Fighting Depression

Hello, everyone. I know it’s been a couple of weeks. Truth is, I just haven’t had the heart to write. Like my family, I’m struggling right now. Losing Brittany and my grandfather has left this giant, gaping hole in my heart that isn’t even close to mending. Every day is a battle against the heartbreak and numbness that I feel. Seems odd, doesn’t it, that I should be feeling two such disparate emotions, but that’s where I am. As you may have guessed, these latest losses, so close on the heels of losing my cousin and grandmother, have impacted my mental health. I know that I’ve previously spoken of my struggles with anxiety, but today I’ll talk a little more about it, as well as my struggles with depression.

I first started noticing a rise in my anxiety earlier this year. My sleep patterns became worse, with nights of very little sleep interspersed with nights that were plagued by nightmares or unsettling dreams. It can sometimes take me over an hour just to fall asleep, and then only fitfully. It all leaves me feeling constantly exhausted. Added to that, I was noticing that heart palpitations and my heart racing were occurring more and more. I started logging these moments, and there were times when I’d be lying in bed for 20 minutes, heart pounding at 98 beats per minute, for no reason I could discern. My chest will ache, with no relief, for long moments. All in all, it’s painful, exhausting, and never ending.

Our lives have seen a lot of changes this year, it’s true, and I know this has added to my anxiety. I’d already decided to speak to my doctor even before Hurricane Florence hit.  Afterwards, of course, it became apparent that I absolutely had to go in. So many losses in such a short time has taken its toll on me.

Right now, I know that my anxiety is high, for good reason. And also, the specter of depression is back in my life. It is not my first battle with the disease, and most likely, it won’t be the last, but I take comfort in knowing that I have already sought and received help. It’s no surprise that this demon should be back in my life at this time. The hurricane, the unexpected deaths of my cousin and grandfather, and the weight of anxiety have torn down my reserves. You could say, “Well, of course you feel sad. You’ve had a traumatic experience.” That’s true, but depression isn’t sadness. It’s far more complicated.

What I feel right now is isolation from everything around me. Yes, I can laugh. I can smile. I can give hugs and respond to your questions. What I am having trouble with is FEELING. It’s as though there is a veil between me and the world around me. Every day feels suspended in sticky syrup, droning and the same. And yet, I make myself smile when I am in public. I engage. I support those that need support. And when I get home, I am simply drained from the effort. Part of this is possibly my brain’s way of protecting me from the hurt of loss, but I want to feel that. I almost feel as though I can’t grieve properly because I can’t access that hurt, that pain. Instead, I feel emptiness.

I’ve had so many people tell me that I’m strong, or that I have to be strong for those around me that need me. Trust me, I want to be. I want to be that support. I have been. I will continue to do so, especially for my family, who I know need me as desperately as I need them. But I don’t feel strong. I feel weak. Lost. Right now, I am walking through my days in a daze, and it’s a struggle. I think that’s what some people don’t understand about depression. It isn’t just crying and sorrow. It’s emptiness at the same time you feel the weight of the world sucking you down. There is a blankness inside me, lined with jagged edges.

As of last week, I am on medication to help me. I have an incredible network of family and friends I can and do talk to. I will continue to tread water until my medication begins to build in my system, helping me to navigate this new world around me. I will continue to fight, because giving up isn’t an option.  I promise that I will get back into the swing of weekly blogs again soon. I will finish my 3 part series on suicide as well, but hopefully you’ll understand why right now in my life, I just don’t have it in me at the moment to tackle the subject. It’s one I’m passionate about, and I want to give it my best. I can’t right now. I hope you’ll all stay with me on this journey. Until next time.

Heartbreak and Hurricanes

As I am sure some of you have noticed, the last two weeks have been blog free. I'm sorry for that, but unfortunately there are two good reasons. The first is that Hurricane Florence hit my area of NC hard. Massive flooding has had some sections of North Carolina completely cut off, until just this week. We lost power during the storm, and it came on Sunday. We were blessed to escape any damage to our home or property, but unfortunately,  our family can't say that same. This leads me to the second reason there was no blog lately. Tragically, last Monday, in the early morning hours, my grandfather and cousin passed away.

I know that not all of you know my family, so here's a quick history lesson. My grandmother and grandfather raised my cousin, Brittany, from an early age. We lost my grandmother in January of 2016, and it was a hard, hard blow. This, however, has blown us apart. It's hard to comprehend one sudden death, but two is a tragedy I wouldn't wish on anyone. I know how much both of my grandparents loved Brittany, and I know that living without her here would have destroyed them. Likewise, Britt couldn't have coped with the loss of both of them gone and her here. I know in my heart that as hard as it is to lose them all in so short a time, this is the way that God has deemed it should be. That knowledge doesn't stop the pain. It doesn't keep the flood of memories at bay. It doesn't stem all the tears that have flowed for a week now.

My granddaddy once told me, shortly after Britt was born that he had four knees. When I asked him what he meant, he grinned at me and pointed to his knees. "well, I have this knee, and this knee, and a Courtney and a Brittany." I can't describe the heartbreak of knowing that I am now his last "ney" on this Earth. It is now my job to walk this world for him, and try to honor him and Brittany as best I can. God, I miss his smile already. I miss his hugs. I miss him, and the essence of who he was. I could go on for days, but I won't. I'm not sure my heart could take it.

Granddaddy was a police officer for 20 years. He served our town and was well liked, and a wonderful person. At his service, he received the honors of "Amazing Grace" on bagpipes and T.A.P,S., as well as Masonic rites. For Brittany, however, we did things a little differently. I stood for my family and spoke about our girl, the one that we all raised and loved so much. Below is my speech to her, and the body of this week's blog. Next week, I will try to get back on schedule, but bear with me, friends. It's been a hard few weeks, and more are to come. But for now, I want to share my words about my sweet Brit Bratt.

Today, as I stand before you, celebrating Brittany’s life, I am reminded of a song lyric from the musical Hamilton. The song says, “I don’t pretend to know the challenges we’re facing, I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost.” While this is true, I don’t want this moment to be only sadness. She did not live her life in sadness, and she would not want us to dwell there now. I believe that we can best honor her life today by sharing some of the happy moments she gave us, and there are so many.  

Brittany was brought to us on the winds of Hurricane Fran in 1996, and she went Home with Hurricane Florence. From the time she came to us, she was nothing but joy and light. As a baby, she had the blondest hair, so blonde it was nearly white. It was stand up all over her head, almost like dandelion fluff.  Even from her earliest days, she shined so brightly. Always one to go her own way, she didn’t crawl in the traditional sense. Instead, she would wiggle, scooting her head across the floor until she got to where she was going. She had the best disposition, and always had a ready smile.  

As she grew, we discovered the Brittany that everyone would come to love. An old soul with a childlike spirit, she spent every day of her short life bringing joy to everyone that knew her. Her heart knew no hatred, no malice, no unkindness. Brittany knew no strangers, and truly only saw the good in everyone she met. She was always ready with a hug and a smile.

From her earliest days, Brittany was the brightest light. Her smile could outshine the sun. Her laugh was always genuine, always heartfelt. There was no pretense about her or artifice. She loved Winnie the Pooh, the color red, and music. I remember her from her earliest years, bopping in the backseat to “Wanna Talk About Me” by Toby Keith, or whatever song was playing on the radio. More than anything, Brittany loved her family. There was never a time that you saw her that she didn’t drop everything to give you a big hug, and ask you how you were. Brittany never shied away from the words “I love you”, like so many of us do. Instead, she always made sure that you knew how she felt.

