Lately I've been reacting to several things in ways that I couldn't do when I was still in the depths of TTC after infertility. Two friends who are at least 40 y.o. have just told me they are pregnant again (one was a surprise pregnancy) and I could congratulate them in a neutral state of mind/heart. Another friend joked on FB, "Go make five (children)!" when I commented how cute someone's baby was. Years ago, I made a similar cute comment on someone's baby photo and the mother said, "Quick, you should go make a baby then!" and it took all that I had not to lash out to her. This time, though, the words didn't affect me in such a way at all. Instead, I instantly joked back and told her, "You go and make 5 children yourself LOL!" (side note: I know the word "make" sounds weird, but it's the direct translation from the Indonesian word).
These three events have made me think of 3D holograms (use your imagination freely as you read the next lines). You see, in the beginning of my infertility journey, whenever I saw someone's bulging belly, I often had a strong reaction to it and many times I almost cried right then and there. It was as though my 3D hologram jumped right in front of myself. The grieving hologram of myself with an empty belly, who was crying out loud right then and there and screaming in agony, "Why not me, too? I've done everything right and prepared myself to be a mother etc. etc."
And in the past when someone told me she was pregnant (especially if it was an unexpected one), my grieving hologram showed up again and the unexpectedness of it all was like a (serrated) blade that stabbed me. The wound then started bleeding again (or started bleeding more) or the gaping wound became even bigger or deeper. It hurt. It hurt because I knew they didn't mean to hurt me, yet I was in so much pain. It hurt because I wanted to be happy for them, but I couldn't. And it hurt even more because I felt like a horrible person, so I got even more frustrated at myself, but at the same time I felt that I had the right and the need to take care of myself.
You see, my own hologram (that popped up between me and that person) was blocking me from accessing the other person's happiness fully. I mean, how can you disregard that kind of projection when she's standing right in front of you in such a state and in such intensity?
In the beginning of my healing journey, this hologram (the projection of my grief/pain) was so intense, vivid, and relentless (even uncontrollable). Over time and plenty of grief work (with lots of help and support from my tribe), the intensity and the frequency of my grieving hologram has diminished. In fact, as the hologram gets weaker and weaker, at times I can even press "pause" so that I can be fully present in someone else's company and then press "play" when I'm on my own again.
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Friday, June 17, 2016
Friday, September 4, 2015
Methods of Coping: From Sarcasm to Parody
As a couple who enjoy watching TV
series and movies, we are bound to see those typical "miracle pregnancy"
plot twists. Infertility grief has made me become more sensitive
towards a miracle pregnancy plot twist or any pregnancy plot twist in general (esp. the ones used as THE happy ending for the character/characters in the stories).
In the beginning of my grief process, depending on my mood, whenever I sensed that the story was going that way (a pregnancy/miracle pregnancy was on the horizon), I would usually feel annoyed and angry and somehow disappointed as well that not many characters represented us, the childless-not-by-choice (CNBC). Of course logically speaking I know that it's foolish to expect it from the entertainment industry. After all, more often than not, people watch movies or TV series to escape real life. Thus my weapon of choice in the beginning of my grief process was oftentimes sarcasm.
"Of course she gets pregnant. They ALL get pregnant in movies," I'd say to my husband (gritting my teeth and seething inside).
My husband, who said nothing much in the beginning, started picking up the theme quickly. After hearing me say those lines on different occasions, he started being the one who said it first every once in a while when we were watching movies/TV series. I was/am glad to have a comrade-in-arms.
Over time, my anger diminished, though sometimes when I'm PMSing, I tend to have a stronger reaction towards this type of plot twist, but in general my sarcastic comments shifted into a more "meh" and "blah" tone whenever I blurted out, "Of course she is/gets pregnant."
I remember a while back I was feeling so excited when a character in a TV series that we had been following was described to be having trouble conceiving with his wife. I wanted to say to the character, "I can relate!!!!! I cannnnn!!! Gosh, I wish we could meet up and talk about our grief!" (side note: Yeah, delusional much? LOL!!!)
Anyway, back to the story: the couple in the story then started off an adoption process. The man had filled up his car with baby stuff, ready to pick up the baby, when he heard news that the adoption fell through. My heart broke for the couple, though secretly I was wondering and hoping if they could be a CNBC representative. Needless to say, a few episodes ahead the wife announced in an ingenious way that she's pregnant. Back to feeling "meh" and "blah" with a mental head slap for having irrational hope towards the entertainment industry.
During our recent holiday, though, my husband started using parody out of the blue. While we were watching a movie on TV in our hotel room, all of a sudden he blurted out, "I'm pregnant". He said the words as though the character in the movie was saying it and because he chose an absurd time and place to say it (one time he even said it for a male character), it was hilarious! We were both giggling and laughing like crazy. :-D
Now back home we've both started using this parody coping method to entertain ourselves with this fertility/infertility theme. For example: there's a scene where a man and a woman who are in love with each other will have to separate soon due to one reason or the other (I don't want to be too specific as it'll become a spoiler). Before they have to separate, the woman professes her love again to the man, so they end up kissing and making love. After doing the deed, they hold each other and the man says this, "I hope you can find a better man that you deserve. Be happy without me."
Before the woman can respond, it's a good time to insert some parody! So one of us can say something along this line: "Don't worry! In the next episode I'll be carrying your child, so I'll have a piece of you with me even when you're gone."
Something like this (or even more absurd lines) ended up making us laugh uncontrollably. This parody technique works for us! These lines will also end up as our insider joke, so we have nothing to lose in using parody from now on. Sense of humor has saved us time and time again (even before infertility) and it's proven to be one of my most cherished methods of coping with life.
In the beginning of my grief process, depending on my mood, whenever I sensed that the story was going that way (a pregnancy/miracle pregnancy was on the horizon), I would usually feel annoyed and angry and somehow disappointed as well that not many characters represented us, the childless-not-by-choice (CNBC). Of course logically speaking I know that it's foolish to expect it from the entertainment industry. After all, more often than not, people watch movies or TV series to escape real life. Thus my weapon of choice in the beginning of my grief process was oftentimes sarcasm.
"Of course she gets pregnant. They ALL get pregnant in movies," I'd say to my husband (gritting my teeth and seething inside).
My husband, who said nothing much in the beginning, started picking up the theme quickly. After hearing me say those lines on different occasions, he started being the one who said it first every once in a while when we were watching movies/TV series. I was/am glad to have a comrade-in-arms.
Over time, my anger diminished, though sometimes when I'm PMSing, I tend to have a stronger reaction towards this type of plot twist, but in general my sarcastic comments shifted into a more "meh" and "blah" tone whenever I blurted out, "Of course she is/gets pregnant."
I remember a while back I was feeling so excited when a character in a TV series that we had been following was described to be having trouble conceiving with his wife. I wanted to say to the character, "I can relate!!!!! I cannnnn!!! Gosh, I wish we could meet up and talk about our grief!" (side note: Yeah, delusional much? LOL!!!)
Anyway, back to the story: the couple in the story then started off an adoption process. The man had filled up his car with baby stuff, ready to pick up the baby, when he heard news that the adoption fell through. My heart broke for the couple, though secretly I was wondering and hoping if they could be a CNBC representative. Needless to say, a few episodes ahead the wife announced in an ingenious way that she's pregnant. Back to feeling "meh" and "blah" with a mental head slap for having irrational hope towards the entertainment industry.
During our recent holiday, though, my husband started using parody out of the blue. While we were watching a movie on TV in our hotel room, all of a sudden he blurted out, "I'm pregnant". He said the words as though the character in the movie was saying it and because he chose an absurd time and place to say it (one time he even said it for a male character), it was hilarious! We were both giggling and laughing like crazy. :-D
Now back home we've both started using this parody coping method to entertain ourselves with this fertility/infertility theme. For example: there's a scene where a man and a woman who are in love with each other will have to separate soon due to one reason or the other (I don't want to be too specific as it'll become a spoiler). Before they have to separate, the woman professes her love again to the man, so they end up kissing and making love. After doing the deed, they hold each other and the man says this, "I hope you can find a better man that you deserve. Be happy without me."
