“Just appreciate that…”

Sometimes as a way to cheer me up, people say, “Just appreciate the things you can do without kids!”

I also say this to myself sometimes.  But it’s weird, none of it no longer matters to me. You’d think that I’d be able to embrace it and see the positive side, but I think I’m past it.

Appreciate all that sleep you’re getting!
I haven’t felt rested in 15 years.

You can drink as much as you want!
I’m not really a drinker at all.

You can travel!
We’ve been everywhere we want to go before kids.

Enjoy your body before babies!
My body kinda already sucks, actually!

You can bingewatch Netflix as long as you want.
I’ve done enough TV binges for a lifetime for most people.

You can go out for dinner/the cinema all the time!
We never go out for dinner, really! We really should. And we have plenty to watch at home.

You’ll be up all night.
I don’t have a regular sleep rhythm anymore (15 years with a broken brain), and husband works shifts. I do realise I’ll be more tired than ever, which should be interesting.

You’ll never see your friends.
They all have kids. If we had kids, we’d actually see them more often.

Good luck getting a moment to yourself after kids!
I have too much time alone already, I’m good!

Childbirth is awful.
Kids are worth every painful minute to me right now.

Children to us are worth all of this, and so much more. I’d give up so many things in a heartbeat to just be pregnant. I’m trying to see the positive side of waiting to conceive, but it’s hard to see right now.

Feeling like a failure

It’s hard not to feel like a failure.



It’s hard not to compare yourself to everyone around you – everyone who seems to be falling pregnant without much effort or quarrel.




It’s hard not to feel like you’re not a real woman; you’re not a woman who can perform something that seems to come so easily to others. The parts that can bring life to the world just aren’t playing ball.




It’s hard to feel like you are already a mother, but the world isn’t matching up. You know in your heart you are made for this but for some reason, everything disagrees.

It’s hard not to be brought down by failure month after month, even when you know the odds, know the score, know how much luck comes into it.

It’s hard not being able to control it as much as you wish you could.




It’s just hard.  But you’re not a failure.  Your body is taking its time, your timing is being perfected, your place in the world is still right.




And when you have hope, you can carry on. There is always hope, there is always a light at the end – and if you have faith, maybe God (or the universe) will provide.

Don’t give up.