Do you ever look at a photo and it instantly takes you back to that time. To how you felt. To what was happening around you.

The picture with this article was of my husband and I after I lost a pregnancy. We went for a walk around our little village shortly after. The picture kills me now to look at because I see the hurt and pain in my eyes.

The desperation. The absolute and complete certainty that all hope was lost. That we would never be parents that my arms would be empty forever. That my heart would always be a little bit broken.

Three years on from this and I am healing. The ache from wanting children is still there but you do find a way of living with it. By looking around you. By seeing what good is in your life. For me that’s my wonderful husband, my mother, family and completely amazing friends. There is a lot to be thankful for.

I remember being in the thick of desperately wanting a child. It consumed my life and I would only ever read success stories. Those who had managed to finally get their bundle of joy. I wondered where were my fellow Childless / childfree people?. Today it’s different. So many wonderful women write about being Childless and do a lot to support us. I am thankful for them too “A Birds Eye View” is a personal favourite.

I do not know if I will ever be a mother. Does that hurt still. Of cause

I do know I will still be a worthwhile human being, I will still contribute to the world.

I think we make the rest of the world a little uncomfortable because we don’t fit the standard. Especially those people who are Childless by choice. But we fit perfectly into our world. We matter. A life can be full and happy even if you ache for something you can’t have or have decided it’s not for you.

I will always be reminded at times of that little break in my heart. It will always sting. But I am determined to not wallow. To be able to look back and feel like I didn’t spend all this time so consumed by baby making that no other happiness could break through my grief.

I look for moments that are quiet. That I can turn my face up to the sun (when it’s out) and say,

“Thank you for the life I have. It’s pretty great.”