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The Childless Mother

Dealing with infertility and finding happiness

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fertility and healthy eating

Birthday Blues …. getting older and still no baby!

On the 19th of this month it’s my 38th birthday.

Well …..FUCK!!!

Birthdays after 30 have been mentally difficult for me because the world tells you your fertility decreases rapidly after this time. Now here I am nearly 40 and still no baby and honestly I just want to not give a shit anymore.

Sorry this ones a bit sweary lol. Just the way I’m feeling.

I wanted to make a big deal of this birthday to take my mind off all the ones before it I had tried to ignore. The passing of time is painful.

I was fine, but then the last couple of days I just feel that anxiety again. That feeling of being on the verge of tears constantly. I’m fighting the urge to take to my bed and not get back up. I won’t of cause. If I start to do that then it will only get worse.

I’m going to try really hard to celebrate it. As we all should. Not everyone is afforded the luxury of another year, each year you grow older is a blessing.

It may seem silly. What’s the difference one day to the next. It’s not like in reality my eggs just suddenly dry up a little more the next day another year passes. Even sillier is that mine aren’t that great in the first place so age is only one factor.

I’m so close to acceptance. No children for us. I can feel it. But then something will happen to knock me back.

A random middle of the night thought of what will my later years look like. If I’m lucky enough to reach old age, will we be lonely? Who will come to visit us at Christmas and random Sundays? My brain is a torture device I’m sure of it.

So instead of enjoying the moments and the now of it all. Here I am worrying about a future I don’t even know will happen. I frustrate myself!!

So this year. I will take the weekend. Because it’s a Friday this year so of cause you get the whole weekend to celebrate!! I’m going to hope as always the Birthday Fairy knocks me up or leaves enough money so we can keep trying πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈπŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈ.

Bloody 38!!! How did that happen ?!

I hate you pregnancy test!!!

I would think that over the last 15 years I am at this point keeping these pregnancy and OPK test companies in business.

It starts with the excited buy in the early stages of trying. The optimist in me would buy the expensive brands and in bulk. They would sit proudly on my bathroom cabinets like a promise of the future we wanted. I couldn’t wait to test.

With each passing month the affection for these tests and that promised future, they started to take on a cruel light. As the fertility testing starts and the scheduled sex, the waiting to take the next test is torturous.

Then you get within a few days of aunt flows arrival and try it early because you never know and I can’t wait any longer …..

Flashing ….. flashing…… flashing…….

Listening to my heartbeat in my ears from anticipation.

Waiting….. waiting……. waiting…….

Hands and feet cold with fear. And then…..

Negative. Negative. NOT PREGNANT.

Feeling nothing for a few moments, almost a resigned “I knew it would be negative” followed by overwhelming sadness. Another month gone and no baby. Sitting cradling the cruel test, hoping the answer would change. Maybe it was too early??

The following few days until aunt flow arrives a small glimmer of hope remains symptom watching and googling “early signs of pregnancy” like a crazy person. Convincing my cray-cray brain that I am indeed peeing more (I Wasnt) or that my boobs did indeed hurt (they did but they do every month) that those cramps must be implanting cramps (they were not. They were period cramps.) That usually ends with me in a bathroom somewhere silently crying after another failed month.

It takes strength to pull yourself up and dust yourself down and go in for another round. Hopes a cruel bitch.

At this point it feels like the only option is IVF for us. In recent years I haven’t bought any tests. One, because I hate them and two because if I get pregnant then I will know at some point! What’s the point of the repeated torture.

In some ways I am probably delaying the last little bit of weight I have to loose because if we do the IVF then there is a chance I have to look at another negative pregnancy test. I know most people won’t understand that but anyone in our shoes will.

It may seem slightly kooky but I would like a ceremonial burning of everyone I have ever had to take along with the OPKs.

I imagine how it would have been to have simply gotten pregnant and not needing all these tests.

To not know what the anxiety of the two week wait feels like.

To have not experienced the crushing disappointment of each passing month, or worst of all those rare tests that were in fact positive but then ended in bitter loss all the same.

Can you imagine that. All those years waiting. To finally see that PREGNANT only to feel that life leave you. That dream leave. My heart to just break.

So yep. I hate those damn tests. I will avoid that aisle at the supermarket, but if one day on the news you hear of a woman smashing up the pregnancy test alley at a North East supermarket. You can bet your arse it’s me. Harley Quinning the shit out of those smug blue boxes.

