Below the Surface

It’s my 34th birthday today.  Not at all how I thought I would spending my birthday.  It hurts.  It really does.  But that doesn’t mean I am sobbing all the time.  Actually, with the amount I cried last week I would be suprised if I had any tears left.

I am sad. I am having good days and bad days and I am just trying to take things one minute at a time.  I can’t answer the question “How are you feeling?”.   I don’t know how to answer that.

People are surprised I am not sobbing in bed all day.  That’s what they think depression looks like. Like someone holding their head in despair – which as illustrated by this article and campaign – is just not true. 

The week I broke down I had been to volunteer meetings, an industry dinner, a wine night and the Rihanna concert.  I was exhausted from holding it all together.  From playing a part but from the outside looking in (or from my Facebook page), I am sure is seemed as though I was living a semi-charmed life.

Even now, I was out last night for a drink and a catch up with some old friends.  And I am sure that’s what the people in the pub saw – a table of four friends.  I saw an idiot talking nonsense because she was afraid of the silence.  Afraid of letting the conversation get “too real”.  (That idiot being me).

I don’t know how to talk about and so I don’t.

But just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.  I spent most of today in bed.  Wasting the day away because I just can’t believe this is my life.

What a mess.  What a f**king mess.





Little Boxes

When my husband and I moved to the Middle East we learned about how convenient stereotypes can be.  While not a correct way of thinking, in that situation facing so much change and uncertainty, being able to put the world into little boxes was a coping mechanism.  It helped bring sense and order to your world when it didn’t have any.

Lately I am finding that’s similar to how our friends and family are handling our fertility issues.  With the cancelled cycle, I have received so many comments like “Is this why you are having troubles?” or “Is this why you are miscarrying?” and so on.

Everyone wants a reason.  They want to be able to put us into a box.  “[That] happened to them because of [this]”.  Because it is easier for them, not us, if they have reason.  It brings a sense of order and rationale to their view of the world.  It is far easier than acknowledging that things don’t happen for a reason and even more so the uncomfortable truth that we are not in control of our destinies.

And yes, bad things happen to good people…for no reason at all.


Starting Over

I made the decision with my previous site not to keep it anonymous.  I wanted to share my story with others and I wanted to be a resource for people who wanted to connect and to put a face to infertility.

Recently, we had a falling out with my parents and all of a sudden my mom started bringing up stuff on my blog.  I guess I should have considered that could eventually happen.  She was taking the blog personally and I didn’t know.  If I posted about hurtful comments someone had made, she assumed it was a message to her.  If I posted about being happy to spend Christmas with my DH because that’s what I needed, that was a slight on them. Of course it wasn’t and I tried to explain that wasn’t case. 

But even the people you love can be really self-centered sometimes.

I discussed the pros and cons of deleting my previous blog with my psychologist and in the end, I realized it had to be done.  I need my blog to be a place where I can be open.  Where I can journal my thoughts and experiences. I can’t be worrying about how someone I know will react to something I write. 

Blogging is a part of my healing and my process to move through the depression I am in.

Thankfully I was able to export the blog and now it lives here, anonymously and under a new name.  I won’t be sharing it with family and I don’t know about friends either.

I cried when I deleted the other site.  It was a different type of loss, but it still felt like I was losing a part of myself.

Consider it a warning would-be IF bloggers.  Anonymity is golden.

2015 Can Kiss My A**

*Warning: language alert*  If you are offended by swearing, don’t read any further but do read this article.

Goodbye 2015. I fucking hated you and you were the worst year of my life.

2015 was filled with loss – not just our angel babies but also family members and friendships. It was a year of immense heartbreak.

There were issues, challenges and changes at work and the latter half of the year saw the constant worry of layoffs.

There were situations with our families in various forms that tested the relationships and while some have survived, others have not.

Our circle of friends has struggled too – with layoffs, family issues, illness and more. Consequently, we have struggled with how to be there for them when we are barely managing to look after ourselves.

Our vacations, Christmas and New Year’s were all tainted by “what should have been” or by the miscarriages happened days before we left.

We both hit rock bottom.  It took different forms but for me, 2015 broke me.  It beat me down and 2015 has changed me.  I feel as though I no longer have the mental strength or resilience to manage anymore.  I received a kind note from a former colleague who was sorry to hear of our recent challenges through reading our blog.  He said “You’re a light to all those who know you…a spark plug of energy, and it is infectious.”  I laughed out loud.  I barely remember that version of myself and I doubt anyone would say that now.  How sad.

Please don’t be one of those people that comment and say “be thankful for what you have” or “there had to be some good things that happened” or “at least you have your health/job/insert something you think I should be grateful for”.  You didn’t live my life and I didn’t live yours.  Of course there are people out there who are suffering and who have it “worse” than I do.  My hubby and I chose to deal with that by giving very generously to the organizations that help those people and we have made a point of doing so this year.

But their problems don’t make my problems go away and it doesn’t change the fact I still hate 2015.  It was a terrible year.

Tomorrow will bring a new year, a new day and some new revelations and resolutions.

Until then, 2015 you can kiss my ass good-bye.

