Saturday 6 November 2010

Future imperfect

There was no conscious decision to give up.

Only the feeling of utter hopelessness after losing the tiny leap of faith that was Little P.

Walking through the waiting area filled with expectant life after the ultrasound that showed only death we were both ridiculously embarrassed, Ray called it "The Walk Of Shame", and we both felt like imposters. I couldn't bear the thought that we might fail a third time. I couldn't bear the thought of that walk again. I couldn't bear any thoughts at all to be honest. In the space of a moment my mind became sludge.

We were destroyed.

(I have read the comments on that page several times and they never fail to make me cry. You are all so kind.)

One or two people (in the real world) made comments along the lines of, "You'll get there" and "It'll happen" and I would shrug without enthusiasm and mumble a non-committal, "We'll see" whilst thinking, "Oh no we won't".

But the thing is, when I did start to think through the sludge, it turned out that the thought of giving up was so much scarier than the thought of trying again. I mean way scarier. In fact giving up felt wrong. Feels wrong.

It's been about four months since we lost Little P. (I'm trying hard not to keep track of how far along I would be.) and my ladyparts seem to be functioning as best they can. I notice signs of fertility, I feel ovulation twinges and my cycle is regular.

And so...

And so, we are going to try to become pregnant one more time. We are going to try to stay pregnant one more time and try to give birth to a living child at the right time.

There will be no IVF, no donor eggs, please don't suggest it, we have no money and we will not get into debt. This is one last try with my old scrambled eggs, good food, vitamins, the odd herbal thingy, plenty of water, and whatnot. At least the whatnot is fun. Mostly.

We can't go on indefinitely, hoping and hoping and hoping not because it's exhausting but because we are running out of time. But we can go on for a little while longer. We can hope a little more.

I might let you know if it works. Well no, that sounds like a mean tease. Of course I WILL let you know if it works but probably not until I see a heartbeat and possibly not until after any scary tests and even then maybe only in an email* if you really want to know. 

This secrecy idea is partly because we wouldn't tell anyone out here in the real world, especially my parents, for as long as possible. The memory of my Mum's heart breaking when I told her about Little Poppet still haunts me and I won't do that to her (or me) again.

And if it doesn't work... well, that doesn't bear thinking about any more than we have already so we won't go there again for a while.

All I would ask of you is that you muster yourselves, perhaps light a candle or burn something, maybe walk around it three times, do a fertility dance or ritual, utter some sort of incantation and send the biggest most concentrated, clearest heap of conception intentions our way. We need them. Seriously.

And then,


we'll see.

*drop me a line and I'll add you to my "in case of pregnancy, inform" list.


  1. I don't know what there is to say, except that I am here to follow along with your journey, no matter what road it may take. I hope it leads you to life and peace.

  2. You have all my hopes, love, support, and good wishes. I hope I'm on that email list. And, for what it's worth, I am proud of you for knowing what you need to do.

  3. Wishing you so much strength and love and fun and SUCCESS in the trying part. Massive, massive TTC vibes from here.

  4. Very best-est vibes on their way xo

  5. I hope I can be on the email list.
    All my hope is with you both. All of it.

  6. Oh Barb~crossing EVERYTHING and sending many positive vibes to you and Ray. xoxo

  7. Intentions galore, headed over the seas and straight to you. xo

  8. Good luck! I really hope this try works for you.

  9. I am sending my intentions your way and will continue to do so as long as necessary.

  10. Adding intentions and wishes and will think of you when I light my candles.

  11. Barb,

    With all my heart I am hoping for you and Ray to have your dreams fulfilled.

  12. Barb & Ray,

    May all your dreams come true!

  13. i've wondered for a while if you were still hoping/trying. it's good to know you are, as well as that you have a definite end point in mind.

    wishing you all the luck in the world xxx

  14. Wishing you luck.

    (here from the creme)

  15. The comments on this post also made me tear up because support is a wonderful thing.

    Especially when you feel destroyed.

    Sending great vibes your way and now following from Creme de la Creme.

  16. Wishing you luck and healing. I'm so sorry for you losses.

    (here from creme)

  17. I have tears streaming down my face. For you. For your husband. For your son. For your Poppet. I'm so very sorry. I don't know what else to say. It's just devastating.

    Your blog is beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful blog I've ever come across. Your son is beautiful. Poppet is beautiful. Your photography is beautiful. It is breathtaking.

    Creme de la Creme #125
    I sit here not typing. I can't seem to find the words. There is so much pain on the creme de la creme list. So much suffering. But your story, especially, really seems to touch me deep inside.

    I hope your courage to move forward, to try again, is rewarded. I hope you find what you seek. I express in words how much I hope for that.

    Thank you for sharing with us. Thank you for sharing your precious son and your wonderful Poppet. Thank you for sharing you.

  18. I'm here from the Creme. Thank you for your lovely post. I am so sorry for your losses and wish you a peaceful 2011 in which your dreams come true.



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