Week one of 100 days of joy and here are my unfiltered reflections on this “experiment” so far. Written at 3am when sleep was illusive and my mind was whirling. I’m worried that this is too much of an overshare but here goes….
(A word of warning I’m about to share about grief, infertility and baby loss. If that’s too much for you right now for what ever reason please protect your heart and listen to what brings you joy.)
I’ve written and spoken extensively in the past of my own story of infertility and multiple miscarriages. I thought I’d reached a point in my life where I needed to move forward from the trauma and grief. I couldn’t keep reliving those moments any more for my own sanity so I chose not to share those parts of my life anymore, and then in a cruel twist of fate I was dragged back into the darkness when we lost our forth baby last year. A shock that I feel I’ve still not yet fully come to terms with and only now do I feel in a place to try and find a way through. A time to step out of being in survival mode and process what happened. And whilst I very much don’t wish to re open those stories again it feels important to acknowledge that they are the catalyst for this next adventure.
I’ve come to realise that so much of my “joy” journey is about trying to regain a sense of control over my life when so much has felt beyond my control.
It’s about trying to make peace with the last decade of my life and to reach a point of acceptance. It’s about looking forward and being present. My friend
words ringing in my ears “the more sadness the more joy you need to pour in” my mantra for this next decade, because never have I felt such truer words. They gave me goosebumps the first time I heard Jessica say them, almost like a lightning bolt moment and a realisation of yes, yes, yes - this is it.It’s about finding a way to navigate my own grief and that of my daughters too. The hardest by far has been the realisation that my grief is now my daughters. Something as a mother you never want to witness is your own child in pain. To know you have created that pain is unthinkable. Her tears are mine and her pain breaks my very core. Her screams of it’s not fair when someone announces they are having a baby is externalising all of the thoughts and feelings I hold internally. My response I know I feel it too. My friend Jessica’s wise words once more ringing in my mind - ask your daughter about her joy scales what can we do to add more joy, so the joyful side far outweighs the sadness.
How do you tell your six year old how much you wish you could make her a big sister but you cannot and that sometimes things are beyond our control no matter how much we want them. How do you explain something that makes no sense to you as a fully grown adult? How is it that some people can get pregnant and bring home healthy babies at the end and others of us cannot. No matter how much we want to. No matter how “good” a parent we are. No matter how much we “deserve” to. No matter how much we plead to the universe to let things be different this time. Her screams of “it’s not fair” my screams too.
I listen. I acknowledge her feelings and I answer her questions honestly and truthfully. Children have a very matter of fact approach to life and death which can sometimes make for hard questions, which can at times blindside you as you just go about your day. You’ll be driving along and from the back of the car you’ll hear “mummy why can’t I have a sister”. Or you’ll be sitting eating lunch and you’ll hear your daughter asking your sister “how do you know your baby won’t die?” Then you’ll feel awful for your sister and that, this is even a thought that should enter your daughter’s young mind? Have I ruined her innocence with my honesty?
I grew up understanding loss from a very young age, my Dad died when I was three and it undoubtedly changed who I am as a person. Whilst I used to think of those changes in a negative way I know now that those changes gave me a sensitivity, empathy and compassion that perhaps I may not have otherwise had?
I want my daughter to know she can always ask me anything and that we don’t shy away from the difficult conversations. I will always be honest with her and answer honestly in return (in an age appropriate way). But so much with parenting as in life is that we are all just winging it and trying the best we can in those moments. And hoping we made the right choices.
I have times when I question if I’ve done enough, surely if I really wanted to I could go through IVF again - it worked before perhaps it could work again. If I love my daughter so much why can’t I do that for her? How do I let go of feeling selfish because I cannot physically or mentally endure any more because I’m not sure how many times you can be crushed and continue to stand up and fight again? Whilst in the darkest moments of this horrendous experience so much was focused on my grief, my feelings that I didn’t allow myself to think of how this grief impacts all those closest to me. Perhaps because if I had I never would have been able to get up?
Ten years of being at war with your body and mind is a lot to unpack and a lot to breakdown. I don’t want to be at war any longer I want to find a peace to move into this next decade.
I need to create a joyful life for my family as much as myself because they deserve that. They deserve a happy joyful mummy, wife, daughter and friend. My one hundred days of joy journey feels just the start of a life long journey of finding peace with the past.
My mission is to create a life so filled with joy that it leaves little room for the sadness. I’m standing on the precipice and I’m choosing to leap into the joy.
It’s also about accepting that not every day will be joyful and there will be many moments that try to steal the joy away but it’s about focusing on the small moments of joy and taking the time to appreciate them. It’s about creating joyful moments each day that I can control. For me a big part of that’s about creating joyful rituals each morning and evening so I start and end my day feeling joyful. It’s about planning things so I have joyful moments ahead to look forward to. It’s about accepting that each week will have its ebbs and flows of joy, of stress, of grief, of happiness and it’s about learning to swim with the current rather than against it.
Chapter forty felt symbolic in my mind as my fresh start, a blank page ready to be filled and joy is going to be my leading character.
And if all of this unravelling happened in week one I’m excited to see what week two will bring.
(Babak Ganjei Poster captured during a recent visit to London).