It’s 5:30am as I start to type this. I’ve been up for over an hour already. My back woke me up at 4:20am – so I managed just over 4 hours’ sleep tonight – I’ve been to the loo, did my yoga and I decided I didn’t want to spend the next couple of hours sitting up in bed not sleeping like yesterday, and silently resenting Dave as I watch him sleep soundly beside me! So I’m on the sofa, with a cup of tea, and I’ve decided to write a little post addressing the reaction from my previous post.
What was nice was that I didn’t have any negative responses to what I put – either on here, on Instagram or on Facebook. Probably because those people it would have pissed off don’t follow me anymore! Most were saying, yes me too, I get it, I want to complain and we should be able to complain but don’t feel we can. It validated what I thought.
But one commenter on here offered a perspective that I kind of knew myself, but having someone point it out to me directly really drummed it home; I simply don’t represent the TTC community anymore.
She said the I used to “eloquently” put across the reality of TTC and and all the positive and negative experiences that come with it, and although my bump and nursery shots are lovely to see, it is just a reminder of what those TTC still haven’t got yet. So I’m not to be offended, but my audience is changing and my followers reflect that.
I agree with her. I’d figured it out myself. But I find it sad.
I want to represent BOTH sides. The person who struggled for it, and the person who achieved it. And why can’t I?
Just because I’m on the other side, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how it once was. I won’t ever forget that. Okay, I can’t write posts that reflect TTC anymore because I pretty much covered everything that could be written from my experience range before I actually fell pregnant (although I have one or two still up my sleeve), but the post I wrote back in September about being let into this exclusive club and wanting others to be let in too, still stands.
I want others to see hope in my story. I want them to be inspired and not give up. I want new followers who have not been with me since the beginning, back in September 2016 when I first started writing, to read my posts from the start so they can see that IT WAS ME TOO. I am pregnant now, but I was still trying for a lot longer than I’ve been pregnant for. I still remember the dragging months, the tears at others falling pregnant, the frustration of timed sex, the heartache with every period that came.
There is one caveat to this that I must address: the medical/IVF/adoption community. I can understand how they may not find much common ground with my journey and I wouldn’t even begin to try to understand what they are going through because we were fortunate enough not to have to go down that route. But we could so easily have done, eventually. And who’s to say we won’t need to in the future in order to conceive future children? Nothing is guaranteed. But the emotions I felt are still the same, no matter what journey towards motherhood we are all on. Natural, medical, adoption. We all WANT to be mothers and we all are STRUGGLING to achieve that.
But don’t be misled into thinking my content and pictures that I post now mean that I’ve forgotten any of that struggle.
They reflect the future.
They reflect why it is so important not to give up on your dream.
They reflect the reward for enduring the heartache before it.
They reflect the other side.
I want us to be in it together. A solidarity. Not a division of those who can and those who can’t. Those who are pregnant and those who aren’t. I want us all to be mums. I want to give hope to anyone reading who needs it. Whether that be now, or in 10 years’ time when I’m probably no longer writing but my blog is still out there to be read.
It’s why I won’t ever change my name from Mother of None. That name will always tell a story of where I started from.
I can’t stop people from not following my journey anymore because I don’t reflect their lives now. But I’m still here. Championing you all. Giving you a voice.
But it is what it is.