The day after our 3rd anniversary...but it's been 10 years since we met so a very special year all round. I still haven't heard back from our social worker after pouring my heart out to her in an email about why we were moving onto a houseboat. I so hope no news is good news. I'm kneeling on my slippers to write this because everything is either in boxes or going to charity (including the computer chair). Massive, massive purge today...my sister helped me let go of a huge amount of stuff, a lot of which we put outside the front of the house. It was gone in record time and it was great to think of it going to new homes where it will be loved and appreciated. This computer is on its way to charity and we've bought a second-hand laptop for our new tiny living space.
An uplifting day though - going to vote this morning made me think of all those women who fought with everything they had that we might have the privilege of choosing who governs our country. How far we have come as women. It gives me pause for thought and it was with gratitude in my heart that I cast my vote today. And yes, I voted Green! I think they stand a very good chance of getting in down here.
I spent a wonderful weekend with family. My sister treated me to a beautiful drumming day with a wise woman I have loved and respected for a long time: http://www.seventhwavemusic.co.uk/ to hear her magical voice. A circle of women drummed and sang, chanted, crafted, cried and laughed together and I came away feeling peaceful and strong. Then my sister, brother and I drove to Wales to spend a few days walking, talking and enjoying each other's fine company. We've found a huge family house with lots of different apartments that we want to buy together so we stayed there and marvelled at the views and the fantasticly sweet energy it exuded. Somehow we've just got to come up with the crazy amount of cash required but I'm sure we'll manifest it somehow - it just feels right.
I came home to find that R had done a massive chunk of the packing so I've been really knuckling down these last few days, making sure that we're free of clutter and full of bright anticipation as we move onward into our future together.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Thursday, 29 April 2010
The adventure begins...
There's so many things I should be doing....but I hate the word 'should'. Sitting here surrounded by boxes on the precipice of our next big adventure. Everything has happened so fast but I am humbled by how committed R is to living his dreams, to following his heart and I am following with my mind wide open. Getting snagged on the emotional stuff though. R found a little houseboat on Gumtree and we have - recklessly and impetuously - bought it with all our savings. When the survey came back depressingly realistic (more problems than I care to mention) we faltered and wondered what in the hell it was we were doing. But somehow, the magic of the sunsets on the water, the dream of living more simply and the pure history of our little 1920s cruising yacht has soothed us, rocked us back into believing. And I do believe! I believe this will be the beginning of something magical. A change is what we need.
We are packing up our beloved cottage, allocating one tiny box of 'stuff' for our new home which is, after all, only 30ft long and incredibly compact. All the furniture and accumulated clutter of our married life must go so I am sorting through things, laughing at memories and lighting paper fires in our woodburner. So freeing to let go of the things we think define us...but terrifying too - who am I if I am not my possessions? My photos, my books, my letters? (Okay, I'll admit it, the aforementioned items are going into my mother-in-law's loft until I can make firm decisions.)
The craziest and most emotionally dangerous decision is re-homing 2 of our beloved cats. Other TTC pet-owners will understand that deep connection we have with our animals, how truly they support our soul and pick us up from our darkest places. When I took our dearest feline friend M to my brother's house to live, I cried as if my heart would break. In those tears was all the frustrations and sadnesses of the last 3 years. I felt wracked with guilt, consumed with grief. The bed felt empty without her purring presence. And finding a home for our littlest cat has proved a journey in itself, fraught with anxiety. Many's the time I've thought 'can I do this?' Am I really the person I thought I was if I can re-home soul individuals who have loved me unconditionally through the turmoil of the last 3 years? M is happy, revelling in the attention of a full house at my brother's. Of course she is happy. This is my shit.
In the midst of the upheaval, we went to India and were seduced by the epic magic of the place; the sacred rituals, the beautiful people, the complete and utter culture shock that left us reeling for days on end. On a dusty 8-hour bus ride I conceived the idea that we might adopt from India, so saddened were we by the abject poverty some children live in. As breath-takingly beautiful children with kohl-painted eyes peeped surreptitiously at us over bus seats, we fantasised about bringing our child back to their homeland, immersing ourselves in the religious culture, taking her to bathe in the great Mother Ganges, learning Hindi....