I’m not bitter of cause. Not at all πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. Lol.

Waking from grief.

If I think too hard back over the last ten years I get an ache in my throat. Tears often threaten. Life’s a wonderful gift, but sometimes it’s an evil bitch.

I have had some of the best moments, marrying my husband, my best friend. Cheesy but very true. New travels, new experiences. But it’s also brought with it some terrible lows. Especially the last three years.

Every miscarriage I have experienced has layered more and more sadness on my heart. It’s chipped away at it’s normally very optimistic exterior. After all, how could I not be optimistic, I found Ben.

When my cousin fell ill and then sadly died I felt a bit of me go with him. Again cliche to say that, but it’s the best way to describe how I felt. I just am not the same person I was before. We dealt with what had to be done at the time as a family then we disappeared back into our own worlds to try and process the loss.

It felt like every day I was screaming in pain silently. My exterior often smiled but then in the quiet places when I was alone, my tears fell freely. It felt like dealing with the loss of my babies and Gavin all together. It twisted and wrapped itself up in one big lump of pain that’s just with me all the time.

They often say times a healer. I don’t find that true. What I do believe is time gives you an opportunity to learn to deal with the pain you are feeling. It becomes the new normal.

I retreated from everything. I barely saw my friends even my family. I was happiest in my house not having to do anything or see anyone.

Then earlier this year I had a car accident. A really bad one and my cheese well and truly slipped off my cracker. All that time to stay still, all those hours alone. It wasn’t pretty. My world literally felt like it fell apart.

I made some big changes. I left my job. I stared my own business an extension of my husbands already successful company. We sell and fit blinds commercially and domestically. We spend A LOT of time together. I love it.

Just recently I have started to notice a change, like a fog lifting. I don’t feel so heavy all the time. I don’t feel the need to hide away as much. My smile is no longer forced, my laugh is genuine.

Don’t get me wrong there are some days the fog slips back and I feel the loss completely again, but it’s less frequent.

I can think of Gavin without feeling the urge to brake something.

I don’t feel like all of a sudden I’m over the losses we have experienced, I know there will be bad moments to come. Like when I see something I desperately want to tell him about and I still go to message him, for those wonderful few moments he’s with us, then I remember he’s gone.

It’s the small steps that are helping. The little glimpses of the old me.

Finding where we fit in a world that the “norm” is having kids is sometimes hard. I discovered this week that those of us many years into trying but still not lost hope completely, apparently we don’t fit in with those who defiantly can’t. The fact we still have hope however small separates us. Was a little upsetting as I have always taken comfort in anyone on this journey. Even if some have had children. We still bare scars from the journey.

So my circle now is even smaller it would seem. I’m 37. I have lost my babies, I am trying to learn how to get my head around the fact we will likely never be parents. Yes I still have a small glimmer of hope, but that is dimming with every passing year.

The grief I feel from the label “Childless”. One day I hope it’s a label I can wear without causing me pain. I feel like it might happen. Now the fogs lifting.

Happily Ever After …

As a child I loved fairytales. I completely bought into the Prince Charming saving the princess and living happily ever after. I believed in wishes coming true. I believed the Disney version of life. I knew one day I would get married and have kids just like the stories told me I would. Because that’s what being happy looks like.

Princess meets prince who saves her and they get married and have a family πŸ™„πŸ™„. Now how much those expectations have changed and I feel cheated. Over time, that picture I built fades and as I move further away from it I try to see something different.

If I had been granted wishes as a kid no doubt I would have used them for superficial things. How I looked probably. To be beautiful. As I grow older those wishes change.

Now as an adult I would simply have one wish. To be a mother. Well actually, that’s not true. I would take two wishes, one to bring Gavin back and for him to have never been ill or felt one moment of pain and then I want to be a mother. Would I want to go back and erase all of my bad experiences to get my wish? No I don’t think I would. That pain, as hard as it has been, it has shaped me. It’s made me stronger. It’s made me appreciate my husband so much and the life we have.

I feel like these stories have set me up for a massive fall. There is only ever one version of a happy ending and it’s not the one I am living. Childless in your late thirties character’s would probably only make it as the evil spinster or witch in the Disney version. No one really ever thinks to write about the happy ever after for the childless couple. Perhaps it’s hard to imagine.

Am I happy? Absolutely. I may be a little broken and of cause I’m still grieving but I don’t want that to stop me from living in the now.

