Infertility

We’ve been trying for a year.

If it worked straight away, I would be complaining of sleepless nights and sore boobs right about now. Instead we are booking doctors appointments to find out what is happening.

I don’t know what they are going to say. I honestly don’t mind either way, it’s just time we know now. So we can plan our family together, what ever that looks like.

It excites me that our children could be out there now, living and breathing and needing us now.

It sure is becoming a momentous year for us, in every which way.

 

But why foster care?

It’s a really hard question to answer, but one I am getting more and more in recent weeks.

Even our head decision maker on the foster care panel asked us if it’s the right time.

I can’t explain why in one answer. There are so many reasons. The main one is just my instinct.

You know when you just get a feeling in your gut?

I can’t explain it anymore than that.

I have a pang in my tummy that it’s something I have to do. These thoughts are like a screensaver to my brain.

Whenever I’m not thinking about anything else, my mind veers back to dreaming of foster care.

Other people’s main concerns:

Q. Do you think you’ll be able cope?

A. I don’t know. I know it’s going to be incredibly hard and emotionally draining, but I’m hopeful it will balance out with success stories. I have an amazing support network around me that I know will help us through this.

Q. Why now?

A. If not now, when? Is there ever a good time for anything?

Q. What if it’s dangerous?

A. The truth is there is a little risk, placements sometimes don’t work out and that’s okay. We have amazing trainers at our agency that teach us how to deal with possible situations. The truth is these children are in far more danger now than they could ever put us under.

Q. What if you want to keep them?

A. If appropriate for the situation and placement we could file for adoption. But I am also okay that may not be best for the child, or us or others linked to the placement. The fact is there are going to be lots of adults involved in the upbringing of our foster child.

Q. What if they give you a child that you don’t want?

A. Firstly it doesn’t really work like that, you don’t just get given a child. You read their profile and they read yours and you can decide yes or no before they arrive. It is normal for 1 in 3 placements to break down and we will be supported through this if that is the case.

Q. What if it’s too difficult?

A. I just need to try.

Q. What does Jim think about this?

A. (I just asked him) “It’s not something I would ever have chosen to do, but it really excites me how passionate Jordan is about it and that makes me want to do it.”

If you are interested in Foster Care or have any other questions please get in contact with  me. I would love to speak to you about the process.

I am also hoping to update you all in either blog/photo/video form in the coming months as we accept our placement and welcome them into our home.

Me and my councellor

I’ve been seeing a councellor for three weeks now.

I wasn’t loosing it, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t bitter or having twisted thoughts, I wasn’t crying all of the time, I wasn’t tired or depressed, I wasn’t suicidal or struggling with my marriage or at work.

But I don’t want any of the above to happen if i don’t have the toolset to help me cope with that.

I don’t want to be bitter.

I want to face grief head on.

 

It’s good too.

I like speaking about Dad. Remembering and enjoying telling a stranger about how amazing he was. Sometimes it all sounds to good to be true, like I am making it up. This makes me appreciate how truly lucky I am to have him.

Don’t get me wrong, its not all silly anecdotes and fond memories. Some feelings are raw and hurt very much. I need to learn to express and work through these feelings too. They are just not as easy to come through, when I am so used to looking for the positives all of the time.

I’m just saying, I’m pleased I am having councilling.

I am not ashamed of it.

I think it is a fantastic and free resource available to everyone and anyone and I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.

Every week I feel more and more accepting of my new reality.

Farleigh Hospice really do life changing work, with all that walk through their doors.

immortality

When you loose someone close to you, you are reminded that we are not going to live forever.

This reality check gives you two options:

  1. be sad about the idea of dying
  2. live everyday you have left to the fullest

I don’t know about you, but number two sounds far more tempting!

Im going wild this year. I’m leaving my well paid and steady teaching career, I’m shaving my head, I’m painting my skin, I am starting a business, I am travelling the world, I am becoming a parent… all in 12 months.

Have no regrets.

Life is too short.

My aim is to inspire you to do the same, okay you don’t all have to shave your heads, but my challenge to you is to live life to the fullest. Everyday. Not just on Saturday.

Say yes not maybe

run don’t walk

forgive quickly

and love everyone

 

because life is short and living life is wonderful.

 

 

 

 

Feelings on Father’s Day

How am I doing this year?
I’ve been thinking about Dad extra amounts this week. More has reminded me of him. I’ve felt quieter and more subdued. I’ve been nervous about how today would be. 

This morning I’m trying to keep busy, but also keep in mind the knowledge that I can still celebrate Fathers Day. I have a wonderful Dad, that in twenty six years with me, gave me a wonderful childhood, advice and so much love. 

