Can you hear me?
Are you there?
I just want to remind you that it is my birthday tomorrow. You must have forgotten or maybe you weren’t listening. I have asked you nicely for one present this year – you could even give it to me as my Christmas present as well if it is too expensive.
I guess I believed all that stuff that you have spouted in the past about ‘fulfilling promises’ and ‘hopes and dreams’ and stuff like that. If that’s true then why am I not pregnant yet? I would forgo all my presents and everything else if I could just get pregnant – yes even my Christmas Kindle that I know The Mister has bought me.
The other option is that you actually don’t care. You don’t love me and you don’t want to give me good things. It’s a bit like giving a really brilliant present, the best ever, to my sister, but not getting me one too. It just doesn’t feel very fair does it?
Well, I hope you got this. You feel a little bit like Father Christmas sometimes – I know the legend but don’t believe you exist any more.
Love AD x
I am approaching Christmas this year with mixed feelings. It is so lovely to be home and to feel part of the build up to Christmas. Seeing my lovely niece and nephew and how they are growing (and being naughty) and developing is an absolute pleasure. Work is going fine and I think there is a lot that I can do to make a difference in that team and in the lives of my clients. It looks like The Mister has a job which is good news. Church is fine – a bit evangelical at times but I’ll manage with that. The pleasure of having a quieter life with much less traveling is blissful. My stress levels are considerably less than they were when I was living in Leeds.
And yet, I feel sad. Last Christmas I hoped that we would have a baby of our own; that we would be able to experience the pleasure of a little baby and the excitement of a first Christmas together. Fifteen months of trying to get pregnant has left me despondent and bereft. I find it hard to be around people who are pregnant because I constantly feel ‘why them’ and ‘why not me’. Facebook reminds me insistently of my monthly failure, whether that be with adverts for maternity clothes or baby toys, or the constant barrage of status updates with pictures of scan photos, new-born photos and people going on and on about their ‘bumps’… “**** is going out today with her husband and bump”…. Well of course you are going out with your bump, you couldn’t bloody well go out without it could you?
Christmas this year will be mixed emotions. I will find whether this month has been another failure on my birthday. Great. Another year older and another month when I am not pregnant.
So, at Christmas I come to think of that gift, the child who changed the world. The incarnate God who came as a baby, the best gift the world could ever have; that baby who brings good news and hope to all who believe in him, the one who allegedly ‘gives good gifts’. I hope that this God will give us a gift of a baby this year. However, much as I try to experience this God I largely feel his absence, his lack of intervention and a distinct lack of hope. Who knows? All I am sure of is that I am not really looking forward to Christmas.
Trying to conceive is officially the most disappointing and the saddest thing I have ever done. What should be joyful is bloody hard work at time.
I never expected things to be straightforward but I always hoped. Somehow having to know my cycle intimately, knowing when I am ovulating, checking cervical mucus, taking my temperature every morning, using ovulation tests seems to take all the fun out of trying to get pregnant.
Every month I hope and hope that this has been the month that everything has worked.
Every month I am disappointed.
Every month is like a bereavement. Grieving for the things I have hoped for. Grieving for the things that I don’t have, and don’t know if I will ever obtain.
One day I hope it will work. If it doesn’t I don’t know what I am going to do. If I can’t be a mother I am not sure what my life will look like.
There are a lovely few days every month when I think I might, maybe, possibly, hopefully, be pregnant. I dream about what it will be like to have a bouncing baby in my arms. Then there is the realisation that once again I am not pregnant. Every month I feel sad and utterly utterly disappointed. Every month I am reminded that I have failed and that I have to wait another month.
I am finding it harder and harder to deal with the emotions of trying to conceive. Something that we hoped would be straightforward has become a cycle of charting and hoping. Don’t get me wrong, things are still fun… heheh …. but that disappointment every single month is almost too hard.
Of course all of this is made even more difficult by the fact that other people’s lives go on…. photos on Facebook of other people’s babies and children and photos of people blooming during their pregnancies. It’s a constant reminder of that great unattainable dream.