Brittany also loved animals. She rescued Lucky, her beloved 3 legged dog, and they shared beautiful years together. I know that he was waiting there, ready to greet her Home. Her sense of wonder over any animal, whether it be a dog, or a cat, or even a squirrel scurrying up a tree was infectious. She only knew how to love wholeheartedly, which is why I believe she shared such a kinship with animals.

Children loved Brittany. Her purity of spirit, and vivacity drew them in. And my, did Brittany love them back. She could talk to them and relate as not many can, and children sensed that. She would play any game, sing any song, and talk to children for hours. Rarely did she see a baby that she didn’t hold or cuddle.

I have spoken to so many people that have reached out, and all have said the same thing: Brittany was one of a kind. She was sweet. She was kind. She was funny. She was good to others, and genuinely cared. Her loss in this community will be felt for a long, long time to come. To all of you that have reached, out, we as a family thank you. Our loss is yours as well.

I honestly believe that some souls are so pure and good, that they are only loaned to us for a short time. Brittany is one of those souls. Her purpose here like a shooting star: to briefly illuminate our lives and bring us joy and wonder. My sweet Britt Brat, we loved you and we always will. Your time here cannot be defined by years, but only by the precious moments and memories that we share. You changed every person that met you, for the better. Rest now, our sweet girl.

I urge you all to hug those you love. Don't shy away from telling them how you feel. You never know when you may not have the chance again. Until next time.

Suicide

Suicide. It’s one of the most common causes of death in the United States, yet it’s one we don’t talk about. Unlike cancer or heart disease, suicide comes with labels and stigma. People that lose their lives to suicide are seen as cowards, or weak, or somehow deficient, and not as worthy of grief or mourning. As a society, we find shame in someone dying by their own hand, and I find that heartbreaking. I want to study this subject from several angles. Today I’ll just be talking about the basics, and discussing those some. Next week, I’ll delve deeper in suicide rates among specific populations, such as the LGBTQ community. Finally, the third in this series will discuss the emotional toll suicide takes on family and friends left behind.

Suicide in the united states is one of the top ten causes of death. On average, 45,000 suicides occurred in 2016, a number that has risen since 1999. Certain age groups, such as 15-34 year olds, seem more susceptible to suicide, and it is actually the number two cause of death for that age group, according to an article in the Washington Post from July.  While men and women both attempt suicide, men are more likely to use violent methods, such as firearms, and therefore, are more likely to complete an attempt. Suicide rates are also climbing in most states and age groups, including children. Yes, you read that right, CHILDREN. More and more in the news, I am seeing stories of 10 year olds dying by suicide. It’s a heartbreaking and troubling reality.

 Hanson, my favorite band, has a song called “Believe” that I’ve always thought was about severe depression and suicide. The entire song stems from someone feeling hopelessness and emptiness, but there is a particular lyric that comes to mind whenever I think about severe depression and suicide. “Murder wears a friendly smile/like a perfect end in a plastic vial/no pain/Sorry I can’t seem to stay/But this bird was meant to fly away.” The song is deeply sad, rasping and pleading, and has the feeling of someone begging to find a reason to live. It’s a sentiment that people struggle with, every single day, and yet some of those people simply never find that reason, or the reasons just aren’t enough. There are other songs, too, that talk about suicide, such as Why by Rascal Flatts and Adam’s Song by Blink 182.

As well as songs, television shows have touched on the subject. Most notably, recently a show called 13 Reasons Why on Netflix has sparked massive debates. The show’s first season centers around cassette tapes that are mysteriously sent to 13 people after the suicide of Hannah Baker. On the tapes, Hannah herself explains why she did what she did, and the events that led up to that momentous decision. Now, I’ve watched the show. I do think that perhaps teenagers shouldn’t watch it alone, as it is graphic, and deals with things that are very heavy. That being said, however, I think that the show has merit because it opens up lines of discussion. It’s a way to get kids, or even adults, to start talking about what the show is about, and if they’ve ever felt like Hannah. I know that one scene in particular spoke to me. At one point, Hannah is speaking to the guidance counselor at her school, and he asks her what she’s feeling. She says, “Lost I guess. Sort of empty…I don’t feel anything.” I cannot tell you how that affected me. It was a blow to my chest, because I’ve been there. I’ve felt that. I know what it’s like to be so numb that you feel as though nothing matters anymore, and so detached that you’re just empty. To know that Hannah felt that way, and is begging for someone to help her find her way back, it was a very upsetting moment in the show for me. It was very real.

To me, I don’t think weakness or cowardice when I think of suicide. I think of pain. I think of numbness. I think of hopelessness. It’s a sense of wanting things to get better, but believing they never will. The reasons a person might contemplate or attempt suicide are complex, and rarely boil down to just one event. Things like mental illness, traumatic events, bullying, loneliness, unemployment, terminal illness, drug use and so on may be contributing factors. An article in Psychology Today talked about the causes of suicide, and their perspective was intriguing.  Researchers studied 20 notes of those that attempted suicide, and 20 notes off those that completed a suicide and judged them based on five criteria: sense of burden, emotional escape, sense of pain, problematic social world, and hopelessness. What they found was thought provoking. The article states, “The biggest difference was that the notes of suicide completers included more detail about how they were a burden on other people and society at large compared to the attempters. In fact, this sense of burden was the only dimension that distinguished the letters of these two groups.” What does that mean? It means that the people that actually completed a suicide attempt felt the world was better off without them. I think the saddest, and most honest statement from the article came next. It said, “In general, people do not attempt suicide solely because of pain, it's because they don't believe there is a reason to live and the world would be better off without them.” That isn’t to say that pain doesn’t matter. It absolutely does. Pain, whether physical or emotional, scars not only the body but the mind as well. At a certain point, all one really wants is for that pain to stop by whatever means necessary. What the researchers found was that when paired with a sense of hopelessness, or with the belief that loved ones and the world in general would be a better place without them, a person’s suicidal ideations may become a serious option.

Suicide doesn’t affect just one class of people, or one race, or one age group. This is a prevalent problem among all areas of our society. From the outside looking in, it’s hard to tell when someone is struggling. While there may be outward signs of depression or mental illness, in some cases there is little to no warning, or warnings aren’t taken seriously. An observer may think that someone else’s life is amazing  and they have nothing to be sad or upset about but that’s the thing. We never actually know what is going on in someone’s life or in their mind. Here is where I am going to get real, and very honest. When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I was struggling. From the outside, it may not have looked like it. I had (and still do) an amazing family, loving parents, and a beautiful home. My grades were good, and I had a wonderful group of friends. Inside my mind, however, I was lost. I saw my mother, father and brother as a unit, and I was the interloper in their presence. All my friends were about to disperse to different colleges, and new paths. I was so very lost, and I felt utterly alone, even though I had so many great people in my life. I remember the day I made my suicide attempt very clearly. It was after school, during the week. My brother had just left with a friend to go do something, and I think my mom and I had had a fight. I was folding laundry in the living room, sunlight spilling through the windows. I was desperate, alone, and terrified. I tried calling a friend, and he didn’t answer. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, to me in that moment, it calculated that he and everyone else would be better off if I wasn’t there anymore, and I wouldn’t bug him anymore. My parents would be happier. My brother would be the only child. He was the smarter one anyway. I walked into the kitchen, crying, and picked up a prescription bottle of pills and opened it. I was fully intent on taking those pills. To this day, I can feel the cap in my hand, tears on my face, and the knowledge that this was it. The bottle was full, but when I tipped it no pills would come out.

