We had our first adoption workshops last week, on Monday and Tuesday. Alongside eight other couples, we learnt about the kind of kids that need adopting, listened to some shocking case studies and found out ways in which we can parent children who have been through more in their short time here than most of us will go through in a lifetime. It was certainly food for thought.

Interestingly, half the couples already had children and two of those had chosen adoption for truly altruistic reasons. The rest of us had tried, and failed, to make biological families and were trying our luck with a different approach. There were some interesting people there - some I know will remain firm friends as our children grow, and some I felt we were singing from different parenting songsheets. My parenting choices and interest has always been in attachment parenting and I have reams of literature on the subject and have written about it for years. It's a whole new thing thinking about the different challenges adopted children face - the level of loss and trauma they have experienced - and how to parent them with love and consciousness through that. Sometimes it feels like it'll be a superhuman achievement and sometimes I think that staying present, staying aware and loving will guide us all along. A social worker said somewhere near the beginning of our process 'choose your battles wisely' and it seems to ring so true. When I imagine the scenarios we might be faced with as parents, I keep thinking of not sweating the small stuff and finding ways for our future kids to express the big stuff.

Both R and I had been slightly dreading the workshops. We'd been told that they would be hard work and harrowing, and whilst they certainly didn't hold back any punches in terms of the realities of these children's lives, both days left us feeling inspired and uplifted. It further cemented that this is something we want to do, even need to do. We've discussed several times what would happen if I got pregnant suddenly now. We'd be overjoyed, yes, but part of me feels we've embarked on this for a reason. Another part of me already feels like I'd be letting down a child whose life we have the opportunity to change. I keep thinking of 'parenting the child who hurts' as they call it, and my heart bursts with love...I feel overwhelmed with how much I want to hold this child who might already be in existance somewhere. It's almost impossible to explain, so I'll leave it at that.

It seems it might all happen much sooner than the doom merchants have lead us to believe (everyone, from co-workers to friends - even if they know nothing about adoption whatsoever - has felt the need to say to us 'well, it'll be a long, hard haul. It'll take ages' when we've told them of our adoption plan). The social worker believes we might go to panel by the summer holidays. This is crazily, almost unbelievably exciting...we might be parents at Christmas.

Yesterday, I learnt that one of my closest friends is pregnant, a complete surprise. I was bowled over when I read her email (she's overseas at the moment), crying tears of joy and shock and delight. She will be the best mother in the world, I genuinely don't know anyone who operates so fully from the heart. I felt almost as if I was pregnant, that's how close we are, and I know we will share the journey together. After I'd emailed her my happy response, I had some time to reflect last night. Will it be strange her going through pregnancy and me going through home study simultaneously? Will I find it difficult to cope emotionally? I'd offered my support and love to her wholeheartedly - and at the time I truly felt I was able to give that - but last night I retreated back into my snail shell a little and wondered about how it might all feel. Well, I guess we will find out! And there's no escaping the reality of it, so I will have to take great care to listen to my heart and allow myself time out if it becomes too much. Noone deserves the joy of parenthood more than my friend does, and there's a joy in the fact that we'll be parenting alongside one another - different situations, but ultimately the same goal, to mother with love and conscience.

Our new house and new plans!

It's been so long since I wrote a post on here I toyed with not doing it at all. But I was reading my friend's new blog about bringing her adorable new daughter home from hospital and it reminded me how much I got out of writing my own blog. I started a few others over the last year but it was this one that provided an outlet for my feelings on all the ups and downs of the past five years. So I'm back!!

R and I have moved to the most incredible house... perched on a cliff with panoramic views of the sea. Truly an incredible place to wake up every day and we thank our lucky stars. It's not an easy kind of life - we don't have mains electricity so rely on sporadic wind and solar power and hundreds upon hundreds of candles! Which is rather romantic actually. And we don't have mains heating or hot water so we rely on a big old-fashioned coal-powered range and wood burner and freeze the rest of the time! When we wake in the morning, the cold takes your breath away. But then you go through to the kitchen and there's the sea, majestic and vast and too incredible for words. In stormy weather (of which there's been rather a lot lately!) the waves go up and over the house, and thump up against the sea wall, making the foundations of the house shake. It is truly elemental and like nothing I've ever experienced before. So the change in our lives has been extraordinary, and unexpected, and fun. And wow, the sense of space after living on a boat! Here we have so much room to spread out. We also have a spare bedroom which leads me on to my next piece of news...

