There’s been a lot going on here lately. My partner and I are trying, one more time, for a baby. We’ve been trying for two and a half years now, almost as long as I’ve worked in the indie community, and for the most part, I haven’t made our struggles public. I still won’t – there may be a time that I feel I can blog about it properly, but the fact that I don’t talk about it much doesn’t mean it’s not destroying me every day.
I’m still under that sort of mindset – keeping telling myself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow we’ll finally have worked *it* out. Tomorrow something will magically change. And I know it’s wishful thinking, but I’ve just got no capacity to change. Because change is hard.
And acknowledging this is the last time I can go through what we’ve been through to get to here, and two and a half years on, is also a bit hard.
This post was originally going to talk a bit about bullying, but what I just wrote, honestly, is heartbreaking. We’ve been trying for a baby of our own for two and a half years. We’ve miscarried more times than I like to talk about in public. But, despite evidence and the hope of the contrary, life continues. Sometimes I wish I could just hide, or that the world would stop until I can catch my breath. Anything to feel less than I am now.
I’ve opened and closed a business in that time, started another partnership. The bullying stems out of the stuff I dropped when this was all ongoing, or because of where I ‘work’ as a volunteer in the indie community.
I’ve written more than I’ve ever considered sane. Released none of it, because my capacity extends to writing and grieving. And that’s been me for the longest time.
I like to pretend sometimes it’s how it was. Before we moved 290 miles south (461.62km for my American friends) of our family. Before we combined our houses, and when all I had was my time with my family, my children and being in a relationship with an amazing guy that deep down. Things were easier then.
And then things changed, and my life was kinda thrown into turmoil. And don’t get me wrong, it’s been a good turmoil in some ways. In a lot of ways.
In others, it’s been painful. We’ve been through so much, and actually, this post was meant to be an apology for letting those of you waiting for my books down, but the only apology I think I owe is not saying something sooner. I’m sorry that I didn’t say that this was going on, so that people knew what was going on. I’m sorry that I didn’t say something sooner because I was afraid that saying it out loud made me weaker.
Made the failure public.
Because that’s how I feel. A failure.
I’m an educated, intelligent (so people say) woman, accomplished in many fields, but when it comes to our family, ALL I want is another baby. Together, with my fiancée. And it’s heartbreaking to say that we’re struggling with this – and that it’s been tough these last few years.
Now, I don’t say this for people to feel sorry for us. I don’t say it to make people feel bad. I just say it because it’s something that needs to be said. Our life is good here, but I still feel like I’m nothing because I can’t give him a child of his own. And he doesn’t make me feel that way – I DO. And my story isn’t uncommon. I can’t say this is a wholly negative post. I have to, at some point, start picking up my life properly. Looking for a job because I’m a graduate (and have been for 2+ years). Finding my place in the world. Putting my books out there and taking what comes my way. But it was so much easier before we moved. It was so much easier when we weren’t trying for a baby. Because I knew at some point we would. I guess I don’t do well with failure.
So, the positive stuff. Glass Block goes to it’s final editor soon. We’re just lining up schedules. But this time I’ve found someone I trust. And today, I’ve got a cover to show off, for a non-fiction book.
And it’s all brightly coloured so it might bring up the tone of the post.
You can pick it up at Warpaint Marketing. We start shipping the pre-orders on 21st, then it goes up on Amazon 28th February.