By Lisa Manterfield
In the very early stages of our relationship. Mr. Fab and I discovered all sorts of odd things we had in common, one of which is that we both played the trombone as teenagers. We talked about learning to play again, and we finally found a used instrument in good condition.
The main difference between a trombone and other brass instruments is that you make the notes by moving a slide up and down, rather hitting a key. It makes it a lot more difficult to hit just the right note. It’s also what makes the trombone so much fun to play, because you can slide easily from note to note, up and down and back again.
The reason I’m telling you all this is that today I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole coming-to-terms process. I’ve been thinking about it in terms of school grades, with the freshman class having just made the decision to live childfree or to stop fertility treatments, and having no idea how to start getting used to the idea. They eventually graduate to acceptance and begin to find a way to get happy, and ultimately go on to live a full and happy life without children.
But it’s really not that simple. You never really do hit all the notes precisely and in order. It’s much more like playing a trombone, where you slide from one state to the next and sometimes back again. One day, you’re content and determined to make the most of your situation, then something happens to trigger all those old emotions and you find yourself sliding back down. Then you get to talk someone who understands you and you feel like you can really figure this out…until your friend announces a pregnancy and back down you go again.
So, I’m wondering, where are you on the sliding scale of coming-to-terms? Where are you right now and have you been better or been worse? Do you feel that, even though you have setbacks, you’re slowly moving towards a place of peace, or can you see no way to ever come-to-terms with your lot in life? Or have you already been up and down the scale and have finally found a place of contentment? I’d like to know.
Went through IVF and lost 2 souls in 2009. Woke up with an autoimmune disease after the D&C, and no IVF Clinic would touch me after that. I’ve been through the process of healing from major depression, and I’ve learned where to find happiness and how to let that into my heart. I’ve been a special aunty to all my nieces and nephews, while banking back the comparison of where my two souls would be on the growth chart if they’d lived.
Just when I thought I’d found my place in the world, my sister of all people knocks me back. My other sister is in town with her 3 babies and I’m being excluded from the mommy club. The two sisters do everything together, all the little cousins happily playing and building memories while the memories of mine float by in the symbol of white butterflies. I’m not invited, except to see the happy photos of a future family I’m apparently not really a part of. I cannot express how hurt my heart is. I cannot really put the words together out loud because I’m afraid of how far I’ll fall backwards into the pain of loss. These are hard days lately. Out of the blue. Soon my sister and her 3 beautiful babies will go home, and my sister and her 2 beauties will need a babysitter. It’s going to take time to heal my heart again. To not feel resentment. I can’t talk to my sisters about this, because they don’t get to have their babies and feel sorry for me too. To minimize the pain they (inadvertently?) caused. I’m just going to take it easy again, be careful and gentle with myself for awhile, until I build myself up again.
I’m so sorry. My 2 sisters are part of a surreal in-home mommy club. I’m excluded of course and it’s horrific. My mom is a member also.
All the quietness and unreal pain sit in the childhood home i used to call home. I was once at home there.
Now the children have it as a stomping ground and there is no place for me except the silent periphery-keeping it all within. The facade doesn’t crack.
I feel like I’m fairly new to all of this, but in reality it has taken me a little while to get here. When I look at it closely, I realize I’ve been coming to terms with not having kids for quite a while. There was a time when we thought we would try some of the fertility treatments but we never had the money for it. I’ve known for about 18 years that I would probably need help to get pregnant and the seed was planted then – that I might end up childless. I’ve mostly avoided that pain because there was always hope. Maybe a part of me even knew I would end up childless?
A couple years ago I started wondering what would happen if I actually didn’t have kids. I actually started talking to others about it (hubby, mom, best friend). And it was always still with the hope that I might be able to have a child. In February of this year my husband’s uncle passed away and we had a 3 hour drive each way to get up to the funeral. The day of the funeral I had yet another dreadful period and on the drive home I had a tearful talk with hubby about how he would feel if I decided to stop trying to have kids. He was supportive but sad for me because he knows how much I want kids. He has a daughter from a previous marriage that has already given us grand-kids so the urge to have kids for him is not as strong as it is for me.
That is the day I see as both the end point of what had been my life’s journey and the starting point of what is now my new path. I’m still not even sure what it will look like and there are still days that I hope I will fall pregnant naturally. Those days are becoming fewer and further apart. Due to a history of issues with my periods I’m going to be scheduled for an ablation and IUD within the year. That will be my final date – and that date will be another anniversary. Thinking about all of it gives me a hollow feeling in my chest but there are days that are good too. Sometimes there are a lot of good days strung together. One of my co-workers is having a baby and I’m knitting baby stuff for them. I’m in a knitting group and we are making baby stuff for the local pregnancy care center which helps families that don’t have a lot of family or other support.
It comes and goes, some days I feel like I can’t handle it and other days are almost a breeze. I know it will get better and that is one of the things that keeps me going. Thanks for the blog!
a friend, whom I *suspected* was trying to conceive for a loooong time, had a baby. Not a close friend, I see her rarely, she posts on fb rarely – but that’s increased now with baby pics. I hate looking at other people baby pics and thinking, “where’s mine!?” And I have a moment of panic – as if I could DO anything. I CAN’T. To brutalize a metaphor, that horse got out of the barn, ran for miles to get away and then DIED. And I have to be okay with it.
I do go thru bouts of being okay with it – I’m poor, I’m sick – the rottenest thing is THAT is what I have to remind myself in order to be okay with it… Ironically, it’s when I’m feeling good, or safe, that I start thinking, “where’s my baby? what happened?” and I have to kick myself, and say, “you WERE too poor, and too sick, and too injured, and you are STILL all those things, so get on with just trying to survive yourself, and stop what-if-fing.”
I don’t regret those things beyond my control. I grieve the losses those things caused & continue to cause.