I remember feeling like a failure at even that, at taking my own life, but I capped the bottle back anyway and curled back up on the couch and sobbed into the laundry. I don’t know why those pills wouldn’t pour out. I really don’t. When people ask me why I believe in God, it’s because of that moment, when I was 17, in my parent’s kitchen.  I truly feel like the hand of God kept those pills from pouring into my hand, because if they had, I may not be here today.

My goal that day was not to die, necessarily. I just wanted it all to stop. I wanted all the pain that had welled up inside me, despite my outwardly seeming amazing life, to just go away. It’s a feeling that I can’t possibly express in words, but it’s an emptiness that is endless. It’s like this. It’s being at the bottom of a deep, deep hole, and you claw your way to try to get to the top. The more you try, the more dirt falls in around you, until you are stuck there, in this hole, with no light or air. At some point, the will to climb out simply leaves you, and all you want is for it all to go away. Even writing about this today is hard for me. It’s something not many people know, and not something I talk about. Today, I know that I was suffering from a serious bout of depression, but at the time all I saw was pain and hopelessness. I only wanted it all to stop. I truly believed I would be doing everyone a favor if I just wasn’t there. I know now that I would have devasted my family and friends. 

I want you all to understand this: you can’t know what is going on in someone else’s mind, even if they are your best friend, your lover, your parent, or your child. Sometimes, it may seem as though someone is doing fine, swimming right along, when in reality, they are barely keeping their head above water. Sometimes, the will to paddle just simple falls away from exhaustion, and you can’t judge them or shame them for that. The current is simply too strong to fight against. There are warning signs for suicidal behaviors, but remember that they don’t always apply to every person. They are: 

·        Talking about wanting to die or wanting to kill themselves

·        Talking about feeling empty, hopeless, or having no reason to live

·        Planning or looking for a way to kill themselves, such as searching online, stockpiling pills, or newly acquiring potentially lethal items (e.g., firearms, ropes)

·        Talking about great guilt or shame

·        Talking about feeling trapped or feeling that there are no solutions

·        Feeling unbearable pain, both physical or emotional

·        Talking about being a burden to others

·        Using alcohol or drugs more often

·        Acting anxious or agitated

·        Withdrawing from family and friends

·        Changing eating and/or sleeping habits

·        Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge

·        Taking risks that could lead to death, such as reckless driving

·        Talking or thinking about death often

·        Displaying extreme mood swings, suddenly changing from very sad to very calm or happy

·        Giving away important possessions

·        Saying goodbye to friends and family

·        Putting affairs in order, making a will

Please bear in mind that someone that is contemplating suicide may not have all of these warning signs, or any at all. Still, it is important to know these, and if you see someone you love exhibiting them, to talk to them. Keep lines of communication open, and know when to help the one you love seek help.

I hope that I have provided a bit of insight into suicide. Next week, I want to delve more into specific groups, and show that suicide is becoming more and more a public health crisis. I’ll leave you with the number to the suicide hotline, as well as the sources I’ve used in writing this. IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW IS CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE, PLEASE CALL 1–800–273–TALK (8255). They have people available to help.

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/suicide-faq/index.shtml

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/to-your-health/wp/2018/06/07/u-s-suicide-rates-rise-sharply-across-the-country-new-report-shows/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.83f0b2bb3faa

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/curious/201405/why-do-people-kill-themselves-new-warning-signs

Back to School

Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well! This week started a new transition for us, as Scoot started school. Her first day was filled with excitement, nervousness, and a little fear, but I am happy to say that we are LOVING her new school! It’s amazing the change I see in things, just one week in. We live very close to her school, so Scoot and I walk to and from school each day. It’s a great way to spend time with one another, and get some exercise too! I will say, I will be so glad when fall weather kicks in, though! All the excitement of back to school got me thinking, though, and this week, I’m going to be sending out my appreciation for teachers everywhere. It’s a line of work that is so often taken for granted, and I simply can’t understand why.

Since I was in high school, I’ve been told, “Oh, you should be a teacher, you’d be so good at it!” While I appreciate the faith in me, I’ve also always known there’s no way I’d make a good teacher. I love kids, don’t get me wrong, but the thought of being in a classroom with 20-30 kids all day is something I’ve always known I couldn’t do. To me, teaching is a calling. You have to WANT to do it. It’s one of the most thankless jobs we have, right up there with firefighters and police officers. We rarely stop to think of what our society would be like without them. Sure, there’s homeschooling, but not every family is cut out for that. Teachers are one of our key resources, and without them, our entire education system would fall apart.

I am sure there are a lot of people that think that teaching is a sweet gig. That work is only from 8-3, weekends and summers off. However, the truth is that there is so much work that goes into being a teacher before students ever see the classroom. Teachers take time to build lesson plans, create exciting ways of learning for students, and design classrooms that will optimize learning. All this takes time, as well as research, and resources that most times the teacher pays for out of his or her own pocket. The goal is to create a classroom that is a safe haven, and a place that makes it fun to learn. It’s a chance for a teacher to exert his or her personality on a room, and make it warm and inviting for the students. Schools don’t pay for this, but the teachers do.

While teachers are providing all these things for their classroom, making lesson plans, meeting with parents, they are missing time with their own kids, if they have them. Teachers sacrifice first days of school, parent teacher conferences, and other things just to take care of their school kids. I know that’s not the case for all teachers, or that it happens every time, but it does happen. That’s a bittersweet feeling, wanting to be both with your own children and your school children. In so many ways, teachers are critical to the welfare of the children they teach. During the school year, it’s the teachers that spend the bulk of a day with children, not parents, and the lessons they learn in a classroom go far beyond just letters and arithmetic. Educators help to mold who a child will be, by providing structure, a helping hand, or even just an ear. In my lifetime, I’ve been blessed with some incredible teachers, including some that have absolutely made a huge difference in my life when I was going through tough times.  To me, they taught me so much more than just lessons from textbook. They taught me compassion. How to navigate life when it gets leery. They taught me about striving for more, and how to overcome obstacles. They fostered a sense of loving to learn, something that still exists in me to this day. Especially when I was in high school, there was one teacher that would sit and talk to me after school or whenever I felt overwhelmed about school, or home, or even problems with friends. She even allowed me and a friend to use her classroom afterschool so that we could choreograph our senior dance for our dance class. She was a fierce defender of her students, and we always knew she cared and would do anything to help us succeed.

That’s the thing about educators. For the most part, they genuinely love what the do, and go above and beyond to do what they can to help their students. I’ve had teachers spend entire afternoons trying to help me learn calculus (a losing battle!) or algebra. I’ve had teachers providing tough love when my senior thesis went missing. In college, I had professors that made me look outside of myself and ask the question, “why should I care about this? When you can answer that, you know what you’re writing about.”  These men and women pushed me, making me work harder and want more for myself. I wanted  not just good grades, but their respect. Isn’t that what every good teacher wants? Their students’ love and respect?

In North Carolina, teacher pay is pathetic. We demand so much from our educators, and yet, we refuse to offer them the pay they deserve. Because of this, our schools suffer. Our education suffers. Most of all, our children suffer, because there are teachers that have to move out of state in order to do what they love and still provide for their families. Currently, NC ranks 39^th in the nation for teacher pay.  We are simply not putting the equity back into our education system, and as a result our entire state suffers. If teachers aren’t paid their worth (and truly, they aren’t) then they can’t put money back into the economy. They can’t afford to put more into their classroom instruction. On top of low salaries, teachers have to buy classroom materials, because the state doesn’t provide them. Funding for schools differs radically, depending on the economic demographics of different districts, and this occurs all over our country. Schools in richer areas obviously have the best education systems, with up to date technology, newer books, and better schools. Poorer systems, however, suffer. Their tech is outdated, they have out of date books, and their school structures are in far worse shape. There are no checks and balances, and if you happen to have children in these poorer areas, then they have to work ten times harder just to get on the same level as children that happen to be born in the more affluent areas. A teacher can only use the resources he or she has available, and if they are already starting out behind the curve, then this absolutely affects how they can educate.