On return to England, we were overwhelmed with the bureaucracy such an adoption would entail and the cost was far more than we could afford. So, we decided to adopt from home, from here so that our child might be able to have a relationship with their birth family if they chose to. We had always promised ourselves we'd give it 3 years and, like that, 3 years is up. It's not long by many's standards but we knew we couldn't take the uncertainty for much longer and it feels like we will finally get to live our dream of being parents. On Sunday, I suddenly realised my period was 3 days late (after deciding on adoption I gratefully put away the thermometer and the charts....freedom from their depressing tyranny) and urged R to buy a pregnancy test just so we could put that thought quickly from our minds. As he was in the shop and I was waiting in the car, I felt the low dull ache that signifies the beginning of my period, so as I saw him rushing back to the car I knew that dream was over as soon as it had begun (so funny how it happened just then). But it afforded us both brief, private moments of pure, delicious fantasy, imagining the little stick saying 'yes, against all odds and in the 11th hour, you are, indeed, going to grow a baby of your own!' Dreams....
Finally having something to tell all my postnatal and pregnant clients has been an enormous relief and wards off the endless questions of when we are going to start a family (people often erroneously believe that the reason we've delayed it is because I have witnessed what they perceive as the difficulties and struggles of early parenthood - the number of times I have had to feign laughter and change the subject are too numerous to count). I found myself blushing the first time I told a client as I saw her face registering the years I have supported her through both her pregnancies, but it was okay. For me, at least, but I hope it doesn't make people feel too awkward. Still, if people are going to ask blunt questions, finally I can give them blunt answers!
Down on the beach last night, with the glorious white moon's reflection dancing on the waves, I was filled with a sense of awe and wonderment. I had met up with some friends and told them of our plans but I found myself saying 'we've decided to adopt because we can't have children' and those words jarred like jagged glass. My friend T took me gently aside and reminded me that what I affirm becomes my reality. Of course, I know this. I've always tried to avoid saying 'we can't have kids' etc. because I know I'm putting down layers deep in my psyche but there it is, my deep belief, rearing its ugly head. The way T speaks is so wise and slow and gentle - she looked into my eyes and said 'I am going to be stern with you now, listen to what you are affirming,' and she told me again about friends of hers who have miraculously become pregnant from nowhere.... And in my heart I want to believe her, but then again I want to be a mother with my whole being and if adoption is a route to that reality, I wholeheartedly take it.
We are waiting for a call from our social worker. What he/she will make of our new living arrangements is anyone's guess but I'll keep you posted. When the process begins, I want to commit to it and not secretly be trying to conceive in a kind of back-handed manner. So, deep in my heart, I know that a chapter is coming to an end. In every sense as I sit here surrounded by boxes in our marital home. Things are ending, skins are being shed to make way for the new and I feel like an observer, watching it all. The calm abiding witness. Everything seems very dream-like as I pack up our things to go to charity and Freecycle. When I touch down into the real, the rawness of the rollercoaster ride overwhelms me and I can't stop crying. But not bad crying, just releasing, releasing, releasing crying. Letting go....
The adventure begins.....
We are packing up our beloved cottage, allocating one tiny box of 'stuff' for our new home which is, after all, only 30ft long and incredibly compact. All the furniture and accumulated clutter of our married life must go so I am sorting through things, laughing at memories and lighting paper fires in our woodburner. So freeing to let go of the things we think define us...but terrifying too - who am I if I am not my possessions? My photos, my books, my letters? (Okay, I'll admit it, the aforementioned items are going into my mother-in-law's loft until I can make firm decisions.)
The craziest and most emotionally dangerous decision is re-homing 2 of our beloved cats. Other TTC pet-owners will understand that deep connection we have with our animals, how truly they support our soul and pick us up from our darkest places. When I took our dearest feline friend M to my brother's house to live, I cried as if my heart would break. In those tears was all the frustrations and sadnesses of the last 3 years. I felt wracked with guilt, consumed with grief. The bed felt empty without her purring presence. And finding a home for our littlest cat has proved a journey in itself, fraught with anxiety. Many's the time I've thought 'can I do this?' Am I really the person I thought I was if I can re-home soul individuals who have loved me unconditionally through the turmoil of the last 3 years? M is happy, revelling in the attention of a full house at my brother's. Of course she is happy. This is my shit.