Before the woman can respond, it's a good time to insert some parody! So one of us can say something along this line: "Don't worry! In the next episode I'll be carrying your child, so I'll have a piece of you with me even when you're gone."
Something like this (or even more absurd lines) ended up making us laugh uncontrollably. This parody technique works for us! These lines will also end up as our insider joke, so we have nothing to lose in using parody from now on. Sense of humor has saved us time and time again (even before infertility) and it's proven to be one of my most cherished methods of coping with life.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Grief Connections
A dear friend of mine has just lost her husband on NY eve. It came as a shock, even though I knew he had been sick for a few years.
The other day I had a long text chat with her and it was uncanny how many similarities there were between her grief and my worst infertility grief. When I shared with her what happened during my worst moments (I had never shared these with her before), she said that now she understood what it felt like as she had felt it, too. And when I shared with her the other feelings I felt (anger, self-pity, jealousy, bitterness, guilt, etc.), she began to open up about those feelings, too. She said that she wouldn't wish this experience on her worst enemy and I told her that was exactly what I felt at one point in time.
Grief connections. If I hadn't experienced infertility, I wouldn't have understood this kind of experience and if she hadn't experienced this loss, she wouldn't have understood what I felt. Granted, the both of us wouldn't have wished to have this kind of connection in the first place, but I'm thankful for this grief connection. This is one of those moments when I believe with my whole being that my pain isn't for nothing and I dare say that my pain is worth it.
Rest in peace, dear friend...
The other day I had a long text chat with her and it was uncanny how many similarities there were between her grief and my worst infertility grief. When I shared with her what happened during my worst moments (I had never shared these with her before), she said that now she understood what it felt like as she had felt it, too. And when I shared with her the other feelings I felt (anger, self-pity, jealousy, bitterness, guilt, etc.), she began to open up about those feelings, too. She said that she wouldn't wish this experience on her worst enemy and I told her that was exactly what I felt at one point in time.
Grief connections. If I hadn't experienced infertility, I wouldn't have understood this kind of experience and if she hadn't experienced this loss, she wouldn't have understood what I felt. Granted, the both of us wouldn't have wished to have this kind of connection in the first place, but I'm thankful for this grief connection. This is one of those moments when I believe with my whole being that my pain isn't for nothing and I dare say that my pain is worth it.
Rest in peace, dear friend...
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Writing Challenge: Treasure
Her legs buckled. The soft, thick carpet softened her landing. She slumped back to the edge of the bed, needing support. A long, raw sigh was heard, then her lips began to tremble.
Why did I decide to do this bloody autumn cleaning? she groaned inside.
Her right hand was holding the family heirloom given by her mother. It was an old bracelet made of white and yellow gold with a classic side clasp. Yellow gold lined up the outer rings of the bracelet, whereas the middle part made of white gold had intricate leaf patterns carved into it. Nobody made that kind of bracelet anymore. Her mother had received it from her own mother. God knows where her grandmother had gotten it from, but one important fact remained: she was planning to give it to her own daughter or to her son's bride.
Except that there was never a child.
She hugged her knees, feeling a wave of pain bury her under. No time to escape. The wave came so fast and hit her like a ton of bricks. She squeezed her eyes shut as grief clenched its mighty fist around her heart, making it hard for her to breathe. Hot tears started rolling down her cheeks and soon her sobs broke the silence of the room. Her sobs rose to a crescendo and then she started wailing as the intensity of the pain only seemed to grow. She let out a loud cry of anguish as she looked up and opened her eyes. More wailing, more groaning, back to sobbing until finally the sobbing stopped even though the tears kept on coming.
She felt drained. She stayed there for a long time, going back and forth mentally from her inner self to her surroundings. The tick-tocking of the clock, the subsiding pain in her chest, the neighbour's dog barking outside, the salty taste of her tears, the absence of children in her house, the intricate patterns on the soft carpet, ghosts of self-pity that threatened to come out from the shadows, the annoying tick-tocking of the clock, back to the hollowness inside. Then she hit the brake, wiped her face with the right sleeve of her shirt, and summoned her logic.
"What is the biggest lesson that you've been learning so far?" her logic asked.
"Letting go," she answered.
"And that is what you shall learn again, my dear."
Forty six years later...
I have been living here in this antique shop for a few years, waiting for my new owner to come and get me. Until then, I'm going to make the best of my time here surrounded with many other antique friends, talking about our previous owners and their lives.
This is a piece of writing that I started months ago as my response to a group writing challenge, but I was really struggling with it. It was tough to get inside the character and feel her pain and it was tough to find the kind of ending that would satisfy me (yes, this is a highly personal one). Once I finished writing it, though, I felt that I had somehow healed a tiny part of myself. How uncanny! Healing through writing. :-) I'm going to keep on exploring this wondrous world of writing. :-)
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Answering Grief Questions + Embracing Inner Child
Lisa Manterfield asked very good questions on grief/loss in her blog that made me think hard. Here are my answers:
2. My loss has helped me become kinder to myself. It has also helped me feel more connected to other people in general, because at the end of the day each of us has different struggles. My loss has also made me more aware of the possibility of other people’s silent struggles and losses (esp. those that people in general misunderstand).
3. My grief creeps up when I haven’t come to terms with a particular loss or when I haven’t grieved that particular loss at all or enough. It also creeps up when there’s something I know I’m missing in this childless life that I haven’t found ways to get around yet and then BAM I see the missing thing being shown so clearly in the lives of those people who have children. Example: some photos of a baby being mesmerized by his/her own foot/finger (the first time the baby realizes the existence of said foot/finger). That kind of thing may get to me because it’s difficult to replicate in my own life. It’s easier for me to embrace my inner child (without having my own child) and try to find joys in the smallest things by doing other stuff like making a snowman, for example.
Ever since we chose to walk along the childless-not-by-choice road, I've begun to feel even more acutely of the things that we miss by not having children and by not spending time with children, particularly the part where small children sees things with fresh eyes. How little things amaze them and in turn amuse the parents and remind them of the smallest joys in life.
I've tried my best in embracing my inner child over the past few years and also find joy in the smallest things. I've tried looking at my surroundings with fresh eyes (yes, even though I know it won't be the same) by taking photos from different angles and by really taking time to enjoy nature (stop and smell the roses kind of thing).
Here is my latest attempt at creating a snowman. The weather was perfect and I had so much fun making it. :-D Mind you, all the snow has melted away by now (which is preferable compared to having icy surface everywhere), but I do hope I'll get more chances to make different kinds of snow creations later on. This one is my upside down, big-headed snowman.
The best of all that day was the fact that this cutiepie was watching me as I was making the body. No kidding! It was really curious and I couldn't help chuckling. I LOVE this place!
2. My loss has helped me become kinder to myself. It has also helped me feel more connected to other people in general, because at the end of the day each of us has different struggles. My loss has also made me more aware of the possibility of other people’s silent struggles and losses (esp. those that people in general misunderstand).
3. My grief creeps up when I haven’t come to terms with a particular loss or when I haven’t grieved that particular loss at all or enough. It also creeps up when there’s something I know I’m missing in this childless life that I haven’t found ways to get around yet and then BAM I see the missing thing being shown so clearly in the lives of those people who have children. Example: some photos of a baby being mesmerized by his/her own foot/finger (the first time the baby realizes the existence of said foot/finger). That kind of thing may get to me because it’s difficult to replicate in my own life. It’s easier for me to embrace my inner child (without having my own child) and try to find joys in the smallest things by doing other stuff like making a snowman, for example.
Ever since we chose to walk along the childless-not-by-choice road, I've begun to feel even more acutely of the things that we miss by not having children and by not spending time with children, particularly the part where small children sees things with fresh eyes. How little things amaze them and in turn amuse the parents and remind them of the smallest joys in life.
I've tried my best in embracing my inner child over the past few years and also find joy in the smallest things. I've tried looking at my surroundings with fresh eyes (yes, even though I know it won't be the same) by taking photos from different angles and by really taking time to enjoy nature (stop and smell the roses kind of thing).