We've - finally - started the adoption process! We attempted to start it last year just as we were moving onto the boat but were dropped like hot potatoes by our local authority when they found out about our new living arrangements. So, when we moved here in August, we got in touch with a new adoption agency and they conducted their first home study. We were nervous about what they would say about the house but they seemed confident we could make it a special place for a child to grow up. It's a slow process -we first got in touch in August and it took them until October to offer us a place on an introductory meeting. Then the first home visit, when we frantically cleaned and put up photos everywhere of us being super aunty and uncle with our nieces and godchildren! After this meeting, they told us we would have to wait until Jan for the next adoption workshops to start and we were despondant and low after that. It took it out of us a bit, all the probing and questioning and the sense that, basically, they were looking for the stuff that was 'wrong' rather than what was right, going through our whole life histories up to this point and pulling apart episodes from tumultuous teen years. But I know we have to be prepared for that as that meeting was only the beginning and the home study will go in much deeper. And, shortly after, we received the initial meeting write-up which we had to check and send back and we were really touched by all the little things the social worker noticed about us as a couple and who we were. Yes, there's some big stuff from our pasts but they did temper it with all the things we have done since then and how close we are etc. We were ridiculously excited to get the report and have been so since then. It really feels like it's happening now and I have this crazy wild idea that I can't shake that somehow 2012 will be our year. Imagining being a parent this time next year, and preparing for Christmas, sends me into frenzies of excitement!

We're well aware that it won't neccessarily be an easy ride - they said to us that they're not just looking for parents, 'but special parents' and there are all the reasons why children need to be adopted - the abuse, neglect, drug problems etc. And then there's the interaction with the birth families and how that might feel, for both us and our child. But nonetheless, I feel like this will be the most wonderful journey and we will relish being parents so much after the ups and downs to get here - what an incredible blessing it will be when we finally get to bring our child home! My best friend is adopted and she sent me the most wonderful email from Africa, where she works running a children's hostel. This is a little bit of it that made my heart feel full:

'Even though that might seem very scary for you, I also know that you and R convey a strength that I don't think I see in anyone but my parents. Your relationship is built on an energy that reaches out to all around you. I'm in awe of the life you have made for yourselves, it's so intoxicating and full of happiness and health, in more ways that one. I don't just mean 'health' in its most obvious form, but god the laughter and the knowing-ness that you guys know whatever happens things will work out well. That's also health, a healthy approach to life. Your extended family too, will be a huge contribution to the whole decision and process. I love the connection you all have, and others see this too, just show them a few family videos! They will support this whole process and what joy it will bring everyone! I don't remember myself but I'm often told of what a joyous time it was when I suddenly arrived, so wanted, for all around my family it was apparently a time of huge happiness. You deserve this, and you'll make the most wonderful mum! O my gosh! Can I have some of that please! Your entire approach to life will rub off on those little souls, as it does to all around you, and they will bathe in that like happy little growing pockets of joy.'

On that beautiful note from a dear and special friend I'll end this post. I hope you're all doing well whatever is happening in your respective lives. I think I'll catch up on some of your blogs now! I'll keep you updated as we go along...watch this space!

The magic of Family Constellations

So we're officially here and still alive! We've not fallen into the sea...yet. Happy new year one and all! I just wanted to write a quick post on the back of the most amazing weekend R and I shared. A year or so ago one of my clients went on a Healing the Ancestors shamanic course and, knowing mine and R's long journey to have babies, he discreetly recommended we do it. I forgot all about it until a while ago when on a whim I booked us on the course, balking a little at the cost but hoping it would be helpful.