I think that there are probably pros and cons of both versions, with or without children. I’m sure some of our friends with children may envy some of our lifestyle, as we do theirs. It’s human to wonder what it’s like to have different things but that doesn’t mean that I’m not happy. I at least got my Prince Charming ….. well in truth he’s more of a grumpy character but he’s mine all the same πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. I am no princess either. I most definitely do not need saving.

I hope as time moves on the happy ending tales perhaps include alternative endings. Time is already starting to change that. Some people may not understand why that needs to happen, I would say to those people. Be thankful that you haven’t ever felt like the outsider. That your story has probably been told over and over again as the ‘normal’. Maybe those new versions need to be told to offer hope and strength to those who just want to feel less alone.

The differences in all our stories are what make us so wonderfully human. I would wish one day that no one would ever experience infertility. ……See I’m getting greedy with the wishes now πŸ™ˆπŸ™ˆπŸ˜‚. That couples would never have to experience the heartbreak and sheer devastation of losing a pregnancy or a child.

Adapting to the new version of our story has taken some time. Yes sometimes I feel like I have wasted time always looking forward, it’s hard not too when you are always thinking that you may be pregnant this time next year or have a new baby. The more years that pass and it doesn’t happen it has taken its toll on my optimism. It’s also forced me to look at a different future. That alternate ending for us. For me that looks like many more years happy with my husband, appreciating how lucky we are to have each other. I hope to be traveling as much as we can.

Maybe one day I will be writing something like this….

“and her heart was no longer hurting, she no longer felt her arms ache from the burned of emptiness. She found contentment in just being the two of them, no longer wondering what if. They lived happily ever after. The End.”

πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈπŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈ One day. Who knows. ❀️❀️

Am I strong?

I talk about us being warriors a lot. I believe that 100%. How else do we get through the day like it’s all ok. When some days it just isn’t.

I do however think it’s ok to admit when you can’t be strong. So many people will say that, how brave, how strong we are and I appreciate those words so much. They give me actual strength. It doesn’t mean that sometimes I don’t fall apart.

That’s ok too.

In the first few days after my last miscarriage it felt like I was sitting watching the world happen. Like I was removed from everything around me. Every time I tried to grasp what was happening I would feel the ache and loose control.

People talk about broken hearts. They use it to describe break ups and hardships. I have done this. Nothing compares to that pain, it’s not a metaphorical pain. It’s a physical one.

All the cliques feel true. It is a unique pain. Loosing a child you desperately long for. Going from a lifetime of possibilities of plans, to nothing. Worse than that for me, because I have lost our babies so early there is no record of them ever existing. No one would ever know their little hearts did beat at one time. Now mine beats slightly off, it is missing the beats of our children.

To survive I have built a shell almost, so that I don’t feel the pregnancy announcements, I don’t feel the words misspoken and I don’t feel the loss of the unlived life with our children. That’s by day.

Then by night, when it’s quiet and my thoughts are my only company my shell cracks. Often in the middle of the night I can be found silent tears falling onto my pillow. The bathroom is another place my shell crumbles.

Grief is a strange experience. I have heard it described as waves. I can relate to this. One moment I can be perfectly fine and then a wave hits me and I fall apart spectacularly. I’m not ashamed of these moments. I’m human.

I absolutely believe that we are warriors, but it’s ok for us to feel the pain we need to to move forward. I don’t want to forget that I was ever pregnant and only look forward, I can’t always be looking back either of cause but I owe it to my babies to not forget them.

I don’t have them in my arms. I never will. My nursery may always be empty. My arms may never know the joy of holding our children. It then becomes about how we survive it.

It’s really simple for me. I am able to continue. I am able to keep the strength to share to help others because I may be a broken warrior, but I’m a warrior all the same. I get most of my strength from my husband, we are a team. Life may not be going how we planned but even with what we have been through, we laugh far more than we cry.

I’m always going to fight to keep going, but it’s ok to allow a little sadness out. It’s perfectly acceptable to mourn what we have lost. I don’t need to be strong all of the time. I’m ok with that too.

The DUFF, weight loss for ivf and PCOS

Loosing weight for me is so desperately frustrating. I have all these reasons I should be doing it. Mainly because we want IVF but everything just seems like it’s gone to pot since my car accident in March.