Here is my latest attempt at creating a snowman. The weather was perfect and I had so much fun making it. :-D Mind you, all the snow has melted away by now (which is preferable compared to having icy surface everywhere), but I do hope I'll get more chances to make different kinds of snow creations later on. This one is my upside down, big-headed snowman.
The best of all that day was the fact that this cutiepie was watching me as I was making the body. No kidding! It was really curious and I couldn't help chuckling. I LOVE this place!
Monday, August 18, 2014
Late Night Inspiration
Last night I went to bed early because I had an early shift this morning. Alas, I woke up 5 hours later to pee and then couldn't go back to sleep. Thoughts and songs kept on running through my head, but among those thoughts there was this strong idea that kept on begging me to write it down.
So that was what I did after work and after that I took a 3-hour nap ha ha...The perks of not having children! :-D I've shared this in FB as well just in case someone else needs it. As usual, click to view a bigger size.
So that was what I did after work and after that I took a 3-hour nap ha ha...The perks of not having children! :-D I've shared this in FB as well just in case someone else needs it. As usual, click to view a bigger size.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
The Sum of My Parts
Mali has written a brilliant blog post again entitled "The Rest of My Life" and I've been wanting to write my own answer to that question posed in Lisa's blog, but I've been busy, so I only have time to type this down now. Before I start, let me also share loribeth's post on the same topic.
A few years back, after deciding on surrendering to life without children, I felt the need to find something "grand/noble" to fill my life as a result of not having children. I think this stemmed from the fact that many people would automatically say, "You can always adopt" whenever we said we couldn't have children and I have read many people who accused infertiles of being selfish for trying out treatments "when there are so many abandoned children out there". As if one needs to be like Mother Teresa if one wants to have children but can't. So I definitely felt the societal pressure to find something big to do with my life when the baby thing didn't work out, but I never really started searching.
In the first place, I was lost, grieving, sorrowful, and I had to deal with so many emotional storms that I couldn't think straight. We did make one rash decision during this journey because I was so angry with our empty arms and after learning that lesson, I decided not to make any decision when I'm angry. I had to take time to enter that place of pain and process my grief along with all the emotional storms inside. After all, the only way to handle grief is to grieve.
The first things I did in order to move on were probably these:
1. Finding small things that bring me joy and doing things that bring me joy.
2. Tapping into my inner child (in my case I try to build different kinds of snow creations in winter, the photos of which you can check out in my main blog).
3. Writing down the things I've been learning during my infertility journey and rebranding infertility as a guru instead of an enemy and truly believing in it.
Only after doing the above and after getting farther away from the rows and rows of buried dreams (after doing grief work for a longer time) did I start getting clues on what I wanted to do. It's not about finding big, grand dreams, but for me it's more about being more focused on what kind of woman I want to become now that I know I won't be a mother.
I owe Michelle Frost a HUGE thank you for her eloquent words in the comment section of one of my posts in this blog (for some reason I have a hard time trying to find that particular post to link here). In that post I was talking about leaving a legacy on earth and she said, "Amel, YOU are your own legacy." The words knocked me off my chair. I was wondering why on earth did I ever try to separate myself into different parts/roles because I was talking about leaving a legacy as a blogger. But in truth is that I am the sum of my parts and my legacy to the world should be the entirety of myself, the whole of me, everything that makes me who I am. Her words were like soothing balm to my soul at that time. THANK YOU for knocking me off my chair, M! :-D One's pain can truly blind one so much to one's full potentials.
Anyway, one thing I want to focus on these days is being an encourager. A few years back a blogger friend of mine told me that she said I excelled in encouraging her and her words stuck in my head. Sure anyone can encourage anyone they meet, but I want to do it with more awareness these days. I want to be more intentional in becoming an encourager. Just finding this one task has made me more purposeful in life. Life is more exciting this way! :-D What other things do I want to focus on? I haven't figured them out yet, but I have time. :-) It's exciting to try to figure out what else I want to/can incorporate in my life. It's like a mini adventure. :-D
Other than that, our life continues just like before. I think I once wrote about how it feels like we're a couple of empty nesters because of the shift from wanting to have children/preparing to have children mentality to life with no children. The only difference is that we have no children. These days I no longer worry about making future plans that may clash with the possible pregnancy, so we're trying to live life to the fullest and enjoy life as a complete family of two.
Oh, and every now and then I try to educate people about infertility and its effects, but it doesn't come from a place of pain anymore. Meaning I share infertility links not because I need people to validate my pain (like what I did in the past when I was still hurting so much), but because I simply want to share awareness of the different shades of infertility. This is probably the biggest change compared to life pre-infertility. Infertility is now a part of my life and life has never been the same after that. These days I have an infertility survivor badge etched in my soul.
These days we're trying to save money for our old age, because we probably won't be able to rely on any relatives to take care of us if we ever live that long (considering the possibility of not being able to live on our own anymore), so ideally we should have some fund for our old age so that if we need to pay people to help us with something, we can still afford it. However, I also try not to think too much or plan too much because life is so full of surprises (but I still love saving money for rainy days LOL!). We would love to be able to pay off our house loan and also do some renovations in the future, but in the meantime I can say that life is good. It's beautiful. I'm content. And summer's coming. :-D
A few years back, after deciding on surrendering to life without children, I felt the need to find something "grand/noble" to fill my life as a result of not having children. I think this stemmed from the fact that many people would automatically say, "You can always adopt" whenever we said we couldn't have children and I have read many people who accused infertiles of being selfish for trying out treatments "when there are so many abandoned children out there". As if one needs to be like Mother Teresa if one wants to have children but can't. So I definitely felt the societal pressure to find something big to do with my life when the baby thing didn't work out, but I never really started searching.
In the first place, I was lost, grieving, sorrowful, and I had to deal with so many emotional storms that I couldn't think straight. We did make one rash decision during this journey because I was so angry with our empty arms and after learning that lesson, I decided not to make any decision when I'm angry. I had to take time to enter that place of pain and process my grief along with all the emotional storms inside. After all, the only way to handle grief is to grieve.
The first things I did in order to move on were probably these:
1. Finding small things that bring me joy and doing things that bring me joy.
2. Tapping into my inner child (in my case I try to build different kinds of snow creations in winter, the photos of which you can check out in my main blog).
3. Writing down the things I've been learning during my infertility journey and rebranding infertility as a guru instead of an enemy and truly believing in it.
Only after doing the above and after getting farther away from the rows and rows of buried dreams (after doing grief work for a longer time) did I start getting clues on what I wanted to do. It's not about finding big, grand dreams, but for me it's more about being more focused on what kind of woman I want to become now that I know I won't be a mother.
I owe Michelle Frost a HUGE thank you for her eloquent words in the comment section of one of my posts in this blog (for some reason I have a hard time trying to find that particular post to link here). In that post I was talking about leaving a legacy on earth and she said, "Amel, YOU are your own legacy." The words knocked me off my chair. I was wondering why on earth did I ever try to separate myself into different parts/roles because I was talking about leaving a legacy as a blogger. But in truth is that I am the sum of my parts and my legacy to the world should be the entirety of myself, the whole of me, everything that makes me who I am. Her words were like soothing balm to my soul at that time. THANK YOU for knocking me off my chair, M! :-D One's pain can truly blind one so much to one's full potentials.
Anyway, one thing I want to focus on these days is being an encourager. A few years back a blogger friend of mine told me that she said I excelled in encouraging her and her words stuck in my head. Sure anyone can encourage anyone they meet, but I want to do it with more awareness these days. I want to be more intentional in becoming an encourager. Just finding this one task has made me more purposeful in life. Life is more exciting this way! :-D What other things do I want to focus on? I haven't figured them out yet, but I have time. :-) It's exciting to try to figure out what else I want to/can incorporate in my life. It's like a mini adventure. :-D
Other than that, our life continues just like before. I think I once wrote about how it feels like we're a couple of empty nesters because of the shift from wanting to have children/preparing to have children mentality to life with no children. The only difference is that we have no children. These days I no longer worry about making future plans that may clash with the possible pregnancy, so we're trying to live life to the fullest and enjoy life as a complete family of two.
