Hey! I’m fine thanks (lies), how are you?
Seriously, what is it with that question that makes us reply with our ridiculous default?
I always say I’m fine, when in actual fact I am not at all fine. Still hurting and still raw after two years. Still no baby for me to cuddle and kiss goodnight. Yet the world is full of expectant parents. Mummies and daddies-to-be sharing their excitement, telling the world how happy they are. Whole families preparing for the impending birth – “Hey guys, lets guess the weight/sex/body length/preferred biscuit of choice for this new bundle of joy!”
That’s the happy that I long for. The all consuming primal and intensely visceral desperate feeling that takes over every single day of my life – day in and day out. Just catching the train can be a traumatising event if, heaven forbid, a ‘baby on board’ badge hovers above me. How many women have I whispered ‘bitch’ under my breath as I walk past today I wonder? Yes, that’s right, I do that. So shoot me!
I used to feel guilt for that until recently, but now I allow myself to feel anger, hatred, jealousy, bitterness, and sadness because fighting them just makes them a million times worse.
I do wonder if I will ever feel normal again. Or if this is my life now. Every single day brings the same heap of emotions. That familiar all consuming primal and biological desperation to have one last child lands with a thud as soon as I wake up. How can you argue with such a deep and ingrained tug on every single cell in your body? Two years after losing Emily and it’s as strong as it was when I was pregnant with her. Trying to navigate daily life when just a trip to the supermarket can become a traumatic event. One glimpse of social media or even a fictional character on television can send your anxieties into a steaming rage. I burst into tears the other night because I couldn’t watch a particular comedy show any longer, just because one single episode of someone in labour stopped me in my tracks. A fictional character for crying out loud! That was the end of that one.
Are you bored yet? I am. God it’s dull. But yet here we go again, oh look another pregnant woman, it’s okay for her. Why is it okay for her? Why is it so easy for them? The simplest cure to a lifetime of torture, yet it is completely out of my reach.
Don’t get me wrong, we have some wonderful plans this year. Gigs, a holiday, a festival, plans with friends. Easter, birthday… What Easter egg do you want Molly? A baby. What do you want for your birthday Molly? A baby. Literally nothing else. I don’t want a single thing. Nothing else will ever come close. I have no choice but to live with it. Like it or lump it, as they say.
So no, I’m not fine. This is my reality. A living nightmare full of daily emotions that I have to accept and be okay with.
I am certain you’re thinking, my god she’s an ungrateful cow. I would. I do. I can actually feel what you are thinking right now. I can almost hear the ‘unfollow’ button being forcefully selected and a raised eyebrow going through the roof right now.
So there we have it. Another episode of My Troubled Life. I really do hope that one day I can bring you all some good news and, if not, at least give those of you in the same place some solidarity. I’ve got your back xxx