In the midst of the upheaval, we went to India and were seduced by the epic magic of the place; the sacred rituals, the beautiful people, the complete and utter culture shock that left us reeling for days on end. On a dusty 8-hour bus ride I conceived the idea that we might adopt from India, so saddened were we by the abject poverty some children live in. As breath-takingly beautiful children with kohl-painted eyes peeped surreptitiously at us over bus seats, we fantasised about bringing our child back to their homeland, immersing ourselves in the religious culture, taking her to bathe in the great Mother Ganges, learning Hindi....
On return to England, we were overwhelmed with the bureaucracy such an adoption would entail and the cost was far more than we could afford. So, we decided to adopt from home, from here so that our child might be able to have a relationship with their birth family if they chose to. We had always promised ourselves we'd give it 3 years and, like that, 3 years is up. It's not long by many's standards but we knew we couldn't take the uncertainty for much longer and it feels like we will finally get to live our dream of being parents. On Sunday, I suddenly realised my period was 3 days late (after deciding on adoption I gratefully put away the thermometer and the charts....freedom from their depressing tyranny) and urged R to buy a pregnancy test just so we could put that thought quickly from our minds. As he was in the shop and I was waiting in the car, I felt the low dull ache that signifies the beginning of my period, so as I saw him rushing back to the car I knew that dream was over as soon as it had begun (so funny how it happened just then). But it afforded us both brief, private moments of pure, delicious fantasy, imagining the little stick saying 'yes, against all odds and in the 11th hour, you are, indeed, going to grow a baby of your own!' Dreams....
Finally having something to tell all my postnatal and pregnant clients has been an enormous relief and wards off the endless questions of when we are going to start a family (people often erroneously believe that the reason we've delayed it is because I have witnessed what they perceive as the difficulties and struggles of early parenthood - the number of times I have had to feign laughter and change the subject are too numerous to count). I found myself blushing the first time I told a client as I saw her face registering the years I have supported her through both her pregnancies, but it was okay. For me, at least, but I hope it doesn't make people feel too awkward. Still, if people are going to ask blunt questions, finally I can give them blunt answers!
Down on the beach last night, with the glorious white moon's reflection dancing on the waves, I was filled with a sense of awe and wonderment. I had met up with some friends and told them of our plans but I found myself saying 'we've decided to adopt because we can't have children' and those words jarred like jagged glass. My friend T took me gently aside and reminded me that what I affirm becomes my reality. Of course, I know this. I've always tried to avoid saying 'we can't have kids' etc. because I know I'm putting down layers deep in my psyche but there it is, my deep belief, rearing its ugly head. The way T speaks is so wise and slow and gentle - she looked into my eyes and said 'I am going to be stern with you now, listen to what you are affirming,' and she told me again about friends of hers who have miraculously become pregnant from nowhere.... And in my heart I want to believe her, but then again I want to be a mother with my whole being and if adoption is a route to that reality, I wholeheartedly take it.
We are waiting for a call from our social worker. What he/she will make of our new living arrangements is anyone's guess but I'll keep you posted. When the process begins, I want to commit to it and not secretly be trying to conceive in a kind of back-handed manner. So, deep in my heart, I know that a chapter is coming to an end. In every sense as I sit here surrounded by boxes in our marital home. Things are ending, skins are being shed to make way for the new and I feel like an observer, watching it all. The calm abiding witness. Everything seems very dream-like as I pack up our things to go to charity and Freecycle. When I touch down into the real, the rawness of the rollercoaster ride overwhelms me and I can't stop crying. But not bad crying, just releasing, releasing, releasing crying. Letting go....
The adventure begins.....
Thursday, 7 January 2010
pseudonym jitters
And by the way...I decided to change my blogging name from Future Mum to Dream Seeker - I don't want to be a mum at some indeterminate time in the future...I want to affirm it as my reality NOW!! And I am a seeker of dreams in that I spend far FAR too much time lying in.
A spiritual adventure - I can't wait!
R is taking me to India for my (big) birthday in April - yay, yay and more hoorays than it is possible to fit on a page! I have always always wanted to go (I'm sure I was even thinking about it in the womb)! And he tucked the tickets inside a book on India and it said 'Let's go on a spiritual adventure to the birthplace of tantra. I love you.' Could I love him any more than I do or would I spontaneously combust?! HOOOOOORAY!!!! And it's still snowing!!!! AND he's not going to work tomorrow! And he'll be home very soon!