Teachers spend an incredible amount of time with students and preparing for students. As a result, they can be one of the first people to see when there are problems, and then relay that to parents. A parent’s support can be so important to the wellbeing of the student, as well as the parent/teacher/student relationship. If a child is taught not to respect teachers, or if parents foster a belief in a child that they are always right or can do no wrong, it makes a teacher’s life harder.  Teaching and parenting must go hand in hand, for the sake of the child, and if that doesn’t happen, there’s a breakdown that occurs. Parents need to respect teachers, and understand what important figures educators are in the lives of their children.

When I asked what teachers wanted people to know about teaching, the number one response was “teachers love teaching, and they love their students.” Despite long hours, hardship, low pay, and time away from family, teachers teach simply because they love it. They make a difference, every single day, in ways big and small for students of all ages. Educators deserve our respect, and so much more. We need to treat them with the reverence they deserve, and support them whenever they need help. After all, they are helping to build our future.

That’s all for this week. Next week, I’ll start a short series talking about another difficult subject, suicide. If you want to contribute in any way, I would appreciate your thoughts/experiences. Thank you for reading, and if you like this blog, please share with your friends. Until next week!

Catching Up

Hello everyone!  I hope your week has gone well. It’s been a pretty eventful one here, but that’s nothing unusual. I didn’t prepare a formal blog this week, either. The last few weeks I’ve tackled some really deep, provocative topics, and amazing and eye opening as it has been, I needed a break from all the gravity of it this week. Instead, consider this an informal little chat. After all, we all need a little levity every now and then, don’t we?

This whole month seems as though it’s zapped by so fast. From Pampered Chef parties to getting ready for school, I feel as though I’ve been in a whirlwind. Most of all, writing the last few posts has been both heartbreaking and cathartic. At heart, I’m a nerd. I love research. I love learning, and trying to understand things. Being able to do that and relate that same information for others, well, it just feels good to me. More than that, hearing the stories about women struggling with loss has opened up a new understanding in me. So often, if something doesn’t personally affect us, we ignore it. I think if we all took a moment to think of others, try to put ourselves in their shoes, the world would be a much better place.

The thing is, guys, I’m loving writing this blog. Even though so many times, I feel like I’m only shouting into the void of the internet, it’s still an amazing experience. Knowing that what I am writing is reaching people, on no matter how small a level, is boggling to me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anything I wrote would ever reach nearly 600 people. I know that doesn’t seem like a big number, but to me? That’s HUGE. I started this blog just as a way to talk about issues that interest me, and it’s wild to know that so many of you have tuned in to read those words. I thank you all so very much, and hope that you’ll stick with me. I’m still learning, not just about blogging, but also about who I am. It’s pretty cool to have so many of you on that journey with me.

As I said, this month’s been crazy. Just this week, we’ve finished shopping for Scoot’s back to school wardrobe, and she got to go to Open House and meet her teacher. She even made a new friend in her class! I have to say, even though school hasn’t formally started yet, I am loving her new school. I’ve already had a chance to meet with the principal twice, and that doubles the amount of times the principal at her old school talked to me, despite numerous requests. I’m excited to see how this school year will turn out for her, and what goals she will reach. Already I can see that this school is different, and I know she’s going to love it.

Also this week, we discovered that my brother and his wife are expecting a little girl! I can’t wait! I’m so proud of the man my brother is, and knowing that he’s going to be a father in just a few months is so cool to me. I can’t wait to watch him grow into the wonderful father I know he is going to be. Even though we are as different as night and day, I love that the older we get, the closer we are. Seeing him become the man he is has been one of the most important things in my life. He’s a fantastic husband, a good person, and I know without a doubt that his little girl is going to wrap him right around her finger!

I guess that’s all for me this week. I know this hasn’t been much of a blog, but I wanted to take some time just to update you all on my life, and what’s going on in it. As always, I’m working on a list of future blogs, and am always interested in what you guys want to read about. If you have any suggestions, let me know! Until next time!

Miscarriage

First, I wanted to apologize for not posting last week. Things were crazy, and I couldn’t give the proper attention to my writing that I needed to, especially on so sensitive a subject. The last couple of weeks, I’ve been focusing on the complications of building a family. Before I introduce the topic, I wanted to say a huge thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone that read my last post. Writing about infertility was such an eye-opening experience for me, and I feel like talking to people and doing the research truly brought home what a devastating situation it can be for those that are currently struggling or have struggled to have a baby. Because of all of you, my last blog got over 530 hits…more than almost all my other posts combined! I am so grateful for everyone that took the time to read it, and I hope some of you will continue on with me on this journey. This week, I’m tackling another tough subject. Again, it’s an unspoken topic that is just now beginning to get some recognition for the part it plays in our lives. This week, I’m discussing miscarriage, stillborn, and newborn death.

Just like with infertility, miscarriage is rarely talked about. It’s something most people shy away from talking about. Yet, just as with infertility, chances are we know someone that has suffered this loss. I say loss for lack of a better, more complete word. The truth is, miscarriage, like infertility, is deeply personal. It’s a life altering, painful experience that often gets ignored. However, if you’ve ever known someone dealing with miscarriage or loss, you know that it should be discussed. Once again, I’ve spoken with some brave ladies that were willing to share their stories with me, and have allowed me to share those stories with all of you.

There are many misconceptions about miscarriage, and the biggest is that the mother has done something to cause a lost pregnancy. However, that’s simply not true. The rate of miscarriage isn’t even truly known, because so many take place even before a woman knows she is pregnant. The truth is, upwards of 50-75% of all pregnancies could terminate at some point after fertilization, mostly due to genetic error.  Most sources I looked at agree that somewhere between 10-30 percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage, but that only accounts for pregnancies lost after a woman discovers she is pregnant. That means that the majority of pregnancies are lost before a woman is even cognizant that she is pregnant, and may never know that a pregnancy terminated. It is believed by some experts that half or more of fertilized eggs die before implantation, or are miscarried. Most of these egg deaths and miscarriages are due simply to faulty genetics. The fetus (or embryo, depending on how far into the pregnancy a woman is) just simply doesn’t develop correctly, and therefore can’t survive. A mother, whether she knows or not, did not CAUSE the miscarriage.

That doesn’t mean that outside factors can’t affect a woman’s chances of miscarrying, however. Things like uncontrolled diabetes, thyroid disease, advanced maternal age, infections, hormonal issues, and uterine or cervical problems can also cause or increase the chance that a woman will miscarry. Of course, things like illicit drug use, alcohol, and smoking can also cause miscarriage, as well as exposure to radiation, trauma and maternal weight extremes (obese or anorexic, for instance).  While it’s true some of these factors are within a mother’s control, such as drug use, the majority are not. Yet, somehow, there is still a stigma that remains attached to miscarriage. It is thought that if a pregnancy is lost, a mother must have done something wrong. It is even a common misconception still today that things like sex, exercise, and working can cause miscarriage, but those are myths. Unless a job includes chemicals or something else life threatening, it’s not going to affect a pregnancy.

