This week’s been a tricky one. Lots of things seem to have come together to upskittle us all.
When we were trying to conceive we were very lucky. Due to the pain my endometriosis causes and because my GP is amazing, we got seen by specialists very quickly and we knew before 9 months had gone that we were going to find it ‘difficult’ to conceive naturally.
Going through this process was unspeakably ‘difficult’. And I use that word because it is difficult to speak about. It is not something you can strike up a conversation about with just anybody and unless you’ve experienced it, it is impossible to describe.
But I tried really hard to come to some sort of terms with it. I asked for counselling which we were refused on the grounds that it was a physical problem not a mental one. (?!) So I demanded counselling. We ended up being offered some through the IVF clinic even though we knew we didn’t want it. (IVF, not the counselling.)
So we travelled to Glasgow (4 hour round trip) and had some counselling. The counsellor was brilliant and did help us work through things. But she forget to tell me that it doesn’t go away. Because you don’t have to deal with it all the time, you can put it in a box and not think about it. But then your sister-in-law has a baby and you have to deal with it again. Except this time you realise something.
I have been putting Big in an impossible situation. I have been wanting her to be my baby. And she can’t. She isn’t. She is my child and I am beginning to love her but she cannot fill that gap for me and I cannot expect her to. This week has made me start to come to terms with this. I’m at the top of the list for counselling and hopefully soon I’m going to get some help to begin to understand this a bit more.
But poor Big.
Big has been grieving too this week. She hasn’t said anything but she’s been thinking about being a baby. About not being a baby here. About her not having a baby photo. About Little being a baby. From the tiny amount we know about the girls, we know that the arrival of Little signified trauma for Big, that she was very emotionally isolated. About her birth mother. We’ve done lots of talking, (I’ve done lots of talking) and at one point I felt her relax into me so hopefully we’re helping her a little bit.
This week has been hard but also easier. Another teeny, tiny step forward on this journey. (I won’t mention bedtimes, bedtimes have been about 70,000 steps back but we’ll not talk about that just now.)
The best bits
Big wrote her Santa letter at nursery today. Last year she asked for a cheese sandwich. This year she asked for a chocolate and a flower to grow in the garden. I cried in front of all the parents. On the way home she explained that she wanted seeds to grow. I’m hoping this means a little bit of looking forward.
On the way to playgroup this morning Little said, ‘Mummy, sometimes it’s hard at playdroup.’ I asked her why and she said, ‘noisy’. I’m so pleased that she was able to tell me this. We spoke to the play leader and she’s going to take Little for times in the quiet area throughout the morning to give her some time out of the big room.
We made Christmas cards this afternoon. For an hour it was calm, Big let me give her some praise and Little didn’t eat the glue. Wins all round!