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
an ode to cats and dogs...and snow
It's snowing!! What could be more delicious than our chocolate-box village covered in virgin snow! My clients all cancelled so I went back to bed with a hot water bottle (period pains) and read a book then, ahem, drifted back asleep...oops. I love it when the world grinds to a halt like this; the park is suddenly full of families, mums and dads sledging with their kids, shrieks of delight because everyone has 'permission' to spend a day together. Noone can get anywhere here and there's a real comradeship and evident thrill in it.A kind of freedom in calling up your boss and saying 'I can't come in today...' Yes, yes, yes!! No need to fake a dodgy throat before dashing out to gambol about in the snow and make snow angels. R and I had a ridiculous amount of fun burying ourselves in snow and videoing our sausage dog leaping about in it when it snowed before Christmas. Unfortunately the party-poopers have been moaning about the poor service of commuter trains when it snows so today they're running them. Altogether now...booooooooo. So R made it into work, although it took him 3.5 hours. Totally utterly pointless when he could be larking about in the snow with ME!! So, judging by news reports etc., snow is officially NO LONGER FUN (as in all the pics in the paper when it first snowed of aforementioned families etc.) but SERIOUSLY INCONVENIENT AND DANGEROUS (see scaremongering Tories trying to tell us we'll all be dead in our beds by the end of the week/'I can't get to work for one day' protests).
Well, well, I'm here to soak up the beautiful perfect silence that descends with a blanket of snow. Was dreaming again about Scotland (despite our deciding we're definitely not moving there now) and being holed-up in some remote house with a roaring fire - I love the wilderness of the Highlands. The utter escapism, the peace and solitude. The magic of hiking in silence for several hours and then coming face to face with a stag. It seems like another reality, transcending realms-especially when the stag meets your gaze for what seems like minutes on end before darting off. I like that a lot about Scotland.
R and I have had a funny week of people being surprised we don't have a TV. 'What do you do in the evenings?' is their plaintive cry...it really freaks people out. Some are anxious that we're missing such cultural milestones as 'The X Factor' and 'Strictly Come Dancing'. This worries them deeply. We usually say that we try and work our way through the book mountains that threaten to swallow up our teeny living space, book mountains which have only increased since Christmas with a vague promise from R that he's going to put up 'another shelf' -where I ask you?! We cook together, eat together, do puzzles together, sometimes play Scrabble together (but he always wins, grrrrr), sometimes watch a film together on the computer (yes, we are in the technological age!) but mostly we sit in front of the fire with our animals.
Which leads me to the point of this rambling post (you can tell it's a day off for me!) which is how great it is to have a menagerie of pets to welcome you home. Each of our three cats is uniquely different with their own quirky mannerisms, things that make us laugh until our sides ache. And as for the sausage dog, well, you can imagine how amusing and lovely she is. Our pets have brought an incredible amount of
love into our lives. I simply cannot imagine life without their furry comfort, their beautiful wise feline/canine eyes, their ability to be completely in the moment, to take immense pleasure in just being near me and R. They all bundle into a pile by the fire and sleep with their arms and paws entwined (99% of the photos we take are of these moments!). They have, throughout the years, been an immense source of comfort and kindness. They seek us out when we are sad, our dog in particular comes rushing out if she hears crying and has been known to lick tears away. To R and I, they are our family and we are so blessed that these 4 little souls share our home. As I write, they're all curled up snoozing, blissfully aware that they're the most loved animal companions in the world.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
A very blissful new year celebration this year...
I enjoyed a deeply transformative, beautiful tantric ritual with my R - my god, my Shiva - in which we created a lovely temple in our bedroom with candles and music....
we lazed about then made a delicious (and crazily cheesy) 4 course meal. Which consisted of, um, crudites with home-made dips (one of them cream cheese and roasted red pepper), then a pasta dish with a rich creamy, er, cheesy, sauce and then a cheese course with lovely homemade bread (which had a dusting of, er, cheese on top) followed by - you guessed it - cheesecake! I turned into a total cheesemonster in the kitchen trying to use up all the leftover cheese from Christmas!
Then we lit a fire, did a meditation and wrote our wishes and intentions for the coming year. We read out what we intended to let go of in 2010 and burnt the pieces of paper afterwards. It felt very cleansing and we were totally buzzy and invigorated...