Oh, and every now and then I try to educate people about infertility and its effects, but it doesn't come from a place of pain anymore. Meaning I share infertility links not because I need people to validate my pain (like what I did in the past when I was still hurting so much), but because I simply want to share awareness of the different shades of infertility. This is probably the biggest change compared to life pre-infertility. Infertility is now a part of my life and life has never been the same after that. These days I have an infertility survivor badge etched in my soul.
These days we're trying to save money for our old age, because we probably won't be able to rely on any relatives to take care of us if we ever live that long (considering the possibility of not being able to live on our own anymore), so ideally we should have some fund for our old age so that if we need to pay people to help us with something, we can still afford it. However, I also try not to think too much or plan too much because life is so full of surprises (but I still love saving money for rainy days LOL!). We would love to be able to pay off our house loan and also do some renovations in the future, but in the meantime I can say that life is good. It's beautiful. I'm content. And summer's coming. :-D
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Ripples of Grief
A little while back the friend who's got a 2-month-old baby wrote in a group email about how her husband had been talking about visiting us here. Mind you, she did add something like this: "I'm not sure whether or not you're interested, because I know that travelling with a kid is different than travelling without a kid." Must admit reading it made me anxious, because I know I'm not ready to have them in our place, but before I replied to her, I wanted to find out what my husband had to say to that idea.
Ever since her second trimester, she had started sharing links about parenting and stuff like that and after the baby was born, she has been sharing her baby's photos and status updates about her parenting journey as well as parenting links and a few videos. I'm fine now when it comes to viewing the baby's cute photos (seeing the first few photos was TOUGH) and mostly fine with the status updates and parenting links, but what made me feel sure that I wasn't ready to be with them under the same roof was my reaction when I saw the video clip of her interacting with her baby. Listening to her cooing to her baby and seeing the baby's smile in response to her made me want to escape to my daydreams about my own interaction with my non-existent child and stay there for a LONG time.
My husband was apparently not ready to have them under the same roof, either, so I braced myself and decided to be honest with her in my reply. I told her that I wasn't sure how painful it would be to see her daily interaction with her baby in front of my face, under my own roof, but I was pretty sure I could handle it if they were willing to stay in a cabin or someplace else. Spending time with them for a few hours every day would be fine as long as I could have some rest (my safe haven) in between.
glitter-graphics.com
I also explained to her why her baby made me react more strongly than my other friends' babies/children in our inner circle. It's because her baby is the first biracial baby in our group of friends, so the baby's the closest reminder of our loss. It's very hard not to see her baby's photos without wondering how our child may look like. It's probably similar to this: if you've lost a real person in life years and years ago and then you see someone that looks like her/him today, then you wonder how your loved one may look like right now. Something to that effect...oh, I'm getting sidetracked here...back to the topic...
I was prepared to lose this friendship (worst case scenario - which I think I took pretty calmly considering I would have wanted to keep this friendship with all my might and in whichever way I could in the past). I still disliked the fact that these ripples of infertility grief affected me this way (however, in the past I hated/loathed this side effect with a vengeance), because in another universe and situation, I would have wanted to reply, "That's a WONDERFUL idea! When are you coming? You're welcome in our place anytime. Ohhhhh...I can't wait for you all to come. How much fun it's going to be!" But I couldn't deny what I was feeling and I knew that it wasn't just about me anyway. I had to and wanted to protect my husband's feelings, as well.
Anyway, I heard nothing for a few days, but thankfully afterwards she said she appreciated my honesty and she understood why I wrote such a reply. She wasn't sure yet when they were going to come, but she mentioned it because she wanted to do it in the future. So we shall see how it's going to pan out later on. Just another story of infertility's ripples of grief, I suppose.
glitter-graphics.com
Btw, check out this brilliant post on Friendship written by Mali.
P.S. I sent her an angel baby card the other day in remembrance of her miscarriage prior to having this child. I was SOOOOOO touched when she said that she had cried for me a few times during the past two months because after having the baby, she realized even more what I had lost.
Ever since her second trimester, she had started sharing links about parenting and stuff like that and after the baby was born, she has been sharing her baby's photos and status updates about her parenting journey as well as parenting links and a few videos. I'm fine now when it comes to viewing the baby's cute photos (seeing the first few photos was TOUGH) and mostly fine with the status updates and parenting links, but what made me feel sure that I wasn't ready to be with them under the same roof was my reaction when I saw the video clip of her interacting with her baby. Listening to her cooing to her baby and seeing the baby's smile in response to her made me want to escape to my daydreams about my own interaction with my non-existent child and stay there for a LONG time.
My husband was apparently not ready to have them under the same roof, either, so I braced myself and decided to be honest with her in my reply. I told her that I wasn't sure how painful it would be to see her daily interaction with her baby in front of my face, under my own roof, but I was pretty sure I could handle it if they were willing to stay in a cabin or someplace else. Spending time with them for a few hours every day would be fine as long as I could have some rest (my safe haven) in between.
glitter-graphics.com
I also explained to her why her baby made me react more strongly than my other friends' babies/children in our inner circle. It's because her baby is the first biracial baby in our group of friends, so the baby's the closest reminder of our loss. It's very hard not to see her baby's photos without wondering how our child may look like. It's probably similar to this: if you've lost a real person in life years and years ago and then you see someone that looks like her/him today, then you wonder how your loved one may look like right now. Something to that effect...oh, I'm getting sidetracked here...back to the topic...
I was prepared to lose this friendship (worst case scenario - which I think I took pretty calmly considering I would have wanted to keep this friendship with all my might and in whichever way I could in the past). I still disliked the fact that these ripples of infertility grief affected me this way (however, in the past I hated/loathed this side effect with a vengeance), because in another universe and situation, I would have wanted to reply, "That's a WONDERFUL idea! When are you coming? You're welcome in our place anytime. Ohhhhh...I can't wait for you all to come. How much fun it's going to be!" But I couldn't deny what I was feeling and I knew that it wasn't just about me anyway. I had to and wanted to protect my husband's feelings, as well.
Anyway, I heard nothing for a few days, but thankfully afterwards she said she appreciated my honesty and she understood why I wrote such a reply. She wasn't sure yet when they were going to come, but she mentioned it because she wanted to do it in the future. So we shall see how it's going to pan out later on. Just another story of infertility's ripples of grief, I suppose.
glitter-graphics.com
Btw, check out this brilliant post on Friendship written by Mali.
P.S. I sent her an angel baby card the other day in remembrance of her miscarriage prior to having this child. I was SOOOOOO touched when she said that she had cried for me a few times during the past two months because after having the baby, she realized even more what I had lost.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Ignorance Can Be Beneficial
OK, so the close friend who had a baby about two months ago has been sharing updates about the baby's growth progress and I must say that even though there are some things I can't relate to, there's still a benefit coming out of my ignorance. For instance, when she shares things about what the baby can do, I can rejoice fully with her because I have no idea what babies can do at different stage of their developments. No comparing with any other babies/kids. I find this to be comforting and encouraging he he he...
The other day we received her baby card and I must say that it was tough to open it. She printed out plenty of photos (the baby's very expressive and cute) along with a poem and then taped them onto the long homemade card (all four pages filled with photos/text). It was hard because I couldn't help thinking what I would have done if I was the one who had the baby - what kind of baby card I could have designed, the kind of text I'd be choosing for the card (or perhaps the kind of poem I'd have written for the card) etc. And a line in the poem made me feel some pain: "We don't remember life before." A gentle ouch forced me to close the card.
I only glanced at the card very quickly because my grief was in the way of my being able to enjoy her card. However, I was then reminded of the verse: "love others as you love yourself".
OK, so time to give myself some love...
