Spectating room only

Many of the loss mums I first connected to following the loss of Emmet, are, now nearly a year later, pregnant again or anticipating the arrival of a rainbow baby, or are holding one in their arms already.

Others have experienced another loss or losses. Only one other loss mum who I have got to know well has stopped trying to conceive, and she and her husband are actively persuing adoption and waiting to be matched. I am not doing anthing, or at least, it feels like I’m not. I start University on the 17th of September.

I move out, live somewhere else. Start over. But although I try to tell myself that getting a good education and a better job are all part of the process, and then, when we are settled we can apply to adopt, it doesn’t help.

I am acutely aware that if I was healthy there would be no issue. I would be able do all sorts of jobs simply by the merit of physical strength. Sure they wouldn’t be that intellectual stimulating, or well paid, but I could, like my friends who had a baby early on life have managed. We could if I so desired have taken steps to fill these empty arms, but we wait instead.

I wouldn’t want another baby at this point in my life even if I was healthy and had the guarantee of a healthy baby, but not having ever had the choice angers me. I hate the feelings of hopelessness as I watch so many other families go on to have living babies, or at least try, and I am sat doing nothing but spectating as I am faced every day with the emptiness of my arms. I am faced everyday with comments like ‘you are so good with kids, you should be a primary school teacher/ a mum/ have kids’ etc… as if that is all I should be doing.

God damn it I want kids, not in 5 years, 10 years. Now. I don’t want to be a school teacher, I like forrest school but what I do with forrest school is enough. I do not want to work with other peoples kids, I used to consider it but now I don’t want to be faced every day with other peoples children, or at least not in this chapter of my life. Working with kids, whatever it may do to fill a little the child sized gap in my life, it also makes it bigger. I work and play with kids at forest school and in my every day life, and sometimes the ache goes away and fleetingly the emptiness is gone, but then the realization that no, they are not mine, not even a little bit, and that when they leave, which they all do, my arms and heart will again be empty.

So no. I cannot be a primary school teacher, and what is more I do not want to be. There was a little Dutch girl on the campsite I was on in exmoor, their tent was opposite ours and she took a shine to me and demanded I play. I was dragged into her tent to see Thomas the Tank engine, I played Duplo and read books and went in the slides in the little playground on site while my parents talked to hers. (This is probably the last holiday we take as a family, and I feel a bit bad about saying it but I am glad, I feel a bit too old to want to do it anymore, at least for the moment. I have my own tent at least.)

She keept asking that I stay, and there was much protest when I went back to my own tent. She clung like a limpet to me and copied what I did. If I had a ponytail she wants one, If I have a jumper on, hers is on. She keept saying that I am part of her family and her mother laughed as she translates it to me in broken English, telling me that she keeps asking where I am when we are out for the day.

I felt bad for often making excuses to leave when once I would have happily stayed to play and watch her and her brother while her parents have a chance to read or cook undisturbed, simply because I enjoyed the work and camping doesn’t always offer a great deal to do. But now I can only spend so long without leaving.

Where I once woukd have run around the playground all day I can now only manage an hour or less before I cannot take it and have to go. Before there was only joy in being useful, in spending time with children and laughing with them. Before I considered taking on a leadership role in Scouts, now I don’t go or help at all.

All the time I am just spectating and it drives me mad.

Yesterday we were at the zoo for Emmets 10 month anniversary, there was this goat that kept butting this tiny girl of about three at most while her parents just stood there like lemons not doing anything to stop it as their girl was bowled ober by a horned and angry goat. I had to grab the bloody goat and move it out of the gate area and back into the enclosure of the petting zoo bit it had nearly got out of. I was so angry that they just stood there and did nothing. I actually wanted to slap them, especialy when the father asked if I was a member of staff. Uhh no. I am just some random woman making sure your sodding child isn’t hurt by a marauding goat you utter prick. Stop watching them get hurt and scared and do something. The next time something like that happens there might not be someone to intervene!

I was angry. So angry that they just stood there. They just watched. If some goat was butting my child I would get between them at least, if not move the goat (I did both for somebody elses). I don’t get it.

It wasn’t like it was hard. I am tiny with a bloody walking stick and a limp and I managed to remove it. There were two of them and they weren’t exactly small.

other than that a marvelous day. There were bits that were difficult, and as always there was the nagging feeling that we should be a family of three and not two at the zoo but overall we made hapoy memories which was our aim.

I hope everyone has had a goat free week, or at least not had any unfortunate goat encounters. As a rule I love goats, my argument here is with the parents.

Love and support always,

Surviving Miscarriage Together x

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