So, what exactly is a miscarriage, and how is it different from a stillbirth? A miscarriage is a spontaneous loss of pregnancy, at any point from conception to 20 weeks’ gestation, as stated by medicinenet.com A stillbirth, on the other hand, is the death of a baby before or during birth. Regardless of the timeline of the loss, however, it’s a traumatic event for the mother, and one that effects not just her, but the entire family. Within women in their childbearing years, the chance of miscarrying is between 10-25%. Even in healthy women, the chance is between 15-20%. Stillbirths effect about 1% of pregnancies, and while that may not sound like a lot, that’s about 24,000 babies a year.  The numbers are sobering, aren’t they? It’s a terrifying thought, knowing that even if you are in top health, doing all the right things, that chances of losing a pregnancy are that high. Yet, still, even with rates that significant, miscarriage and stillbirth aren’t really talked about in our society.  A quick Google search will bring up articles and blogs about this same topic, with the same question: why don’t we talk about it?

 In short, I think it comes down to a sense of shame. Women are told from the cradle almost that one of our main purposes is to have children. It’s almost expected, and if we deviate from that destiny, we are held to questions. That’s not to say that a lot (or maybe even most) women don’t want children. However, that pressure and that desire to have a baby quickly turns to shame whenever there’s a loss. Women blame themselves for things that our out of their control, thinking that they must have done something wrong that caused her body to terminate a pregnancy, or go into labor early. The experience can feel like a failure at the most basic level of being a woman.

A great article I found on the American Psychological Association provided a lot of insight into the way miscarriage effects not just women, but families as well. It speaks of the way that women heap guilt among themselves, asking the question ‘what if” repeatedly, as if their actions somehow caused their loss. While that’s fundamentally not true in most cases, this way of coping by trying to reason out the why’s of the situation are harmful to the psyche. This is especially true for mothers that may not have wanted the pregnancy to begin with, or were unsure if they did. A whole other layer of guilt is placed on their shoulders, as if their negative thoughts had somehow caused the miscarriage.

Added to all this is that a woman’s grief may not even be validated by her circle, especially if it’s an early loss, or even a failed IVF cycle. When I was speaking to Y, one of my brave ladies that told me of her story in my last blog, she explained to me her decision to undergo IVF herself, and the devastating struggles she had along the way. She said, “We were successful into getting to the egg retrieval phase. We retrieve 17 eggs, 13 fertilized and 5 made it to day 6 to use one for implantation and freeze the rest. Six days of torture waiting to see if the miracle of science can help you become a mom once again. Implantation day was a success and we put back one embryo, now the two week wait period starts, waiting to see if it worked, waiting to see if I’m pregnant, taking every precaution to ensure I don’t mess it up. I started bleeding two days before my official pregnancy test was supposed to be done...I knew it was over, we were devastated once again. Two months went by and my husband asked what we were doing with the 4 frozen embryos we had, our potential children. I was numb and had refused to talk about it for weeks. I was ashamed that I didn’t make it work, that somehow I screwed up somewhere.” Folks, that is a heartbreaking statement, isn’t it? Yet, for so many women, this is their struggle. If a pregnancy is lost, no matter how early, and these days we can know almost as soon as it happens, women torture themselves with wanting to know the reason why, or felling as though their body somehow failed.

Yet, more than failure, losing a pregnancy is a deeply personal loss. What a lot of people don’t seem to understand is that a miscarriage is a death.  Bonding begins early in women, as her body changes. I don’t pretend to speak for all women, as I know that we are all different, and hold different emotions and thoughts and feelings about pregnancy. Speaking from my own pregnancy, I know that as soon as I discovered I was pregnant, I was filled with emotions. I was over the moon happy, scared, nervous, elated. From that very first day, I felt as though the ever growing ball of cells in my core was the center of my universe. I already loved her so much, even though I didn’t know it was a her yet. Still, the word “pregnant” on the test meant that my life wasn’t just mine anymore, it was my child’s too. It’s the start of a new way of thinking, and in my mind, I could see our new lives unfurling before me. This isn’t by any means universal, but I think it may ring true for others as well. To lose a baby, at whatever stage, is devastation. It’s not only the loss of cells or a fetus. It’s a loss of a forming person. It’s the loss of dreams, and a future. That loss is just as real and just as substantial as losing a person at any other stage of life. Just because breath hasn’t been drawn doesn’t mean that life wasn’t lost.

A lot of people may try to offset that awful loss with advice, such as to not worry or that a woman will get pregnant again. That advice, however well meaning, hurts. It completely discounts her loss, and says to her that her grief is misplaced. Studies have been done showing that there is no difference in grief whether a baby is lost at 22 weeks or 2. However, for whatever reason, society tends to discount that loss the earlier it is, as if losing a pregnancy the day after it’s discovered matters less than a fully formed baby. To her, it matters. To her, it causes her anguish. It affects her emotionally, mentally, and physically. The emotional scars of miscarriage don’t just disappear overnight. In fact, studies have shown that women and their families are affected by miscarriage for YEARS after it occurs. Having more children doesn’t erase the loss that was experienced, either, and that option shouldn’t be thrust upon a grieving couple as a way to cope with their grief or loss.

Men also struggle with a lost pregnancy. They also suffer from depression, anxiety and anger about the loss, but also contend with the physical and emotional loss of their partner. Men struggle with how to support their partner when a miscarriage or stillbirth happens, as they can’t fix what happened or prevent her pain. If loss in women is understudied and recognized, this same loss in men is even more unrecognized.

K, a friend of mine that I spoke to about her loss, spoke about things that she wished people knew about miscarriage and stillbirth. She said, “[Do] not to let anyone tell you that you should be "over it" in a certain amount of time. You never get over it.” We seem to have some idea as a culture that there is a time limit on grief, and after a while, that we should stop feeling sad and hurting. That simply isn’t the case, no matter who was lost, or however long their life span. A loss is simply that: a loss. What was once there is no longer, and it isn’t coming back. K shared her entire story about her son, who she lost eleven years ago. At 36 weeks, she went into labor, and upon arrival at the hospital, it was discovered her son had no heartbeat. She says, “the people in the operating room didn't know that my baby was not going to come out kicking and crying, which I think is terrible on the hospital's part, because I had to answer the same questions any expectant mother would. "Is it a boy or girl?" "I know you are so excited!" I remember telling the anesthesiologist while fighting back tears that it was a boy.  Coming out of surgery I was taken to a room on the same floor as all the other mothers and their babies. My son was brought to me all cleaned up and wrapped in a warm blanket. I was told to take my time. I could see him as much as I wanted. He was perfect. I cried for two days straight. I did have wonderful nurses that cried with me. The hardest part was leaving the hospital empty handed. The nurse that pushed me out hugged my neck and cried hard as I was. The evil thing that took my baby was placenta abruption. Mine was a total abruption and it was silent. No symptoms until it was too late. I was angry at myself for a while. Thinking maybe I should have known something was wrong. I finally let that go but the pain never goes away. I still about him and it was almost 11 years ago. Expect it to get better but never to go away.”  Even though it’s been 11 years since she lost her son, K’s pain still radiates in her words.

Personally, I remember when K went into the hospital. I remember hearing about what happened, and feeling my heart absolutely ache for her. I remember so clearly thinking, “How do I help her? What do I say? What CAN I say?” Standing in the cemetery that day, witnessing so many hearts being broken, looking at the ever so small coffin was an experience I’ll never forget. It’s a pain that is unfathomable unless you watch someone you care about going through it. That funeral was no less heartbreaking than any other I’ve been too, and in some ways, it was even more so. For mothers that suffer through stillbirth, they have a tangible proof or source for their grief. For other mothers, those that miscarry, their grief isn’t something that can be displayed. There are no funerals, or ceremonies where the child is honored. In some cases, friends and family may not even know that there was a loss, if a woman chooses not to share her pregnancy. These women suffer in silence. Each experience is horrible in its own way, and every woman that suffers these losses deserves to grieve however she has to. Her pain should be respected.