I started thinking that if it were my own baby card, what kind of card would it be? So I did allow myself to daydream a little. Because I'm a practical person, I imagined I would have ordered the cards through an online printer so that I wouldn't have to do anything else other than just send them. But I'd surely have taken a lot of time thinking about the text. And I imagined how happy I would have been to send the cards to my friends and family and I imagined them smiling when they opened it (OK, I know this is oversimplifying the matter, but it's called the best-case scenario in a daydream).
Because I wouldn't have known whether the baby would have been born in which season and whether the baby would have been a boy or a girl, I felt some glee in daydreaming about all the different choices of theme I could have chosen for my baby card. Daydreaming was fun, because I could easily change things without having to pay a dime he he he...:-)
That made it easier. I picked up her card again and this time I could really focus on what she'd created: all the photos she's carefully picked, etc. :-) I'm gonna try this trick again for next time. :-)
glitter-graphics.com
The other day we received her baby card and I must say that it was tough to open it. She printed out plenty of photos (the baby's very expressive and cute) along with a poem and then taped them onto the long homemade card (all four pages filled with photos/text). It was hard because I couldn't help thinking what I would have done if I was the one who had the baby - what kind of baby card I could have designed, the kind of text I'd be choosing for the card (or perhaps the kind of poem I'd have written for the card) etc. And a line in the poem made me feel some pain: "We don't remember life before." A gentle ouch forced me to close the card.
I only glanced at the card very quickly because my grief was in the way of my being able to enjoy her card. However, I was then reminded of the verse: "love others as you love yourself".
OK, so time to give myself some love...
I started thinking that if it were my own baby card, what kind of card would it be? So I did allow myself to daydream a little. Because I'm a practical person, I imagined I would have ordered the cards through an online printer so that I wouldn't have to do anything else other than just send them. But I'd surely have taken a lot of time thinking about the text. And I imagined how happy I would have been to send the cards to my friends and family and I imagined them smiling when they opened it (OK, I know this is oversimplifying the matter, but it's called the best-case scenario in a daydream).
Because I wouldn't have known whether the baby would have been born in which season and whether the baby would have been a boy or a girl, I felt some glee in daydreaming about all the different choices of theme I could have chosen for my baby card. Daydreaming was fun, because I could easily change things without having to pay a dime he he he...:-)
That made it easier. I picked up her card again and this time I could really focus on what she'd created: all the photos she's carefully picked, etc. :-) I'm gonna try this trick again for next time. :-)
glitter-graphics.com
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Getting Naked With My Grief
I just thought this post was so beautifully written that I have to share it here...I think it's a balanced post on dealing with grief.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Grief Cycles
I've been reading about grief cycles for quite some time now from different women across the globe. I remember being frustrated every time I felt that grief was knocking on my door again. I just wanted to say, "Not againnnnn?"
I've been wondering about grief cycles in my own experience lately. I don't think that each cycle is the same, though. I think that if we allow ourselves to open the door, sit a while with that grief, listen to it, and give it room to share its wisdom, we'll learn different things each time because there are so many different layers of losses that we have to deal with in this type of journey. And I feel that each time the cycle starts, the starting point is getting further and further away from the point of origin.
I also think that each time I learn a new trick on how to deal with the grief wave as it comes. Sometimes it's a learned trick that I've honed for a while, other times it just comes out of the blue (natural self-defense instinct), other times I come up with an experimental tool to deal with a new wave of grief.
All I can say is that when I switch my perspective into "What can I learn this time (about myself, other people, or whatever)?", I can even feel excited about inviting grief inside (may be kinda weird to put it this way, but I'm telling it as it is here). It's like grief is an old friend coming for a visit and I'm looking forward to getting some insight. And we can even enjoy a relaxing chat over tea and sweet buns. :-)
In this post I'd also love to share some brilliant links:
1. Ten Things I've Learned About Trauma.
2. You Can't Please All The People All The Time.
3. Why Miscarriage Matters When You're Pro-Life.
I've been wondering about grief cycles in my own experience lately. I don't think that each cycle is the same, though. I think that if we allow ourselves to open the door, sit a while with that grief, listen to it, and give it room to share its wisdom, we'll learn different things each time because there are so many different layers of losses that we have to deal with in this type of journey. And I feel that each time the cycle starts, the starting point is getting further and further away from the point of origin.
I also think that each time I learn a new trick on how to deal with the grief wave as it comes. Sometimes it's a learned trick that I've honed for a while, other times it just comes out of the blue (natural self-defense instinct), other times I come up with an experimental tool to deal with a new wave of grief.
All I can say is that when I switch my perspective into "What can I learn this time (about myself, other people, or whatever)?", I can even feel excited about inviting grief inside (may be kinda weird to put it this way, but I'm telling it as it is here). It's like grief is an old friend coming for a visit and I'm looking forward to getting some insight. And we can even enjoy a relaxing chat over tea and sweet buns. :-)
In this post I'd also love to share some brilliant links:
1. Ten Things I've Learned About Trauma.
2. You Can't Please All The People All The Time.
3. Why Miscarriage Matters When You're Pro-Life.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
To My Baby
Someone in the Ghost Orchid Women community told me about this poem and I LOVE it so much that I thought I'd share it here...
glitter-graphics.com
To My Baby
by Bob Neudorf
by Bob Neudorf
- Is it proper to cry
- For a baby too small
- For a coffin?
- Yes, I think it is.
- Does Jesus have
- My too-small baby
- In His tender arms?
- Yes, I think He does.
- There is so much I do not know
- About you—my child—He, she? quiet or restless?
- Will I recognize
- Someone I knew so little about,
- Yet loved so much?
- Yes, I think I will.
- Ah, sweet, small child,
- Can I say
- That loving you is like loving God?
- Loving—yet not seeing,
- Holding—yet not touching,
- Caressing—yet separated by the chasm of time.
- No tombstone marks your sojourn,
- And only God recorded your name.
- The banquet was not canceled,
- Just moved. Just moved.
- Yet a tear remains
- Where a baby should have been.
glitter-graphics.com
Monday, December 30, 2013
Random Thoughts Before New Year
1. The Important Letter.
I've sent my mom the letter via my brother (I asked him to print it out). It ended up being a 4-page MS Word document (plus a paragraph on the 5th page). Still no word from her via SMS to me. I imagine it's going to take time for her to bury the dream that she's been having for us. I hope the other half of my letter gave her comfort, because the first half talked about my honest feelings when it came to our infertility journey. It was REALLY hard to write the letter and I was on edge the whole day yesterday while waiting for the response.
In the end I contacted my brother via YM and asked him how it went. She said that mom had cried. I was so emotional during our chat in YM and I started crying, too. My bro helped explain to her that I wasn't blaming her and that I knew she meant well, but that I'd like to be supported not by her praying about a miracle pregnancy or by her telling me to keep on praying to get pregnant. I have given her more ideas on what to pray on in the letter, so hope that helps, too. My bro said that she must be sad when she read about our struggles and all the feelings that I had during the tough period of our infertility journey. I sent her an SMS yesterday, telling her that I'm thankful to have a mother who prays for me and that I love her and I ask her not to be too sad because we're doing fine.
2. Infertility and Relationships.
Sometimes I feel that infertility is a double-edged sword. When I was preparing to write the letter for my mom, I knew it would crush her, too. I don't want to crush her dream for us, but I felt that it must be done for the sake of our relationship. I began to feel our relationship cracking and I don't want to lose our relationship. I was struggling to try to find a way on how to crush her dream gently and I hope I have succeeded in doing so.
Other than that, here's also something I wrote weeks ago about infertility and friendship:
"Infertility is a tricky thing to deal with when you have a pregnant close friend whose pregnancy reminds you of your losses. As much as you'd like your friends to tell you as many parts of their joys and sorrows and as much as you'd like to tell your friends about your joys and sorrows, it's not that easy to figure out the fine line. The fine line where you don't want to burst someone else's happy bubble by telling them that their stories trigger very soft spots within yourself, but then again you wonder if you should let them know about at least some of them because you want them to understand your journey. The fine line where you wonder how much stuff you should tell your friends about your feelings because you fear that they are going to hold back sharing their joys because they don't want to hurt you, but on the other hand you don't want to miss all the lovely moments even if those moments trigger some pain within your deepest self."