I have always felt like the DUFF in my circle of friend. I don’t say that for cry’s of “no your not!!” It’s just the facts. I have carried a lot of insecurities over the years for the way I look and I spend a lot of time judging what is wrong with my appearance. I can honestly say I have never felt beautiful, no matter how many times my mum or husband tell me I am. They have to right?

What pisses me off is that I am a strong woman. I have faced some of the worst human experiences and am still standing. I have put a brave face on and worked through loosing my pregnancies and continued to try. I have dealt with the knowledge that I would probably never be a mother even though it’s a dream I have had from being a child.

I carried on the day before Gavin my cousin died after spending a night with him, the same night he was told he was going to die. My hearts never been so broken watching him struggle with that information. I loved him so much and cancer ripped him from us. I continued to breath after he actually died even though it hurt to even do that. My grief screams silently everyday. Mostly no one would know. I continue on.

I have it in me to fight. So why do I find it so hard to fight for myself? For my self esteem. Why do we look for the faults? It’s so easy to do that. I know I need to continue with the weight loss but equally I know that I need to find acceptance no matter my size. Find a way to feel like I look good, to ooze confidence. I am beginning to realise no amount of weight loss will do that for me. I have to do that for myself from the inside.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. So I might not have a skinny arse, tiny waist but does that mean I am less than? Why does that make us feel so bad that we don’t always make that standard of beauty around us.

I have been struggling to keep motivated since the accident. I have since changed my job I’m doing more physical work now which means my appetite is insane so it’s been easy to eat off plan.

Things are finally settling down into a routine after a couple of months setting my company up. It’s going so well, actually smashing my targets but I’m worried I’m taking my eye off the weight loss plan.

I want to do it. I need to do it. I’m getting angry at myself for giving in to bad food choices and justifying them because I’m doing so much physical activity. I run much longer ….. my joggers are still as tight. Argghhhg!!!! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚.

I need to get a grip!!

Tomorrow is a new day ….. oh my goodness wish me luck. AGAIN πŸ™ˆπŸ™ˆπŸ™ˆ.

The Last Stone Blogs : 13 years trying to be a mother.

There is something kind of hopeless, sitting in a doctors office and being told they won’t help you anymore.

Back in 2010, we had a follow up appointment after the last of the Chlomid (a drug that stimulates your ovaries and helps ovulation) hadn’t worked, or should I say it had a little but we sadly lost the pregnancy early on.

I have spoken many times of the desperate ache to be a mother, that feeling of being slightly incomplete. That something is missing. It’s always with you no matter what the outside world may think. So when I was told that my weight would stop any further treatment, I felt like I was at rock bottom looking up at a mountain. They handed me a sheet of GI pointed foods and told me to eat from the bottom end of the scale and then sent me away.

I remember smiling and telling my husband I would do it. I would get the weight off. But in side ….. my heart was breaking.

Unless you have been in my shoes, unless you know the complete desperation of wanting something so bad but feeling like it just would be impossible. You can’t know. Especially when the nurses were telling me,

“You need to loose this weight but it’s going to seem impossible because you have PCOS”

Thanks for that. If I didn’t already feel like I had a mountain to climb that just made it worse. How could I ever do this?

For those reading who aren’t the person needing to loose weight. You need to know. YES it’s a great incentive, YES ITS A great reason but knowing that only makes the pressure so much worse. Especially when you try so hard and the weight doesn’t move.

I already felt like a failure as a woman. I couldn’t do the one thing that should be easy, that some people are trying to prevent. That I have actually been trying to prevent until meeting my now husband. Adding my weight to the problem I just felt so low, so useless. Also the issue of it actually being so difficult with having PCOS I just felt lost.

Then I felt angry, WHY ME? WHY US?? Why is it I have to do all of this when I see beautiful big women pregnant around me. Is it not enough that we have been through what we already have. It’s the first time in my life, I wanted to give up!! I needed a break. I needed to not feel like I was letting everyone down.

A couple of years passed but the ache for children didn’t go. I knew it was time. I started with small changes at first. More water, less processed foods. The weight to my surprise started to go.

I was 20st 13lbs the first time I stepped on the scales in Derby Hospital. Within a couple of years I was three stone down.

We decided to move areas, back to my home town in the North East of England, a fresh start. So my weight loss was put on the back burner. We went on some amazing holidays. I love to travel.

