Good News and Dead Babies

Two things today:

1) We've had some news! The doctor who wrote the PGD funding policy emailed me last Friday. (I'd emailed the board who wrote the policy, asking for a definition of infertility in relation to the PGD guidelines, and then forgotten I'd sent it - was focused on trying to accept the present and live in peace not fear.) He said he couldn't give a definition without knowing our circumstances. He also said to ask any other questions I had.

So I nervously sat on it all weekend and emailed him with our circumstances on Monday. I didn't expect to hear from him for another week or so at least. So it was AMAZING to hear back from him right way, especially as he said he didn't think PCOS would qualify us infertile (he did say that PCOS varies in severity, to cover his back) and that we should qualify for the funding. Have been in such a better mood since hearing that. Praise the Lord for His goodness; He keeps me so safe.

However, having given into the fears, I am now living in a world where I have recognised all of the potential things that might go wrong for us, so I am still living in the present and trying not to fear. This experience has really brought home how shallow my faith really is. That's fine - it's as deep as it's needed to be, so far - but from now on it's time to work on a new faith; a faith in which I love and trust the Lord in a way I never dreamed existed before.

Also, it's coming home to me lately that even if all goes as well as could be, we will only ever have one baby. Please don't think I would be ungrateful for this - I would feel so blessed to have a baby. Please don't think I would be ungrateful if we adopted in the case of this not working for us, either. I would truly feel so honoured to be a mum in whatever way it comes. But to know I will only birth one baby; that we will only have one baby from birth; only see one baby in those first few days, weeks, and months of life - that does make me feel sad. When I see women with large families, through facebook friends or blogs (it hurts more online for some reason), I am so jealous and so sad.

I've always loved newborn babies so very much.

2) I've found myself reading 'dead baby' blogs lately (just the past couple of weeks or so) - blogs by women who have lost children. I don't know why - partly feeling I have lost children, I guess, and partly wanting to know something of what 'should' have been my lot, under other circumstances. I find myself thinking about how one of our children won't exist. We have two names picked out, but we will only ever use one. (When/if we adopt, their name/s will already be fixed, according to UK adoption laws.) I always assume our baby will be a boy. So does my husband. So I find myself thinking of the Light - how we will never know her. I can picture her; I have such a vivid picture of her. And it feels like a loss; it feels like something's been taken away from me, that we're being attacked. (Which I do believe we are.)

I find myself obsessively going over baby names in my head. What would be pick for a second boy? Thinking of names I like; names that mean something to me and I'd like to pass on - and then, how I never will.

I have been picturing little memorial stones in the garden, to mark the children we've had taken away from us. A place where they will never be forgotten; a place where I can remember them.

Chosen

I've been reading this blog today: http://bry-bryantsblog.blogspot.co.uk/. The blogger is part of the C22 group (slightly different to the 11,22 group).

I'm not comparing our - my - experiences and emotions to hers. I can't even imagine.

But reading it, I thought, "it's ok". "It's ok that I'm not ok with this. It doesn't make me a 'bad' Christian."

I don't think the translocation came from God. I believe He can help me with it - He has already helped me with it, so much. But from him? No. He didn't give me this. It's evil that attacks our family. That's how I see it; that's how I relate to it.

And I will respond to it how the Bible teaches me to respond to evil - with love.

I don't know what that looks like. I'm not sure if I'm doing it - I try to do it... I think the intention of doing it will pretty much get me there and I shouldn't worry too much about what it looks like.

Jesus heals.

He didn't choose this for me.

But I am chosen, because of it... I see His love in it, so much, so often, and in so many different ways. I also see a lot of grief. The things that bring us most beauty also bring us most pain. The translocation is truly a blessing in so many ways. But does that make it a good thing? No, and that's ok.

I thank the Lord for the journey.

Grief and Hope

Today, I have been thinking about how to deal with this coming roller-coaster.  It seems to me that on one hand it's very, very ok for it to feel hard and overwhelming, as one deals with the grief of not being able to conceive as other people do. Grief is a sucker. I have times of grief interspersed with much less intense periods; periods which are becoming increasingly joyous and longer and longer as time goes on. When I get into the good periods, especially during this past year - which has been the best year of my life (amazing!!!) - it is easy for me to feel that the grief is done, over with, I have "dealt" with it. Then it returns and I feel cross with myself because I feel that I have failed.

I haven't failed.

Grief is part of acceptance. Grief is part of life. To allow space to grieve can be life-changing. All these things are true.

But, as I said to hubby earlier, my entire 20s thus far (I'm 26 and had that initial genetics appointment at 21) have been taken up with the translocation. It has ruled my life: there has not been a single day I haven't thought about it since that blasted day five years ago. I have been so stuck and so lonely on planet TRANSLOCATION and I'd like to leave for another destination quite soon please.

It was a strange thought to think that my 30s could be quite different altogether. Hopefully, our 30s will be a new chapter of our lives. We could be done with TRANSLOCATION.

(During this post TRANSLOCATION has become a Transformer-type creature speaking in a robotic voice... Trans-lo-ca-tion.)

But, in regards to how I feel at the moment, while a lot is grief, a lot is anxiety and over-worrying as well. The grief will change, evolve, disperse. Anxiety I can learn to manage better. Each new situation throws up new challenges. There is a big challenge here in how to deal with this anxiety.

To accept the roller-coaster; to feel at peace with it and with God, trusting Him - that is where I want to be. He wants to teach me about getting there through this process... I'm excited! Just writing that sentence fills me with excitement!! I'm going to grow!

The Start

Well, I'm doing it. I'm creating a blog. (This is actually my second blog, and the first didn't go to well. I think it totalled 4 posts. We'll see how this one goes.)

I'm calling this "Light and the Prophet" because those are the meanings for the names we picked for our children. (I say 'picked', our boy name was definitely not picked... But more on that at another time.)

I need a place to focus on what is positive and to not get overwhelmed with the fear at the moment. A place to believe and hope. Also a place to be real.

It's currently 4:50am. I've not been doing too much hoping tonight. I've been trawling the internet. This is never a good sign. In amongst this I've stumbled across some really helpful stuff.

I can hear our lodger and she is up talking on the phone. I don't know how long I can keep going with this.

My brains feel like they're falling out my ears at the moment and I'd like to retreat into a cave and gather myself, and I can't. I keep telling myself; "He is teaching me; He is teaching me; He is teaching me". He is teaching me.

But this is the most I've ever had to cope with - here, in this moment. The past five years have been leading up to this moment. That's intense.

The realities of daily life; realities which have changed and expanded a lot over the past three months - life has been evolving and growing in the most wonderful way the past year; these realities are stretching me; I can feel the stretching going on within my head.

Too many fears to mention.

But today, I choose to be thankful that we have this opportunity. That not only do we have THIS opportunity, but that I have all the other mind-blowing opportunities that make my life so exquisitely wonderful and worthwhile: the young asylum seeker project, the marvellous institution that is the Open University and the set of circumstances that fell into place so that I could study, the changing relationship with my parents and in particular at the moment my relationship with my beautiful mother, and of course the wondrous blessing that is mental health care and my amazing counsellor. How I love her.

I am so grateful every day for mental health care. Yes, it is flawed, and yes, it is evolving, but it has given me a precious gift of life and that is something older members of my family were not given: it has given me rest, understanding, and respite; it has made me feel valued and important. When I think about the pain-in-the-backside that is Seroxat, it seems like a small price to pay for all of that.