Why this subject is still so taboo today, I don’t really know. I think a lot of it may be fear. I think when something so tragic happens, like with K and Y, we simply don’t know what to do or say. We can’t bring back what was lost. What we can do is offer understanding. Offer time. Cook a meal. Be the shoulder to cry on. By simply showing solidarity, and support, I feel like that can help in the rough moments. Women should be allowed to share their stories without fear of judgement, and men should as well. Even if a woman has 10 more children after a miscarriage or stillbirth, she’s never going to forget the one she lost. She’ll always carry within her that memory, and all the hopes and dreams she had for that baby. Men should be supported as well, because they are suffering the loss off their child as well, and trying to support their partner who is going through something traumatic. Maybe if women are able to share their stories, suffer in the light instead of in silence, and have their grief validated and understood, then miscarriage and stillbirth won’t be such a taboo subject.

I hope that by sharing this information, and the experiences of K and Y, we can all come a little closer to understanding even a fraction of what they’ve gone through. Below, I’ve listed some of the sources I used when researching this blog. Thank you for reading, and I hope that if you liked this post you’ll check out some of my others.

http://americanpregnancy.org/pregnancy-complications/miscarriage/

https://www.medicinenet.com/miscarriage_causes_and_symptoms/article.htm#what_happens_after_a_miscarriage

https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/stillbirth/facts.html

http://www.apa.org/monitor/2012/06/miscarriage.aspx

Infertility

When I was first started writing this blog, I thought I’d cover both infertility and miscarriage in one swoop. However, as I began to research more, and talk to people, I realized that there’s so much to talk about for both subjects, that they both deserve their own blog. As a result, even though the two are often tied, I have decided to cover them separately.

Last week, I shared my thoughts on the pressures women feel to have children. This week, I want to talk about those that are among us that want more than anything to have children, but struggle to have it happen. These are the women that try whatever they can to have children, but either struggle to get or stay pregnant. A few weeks ago, I asked for ideas for this blog, and very quickly, this topic was suggested. It got me to thinking. The more I thought about it, in fact, the more I realized that so many women in my circle have been affected in some way.  It made me start thinking about how we have an entire population of people that are dealing with something so traumatic, and so private, that we may be friends with someone and not even know that they are going through it. Their stories are important. Their stories shape who they are and their families. Their stories could very well be our stories. Infertility and miscarriage don’t discriminate. When I truly started thinking about it, I started ticking off the women that I knew for a fact had suffered a loss, or had difficultly in having children. I was surprised at how long the list actually was.

Think of your own circle of friends. Think of the beautiful faces, the smiles, the person that they are. Now realize that among those faces, there are women that you know that are going through this pain. According to the Office of Women’s Health, one in ten women in the US suffer from infertility. One in ten. That’s roughly 6.1 million women between the ages of 15 and 44. That’s just one figure. Others (such as the Mayo Clinic) have that number as 15%. Resolve, another source I looked at, said 12%. Roughly, that is 1 in 8 couples trying to conceive that are unable, or have problems conceiving. Resolve also states that 7.4 million women have run into some sort of problem requiring infertility services in their lifetime. Think of the women you know in your life again, and realize that chances are high that at least one of those women has been affected by infertility. Maybe she’s one of your best friends. Or maybe she’s you.

I admit, when I started looking into this subject, I had no idea that the numbers were so high. Society makes it seem so easy, with the amount of pregnancy test commercials, Huggies ads, and happy families that are shown on TV. We only ever see the happily ever afters, never or rarely the struggle to get there. Think of all the shows you’ve seen with a teen pregnancy or a surprise pregnancy. Now, think of all the shows you’ve seen that discuss infertility. Can you think of one? I can’t.  Okay, I take that back. There was the one storyline on How I Met Your Mother where Robin finds out she can’t have children. However, it’s a blip on the radar, and is quickly forgotten in the narrative of the show. Her grief is one split second, and the its over. For so many women, trying to get pregnant is a heartbreaking struggle that takes a toll on their entire life. The only show that I’ve seen lately that even remotely tackles the subject is, ironically, Fuller House. Spoiler alert, for those that haven’t seen the show, but one of the characters discovers that she can’t have children, and has to tell those she loves about it. She decides to use a surrogate to have a child. However, those are two examples out of hundreds of TV shows. It’s a very real problem that has little to no representation in our media.

So, exactly what IS infertility? To put it simply, infertility is inability to conceive after 1 year of actively trying, or 6 months of trying if a woman is over 35. One third of fertility issues spring from the woman, one third from the man, and then another third is simply unexplained. Any part of the fertilization process can be affected, but most commonly, difficulties arise with ovulation, for a whole host of reasons. It all sounds terribly technical, doesn’t it? The truth is, as easy as it may seem at times for a pregnancy to happen, it isn’t easy at all. The stars have to align exactly even in the best of times in order for a pregnancy to occur. Even in healthy couples with no issues, the chance of a pregnancy occurring is somewhere between 20-25% in any given month. That means the window for getting pregnant is extremely small. I don’t mean for this to be a biology lesson, but it’s important to understand the science behind pregnancy. So many factors play into getting pregnant, including but not limited to: weight, smoking, drinking, eating habits, chromic disease, environmental factors, age, STIs, endometriosis, and so forth. That’s JUST for women. For men, these factors include smoking, environmental factors, health conditions, and some even say weight. Head spinning yet?

However, the biology of fertility can’t explain to people the pain behind the struggle to get pregnant. Infertility can overtake one’s entire life. As a couple tries to conceive, or carry a pregnancy to term, their lives focus on that one aspect. Careers, relationships and even marriages can fall victim. It’s a certain kind of stress that permeates every aspect of life, and can do untold damage. L, a friend of mine, had this to say about her struggle: “You go through years of ‘maybe this time. I feel really good about this time,’ and every time you fall, you crash even harder.” Another friend, Y, had something similar to say. “A month after we got married I had surgery to have them [tubes] untied. Thousands of dollars went into this but I knew that at the end it would be all worth it. Two years in the making, tears, happiness, cycle counting, ovulation kits, tracking and planning, exhausting doesn’t do justice what we went through while in the ‘baby making’ phase. Every month waiting to see if my period wouldn’t show up. It is all we did. It really took over our lives and marriage. It’s very hard when you deal with the disappointment of not being able to fulfill that gift of life that you are trying to give your significant other.” Let me tell you something, friends. Hearing these stories from two women I respect and admire broke my heart. There’s such a sense of hopelessness associated with infertility. As a friend, I don’t know what to say, or how to broach the subject without being careless or crass. Quite simply, I don’t think there are any words or actions that can suffice.

You see, infertility isn’t just about having a baby. There’s a sense of loss when it repeatedly doesn’t happen. Something that L said stuck with me, and really brought home how a woman’s identity can become wrapped up in becoming a mother. She says, “It feels like the most basic right of a woman, and I can’t make my body do it.”  Studies have shown that women with fertility struggles experience anxiety, depression, and increased stress, somewhat akin to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Other health issues can even stem from the grief associated with infertility. Marriages can crumble from the weight of stress added to the relationship from doing something that society deems easy to achieve. It’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? Motherhood is something that (most) women are programmed to want, and to be unable to achieve that for whatever reason isn’t just devastation emotionally, it can make a woman feel as though she’s a failure. Your body is supposed to know what to do to create, support, and maintain a pregnancy, and when that doesn’t happen, it’s all too easily to internalize those feelings as guilt.