Then came more heartbreak when I lost my cousin in 2016. We had often talked about loosing weight when he was better. So when he was taken from us I felt like I needed to do it for both of us. It took a little while to get there but in 2017 I went back to Slimming World after a beach holiday where I just felt huge.

I was 18st 7.5lbs less than the fertility doc weight but still bad. Even sitting in my first class I had already thought about probably failing. It was half hearted because I didn’t trust myself. But I was wrong. I underrated how strong I could be. In my first week I lost 11lbs!! I simply followed the plan.

I wish I had the magic wand to share with you why it’s worked this time. The truth is I really wanted it, I didn’t look too far ahead and just took it meal by meal to start with. One of the biggest changes this time is that I am kind to myself. If I have a slip, as I still do all the time, I get back on plan from my next meal. I don’t wait. I just get right back up!! Keep going. Keep fighting!!

I’m 61lbs down now, I am into the last stone to hit that IVF weight. That miserable woman sat in that doctors office in 2010 wouldn’t ever believe this. I owe it to her to keep going.

I am going to diary the last stone however long that takes. I hope that it helps others out there no matter where you are on your journey.

Be kind to yourself. Plan and prepare for your weeks ahead I do a meal plan each week which I will share over the blogs coming up. But mainly. NEVER GIVE UP FIGHTING.

PCOS Girl vs Her Weight Loss Mountain.

About six years into our journey to becoming parents, I knew my weight would be a problem. It might even prevent us from being able to move forward with treatment.

When the Chlomid didn’t work and the other options were drying up. I had to face the fact it was time that I did something.

For years my weight had acted as a comforter, a layer of protection against the hurt I was feeling. With each baby lost, ripped from my body I took comfort in what I always had, food. As I did this layer upon layer went onto my body, like a physical badge of the pain I was feeling.

As I have written before, I was always a chubby kid. I was teased for it when I was young and in truth I did learn to toughen up about it. One day on my way back from college, I was probably 17 and not wearing very flattering jeans when a young boy asked if I would like his seat in my condition. He thought I was pregnant. I was so embarrassed I took the seat and thanked him. How do I tell someone. “No I’m just fat.” πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈπŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈ

I then met my now husband and our happiness turned to contentment and with that came eating, a lot of eating. The weight crept up and up but I didn’t see it. It was only standing in the fertility doctors office on those scales that would dictate what treatment I could have, as I stood there and the nurse told me I weighed iover 20st. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

The doctor then told me to get any further treatment. I would need to be below 30 bmi that’s 13st 3lbs for me. It felt like a mountain. When he added that it would prove to be difficult with the severity of my PCOS, I just felt like he told me I would almost certainly fail and that little voice that is often there telling me I can’t do something. Well she all out laughed at the idea of me trying to diet.

I made a good start but as promised it got difficult. Very difficult. I started to convince myself that it just wasn’t meant to be. I would find myself finding comfort in food and on went the cycle. On and on and on.

I wish I could bottle what’s been different this time. I would share it for free with anyone that needs it. I still remember the suffocating desperation, the urge to lose the weight but feeling like I couldn’t do it. My food cravings would always get the better of me. I could never imagine living without certain foods and if I tried I would think none stop of all the things I couldn’t have.

I heard so many times,

“Well if you really want it you will loose the weight”

The fact is if my body worked as others did that’s true but it’s soul destroying to give it your all, to deny yourself things you love to achieve that goal and then to lose nothing or even gain. The eyes in group on you like “she must be cheating!” I wasn’t.

I gave up frustrated. Resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t get the weight off. That no one wanted to help me.

In May 2017 my husband and I went on another amazing holiday to New York (my favourite place) and then on to Dominican Republic (I also love it there). I felt frumpy and unattractive. I hated being by the pool. I decided when I got back….enough was enough. It was time to change.

I went to see my doctor and let it all out. I cried so much that I was hiccuping by the end of the appointment. She was the first doctor that really listened. I felt she was with me and really wanted to help, she herself had lost weight recently and she understood how hard it was for me. She also offered me Olistat. I knew about the drug and it’s side effects …. google them they aren’t pleasant. But I was desperate. The drug stopped my body absorbing some of the fats in the food.

