I can’t believe I got rick roll’d today. You would think I would know better by know. And somehow those lyrics got to me. Never gonna give you up. As a loss mother, I have had to give up each of my babies. And now, I have had to give up even trying for a living child.
In May of 2013, I miscarried my fifth pregnancy, just at the beginning of the second trimester. It was a sudden traumatic loss both physically and emotionally. My hormones never quite felt like they have gone back to normal and I know my heart will never fully recover. My husband and I did continue trying to conceive for another year but I slowly realized my heart just wasn’t in it. I no longer actually believed I was capable of getting pregnant again or then successfully carrying that child to term.
It took me a while to build to the decision to stop trying for another child, to give up and try to accept that my life would be childless. I have read in some online support groups (and often repeated) that you know it’s time to stop trying when the fear of another loss outweighs your fear that you will never have a living child. When I am utterly honest with myself, I know that another loss would destroy me in a way that I do not think I could recover from. I don’t mean to imply that we ever fully recover from our losses (we love forever and so part of us grieves forever) but one more loss would have sent me into such a dark place that self-harm was a very real risk.
I kept the decision private for more than eight months. I had been active in online forums for infertility and loss for a few years and even co-moderate a couple of groups; sometimes there can be pressure in the infertility and loss community (whether implied or outright said in unhelpful platitudes) to never give up. I needed time to live with my decision before making the announcement that would separate me from a big part of my identity over the years. I slowly opened up to a few people here and there that I trusted to support that I made the right decision for me.
At the beginning of this year, I went public with the decision in the online groups that I help run. I was fortunate that people there respected me enough to not attempt to change my mind or encourage me with useless platitudes. The only real response that I received (and wanted) were those responses that simply said “that sucks and I am sorry.”
I wish I could say that living with the decision is easy. I think there was some relief at first, just to have the decision made and no longer be debating it. And I honestly don’t regret the decision. Over the last year, I have come to feel more and more strongly that it was the right decision. It is a relief to not have my hopes getting up each month, just to have them crushed again when Aunt Flo makes her dreaded appearance.
But it takes time to come to terms with the consequences of the decision. It’s hard to even categorize never having a child to raise as a consequence but it is the result of the decision I made. I spent most of the last year angry at the universe about the unfairness of it. Anger is part of the grieving process. Don’t deny the anger and grief that you feel. And we do have to grieve the loss of hope that comes with stopping trying to conceive. Truthfully, I am still much more quick to anger than I ever was before we started this journey of infertility and loss. But I can see that there is progress; the anger is a little slower in coming, not as intense, and faster in being forgotten.
I am not quite ready to embrace this childless life. I still have days where the pain of it all can take my breath away. But I am starting to see glimpses of a light at the end of the tunnel. While my life will never be what I had originally planned, that doesn’t mean that my life must be always be miserable. As the fog of grief starts to lift, I am starting to find my way into at least wanting to re-discover crafting, find new hobbies, and try to make a new plan for my life. Hopefully the next steps will be to actually implement some changes and rediscover my creative side.
To my sisters in sorrow who have stopped or are stopping the attempts to bring home a living child, I am sorry. It is not fair; we should never have to give up our babies or our hope of having a child. I hope you have friends and family in your life who will try to understand and support your decision. You can find support online too, such as in the Facebook groups that Still Mothers offers. It really does help to know that you are not the only one. There are many of us who share your pain and a burden shared is a burden lightened.
Be patient with yourself while the decision and grief is especially fresh. We all have days when just getting out of bed is an accomplishment so give yourself a little extra grace to know that it’s okay to have those days.
Give yourself permission to grieve and permission to find happiness, as each moment comes. Finding a new life plan doesn’t mean we forget the children we lost. We will never forget; we will always love and miss them. But they won’t be brought back by intentionally keeping ourselves in a state of misery. We may give up trying to conceive but we cannot give up on living life.
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Thank you for this! There is such courage and honesty in your words, and I can relate to every heartfelt emotion expressed in them. I’m so sorry for your losses. I miscarried all four of our babies, and I too, recently made the decision to not try for any more. My decision came three years after my third miscarriage. That was the miscarriage that led me to that extremely dark place you refer to. I developed an eating disorder, and severe depression, that I’ve fought my way out of. I am in a much better place with both now, but it’s been a long and painful journey. We will never get over such a significant loss of our identities, but I’m learning how to find other things to feed my spirit, poetry being one such thing. I wish you continued strength as you move forward with this heart wrenching decision.
Thank you so much for sharing your story Jennifer. I am sorry that you can relate to this experience but glad to hear that you have fought your way out of the dark place. ((hugs)) to you and I hope you continue to find more ways to feed your spirit too.
Thank you for this post, really needed it today after coming home to some parenting magazine I somehow got subscribed to when I never signed up and came home to 2 issues in the mail. I try to keep myself occupied with the thought of early retirement and moving somewhere tropical since we can’t have kids.
Ugh. Those magazines had to feel like such a kick to the gut. I am so sorry. ((Hugs)) to you.
I made my decision to no longer “try” back in 2004 after my second miscarriage. I divorced, and found myself married to an amazing man with 5 kids. God had plans far better than my own! I am blessed with my five stepchildren, but my 2 angels have inspired me to help others in my community.
Thank you for your honestly and vulnerability by sharing your story. God Bless you!
Thank you for sharing your story Suzy. It is great that your angels are inspiring you to help support others.
Hi Reen, thanks for this post. I also stopped trying to have a biological child, making the definite decision last year. My background as a life coach helped somewhat with the decision, but not as much as I might have expected. I was most helped by a women’s health coach and friend who was able to help me process many of the emotions around my decision in a graceful and useful way. This process continues and will probably always be needed, albeit less and less as time goes by. My husband is amazing but the rest of my family has been so-so about the whole thing. They just don’t say much for fear of saying the wrong thing, I think.
This year we had an unexpected health crisis this year which made the losses and grief fresh again. I wrote about it on my blog and like you, hope to help others through my experience.
I truly appreciate your sharing your story and want you to know that I am sending you healing white light as you move forward and create a life that is beautiful and creative and happy whilst surrounded by your angels. 🙂
I am sorry you have had to go through this same situation but glad that you had a good friend and husband to help you in the process. You are so right that the process certainly continues as life has a way of making our grief fresh again. ((hugs)) to you.
Thank you for putting words to what my heart feels. I’m sorry; this does suck, but thank you.
The situation does suck and I am sorry that you are also in the situation. ((hugs)) to you.
That was beautifully put, Reen, as always. I’m sorry this journey has ended for you the way that it has. You have given me and so many others, amazing support, wisdom, and knowledge, for which all of us are endlessly grateful. Sending you love and holding you in the light as you make new plans for your life. <3
Chupa! Thank you so much for the love and support, both in the past and now.