It IS a shame that infertility is affecting those around me this way, but I welcome the lessons that it's giving me (and other lessons that it will give me in the future).
3. I found this article via an FB share and I LOVE LOVE LOVE it for so many different reasons so I'd share it here too: Confronting the Lie: God Won't Give You More Than You Can Handle.
4. A friend of mine gave me this challenge weeks ago and I've finally found my word for 2014.
My word of the year is “Disentangle”. I need to practise disentangling myself from any emotional connection or baggage so that I can take a step back and celebrate other people’s beautiful moments with them without drowning in grief when their beautiful moments are the ones that acutely remind me of what I will never have. I want to disentangle myself from those heavy weights that make me want to crawl or drown in my grief so that I can stand up and continue my healing journey.
Here's the challenge in case you want to participate: What Will You Choose For Your Word of 2014?
Last but not least, Happy New Year! Wishing you more peace, comfort, and healing throughout 2014!
glitter-graphics.com
I've sent my mom the letter via my brother (I asked him to print it out). It ended up being a 4-page MS Word document (plus a paragraph on the 5th page). Still no word from her via SMS to me. I imagine it's going to take time for her to bury the dream that she's been having for us. I hope the other half of my letter gave her comfort, because the first half talked about my honest feelings when it came to our infertility journey. It was REALLY hard to write the letter and I was on edge the whole day yesterday while waiting for the response.
In the end I contacted my brother via YM and asked him how it went. She said that mom had cried. I was so emotional during our chat in YM and I started crying, too. My bro helped explain to her that I wasn't blaming her and that I knew she meant well, but that I'd like to be supported not by her praying about a miracle pregnancy or by her telling me to keep on praying to get pregnant. I have given her more ideas on what to pray on in the letter, so hope that helps, too. My bro said that she must be sad when she read about our struggles and all the feelings that I had during the tough period of our infertility journey. I sent her an SMS yesterday, telling her that I'm thankful to have a mother who prays for me and that I love her and I ask her not to be too sad because we're doing fine.
2. Infertility and Relationships.
Sometimes I feel that infertility is a double-edged sword. When I was preparing to write the letter for my mom, I knew it would crush her, too. I don't want to crush her dream for us, but I felt that it must be done for the sake of our relationship. I began to feel our relationship cracking and I don't want to lose our relationship. I was struggling to try to find a way on how to crush her dream gently and I hope I have succeeded in doing so.
Other than that, here's also something I wrote weeks ago about infertility and friendship:
"Infertility is a tricky thing to deal with when you have a pregnant close friend whose pregnancy reminds you of your losses. As much as you'd like your friends to tell you as many parts of their joys and sorrows and as much as you'd like to tell your friends about your joys and sorrows, it's not that easy to figure out the fine line. The fine line where you don't want to burst someone else's happy bubble by telling them that their stories trigger very soft spots within yourself, but then again you wonder if you should let them know about at least some of them because you want them to understand your journey. The fine line where you wonder how much stuff you should tell your friends about your feelings because you fear that they are going to hold back sharing their joys because they don't want to hurt you, but on the other hand you don't want to miss all the lovely moments even if those moments trigger some pain within your deepest self."
It IS a shame that infertility is affecting those around me this way, but I welcome the lessons that it's giving me (and other lessons that it will give me in the future).
3. I found this article via an FB share and I LOVE LOVE LOVE it for so many different reasons so I'd share it here too: Confronting the Lie: God Won't Give You More Than You Can Handle.
4. A friend of mine gave me this challenge weeks ago and I've finally found my word for 2014.
My word of the year is “Disentangle”. I need to practise disentangling myself from any emotional connection or baggage so that I can take a step back and celebrate other people’s beautiful moments with them without drowning in grief when their beautiful moments are the ones that acutely remind me of what I will never have. I want to disentangle myself from those heavy weights that make me want to crawl or drown in my grief so that I can stand up and continue my healing journey.
Here's the challenge in case you want to participate: What Will You Choose For Your Word of 2014?
Last but not least, Happy New Year! Wishing you more peace, comfort, and healing throughout 2014!
glitter-graphics.com
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Other Lessons That IF Has Taught Me
The list below is a long overdue post that I've written halfway through many months ago...I've been busy in Gateway Women Google+ community for women who are childless by circumstance and I've enjoyed myself there. It's nice to know that there are so many supportive women who understand my journey and it's nice to know that I can support many women there because of the childless link among us. It feels GOOD to be in my "own tribe" so to speak, so lately I've shared some things that I usually share in this blog in that community instead.
Anyway, there are several SUPER TOUGH lessons that I'd like to record here in this blog that infertility has been teaching me:
1. To focus on someone else's happiness when you feel like you're transported to a place of pain: in front of rows and rows of your buried dreams.
I think in the beginning of my IF journey, it was practically impossible to do so 'coz my wounds were still bleeding profusely and the pain was too much to bear sometimes. Nowadays it's "easier" to do it, though that doesn't mean I'm not affected at all. I find that I'm most affected during PMS as well as when I feel that there've been too many reminders of this broken dream around me - that's high time for me to step back and take good care of myself.
2. To channel and work on the grief somewhere else (esp. if the person involved is important and you don't want to rain on their parade). I found that this is more difficult than #1, especially if you're in regular contact with that said person and because the said person is important to you, it's tough not to share your vulnerable moments with them, but then again you don't want them to feel bad about you that they stop sharing their good moments with you.
3. To know when to shut up, to refrain myself from saying something unnecessary that is potentially hurtful, to choose my words more carefully to the best of my ability whenever people open up to me about their pains and struggles. I want to master the art of comfort in, dump out.
I find that at times when I feel uncomfortable when I'm facing someone else's pain or struggles that I find hard to relate to, it's easy to say all the wrong things simply because I feel helpless.
4. To let go if despite my best efforts I end up hurting someone anyway. Sincerely say sorry, let go, and start all over again.
Anyway, there are several SUPER TOUGH lessons that I'd like to record here in this blog that infertility has been teaching me:
1. To focus on someone else's happiness when you feel like you're transported to a place of pain: in front of rows and rows of your buried dreams.
I think in the beginning of my IF journey, it was practically impossible to do so 'coz my wounds were still bleeding profusely and the pain was too much to bear sometimes. Nowadays it's "easier" to do it, though that doesn't mean I'm not affected at all. I find that I'm most affected during PMS as well as when I feel that there've been too many reminders of this broken dream around me - that's high time for me to step back and take good care of myself.
2. To channel and work on the grief somewhere else (esp. if the person involved is important and you don't want to rain on their parade). I found that this is more difficult than #1, especially if you're in regular contact with that said person and because the said person is important to you, it's tough not to share your vulnerable moments with them, but then again you don't want them to feel bad about you that they stop sharing their good moments with you.
3. To know when to shut up, to refrain myself from saying something unnecessary that is potentially hurtful, to choose my words more carefully to the best of my ability whenever people open up to me about their pains and struggles. I want to master the art of comfort in, dump out.
I find that at times when I feel uncomfortable when I'm facing someone else's pain or struggles that I find hard to relate to, it's easy to say all the wrong things simply because I feel helpless.
4. To let go if despite my best efforts I end up hurting someone anyway. Sincerely say sorry, let go, and start all over again.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Finnish Father's Day
Yesterday was Father's Day in Finland. Many stores and supermarkets were closed, except for restaurants that offered Father's Day buffets and flower shops. We spent the day at MIL's because I had to work on Saturday. Just the usual: MIL cooked some food and then we played cards.
When we got back home, I checked my FB account and then I felt mellow because there were a dozen Father's Day greetings and cards in my news feed. Funny thing was that compared to Mother's Day (the Finnish Mother's Day that is), I felt more mellow this time. I think even with the barrage of USA and Finnish Mother's Day greetings and wall posts (the amount was at least 5 times more than those on Father's Day that I found in my news feed), I survived better on both Mother's Days.
