Being forced to confront my buried feelings

I was given the opportunity to write a chapter in the collaboration of a wonderful bunch of ladies, describing their journeys through infertility, called: Infertility Success, Stories of Help and Hope for your Journey. The book is estimated to launch at the end of November.

I didn’t have much time to think it through, before the deadline loomed especially as I was busy with Fertility Show Africa at the time so, I just sat down and wrote. As it could be no more than 3000 words, it couldn’t describe our entire journey and so I decided to reference this blog to allow people to be able to read back and learn more about what we went through and some of what we have been through since.

A couple of weeks later, my subconscious began to gnaw at me and I had no idea why. A few days ago, I realised the reason.

Although I know that we did whatever we could to save Eloise, there will be people who will judge us for our decision and now I have put myself right out there, directly into their path and we all know that, hiding behind a keyboard seems to negate all the normal rules of human engagement. Since then, my anxiety levels have ramped up hugely.

When sharing my anguish with a friend of mine (and fellow contributing author), she asked me if I was perhaps projecting my guilt? Whether I blame myself and so I think others will blame me. She made me stop and think. All these years later and lots of psychologist sessions, why would I continue to blame myself, even though I know deep down that we did the best by Eloise?

Having spent some time analysing my feelings since then, I really do think that I underrated the amount of trauma the past 20 months of Covid has caused me emotionally and that the mental anguish that all the lockdowns, losses, fear and grief have caused, coupled with now going public with our story globally, has definitely brought all of these feelings to the surface. Common sence goes out the window and with those feelings now so raw, comes the doubt and the second guessing come hurtling back.

At least the realisation that this has caused, has forced me to ask for help once again. My first session was today. There is no shame in asking for help, sometimes doing that is the bravest thing you can do.

What didn’t come through in the book but, you can read a bit about in this blog, was that my faith did play a part in our decision. Eloise was christened by our Catholic priest, who went on to be the one to christen Ashton as well, a few months later. You will also read that we know that God forgave us our decision, simply due to the fact that he sent Ashton to us.

If you aren’t going to read my blog for the whole story, please at least read these 2 blog posts, written by my husband, about the birth of Eloise:
Part 1:
Part 2:

The human race is often quick to judge but, no one is really in a position to judge anyone else, if they haven’t trod their path, felt what was in their hearts at the time, been through their grief and their anguish or, have been a part of the fall out of what came next.

In closing, please remember that we often judge ourselves more harshly than anyone out there judges us so, when you have the choice to be anything, be kind.