Feeling Connected

Being confronted with difficulties when trying to conceive or keep a pregnancy is a tremendous pressure. The majority of this pressure inevitably comes from one’s self. After all, no one wants this baby more than you, right? I felt like I wanted to succeed in making my own family so badly that I would probably do ANYTHING to get what I wanted. I often said that if there was a pill to be taken to take away those cravings for motherhood then I would take it in an instant, because then I could live like everyone else and chase goals that were more scrutinised like my career or my body image. My head would be clearer and I would have more energy and passion for other things, so naturally I would be a better teacher, colleague, daughter, wife, friend, citizen and so on.

Then there is the pressure from work. No one told me I couldn’t attend appointments for fertility treatments or scans, but no one gave me that feeling of being permitted, either. I felt like the burden was growing in weight every day. With every observation or event or data analysis I just felt like I was increasingly further away from the standard everyone expected me to be reaching. Again, no one SAID this. Mostly this is in my own head. But that cynical, doubting, self-deprecating voice poured bile and venom into my ears every moment I had to myself. Night times were the worst: I would wake up around 2 am and think instantly of my miscarriages, my ugliness, my inability to be everything I needed to be. Sometimes all a person needs is a quiet word from someone more powerful to say ‘Don’t worry, you’re doing great, we support you’. If you get anything like that, count yourself lucky.

The pressure from family and friends is a difficult one. My family always reminded me it wasn’t about them. I am grateful for that. Although there were still comments made once in a while, like ‘I feel for your Mum, I bet she is so desperate to become a grandparent’. Or actions, like your mother calling you over to look at a little girl in a motorway services because she is so adorable. As for friends, well the pressure there came from knowing they would probably have a baby before me and each child would mark another year gone by without my own success. Which it did. And it stings.

In my extended family, there is little chance of another relative having a baby before me because I am the eldest ‘child’ and the most intended on having one. Even with adoption I was still more likely to become a parent before my brothers or cousins. Not that it stopped me from worrying every time family came together! For me, the pressure came from my husband’s side: we were not the only couple affected by fertility issues, so my in-laws were doubly concerned. The experiences my sister-in-law went through were tragic and cruel. No body worked harder to have a baby than she did. And it must have been extra hard for her knowing her brother’s wife was getting pregnant on every other round of treatment. Treatment she was unable to access, too, which is why it was all the more unfair for her. It was hard on me, too. I knew we might have to tell her the news she would have been dreading. And we did, twice. She told us her news, too, which came at a time when I realised I was probably never going to be able to disappoint her ever again.

She now has a lovely little girl who is the absolute centre of her mummy’s world and is doted on by everyone. I’m thankful that my niece is with us and that one last push with the help of IVF finally broke the vicious cycle of misery for my sister-in-law. What’s more, I believe the success she had has bonded us. She knows my pain, and she also sees that my new family via adoption is a fantastic thing. She is the best auntie any child could ask for and exudes generosity and warmth for my children every day. We both struggle with similar pitfalls associated with PCOS, too, so in many ways we are very lucky to be joined by our experiences. We both understand what our children mean to our joined families and can appreciate how special our girls are because we both worked so hard to find them.

The big shocker for me is the recent addition of names of loved ones who are now experiencing the despair I have felt. For me, I was on my own among a group of friends who meant well but had no clue what life was like for me. My husband would push me to make plans to get out there and see people, but all I wanted to do was scream at everyone that they didn’t get it. None of them seemed to recognise what I was actually doing or how damaged my marriage had become as a result. The same old jokes came about that made me feel like I was stuck in a time warp where no one had grown up. That one day they would have kids and I wouldn’t, but they would also have the amazing holiday snaps and party anecdotes to go with it whereas I would have a divorce certificate in place of my wedding photos and a one-bed flat instead of my beautiful little house.

Recently, though, two couples of close friends have come to the end of their treatment plans and are now considering adoption for themselves. One friend couple is convinced adoption is right for them and are apparently encouraged by my story. The other is very stuck and confused and basically addicted to treatment cycles and wishful thinking, so although they seem keen to adopt I can’t say for sure they will take the plunge in that direction any time soon. I hope they do; I think it would be the most healthy path to take out of the two they have to decide from. But that is my opinion and it isn’t up to me.

I feel like a terrible person for wishing that my friends would understand what I was going through. Because now they are. But I admit, I feel glad to be connected to people who get it and believe there is something rather spectacular about the fact that three women who have been friends for years are now related by infertility. Imagine how things could be if they both adopt their children too. Our children will have the most accepting and understanding platform for growing up knowing they are adopted. As parents, we would be able to support each other like no other. The anecdotal phrase ‘you couldn’t make it up’ springs to mind…

So in feeling left out in the cold, I now live a warmer life. I have children that my families are besotted by. I have friends who understand my plight. I have a marriage that is less damaged than it was and has the potential to last a few more years than it seemed to a year and a half ago. I’m not at work right now so that is a whole area I still need to address, but I’m writing more for myself now and I’m trying to make myself anew. Further to this, one of the most wonderful additions to adoption is the professional team that comes with my children. Their foster family are just incredible, their social workers are genuinely lovely to work with and we have even recently started to build a relationship with an adopted sibling (who was actually in my class at school, would you believe it!).

Of course there are still plenty of ‘bad’ days, but writing this out makes today feel rather good today. As my counsellor once said, you have to thank your brain when it gives you a break.