Well....yowzers...powerful, mind-blowing stuff, my friends! It is based on family constellations (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family_Constellations), work devised by psychotherapist Bert Hellinger to release and heal family patterns. There were about 23 of us in the group and we opened with some deep shamanic work and chanting so we were in quite powerful states when we began the constellations. Basically, you choose several members of the group to represent members of your family and our incredible healer group facillitator divined what was going on in each 'constellation' and found ways to resolve deep-rooted problems, some which went back many generations. I know I'm doing an awful job describing it and anyone who's done it is probably thinking 'what are you talking about it?!' but I think it is some of the most intense and powerful healing I have witnessed in my life (and hey, I've done a lot of courses, met many people in my line of work and experienced some lovely magic in my time). I can't recommend it highly enough.

R got to meet the spirits of his brother and sisters who were miscarried before he was born. He bent down to honour them and Jill, our magic-weaving facillitator, asked him to say to them 'I honour you as my brother/sister. Just because you died doesn't mean I can't have children.' I was awed by the fact this woman did not know us or our issues and yet had divined that this was the healing that needed doing. Needless to say, we cried buckets and R has been in a state of peace since - as an only child, he has alwasy felt an awful weight of responsibility which has now lifted.

Since the course, we have floated around, been thoughtful and peaceful and grateful. It seems that magic was abroad over that weekend and we must wait and see what happens. There is a sense of deep release.

Perhaps this all sounds a little mad and flakey to some. I know that there was a time when I just wasn't open to healing like this but now I just feel grateful that there are people like Jill willing to work on such a deep level to heal human consciousness and help us find ways to live more beautiful, aware and fulfilled lives. I thought I'd throw it out there anyway in case it resonates with anyone who has family stuff going on that might be affecting their potential to become parents. Happy seeking dear ones!

Ah, that funny time of year again...Christmas is about kids and we don't have any. Been buying presents for all the god-children - we get them a special book each every year - and thinking about buying them for my own kids one year. Lots of my clients had babies in the last few weeks; the perfect Christmas present. They've been blissed out and exhausted and overwhelmed and joyful and sleepless and tearful. It is still a joy to share it all.

Planning a visit to see my beloved friend in Africa next year. I've been putting it off for so long in case I might be pregnant/breastfeeding etc. but there's a limit to how many years I can postpone a visit just in case! So I am going to book the tickets as a Christmas present to myself, to remind myself that every day is precious and fun and to be enjoyed and explored into each of its corners. This is my life and it is not on hold.

Today I have a luxurious day off which I have so far spent doing very little - lying in bed with a magazine (crazy, the guilt kicks in and then I think, No! Relax and enjoy!), eating a leisurely breakfast and sitting here chatting with my R. Thinking back to those days at the cottage when R would dash out the door at 6.30am and we wouldn't see each other all day, makes me realise how far we have come in creating a more chilled and connected way of living - it's easy to forget when it becomes 'normal'! We talked so much in those days about finding a way we could be together more and R could stop commuting (and losing his hair from stress and lack of sleep!). And we found it. Though living on a boat was not exactly what I had in mind, it has proved to be a transformative time in which we both, but R in particular, have discovered a lot about what makes us tick. It's been a big year in that sense.

So today, before I go out and do (all - eek!) my Christmas shopping I just wanted to remember how happy it feels to be hanging out here on the boat with R. He is currently fitting a mini woodburner for our next predicted bout of snow so toasty evenings in by the fire here we come!

Winter musings....

Wow...it's been so long since I posted. So long. Almost feels like a lifetime ago. I don't know why because nothing major has happened but things have been emotionally tumultuous.

Something I (finally) begun learning about was self-care. This has been a whole unfolding journey I am only just beginning to understand, but I started going to a natural nutrition course at the end of the summer which literally blew my mind. It gave me a lot of tools for bringing more light into the body, for nurturing and caring for myself throughout the seasons. It felt empowering.

And then came winter. I struggle with these darker contracted months so much. I can't tell you how lovely the summer months were; it felt like R and I had truly freed ourselves from something. We were blissful - long evenings walking along the seafront and watching the sea's changing moods; lots of social fun and laughter; time together despite busy schedules.