Why? I think one reason was because I had prepared myself mentally for both Mother's Days, so I didn't really click and read through all the Mother's Day's greetings and wall posts and I had put on my "complete mental armor" to protect myself against Mother's Day. Plus I still have a mother and a MIL, so I can still do something for them on Mother's Day. That means that despite my sadness of being a non-mom, I can still make someone else happy and in turn it makes me happy (so my sadness is counterbalanced by this).
I think I didn't expect that Father's Day would affect me because I thought it didn't really relate to me, so I didn't put on my mental armor when I checked my FB account. Other than those greetings and wall posts/cards in FB, a friend posted this on her news feed: "So this is the 30th Father's Day I've spent without my dad." And several people commented that it was their XXth Father's Day without their fathers.
I've lost both my father and my FIL and my husband is never going to be a father, so I felt that yesterday I felt a bit hollow and mellow when I was reminded of these things. I had to grieve over those three losses when I read those greetings and especially after I read that friend's news feed. I think what made it hard was also the fact that I couldn't even do anything for my father or FIL anymore. Mind you, I was tempted to buy a gift for hubby and give it to him yesterday, but I don't want to remind him of this loss. Plus it feels inappropriate to say "Happy Father's Day, hubby. I knew you'd make a great father if only you had a chance to be one. Here's a gift for you." I think instead of doing that, I'd rather just give him random gifts on random occasions.
Today my mood is essentially much better, especially after a good day at work. But those moments still managed to surprise me with their unexpectedness. They're like sneaky shadows whose existence is hidden from me on regular days, but every now and then they show themselves and remind me that just because I can't see them doesn't mean that they're not there. But that doesn't matter. What matters most is finding out where and why it hurts and then hugging it till it gets better and giving myself time and permission to take care of myself with lots and lots of TLC.
glitter-graphics.com
When we got back home, I checked my FB account and then I felt mellow because there were a dozen Father's Day greetings and cards in my news feed. Funny thing was that compared to Mother's Day (the Finnish Mother's Day that is), I felt more mellow this time. I think even with the barrage of USA and Finnish Mother's Day greetings and wall posts (the amount was at least 5 times more than those on Father's Day that I found in my news feed), I survived better on both Mother's Days.
Why? I think one reason was because I had prepared myself mentally for both Mother's Days, so I didn't really click and read through all the Mother's Day's greetings and wall posts and I had put on my "complete mental armor" to protect myself against Mother's Day. Plus I still have a mother and a MIL, so I can still do something for them on Mother's Day. That means that despite my sadness of being a non-mom, I can still make someone else happy and in turn it makes me happy (so my sadness is counterbalanced by this).
I think I didn't expect that Father's Day would affect me because I thought it didn't really relate to me, so I didn't put on my mental armor when I checked my FB account. Other than those greetings and wall posts/cards in FB, a friend posted this on her news feed: "So this is the 30th Father's Day I've spent without my dad." And several people commented that it was their XXth Father's Day without their fathers.
I've lost both my father and my FIL and my husband is never going to be a father, so I felt that yesterday I felt a bit hollow and mellow when I was reminded of these things. I had to grieve over those three losses when I read those greetings and especially after I read that friend's news feed. I think what made it hard was also the fact that I couldn't even do anything for my father or FIL anymore. Mind you, I was tempted to buy a gift for hubby and give it to him yesterday, but I don't want to remind him of this loss. Plus it feels inappropriate to say "Happy Father's Day, hubby. I knew you'd make a great father if only you had a chance to be one. Here's a gift for you." I think instead of doing that, I'd rather just give him random gifts on random occasions.
Today my mood is essentially much better, especially after a good day at work. But those moments still managed to surprise me with their unexpectedness. They're like sneaky shadows whose existence is hidden from me on regular days, but every now and then they show themselves and remind me that just because I can't see them doesn't mean that they're not there. But that doesn't matter. What matters most is finding out where and why it hurts and then hugging it till it gets better and giving myself time and permission to take care of myself with lots and lots of TLC.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Bittersweet Tears
The other day I think I had my first experience of crying with so much gratitude that my heart felt like it was going to burst mixed with some grief over the losses of a life as a non-mother. It was bittersweet. The tears didn't run too long, but it was cleansing. :-)
The triggers? The gratitude came from hearing positive feedback about myself from different people including from MIL. I was SO touched and thankful to be able to hear those words, but at the same time I realized how much more they meant to me because I'm not a mother. Only after I heard the words did I realize that I had actually been waiting for some confirmation that I was doing something right as a non-mom. Like I was secretly wishing that the universe would give me signs that what I was doing in the community was enough even if I could never become a mother.
The grief came much later that day while I was reading a manga series that dealt with cute little twins (a boy and a girl) that I had subscribed to (I had been reading it since ages ago and it's still not finished yet). Reading about their antics and how they grew not just in size but also in many different areas in life made me feel sad because I could never watch my own child(ren) grow. And that was when I remembered the positive feedback from all those people which counterbalanced my grief. It felt surreal.
It was probably the first time when I cried tears of grief that didn't weigh upon my chest. Instead, the feeling of gratitude gave the grief some wings...After they held me in their embrace for a little while, off they flew, leaving me sighing contentedly.
The triggers? The gratitude came from hearing positive feedback about myself from different people including from MIL. I was SO touched and thankful to be able to hear those words, but at the same time I realized how much more they meant to me because I'm not a mother. Only after I heard the words did I realize that I had actually been waiting for some confirmation that I was doing something right as a non-mom. Like I was secretly wishing that the universe would give me signs that what I was doing in the community was enough even if I could never become a mother.
The grief came much later that day while I was reading a manga series that dealt with cute little twins (a boy and a girl) that I had subscribed to (I had been reading it since ages ago and it's still not finished yet). Reading about their antics and how they grew not just in size but also in many different areas in life made me feel sad because I could never watch my own child(ren) grow. And that was when I remembered the positive feedback from all those people which counterbalanced my grief. It felt surreal.
It was probably the first time when I cried tears of grief that didn't weigh upon my chest. Instead, the feeling of gratitude gave the grief some wings...After they held me in their embrace for a little while, off they flew, leaving me sighing contentedly.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Catharsis
One of the nagging questions I've experienced during my IF journey is, "When is it going to stop? When am I going to completely heal from this? When will I stop feeling the pain? When will I stop grieving?"
I remember that after a rather long period of peace, grief started knocking on my door again and for some time I tried blocking its entrance. I thought that I had grieved enough and that I had "healed", but over time the knock got louder and louder and louder and I couldn't ignore it anymore. I gave in. The grief wasn't as strong as before and the pain I felt wasn't as crushing, but still the need to grieve couldn't be ignored. I wrote a long post about it (Funeral of a Dream) and gave myself permission to cry my eyes out.
As time passed by and new and old feelings came up, I began to realize even more that it's not the destination that counts. Trying to think of when I'm going to "fully heal" is only making me frustrated. Trying to protect myself from possible harm (other people's questions, annoying ass-vice given by random people, etc.) is tricky because it's really unpredictable when I'm going to feel stabbed by something I hear or something I see (although I admit it's handy to try to prepare and remember smart comebacks for the usual questions that people throw at us). What I can tell is that the longer I spend on this road to healing, the less often I experience heart stabbing moments (which in the past would actually make me feel like bleeding profusely inside or feel like I was being punched in the gut).
I find that whenever I try to fight grief from consuming me, it drags my feet instead, making it harder for me to walk further away along my healing journey. It's like all of a sudden I was walking in a swamp. The height of the swamp increased the longer I postpone my grieving process. However, the minute I let go, the minute I let myself drown, even though the process is very unpleasant and tiring, at the end of it it feels like a refreshing, cleansing bath. A catharsis. The weight of the swampy water is no longer dragging me, no longer clinging onto me. I feel cleaner because I have accepted all that is that I'd been feeling inside and let myself be. I stand face-to-face with all those feelings and embrace them and they let go of their grip onto me.