It was a truly magical evening together and we woke on New Year's Day with bright light hearts...
We wish,
We wish,
We wish....
And in the beautiful flow of things, everything is happening perfectly.
Happy 2010 x
I enjoyed a deeply transformative, beautiful tantric ritual with my R - my god, my Shiva - in which we created a lovely temple in our bedroom with candles and music....
we lazed about then made a delicious (and crazily cheesy) 4 course meal. Which consisted of, um, crudites with home-made dips (one of them cream cheese and roasted red pepper), then a pasta dish with a rich creamy, er, cheesy, sauce and then a cheese course with lovely homemade bread (which had a dusting of, er, cheese on top) followed by - you guessed it - cheesecake! I turned into a total cheesemonster in the kitchen trying to use up all the leftover cheese from Christmas!
Then we lit a fire, did a meditation and wrote our wishes and intentions for the coming year. We read out what we intended to let go of in 2010 and burnt the pieces of paper afterwards. It felt very cleansing and we were totally buzzy and invigorated...
It was a truly magical evening together and we woke on New Year's Day with bright light hearts...
We wish,
We wish,
We wish....
And in the beautiful flow of things, everything is happening perfectly.
Happy 2010 x
Thursday, 31 December 2009
Wishing all an abundant 2010
When I started writing this blog, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted from it. My sister had a blog and I loved reading hers so I thought I’d have a go…it was just an extension of writing a journal (something that has been happening less and less since I had the blog I have to admit!). For a year or so I wrote irregularly on our quest to conceive naturally with as little help as we could. All that time, I had no idea that there were many other women out there writing about their own journeys, their ups and downs, their heartbreaks and joyful miracles. It was (and is) a slow realization that you are all there too. It’s been such a joy discovering other people’s stories. I love reading your words. It’s made me so grateful for the relative ease of our journey so far when I read how brave you beautiful women have been in your quest to hold a baby in your arms and feel completion, peace, boundless love.
It is so humbling to be welcomed into your lives and at times to hear the breaking of a heart.
A few days before Christmas, I found myself with a glass of wine in hand reading through the blogs I’d discovered in the last few months and I felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of feeling in them. I’m sure we’ve all sat at the computer screen and cried and cried for all our sisters in hope – tears of joy and tears of deep grief.
I think that women, in our connection to the Goddess and to the Earth Mother, have a bottomless well of unconditional love, support, kindness, nurturing and arms that enfold. Reading how you all hold each other reminds me that, whilst aspects of our lives are difficult, this beautiful radiance shines through. I think Shell summed this up so beautifully in her post about sisterhood in IVF, now that was a post that really had me crying!
And my gratitude to our menfolk who have to rise to this challenge too - find ways of relating and understanding. We all know the comfort of someone reaching out to encircle us in the darkness of the night. In the presence of R, I am truly blessed - my tantric god whose heart chakra resonates with mine and surrounds me with blissful protection.
Thank you for everything you have shared – I look forward to finding more of you as the year progresses. Wishing you all a 2010 in which dreams come true, in which our beautiful souls manifest in earthly bodies - we are waiting for you with open arms.
Happy New Year!
It is so humbling to be welcomed into your lives and at times to hear the breaking of a heart.
A few days before Christmas, I found myself with a glass of wine in hand reading through the blogs I’d discovered in the last few months and I felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of feeling in them. I’m sure we’ve all sat at the computer screen and cried and cried for all our sisters in hope – tears of joy and tears of deep grief.
I think that women, in our connection to the Goddess and to the Earth Mother, have a bottomless well of unconditional love, support, kindness, nurturing and arms that enfold. Reading how you all hold each other reminds me that, whilst aspects of our lives are difficult, this beautiful radiance shines through. I think Shell summed this up so beautifully in her post about sisterhood in IVF, now that was a post that really had me crying!
And my gratitude to our menfolk who have to rise to this challenge too - find ways of relating and understanding. We all know the comfort of someone reaching out to encircle us in the darkness of the night. In the presence of R, I am truly blessed - my tantric god whose heart chakra resonates with mine and surrounds me with blissful protection.
Thank you for everything you have shared – I look forward to finding more of you as the year progresses. Wishing you all a 2010 in which dreams come true, in which our beautiful souls manifest in earthly bodies - we are waiting for you with open arms.
Happy New Year!
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