Still on the Sauce


Sooooo…giving up the sauce isn’t going so well.

I have been drinking less…sort of…but I have definitely not abstained from all drinking.  On one hand my brain is saying “Screw it, it is the holidays!” and on the other hand my brain is saying “Oh look, something else you can’t do”.

But there is just so much socializing to be done and I guess I like to socialize with a drink.  It doesn’t need to be more than one, but at least one.  Plus it is much easier than announcing, “Nope, still not pregnant.  Just not drinking.  Seriously.  Yes, I am serious. ”

So I don’t know what to do.  I would like to stop beating myself up though.



How to “Get Over” a Miscarriage

This post was inspired by a co-worker who doesn’t know that I know about their miscarriage.  I didn’t know how or what to say to them.  So in a perfect world it would have been something like this…

You will never “get over” your miscarriage.  Why the title then? Because after our first loss that’s what I googled in a vain attempt to find to something on the internet that would help ease the pain and bring some comfort.  But no, you will never “get over it”. You will never forget the loss of your unborn child(ren) and that’s ok.  They are always in your heart and always with you.  Over time, it will become easier.  There will still be days where it hits you like a smack in the face. You will read something, see something or remember a date (due dates, anniversaries of the loss) and it will hit you hard.  Those days will never go away, you will just get better at dealing with them.

So what does help? My ideas and thoughts are below, feel free to add yours to the list.

Be sad.  Allow yourself the time to grieve and the time to be sad.  Know that you and your partner will handle grief differently so allow yourselves time to grieve alone and at each other’s own pace.  Cry.  Just let yourself cry.  And after the initial shock and sadness, make sure you find some time to be sad together.  Wallow in the misery together for a bit.  It helps to know the other person is hurting too.

If you can (and I know not everyone can do this), take some time off work.  A few days to absorb the reality of what has happened, to cry and sleep a lot.  To just be in pain.

Don’t put a time limit on the pain and don’t pressure yourself to “move on”.  Take the time you need.  Do not let people belittle your loss.  It doesn’t matter how many weeks it was or how quickly you got pregnant or “at least you know you can get pregnant” or how many miscarriages someone else had before they had children – none of that helps, none of that matters.  This is your loss and your story.

Find a way to memorialize the loss together.  Trust me on this one.  It will feel awkward at first but you will be glad you did it.  We didn’t do this with the first one and as a result I feel  we didn’t really bring closure to the loss until much later.  Memorializing the loss is what the living do to help manage the death of a loved one.  Your child lived and it deserves a goodbye – you don’t have to do a funeral but something to bring closure helps.   After the second loss we wrote a note to the baby together (If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever) and then we burned it (in the jungle in Bali) and said good-bye.  With the third we did a memorial walkWe named all three of them. It doesn’t matter that we didn’t know the gender.  We had a feeling in our hearts and having a name helped us say good-bye. Others have planted trees or purchased plants, others have made donations, got a tattoo – I bought a necklace for all 3. The point is,  just find something that is meaningful for the two of you and do it.

If you don’t have to be alone, don’t.  It can be a very isolating feeling and you are not alone.  I look forward to the day where there isn’t a stigma about talking about miscarriage.  Telling close friends and family can get you an “out”.  A free pass from having to live up to social obligations for a while – take it and use it. It is a also a really good opportunity to find out who your friends are!  If you really don’t want to or can’t tell anyone, then find solace and comfort in a community on the internet.  Search “miscarriage” on Pinterest and you will quickly see you that you are most definitely not alone.

Be angry.  People forget that anger is a part of the grieving process and by goodness you are going to be angry.  Let it happen.  Yell and scream in your car, your house, the shower – whatever. I have a journal, this blog and a psychologist.  All places where I can be very angry and very ugly if I need to be and it is judgement free.  So just go for it.

Exercise.  It releases chemicals in your brain that mimic anti-depressants.  Get out there and do it, even if it is just a walk with your partner for now.

Take comfort in the fact that one day there will be more good days than bad days.  Don’t rush yourself, it will come. And if doesn’t come or you don’t feel like you are moving forward after giving yourself time to grieve – then get some help.  Talk to your doctor.

Oh and one more thing – drink the wine, eat the sushi, have brie – because you can!

IMG_4689If you are interested in an awesome memorial necklace, be sure to check out The Charmed Wife on Etsy.


Microblog: Taking Back Christmas


This year, my husband and I took back Christmas.  We realized after this summer that, for many reasons, we weren’t able to have a family Christmas this year with either side of the family.

We sent our family members this article “Coping with the Holidays” from RESOLVE (the American National Fertility Association). If you or anyone you know is going into the Christmas season trying to cope with infertility and/or loss, then it is a must read. I mean that. Read it.

For the most part, everyone was supportive and even if they may not understand our reasons, they respect our decision.

As a result, this is the most excited I have been about Christmas in years. Taking back Christmas meant Christmas on our terms. It meant starting to make Christmas about traditions that are important for our family of three (me, hubby and the dog) and not bound by family customs/traditions/norms.  It’s liberating.  I love it.