I think this is one of the toughest parts of this journey. Because this journey is wrought with so many layers of loss, sometimes when the grief overlaps due to the many losses we feel at one time, it's so overwhelming that we're afraid of letting ourselves drown in them. So we keep fighting them and that tires us even more, which is not helpful at all. Everyone has different journeys and different pain triggers, different life situations and different challenges. The only thing I can say that helps me whenever I get frustrated because I don't feel like I'm moving forward at all in my journey is this: take it one day at a time. One day at a time...and someday in the far future, when I look back on my journey, it'll be easier to gauge just how far I've come.
P.S. I admit on some days it's harder to follow my own advice LOL!!!
glitter-graphics.com
I remember that after a rather long period of peace, grief started knocking on my door again and for some time I tried blocking its entrance. I thought that I had grieved enough and that I had "healed", but over time the knock got louder and louder and louder and I couldn't ignore it anymore. I gave in. The grief wasn't as strong as before and the pain I felt wasn't as crushing, but still the need to grieve couldn't be ignored. I wrote a long post about it (Funeral of a Dream) and gave myself permission to cry my eyes out.
As time passed by and new and old feelings came up, I began to realize even more that it's not the destination that counts. Trying to think of when I'm going to "fully heal" is only making me frustrated. Trying to protect myself from possible harm (other people's questions, annoying ass-vice given by random people, etc.) is tricky because it's really unpredictable when I'm going to feel stabbed by something I hear or something I see (although I admit it's handy to try to prepare and remember smart comebacks for the usual questions that people throw at us). What I can tell is that the longer I spend on this road to healing, the less often I experience heart stabbing moments (which in the past would actually make me feel like bleeding profusely inside or feel like I was being punched in the gut).
I find that whenever I try to fight grief from consuming me, it drags my feet instead, making it harder for me to walk further away along my healing journey. It's like all of a sudden I was walking in a swamp. The height of the swamp increased the longer I postpone my grieving process. However, the minute I let go, the minute I let myself drown, even though the process is very unpleasant and tiring, at the end of it it feels like a refreshing, cleansing bath. A catharsis. The weight of the swampy water is no longer dragging me, no longer clinging onto me. I feel cleaner because I have accepted all that is that I'd been feeling inside and let myself be. I stand face-to-face with all those feelings and embrace them and they let go of their grip onto me.
I think this is one of the toughest parts of this journey. Because this journey is wrought with so many layers of loss, sometimes when the grief overlaps due to the many losses we feel at one time, it's so overwhelming that we're afraid of letting ourselves drown in them. So we keep fighting them and that tires us even more, which is not helpful at all. Everyone has different journeys and different pain triggers, different life situations and different challenges. The only thing I can say that helps me whenever I get frustrated because I don't feel like I'm moving forward at all in my journey is this: take it one day at a time. One day at a time...and someday in the far future, when I look back on my journey, it'll be easier to gauge just how far I've come.
P.S. I admit on some days it's harder to follow my own advice LOL!!!
glitter-graphics.com
Thursday, September 19, 2013
More on Shame
I watched another video of Brené Brown's talk again and was reminded of how powerful it is.
One quote that rang loudly when I heard her talk was this:
"The two most powerful words when we're in struggle is 'me too'."'
I think it's especially true for disenfranchised grief. :-D
OK, I'm not going to write too long. Enjoy the videos!
Here's the transcript for the first video: Listening to shame.
And as a complement of the one above, let me share this one, too (a shorter video):
Here's a link to the summary of the second video, though not exactly the transcript: Finding Shelter in a Shame Storm.
Last but not least, I'd love to thank each one of you who's been really supportive and who's left kind and encouraging words. YOU ROCKKKKKKK!!!!! God bless each and every one of you in your own journeys!!!!
glitter-graphics.com
One quote that rang loudly when I heard her talk was this:
"The two most powerful words when we're in struggle is 'me too'."'
I think it's especially true for disenfranchised grief. :-D
OK, I'm not going to write too long. Enjoy the videos!
Here's the transcript for the first video: Listening to shame.
And as a complement of the one above, let me share this one, too (a shorter video):
Here's a link to the summary of the second video, though not exactly the transcript: Finding Shelter in a Shame Storm.
Last but not least, I'd love to thank each one of you who's been really supportive and who's left kind and encouraging words. YOU ROCKKKKKKK!!!!! God bless each and every one of you in your own journeys!!!!
glitter-graphics.com
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Second Pap Smear
I've been so busy with going back to work and starting new tasks last week that I just ran out of energy to blog and blog-hop. I'm always a bit worried about going back to work after my holiday because of several reasons.
Anyway, last week I had my second pap smear invitation from the government. It's offered for free every 5 years, so yes, of course I'd gladly go and have myself checked up. I had never had any pap smear back in Indo and my first experience was so gentle. The gyno talked in Finnish very very slowly so that I would understand everything and I'm really glad she was that thoughtful.
Today I was checked up by a different woman, but at least I know already what was going to happen, so it was all good. She asked me some stuff, including whether or not we used birth control. I said, "No, because making babies isn't happening for us." Then she asked if we still had baby fever. I said no. Thankfully she didn't say anything else about that and she continued with the next questions. Bless her! :-) She said that from what she could see, everything looked good, but I'm gonna get the result in 1-4 months anyway via snail mail.
After the baby boom last month (a cousin's son, my bro's second son, a friend's grandson plus I found out another friend is preggy), one thing popped out. I was totally fine with the births of the sons and seeing the preggy friend's pics and seeing little children and pregnant ladies during our holiday. What was tough to witness (surprise, surprise!) was my friend's joy and exhilaration on becoming a grandma (it wasn't making me bleed inside, but I felt a little thump after several postings). I think the reason is that I haven't really grieved fully this kind of loss - that I'll never be able to witness a son's wife's or daughter's pregnancy and I'll never become a grandma.
At one point I almost wanted to hide some of the things she shared, but I didn't. I did, though, take time to acknowledge and grieve the loss and I took some time away from Facebook before I commented on her posts and photos about becoming a grandma. I think being busy at work has also helped me in that area. :-) At work I don't have time to use my mobile phone, so I can focus on other things instead. And here's to hugging myself mentally whenever I'm in pain!
glitter-graphics.com
Anyway, last week I had my second pap smear invitation from the government. It's offered for free every 5 years, so yes, of course I'd gladly go and have myself checked up. I had never had any pap smear back in Indo and my first experience was so gentle. The gyno talked in Finnish very very slowly so that I would understand everything and I'm really glad she was that thoughtful.
Today I was checked up by a different woman, but at least I know already what was going to happen, so it was all good. She asked me some stuff, including whether or not we used birth control. I said, "No, because making babies isn't happening for us." Then she asked if we still had baby fever. I said no. Thankfully she didn't say anything else about that and she continued with the next questions. Bless her! :-) She said that from what she could see, everything looked good, but I'm gonna get the result in 1-4 months anyway via snail mail.
After the baby boom last month (a cousin's son, my bro's second son, a friend's grandson plus I found out another friend is preggy), one thing popped out. I was totally fine with the births of the sons and seeing the preggy friend's pics and seeing little children and pregnant ladies during our holiday. What was tough to witness (surprise, surprise!) was my friend's joy and exhilaration on becoming a grandma (it wasn't making me bleed inside, but I felt a little thump after several postings). I think the reason is that I haven't really grieved fully this kind of loss - that I'll never be able to witness a son's wife's or daughter's pregnancy and I'll never become a grandma.
At one point I almost wanted to hide some of the things she shared, but I didn't. I did, though, take time to acknowledge and grieve the loss and I took some time away from Facebook before I commented on her posts and photos about becoming a grandma. I think being busy at work has also helped me in that area. :-) At work I don't have time to use my mobile phone, so I can focus on other things instead. And here's to hugging myself mentally whenever I'm in pain!
glitter-graphics.com
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1. My grief has subdued over time. Lots of writing and grief work, getting support from people who get it, lots of letting go. My wounds have stopped bleeding for a while, though the scars are there, but I no longer operate on a daily basis with one eye on the bumpy scars. I’ve found more peace as time goes by and more purposes of the pain I’ve felt. I now firmly believe that my pain is not for nothing.