With prescription in hand and a renewed motivation I stepped into my Slimming World class, it’s not the first or even second time I had joined and even a small bit of me thought;

“Oh here we go again!” πŸ™„πŸ™„

The first week I lost 11lbs. I was amazed. I followed the plan perfectly. Trusted in it and it provided a truly awesome loss. That motivated me into the second week and on. Between the plan and the tablets I have lost 49.5lbs and 24lbs away from my ivf goal. I had lost all hope of ever getting here, it made me feel so terribly guilty and sad that it was me standing in my own way. Now I feel hope again.

I don’t have a magic wand, the tablets aren’t miracle workers you can still gain but I feel they have me at a even chance like anyone else now. It’s still hard, so hard on days when I still want to comfort eat.

The amazing thing for me is that as time is going on, food is becoming less important. Where before I would be thinking about food most of my day, now I just think about what will take the hunger away quickly and what will help towards my next weeks loss.

Do I still have bad meals/ days. OF CAUSE!! I’m still that chubby girl inside and I still love food. The biggest change for me this time is that I forgive and forget the slips right away, from the next meal. I don’t let it drag on or punish myself by trying to skip meals, that ultimately would lead to more bad choices because I was so hungry.

I’m a little kinder to myself now. It’s ok not to be perfect and I try to not compare myself to other people.

I guess there are a lot of weight loss stories out there much more inspirational than mine, but I wanted to share this. To talk to the person out there crippled by grief, desperate for a family but feeling like they will never loose the weight they need to.

You can do it. Take small steps. Take it one meal at a time. Be kind to yourself. Find support either a group or maybe even some friends that may want to loose some with you.

If you have PCOS and probably find yourself explaining this when the scales don’t reflect the hard work you are putting in. I understand that. It might not show this week but it will show eventually don’t loose hope. Keep fighting.

I hope soon I will be writing a post at target. Ready to start the scary chapter that is IVF. The question mark that has loomed over us for years. Will it work. Part of me thinks I was scared to loose the weight because if it doesn’t work than that is the last of my hope gone. That prospect is heartbreaking.

For now however I will remain focused and keep fighting every day to get there. I feel like we are warriors and I say that a lot. What we go through and then still function, it takes strength. I feel that even more so since battling every day to loose this weight. I imagine every day I kick its arse….. in the hopes one day soon, I will have achieved my dream. It will all be worth it then.

Mother’s Day Blues.

I have been back and forth on this blog for a few days. Finding the words sometimes, though it may shock some people to know, it’s hard. To articulate something that would be helpful.

What I want to post after 13 years of trying is hope that it gets better and a survival guide. The truth is. I can’t do that. I just can’t.

Sometimes my thick skin gets me by. I don’t hurt and I can even function and celebrate with our mums as it’s their day too. But then some times, like this year, it feels like I want to curl into a little ball and hide in my bed, and just wake up when it’s done. I’m so angry.

The crazy thing is I haven’t ever been so close to our goal of ivf, for the first time I am loosing the weight I need to. Only 24lbs to go!!

We have a day to celebrate those women in our lives that have provided for us, protected us and loved us unconditionally and that is a wonderful thing. The sting for women like me is that I could do that. I would love our children. Protect them. Provide for them. The cruel twist of fate preventing that, the weight of the lost heartbeats that I carried within me, it stings. It more than stings. Some times it cripples me.

I know not everyone will get it. How could they. It’s just one day, for some a silly hallmark moment to cost us money. To me it’s more than that. It’s a celebration of how truly amazing women are. We create life with our partners, life created out of love (mainly :-/) it feels like a moment to reflect on how much I feel like I’m failing. How incredibly broken I am no matter how big my smile is.

How very empty my arms are, where my babies should be. Like an incomplete jigsaw.

No hand made cards from school, no flowers, no breakfast in bed made by giggling children.

For a lot of the year I can focus on what we do have. There will always be tough moments. But this one day. A day just for mother’s. I’m not OK.

I wish more than anything I could find the words to comfort those of you out there struggling with this day too. All I can do is tell you that you aren’t alone. As I always. I’m here walking with you.

If on Sunday you have a moment where you can’t cope, you want to cry, that ever present lump causing the familiar ache in the back of your throat, I’m standing with you. I’m shedding tears for us too.

I hope that you have family or friends around you for comfort, that even if they can’t know how you feel they can lend a shoulder or a hug to share that burden if only for a moment.

I hope that some of you can find a peace and get through the day however you need to. Even if it means ignoring it all together.

More than anything…. I hope for all of us. It’s our last one in pain. I wish that more than anything.

Sending love and hugs to you all ❀️❀️❀️

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