mother's guilt

There’s something that happens when you have a miscarriage. Speaking to other women who have suffered in the same circumstances creates an unspoken bond. We all feel it differently but the truth is, unless you’ve had a miscarriage, there’s no way you can truly appreciate the effect it can have on you – physically, mentally and emotionally.

That’s not in any way a criticism, just the reality of the experience versus the imagination.

I expect it’s similar with women who have embarked on that good old fun-ship called IVF. I’m deliberately sarcastic about the ‘joy’ of IVF because by all accounts I’ve been given, it’s one of the most grueling journeys you can take yourself on.

It always makes me wonder about people who are against the premise of IVF from an ethical standpoint (and if you are, that’s fine, we’re all here to speak our truth). My take is, if you have a couple, and most particularly a woman, who is willing to put her body through that amount of pain and stress in order to have a child, then you’ve got a woman who really, really, REALLY wants a baby. Surely they’re the kind of people we want to be having babies in our world? Not just the girls who are walking fertilization machines and have kids because the baby bonus sounds like a good deal. I DIGRESS.

Where was I?  Ah, yes.

These bonds that we form through our shared struggles  - be it miscarriage, infertility or IVF, can be incredibly comforting, especially at times where the future of ‘family’ is blurry to say the least. These are the people who you know ‘get it’. No awkward conversations, no not knowing what to say – no well meaning but really frustrating advice.

I remember times after my second miscarriage where I felt like these were the only people I wanted to talk to, that it was just too heartbreaking to speak to other people who loved me dearly, but who didn’t know what to say.

But then something happened.

I fell pregnant.

And this time it stuck.

I embarked on such a ridiculously happy time in my life. All those dreams and wishes were finally coming true. But through all the elation, excitement and joy there was a pang of guilt, and if I’m to be honest, a little bit of fear. How was I going to tell those women that I knew and loved that I had broken the curse? What had I done differently that scored me a golden ticket into the baby factory? I knew for the most part that they would be over-the-moon happy for me. I also knew a little part of their heart would break as they were reminded that their journey was still unfolding....and they might have a really, really long way to go.

The reason I know this is because I’ve felt that very same heart break before.

I know that there’s also a heap of women out there who want babies but who haven’t yet met that special person they want to bring tiny little people into the world with. But there’s something different, something even cruel, about putting so much of your heartfelt energy into trying to make life – to even get a glimpse of what it would be like – then to have it stolen away from you again. It’s for those beautiful people, who have been told by the universe that their efforts aren’t good enough that I ache.

It can all be negative though, right? I guess on the flipside I can serve as a beacon of hope. While I’m feeling guilty for finally getting my embryo to talk to my uterus, maybe they are thinking, “Well, if she can do it, so can I”?

Or maybe they're not even thinking about me at all.

Because let’s be honest, as any woman who has been trying to fall pregnant will tell you, no story about some miracle feat by another women falling pregnant makes one teency bit of difference to you when you keep getting a single pink line on that little stick.

I then have to ask myself if it’s really guilt I’m feeling, or just fear? Do I feel reluctant to share my happy news with them to protect their feelings or am I just trying to avoid the relationships that connect me to a particular set of memories? Am I trying not to feed the fear that tells me my new life is a dream and if I’m not careful I’ll wake up from it?

Maybe it’s a bit of both.

I can tell you one thing for sure though. If I could, I’d play mother stork and drop a gorgeous little bublette onto each one of their doorsteps.  With a little note attached saying:

 “You deserve this. xx”