Now What?

I have surprised myself as to just how rough I have found reaching the end of the road to be. I thought I had processed and accepted so much over the last five and a half years - so to be feeling as raw as I do right now is a shock. I really thought I'd be doing better than I am. But I can't change the way I feel.

I spent the first part of Mother's Day in tears this year. At first I didn't want to go out. I didn't want to be out there, in the world of completed families celebrating my incomplete family. I cried into my husband's arms that it  it was all my fault that we were here - no baby because of my body - and that we had to go through the adoption process all for nothing...

But my daughter wanted to go out and so did my husband. So we found a not-so-busy cafe, which was perfect for the frame of mind I was in. We sat out in the sunshine and had lunch then went for a drive to visit A Guinea Pig Village I'd heard about. There was an adorable shop nearby and I got spoilt with a few things from that shop for Mother's Day. So in the end, I was able to celebrate the day despite the grief that came up.

It has been so hard sitting with this grief that most have no clue I am carrying. I want to scream at the Mums Of Two or more that I sit chatting with as we wait for our kids after school that I couldn't have any more kids. Couldn't even adopt, as it turns out. I want them to know that I wanted, more than anything, to Be A Mother Again. More than anything.

So now what God? I have handed my life over to Him but I have no idea what comes next. I've just four weeks left in my job and I don't know where I'll end up next job-wise. I am picky. I want and deserve to be happy and so am being very careful and selective around what I apply for. I am drawn to either working with children with special needs or going back into the abnormal psychology field (I have previous experience in both areas). 

I fear my heartache won't subside. I've had to apply self-preservation big-time. I cannot be around pregnant women and if I have to be; it has to be at arm's-length. I cannot cope with babies at this time. A woman from the infertility support group I started has had a baby recently but I've told her I'll have to leave visiting for a while as I'm processing my own fate and that has been hard. 

I want to kick and scream and yell at anyone who cares to listen that I am struggling to accept our outcome at this point in time. The trouble is, nobody really does want to listen. Babies smile at me, toddlers walk towards me, preschoolers want to talk to me - and my heart breaks every time. I'm not sure any of this will ever make sense - why I have such a desperate longing to be a Mum again and why it wasn't to be.

So in the meantime - until I get to the place where I've settled into the life God has chosen for us - I have to find other things to focus on. At the same time, God has given me many signs that it's time to slow down, to give myself a break, to stop and to listen to what He has to say. Easier said than done.

What I've realised is that in order to cope with my intense feelings of grief over the last few years, I've created (unintentionally), a very busy life. My job is one that is flat-out with never enough hours in the day and often involves extra unpaid hours. This has meant I've struggled to fit part-time work around my husband's 12 hour shifts and the needs of my autistic daughter. I've been "running" for so long - trying to fit in the gym and community commitments amongst the chaos of work and home. No wonder I tripped and fell six months ago and seriously broke my arm at the elbow. No wonder I have a rash on my chin right now that doesn't appear to be going away in a hurry. No wonder I am emotionally depleted. It has all been too much to handle.

But it's a new chapter now, whether I like it or not. I am trying out a Tai Chi class on Monday night as I'm attracted to more gentle forms of exercise right now and am more than happy to let go of my gym membership. I have found a novel-writing workshop next month so plan to attend that. I've applied for a couple of jobs that match family life and hopefully won't be such a stretch should I get one of them.

I'm a fighter. I know I'll get there. I have to get there. It's just such a lonely road. More than ever. I just don't know anyone who went through secondary infertility and didn't get a baby. All my contacts did in the end...So no-one understands just how awful it is to be faced with a garage-full of clothes, toys and bikes that you were hoping to pass on to your second child. No-one gets it. And I'm too tired and burnt out from it all to even begin to explain my feelings. I'm done with justifying why I feel the grief I do.

Our profile got sent back to us last week. Wow, was that a kick in the teeth. Yes I knew it was coming back - but to receive it back in the mail...I cannot bring myself to open up the courier package at this stage. Not now. One day it will, as my husband says, be a historical document of a point in time in our lives. Of a dream we hoped for. Hopefully one day we'll look back and see all the good things that happened instead.

I feel so many things right now that it's almost impossible to name all the feelings. But the feeling that hurts the most is a lack of hope. I have lost some drive and oomph in my life because of this whole experience - it has left me feeling weak, hopeless and disspirited. I can only hope that this gentle path that God is prompting me to go on now - the one where life will slow right down (or as much as possible!), will allow time to heal, to reconnect with myself in mind, body and soul, and to find joy in other things again.