily along and coming up to me looking for food. I never imagined going back to BLES and not having Marmite, Peanut Butter, and Hugh escorting me around the place and coming on walks with the elephants. I never pictured Somai not walking sedately and regally along the track with his beloved mahout Phi Sot. And I always expected to meet Naamfon.

I’m sorry – I can’t write anymore just at the moment…my heart is broken.

No, no, no – and just - NO…

This week I came across two blogs by mothers who have children. Each mother has written an entry on other options available to those who can’t have kids – such as adoption, fostering, IVF, babysitting, and even becoming a primary school teacher.

I’m sure they are well-intentioned, but, no. No. NO!!!

Having someone who has had kids tell us how it’s not all that bad because there are other ways to “have kids” in our lives is just not right and completely inappropriate – to my mind.

I’ve had close friends and family talk to me about other options available to me and Kirby, but they know me and often the conversation has been started by me. And even when my friends or family were the ones to start the conversation, they understand me well enough to know, most of the time, when to talk about certain things about not having children and when not to.

The problem I have about blog entries such as the above is that these women are writing about something so personal to many of us, so painful to many of us, and they don’t know us. They have not had the experience of facing the truth that biological children are not going to come along.

One of the entries even ended with the phrase that “being told you can’t have kids is not the end of the world”. Well…yes it is. It’s the end of the world in which we will look into the eyes of our children – it is the end of the world in which we will watch them grow up – it is the end of the world in which we will get to hold them.

I do believe these women were well-intentioned, but no – they do NOT get to tell us that we have choices, and options, and that it’s not the end of the world.

Strange jealousy...

This week I want to talk about something that I experienced in the early months of us realising we would not be able to have children.

It seems a strange thing to have thought now, but then, when we are grieving our thoughts are often different to those we would normally have.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that we only have photos of our children as embryos. Wow – this is hard to write about…as I feel a bit ashamed about it (although I tell myself I shouldn’t.) I used to be jealous of people who had children, of course, but I also was kind of jealous of people who had had a still born child.

I didn’t, and don’t, actually wish a still born child on anyone and certainly not on ourselves. I can’t even begin to know what it would be like to have a child and for them to have died before they took their first breath.

What I was jealous for is that they got to hold their baby and have photos with them and show the baby to their family and perhaps friends too. Their baby, their child, was real. Ours were just a flicker for a few days and nobody but us and the medical staff saw them. Our parents couldn’t hold them – we couldn’t say “look at this beautiful angel that we created.”

Even now my arms are aching to hold them.

It’s a strange kind of jealousy – actually I’m not even sure, now, that jealousy is the right word. Perhaps it’s more that I wished for something more than what we had – even if it was just to get to hold our child. To have those photos and to see their faces. I wanted to take every part of them into my memory.

We didn’t get to do that and sometimes I think that our loss is not even viewed as a loss because of that. But, we did lose something precious.

It’s impossible to compare losses and it’s certainly not a competition. What am I trying to say here? Perhaps that there was nothing for us to hold out and say “see what we have lost – we created this and we had dreams and hopes for this and we loved this…and now it’s gone.”

Our pain about our loss was ours and the pain my friends have felt about their loss was theirs. There’s no scale to measure which was stronger or bigger or worse – but both losses and the grieving for our children were, and remain, real.

I feel that this entry is a bit all over the place, so let me know if any of it doesn’t make sense. xxx