I think a lot of times, we don’t see infertility as a loss, but it is. It’s a loss of ideals, of hope, of the gift of bringing a life into the world. It’s a loss of faith in your body, or maybe even your partner. It’s a special kind of disillusionment that brings on very real feelings of grief that need to be acknowledged. Loss isn’t simply the act of having something taken away, it’s also the absence of what you thought you could have. When a couple starts on the journey to conception, it starts with such hope, you see. However, every time she gets excited, thinking every cramp and twinge is the fruition of her dreams, and she is let down, it’s crushing.

Little by little, hope can be destroyed as a couple tries and tries everything to become pregnant. Yes, there are procedures that can be done, and many couples do them, but they are expensive, with no promise that the procedures will succeed. One of the most common procedures, in vitro fertilization, is a lengthy process that requires a woman to take different forms of medication to boost ovulation. The goal is to get her body revved up so to speak, and spike egg production, so that more than one egg is primed and ready to go to be fertilized. Once this is done, the eggs are retrieved via a long, hollow needle. Sperm is collected from the potential father, and then, egg and sperm are placed in the same petri dish. If fertilization occurs and the cells divide, the embryos are then placed into the woman’s uterus. All of this, not even considering the pain, discomfort and various side effects from medications, with no real assurance that at the end of it there will be a baby.

I know some of you may wonder, why would any woman go through that? Why would she put herself through that pain? I think the answer is simple. People are built with the drive to procreate. Obviously, not all want to, and that’s fine, but it’s that drive that keeps humankind going. It’s primitive, and as ingrained in us as the need to breathe. Wanting a child is not the same as wanting a chocolate sundae or a new car. Once that feeling starts within you, it’s all encompassing. There’s an ache that comes with it. After all, our bodies are built to make babies, but when it doesn’t happen, it can lead to feelings of depression, anger, guilt, and inadequacy. Yet, even with all the uncertainty, the pain, the discomfort and the loss, couples keep trying.  It’s not desperation, though I am sure some see it that way. In my eyes, is the epitome of strength.

So, why don’t we talk about this? If upwards of 6-8 million women are struggling at any given time to have a baby, why do we never hear about it. That is not a small insignificant portion of our society. In fact, it’s a huge chunk of people that suffer every day in silence with no outlet to vent. As I was speaking to my two brave friends about why no one seems to mention infertility, Y said, “People have made women feel ashamed for it and that’s the reason people don’t talk about it. It’s horrible. It’s such a lonely feeling.” Likewise, L stated, “No one wants to talk about it because it’s so painful for those going through it, and so foreign to those not.” Those are sobering thoughts, aren’t they? That we have friends, relatives, even in some cases people we are very close to that are suffering every day, and they have no public support. They suffer in silence because to share their story means to open up completely about what they are going through, and risk derision or blank stares. The truth is, infertility could happen to ANYONE. Yet, we bury the subject under the rug because it’s uncomfortable to talk about. I’ll admit, writing this has been uncomfortable for me, because I can’t see just facts and figures. I see faces of those I care about. I see their heartbreak, and their struggle, and the pain they feel without being able to talk about it. Just because it’s uncomfortable doesn’t mean we don’t have a responsibility to talk about it, or stand up and say that we support these couples.

What can we do? Honestly, I am not sure. We can open our hearts and ask them what it is they need in the moment. I think that we shouldn’t offer unsolicited advice or downplay the severity of what someone is going through. I think we should allow them to use our shoulders to cry on when they need to. I think we should offer unconditional support when someone opens up about their struggles. More attention from the medical community to find the reasons why infertility exists for some people, and better ways of managing it should be discovered. Most of all, we shouldn’t judge others. There should be compassion. This isn’t a bad haircut or a lost job. For many, it’s an agonizing, expensive journey with no assurances. We need to lift the women and mean that are hurting from these experiences up, and tell them, loud and clear, that they have done nothing wrong. There is no need for them to feel guilt. We need to let them know that the wars they are waging, though unseen, matter. THEY matter. Their mental and emotional fortitude should be an inspiration to us.

I realize I’ve talked mostly about women in this blog, but men also struggle too. This isn’t just a battle for women, but for both sides of a couple dealing with infertility. Both sexes should be able to talk about infertility freely, and openly, without scorn or judgement. Infertility is complex, with a vast amount of moving parts and its effects are wide reaching. For some, after all the struggle comes the light, and a baby is born. For others, that doesn’t happen, and that is an incomparable loss for them. Whatever happens, the journey is littered with tears, tests, medication, and determination. To L and Y, thank you for your bravery and candid discussion of your trials and struggles. I couldn’t have written this without you. I hope that I have done you proud. I can’t tell you how much I respect you both. I hope this discussion has made such a varied topic seem a little more real, and brought it home for those that don’t really understand. If these words start even one discussion about infertility, and the men and women that fight it every day, then I will be happy. Below, I will link some of the references I used in my research on infertility.

https://www.womenshealth.gov/a-z-topics/infertility

https://www.health.harvard.edu/newsletter_article/The-psychological-impact-of-infertility-and-its-treatment

http://americanpregnancy.org/infertility/in-vitro-fertilization/

https://resolve.org/infertility-101/infertility-faq/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3113688/

Whoa, baby

"You need another baby so your daughter won't be so spoiled."

If even one day would go by without someone telling me I need another kid, I think I'd pass out. Why does everyone think the solution to my daughter's very open, sometimes sassy, always energetic, slightly spoiled personality is for me to have another child? Look, I get it. I live in an area where everyone knows everyone, and it feels like everybody and their mama knows your business, sometimes before you do. It's part of life you just get used to in small towns. What I don't understand is why the number of children I choose to have or don't have is anyone's business but mine and my husband's? It got me to thinking about the way we see families and children in our society, and as a result this week and next week are going to be centered around this subject. This week, it's about insidious questions people ask and unsolicited advice, particularly regarding having children.

I understand that when someone tells me I "need" another child, they aren't trying to be mean. I do. I even know most of the time it's said in a very tongue and cheek fashion. However, to me, it's an unneeded pressure. I don't "need" another baby. Having another child isn't going to make my daughter less sassy, or less spoiled. In fact, it may not knock her down a peg at all, as people are constantly telling me it will. Instead, it may say to her that she wasn't enough for us, or because she wasn’t "good' enough, we decided to punish her by having another human in our home that will take up more of our time, attention, and love. That doesn't instill good feelings for my daughter, and in fact, could make her resent further children, and even act out MORE. See the fault in that "more babies" logic?

Second, telling a woman, ANY woman, that she "needs" children is just wrong. You have NO idea what is going on in her life. She may not want children, and that's a valid choice. It doesn't make her selfish or less of a woman! She may not want to have MORE children, and that's also a valid choice. And then, everyone, there are the women that desperately want children, but can't have them. Think on that. Every time you ask one of these women "when are you going to have a baby?" or "you're getting on up there, don't you think you should start thinking about babies?" you are jabbing a knife in her heart. She may be doing everything possible to have a child, but every time you ask her why she hasn't yet, you are reinforcing in her the idea that somehow she is failing. She's not, at all, but that's what her mind is already telling her. Infertility and miscarriage are a hidden subject in our society, and thoughtless questions hurt. It's a subject I'll touch more on next week. The point is, quite simply, it's no one's business if a woman does or doesn't have kids.  The only person that should be concerned with her choices is her partner.

