And still the words come

I am remembering hurts that are long-buried – and, oddly enough, as I pour out the words it’s generally not that painful. I thought there’d be endless tears, but there’s not; I am a bit obsessive about the journalling though.

As promised, this is very warts and all – two of these pages talk about the point where sex became a chore, and the start of my affair with Tony (who I’ve now been with for 26 years, so…), the pain of seeing everyone else have a baby and the years I spent on a fertility drug.

The process of remembering, recording, covering up and moving on is very healing.   I  continue to visit the cemetery a lot in my lunch breaks, and sit near the memorial stone to lost babies. So much healing…

clomidlove and lust tonyodd ones outwhen sex isnt fun

 

Pouring out the words

I decided yesterday I’d do a journal about my angel babies, and pour out all the feelings onto paper. I knew once I started I would be a bit teary and obsessive – and warned Tony. Turns out I am obsessive but not teary. But my god am I dredging up old memories and hurts, and dealing with them.

Here’s an example of something I had tucked away but never let go of … Relatively early in our infertility journey my then-husband started showing the first signs of depression. My Mother-in-law, who I had a mixed relationship with, said “If you’d just have a baby, he’d feel better”. Well, f*ck me, why hadn’t I thought of that?

I’m being consistent about how the pages look because that makes me happy, and ensuring the bulk of the writing is unreadable because it’s so personal – but also contains other people’s personal information. Infertility isn’t a journey you take on your own, and impacts on all aspects of your life. I’ll be writing about love, sex, affairs, needles, medicine, deaths, depression, family, friends, betrayals … this is a ‘warts and all’ journey. I’m not sure it will end up being in chronological order because I suspect old memories will come back as I write. Thanks for being part of this healing journey with me.

Opening up old wounds

Sometimes you have to open up old wounds if they’ve never really healed. It’s hard and it hurts but, ultimately, it’s the only way to heal and move on. I had a message from my best friend of 50+ years last night, Sandra, talking about my infertility and some of the stuff that happened. I won’t share our conversation, or what prompted it, but that kind of honesty is gold and I’d expect nothing less from her. She has my back, and always has had.

I’m starting to journal out my deepest thoughts about my miscarriages and all the things that went along with being infertile when everyone around me was having babies; the impact on my marriage, the people I loved and who loved me. Some of this is really shitty so I have written on the canvas in such a way that it’s unreadable – but my heart and soul know what’s written there when I look at it. As is often the case, the images might not mean a lot to other people, but each one has meaning for me. 

These wounds are deep (deeper than I have ever before acknowledged, even to myself). It’s going to take more than one or two journal pages and paintings to work through it, but I feel like I’m finally on the journey. Thank you for being part of it by listening. 

my angel babies.jpg

Dealing with the hard stuff

Sometimes the planets align, and they are at the moment. It’s difficult and confronting but has to be done. I realised there are a couple of issues I haven’t dealt with in terms of my food addiction and one of those is all the babies I lost to miscarriage in the 80s. The other issue is one I am not ready to talk about with anyone but I am quietly dealing with it in my own way.

How have the planets aligned? More and more of the people around me are becoming grandparents, which increases my awareness of my childlessness. I’ve had a few people, quite randomly, talk to me recently about their own miscarriages or stillbirths. I’ve read some stuff seemingly by accident. I was going through my weight loss journal looking at the pre-surgery psych work and on the page about my babies I had started to journal then had written ” I can’t write more for now” and never completed it. And so on.

I sometimes go to Hawera Cemetery in my lunch hour. I tell myself it’s because it’s green, quiet and there are very few people around. I realised this week, talking to someone I trust who has also has the surgery, that I go there to be near the memorial stone for angel babies.

Today I was talking to one of my staff about this and I said “well, I always lost the babies very early on so it wasn’t a big deal” or words to that effect. And it struck me … I have been telling myself that lie for more than 26 years. Because each time there was a baby, and each time I did face the loss. The loss of a future child, birthdays, weddings, grandchildren and so on.

How am I dealing with it? I have my final appointment with the weight loss clinic psychologist soon because it’s 2 years since my surgery, so will talk to her. But I am also journaling a lot, dreaming and not sleeping, removing myself from social media a bit to give myself space, hugging my husband and just letting all the feelings come through. What I know for sure, to quote Oprah, is that I am dealing with this so it never derails my weight loss, and stops beings something I lie to myself about – it did hurt, and it does matter. Thanks for listening!

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