Things Left Unsaid
You are a parent, now. Things have changed; you have changed. And in what felt like a split second, the world has tilted on its axis. Being someone's everything was never going to be easy. But they don't tell you that, do they?
By Featured Writer, Roxie Key.
Content warning: infertility, fertility treatment, miscarriage.
Be careful, you’re told as a young girl. It only takes one little accident, and you’ll find yourself with a baby. And for some, that’s true, whether you want it or not.
But then there are the others. The ones who, for some reason, just can’t. The ones who stare at that little white stick month in, month out, never laying eyes on that second line they’re so achingly desperate to see. And no one tells you about that, do they? That, actually, what should be the easiest thing, your biology, can sometimes fail you. Or in some cases, you may fall in love with someone whose biology doesn’t quite work with your own.
What then?
You bring in the doctors, the nurses, the anaesthetists, the embryologists. You take the medication, you insert the needles, day after day. And you smile your way through every pregnancy announcement, every cake cut to reveal pink or blue sponge, every baby shower. And you burrow away your pain as you insert yet another needle.
Maybe you fail, but you get back up again. Somehow. And then, finally, finally, you feel that nausea, those tender breasts. See that second line. But you’re scared. Terrified, because it’s only just the beginning. You attend the appointments, endure the poking, the prodding. You download the apps, you follow the rules, and you’re so, so careful.
You also read the statistics.
The 1 in 4.
And it scares you. But as the months pass, you realise you’re one of the lucky ones, if you can call it that. Lucky.
Flash forward nine months. You are a parent, now. Things have changed; you have changed. And in what felt like a split second (or perhaps an age, depending on exactly how you look at it), the world has tilted on its axis. One minute you were daydreaming in the new nursery, wistful, one hand absent-mindedly caressing the growing curve of your stomach, the next… you're in deep.
So deep.
You begin to wonder why on earth the hospital deemed you suitable enough to take care of this living, breathing, tiny thing, when let's face it... to this day, you've barely kept a house plant alive.
They said you'd know what to do, that the antenatal classes and books would equip you with everything you'd to know, but they don't. Not really. And that's why you're there, at 3am in the rocking chair, Googling things like "why is my baby screaming every night at 7pm?" "Is it possible to run out of breast milk?" and "what exactly is colic, anyway?" But then, she finally sleeps, her milky breath warm, tiny hand splayed on your bare chest, and you never want this moment to end.
And you sleep, too… (for now).
The thing is, no one told you how different the advice would be, did they?
"Let her cry it out."
"Never let her cry."
"Breast is best!"
"Just give formula, it's easier."
"Buy this, don't buy that."
"Buy that, don't buy this."
"She shouldn't be sleeping in your bed."
"Keep her close, every second of the day."
No wonder your head's a whirling vortex of worry. No wonder you've no headspace to even think about yourself.
No wonder you lose yourself...
Just a little bit.
No one tells you how, much like the weather, parenthood is, well, unpredictable. How the sunny spells are simply glorious but the raging storms are almost unbearable. How the clouds of brain fog make you forget who you are, and the deep, aching tiredness feels like wading through thick snow. But I can tell you that the clouds do part to reveal the sun, every time you think you'll never see it again.
Being someone's everything was never going to be easy. But they don't tell you that, do they?
They don't tell you that. It's really no wonder some things are left unsaid.
Because maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t put yourself through all this, if you knew how high the mountain was…
And you’d never know what you had to gain by climbing it.
Resources and support for those affected by the issues raised in this piece:
hfea.gov.uk/treatments/explore-all-treatments/getting-emotional-support