Looking forward, this time next year, we will be celebrating Father’s Day in a different way. We will be parents, caring for our gorgeous little boy or girl. A child far less fortunate than myself, in regards to parenting. Jim will step into that role. He will be wonderful. He is so much like my own Dad. 

Please don’t feel sorry for me, or any other grieving children today. Just promise me you will spend time with your own Dad’s while you still have the chance.

Hate breeds hate

I am saddened to see so much hate on my newsfeed this morning. 

So many close minded opinions, sharing of religious statements taken out of context and articles plucked from thin air to prove your way is right. 

I love a healthy debate. One in which each person in turn airs their views, open to be swayed by others in a way to understand eachother and consolidate what you believe.

I agree we have to challenge those that are doing wrong in our eyes, not to condemn but to understand why they think differently from us.

Next time you see hurtful comments or articles shared, instead of tutting and ignoring it, or sending hurtful comments straight back why don’t you ask a challenging open question?

E.g.

  • I am intrigued by your point of view. I would like to understand how you came to think this way?
  • I understand your anger, I am saddened by what is happening too. What do you think you or I can do to help on a day to day basis?
  • I am trying really hard to understand where you are coming from. Could you please send me useful links so I can research this for myself?

Can you hear the difference? It is obvious you are from another opinion, but you are open to be swayed or challenged. 

Maybe this way you will either:

  1. Receive a very well thought out answer that may help you understand where they are coming from.
  2. Have the opportunity to share your beliefs also in an open and relaxed discussion
  3. Or more hateful statements will be returned and at this point you can choose to leave the conversation or ask another kind and considered open question.

I am going to be selective on what I write and when. Maybe private messages rather than comment sections will be more amicable?

I have no idea if it’s going to work, but I can’t swipe passed anymore hate without doing something about it.

I would appreciate your support.

Please share your kind and open opinions on what I have said in the comments section below.

Remember love online, offline, always.

The same black dress

 

I didn’t think yesterday would hurt as much as it did.

But it’s still so soon. It seems like only a fortnight ago we had the whole family round for my Dad, and now this.

I woke up in the morning with a huge knot in my stomach. With gritted teeth,Β I put the same black dress on I had worn last summer. I painted on war paint. Heavy makeup so I couldn’t cry. Nothing could pass through my mascara. Like filling a hole. Like glueing my insides shut. Nothing would get in, nothing could seep out.

I got in the car.

I told Jim that I wasn’t going to cry. I was determined for this not to get under my skin. Not to reach me. I would build a wall where no emotion could pass. Self preservation at it’s finest. I didn’t take tissues in with me. I didn’t need them.

I sat through the Crematorium part of the ceremony. I was in a daze. My mind kept drifting away. I wasn’t concentrating on the words or what was in front of me. Like it wasn’t really happening. I stood up and walked away. I gave no-one eye contact. I refused to let them in.

I kept moving, flitting from one group to the next. Avoiding small talk, questions and conversation without looking alone. All a tactical ploy. All part of the plan. I swerved conversation to happy things and I dodged the curve balls.

It was working. My mascara hadn’t moved. I felt in control. Now onto the church.

I opened the order of service.

It hit me.

The same song. The same song as last summer. Sitting right there. How could I possibly sing that? How could I hear others sing that? I flicked through the pages to find other songs repeated. How could I get through this? I felt like I had been set up.

I decided I wouldn’t sing. I would stand crossed armed and closed mouthed. I would let the words pass over my head and then sit back down. no one would even know.

The organ introduced the first few chords.

My throat felt like it was going to burst. A single tear leaked onto my right cheek. I didn’t wipe it away. I just felt it trickle down my skin.

But then more started seeping out. This time from both eyes. I closed them shut and leaned into Jim. I felt my shoulders shaking and my fists tighten.

I lost it.

I cried more than I had since my Dad was diagnosed fifteen months ago.

All of my anger and sadness and confusion and frustration poured out of my body.

My sister passed me her tissue.

Why was I crying? I was so angry at myself. I wanted to be strong. I thought I could do it.

 

My eyes kept leaking right into the evening.

I was a mess.

Over nothing and over what happened then and now and everything.

I couldn’t even put into words why I was so overwhelmingly sad. Only that everything I had been holding in all this time was bubbling up and I couldn’t stop it.

 

 

It was lovely though. The day. Everyone being together.

 

I finally got home, slipped off my black dress.

And went to sleep.

 

I am feeling more myself today. I think I still have more to let out.

But that can wait for another day.