Look, there are so many things that go into having a child. The cost, financially physically, emotionally, and mentally is a huge one. It takes a lot out of you to be a mom, more than I ever could have imagined or prepared for. That doesn't mean that I don't absolutely love my daughter more than my own life. I do. But once you have a child, your life is irrevocably changed. Someone is dependent on you every minute of every hour of every day for the next 18 years. Your dreams and hopes and ambitions will take a backseat for a while, and that's okay. The platitudes are true. You don't really know what it's like to love someone until you have a child. It's a love unlike any other. However, it's a struggle unlike any other as well. The person you are before a child is not the person you are going to be afterward. That is a huge adjustment I wasn't prepared for when I had my daughter. It’s something I’ve struggled with as well, because I felt as though my entire identity was sucked into becoming Scoot’s mom. It’s so very easy to fall into that way of thinking, that who you were before your child no longer matters, and all that does matter is your child. That’s not true, and it’s not healthy. It took me a long time to navigate to a place where I feel as though I am evolving past that feeling. As much as I love my child, I have to have an identity outside of being just her mom.

Personally, it’s not that I don’t want another child. However, that doesn’t mean that I DO, either. It simply means that I don’t know. I’m almost 35, an age where birth defects in babies rise. Scoot is six and a half, a great age where as much as she challenges me, she can tell me what she needs and wants. Having another baby means starting back from zero. Diapers. Spit up. Cribs. Sleep training. Potty training. All of the battles of toddlerhood would be repeated. That being said, there’s also all the great stuff. The smell of a freshly washed baby. Sleepy snuggles. All the firsts. Baby laughs. I’ll admit, there are times that I get that tug of “Oh, babies!” Most of the time, though, that tug quickly dissipates. I don’t want to have another child unless I’m 100% sure that it’s something both my husband and I truly want.

You see, it’s a huge commitment, to have a second child. It’s an adjustment not only for me and my body, but for my entire family. Pregnancy itself I loved. I was one of those lucky women that had a very easy pregnancy, all things considered. I reveled in all those changes and new experiences that only come with a pregnancy. Everything after that, at least for me, has been tough. I suffered with post-partum depression, but was undiagnosed until Scoot was about a year old. Honestly, looking back, I was a MESS. I barely remember her first birthday. I was there in body, but my spirit wasn’t. I cried a lot. I was so very moody and almost unhinged. I don’t know how my husband dealt with me. There were so many times I remember sobbing until I ached all over while I rocked her because I felt so many emotions all at once. You see, PPD doesn’t make you stop feeling, at least in my case. I felt everything so sharply at all times it was as though I was being cut into ribbons inside. The anger, the sadness, even the joy. I didn’t have the words to describe it, and being a new mom with a husband that worked nights and slept all days was a challenge to say the least. There’s a very real chance that if I have another child, I’ll deal with PPD again. That isn’t the only thing affecting my decision to have another child, but it does factor in. I have more than myself and an infant to consider this time. I have the child I have now that wouldn’t understand the changes in me. Yes, I know how to ask for help, and I know my resources to use, but still. Depression and anxiety are sneaky, especially when you suffer from them already periodically.

To this day, I worry constantly that I’m not a good mother. It’s easy when you’re pregnant to follow doctor’s orders, to eat the right things and cut the caffeine. It’s so much harder once the baby is outside of your body, and you have no clear direction of what to do next. A lot of the things I’m writing now are things I haven’t even discussed with family.  What if I admit my concerns about being a good mom, and I’m told I’m right, that I’m not? It’s not that I need outside validation, or some shiny medal to prove my worth. I don’t. I just want to know that I’m not screwing up my kid. I’m not the perfect Pinterest mom. I get frustrated with her daily, usually over her stubborn nature. I feel like my days are spent saying “Scoot, don’t. Scoot, stop. What did I say?!” Am I scolding her too much, and not praising her enough? Do I have the proper balance of discipline and indulgence? Does she feel understood and loved, or just that I fuss at her all the time? I find myself feeling defeated nearly every day. There are still days bad enough that I cry. Is she going to look back and say, “my mom was terrible? All she did was snap at me all the time?” Or will she say, “my mom loved me enough to correct me when I was wrong, and push me to be better?” I don’t know. She’s only six, and I could ask her, but she’d probably just tell me what she thinks I want to hear.

I feel helpless sometimes. I want to give her everything I can, but sometimes I just simply don’t know how. If I say I don’t want another child, am I selfish? Does wanting things outside of motherhood mean that I’m too greedy, or I don’t care about my family? Will my parents or my daughter think I am in some way letting them down if I don’t provide another child? I don’t know. What are the right answers? These questions make me lose sleep, because I do worry. As much as I’ve loved being a mom, I want other things too. I want to write more, and possibly make a career from that. I want to travel, and see things that I’ve never seen before. There are so many things that I would love to do, and if I have another child, yes, those things will be affected. Am I selfish for realizing that, and saying that there’s a chance I don’t want to let go of those things?

 I see other moms, most with multiple children rolling through life like it’s a breeze, and even though I know in my heart that every mom struggles, it doesn’t seem like it. I wonder if they worry about the same things I do, or if their way of parenting is more effective than mine. Suffice it to say, that I worry a lot, every day, and I know that adding another kiddo onto that will only compound my worries. Because if I really am screwing up my kid, then I’d be screwing up double. Don’t misunderstand me. Not for one second am I saying I regret being a mother, or having my daughter.  For all the struggle and worry and frustration there is, she adds more than I could have ever imagined. The conversations we have, the laughs, the snuggles on the couch are all priceless. I know that a lot of the time we butt heads, but she amazes me every single day as well. I just don’t know if I want to upset our balance by adding in another child.

Also, I have to say, the pressure we put on women to be moms, or have more kids? That has to stop. As I’ve stated, her choices are her own, and her reasons are her own. Why do others feel the need to police reproduction? If a woman has no kids, she “needs” to. If she only has one, her child “needs” a sibling. If a woman has four kids, “why does she have so many kids?” How is any of this anyone’s business? Look, women already have enough pressure on them. We’re told by society how to act, how to speak, how much education we need, how our relationships should look, and how to parent. We are judged, every single day of our lives on our actions, looks, personalities, and so on. When we become mothers, that judgment increases tenfold. It’s a never ending cycle that never seems to stop, and when you add in people that are telling you, to your face, that “you are letting people down if you don’t have another baby,” that is not fair. Women should never be guilted into having children because they have been told it’s unfair to someone if they don’t.

Look, I love my family dearly. I love the life we’re building together, just as it is. Whether or not I ever have another child, I am happy with what I have right now. The decisions my husband and I make regarding our family should be our own, and they will be. I can’t allow myself to bow down to outside pressure, in order to fulfill some image of the ideal family. My daughter, with all her quirks and sass, IS my ideal. Remember, words have consequences. You don’t know what battles people are fighting. What you think is the right thing may be the straw that breaks another person’s back. It’s not up to us to dictate what another person’s ideal family should be, or shouldn’t be. Maybe I’m overly sensitive, I don’t know. Maybe I’m alone in being frustrated over “the question”, but maybe, just maybe, there are other women out there that are frustrated as well. To them I say, you’re not alone. Don’t let others pressure you into decisions that affect you and your family.

That’s all for this week. Coming up soon, I’ll have a blog based on infertility and miscarriage. If you or anyone you know are interested in contributing, please feel free to message me! Until next time!