But these winter months bring up a mixed bag of blues and greys and sometimes blacks. In the Chinese five elements school of thought, winter is connected to the lungs and to grief. We found out in September that my mum has MS. She had known for along time but didn't feel ready to tell us until it really became obvious that something was wrong. She has been in denial for a long time. Her mum - my grandmother - had a very severe case of MS and was physically battered by it when she died in 2004. Since she told us, Mum has had two bad falls, breaking bones and shattering self confidence. She is getting around with a stick and starting to feel a little better....but oh, what a lot this brings up. It's like tilling the soil of an abandoned field of sadness. All of us remembering Nanny's illness and hoping this time it will be different. And sometimes I think I just can't reach in to Mum because this fear is hers alone...to lie with in the dawn hours. I think the cruellest thing about disease is how lonely it is. She is, as ever, keeping upbeat and positive in her warm sweet way. Nothing unfolds like you thought it would when you imagined your adulthood.

Work has been busier than ever. It has literally suddenly taken off - I was chuckling at my summer posts planning long days that R and I hung out together in our new boat life. I have been working long hours, late into the evening and coming back tired and crabby. R has been his beautiful, supportive self: cooking me nourishing meals, rubbing my feet, making me hot water bottles. I love him so much and sometimes I just forget it because I'm nagging him about where he stores his shoes or the fact he's left his towel on the bed etc. It has recently become clear to me that I tend to forget to look at what is beautiful in each moment - it gets lost in the cotton wool of life. In these crazy months of weird imbalance, his small kindnesses keep me stable. His love is a precious thing.

We are blessed to have a new little beacon of light in our lives - our new dog B (I accidentally wrote 'god' which isn't actually so far off the mark when it comes to worship!). She literally come into our lives and radiated her love into every corner (and after G's death, she had some big pawprints to fill...). Such a loving, exuberant little being - everyone here at the marina adores her. Having a puppy of course narrows down your options in some ways - no more popping out for an impromptu meal/cinema etc. - but in others just opens them up. Taking a long seaside stroll each morning does wonders to clear the mind and remind me to live in the now. Watching apricot strips of dawn sun streak experimentally across the icy clouds this morning was magic for the soul. We're also lucky that everyone seems to love B, our friends and family are only too happy to let her jump on their sofas just for a bit of that B blissed out companionship! It's cosy on the boat with her and Captain Cat but we muddle through. I've always loved a space filled with animals and think it is always warmer and good for the heart!

Writing this post made me reflect on the name of my blog - A Fertility Journey. Somehow, in the stress, overwhelm and emotional wobbly-ness of the last few months, trying to get pregnant has been the furthest thing from my mind. That's not to say it would not be the most incredible (unbelievable?! Gotta work with that deeply held idea) thing to happen ever, just that we haven't been making the time to love and connect with each other and so I think it's probably a good thing that we haven't conceived in this cold little chip of a time. I want our baby to feel the bliss from within our two bodies when he or she is conceived. We have both been tired and crabby and because my work is about looking after others all day, I really feel the need for my marriage, friendships and family relationships to be very nourishing and feel disillusioned when there is discord.

The funny thing is - I have created this reality for myself. I have chosen to spend my days rushing around, meeting the needs of others and feeling disconnected as a result. Writing this and writing in my journal has been the impetus I need to get back in touch with the light within, to stop expecting so much of myself and to make space to nurture. To be quiet and watch the sea. To light a candle and stare at the flame. To listen to the birds. To have a lovely long lie-in. Watch this space....

Alive

I am alive in this moment, right here, right now. The rain is pattering on the wooden roof on the boat, it's cosy within with our new solar lighting (clever hubby is already spending his work-free days wisely!!). There are seabirds calling as they come in to roost on nearby rooftops. Our kitty, back from the brink of imagined impending doom by some overzealous vets, is eating chicken in our galley kitchen. He's fine and happy, loving his cuddles as ever. We went out to sea today for a crazy wild sail in a friend's boat - the sense of thrill and adrenalin is still within when I remember the boat ripping through the waves tilted on its side. Shit, I was scared!!! But I was also excited and felt completely, fully alive and alert. I felt/feel in awe of the vastness of the oceans, of their changing moods and colours, their drama and danger. How a beautiful calm blue sea can turn into a frenzied grey whirlpool in moments...

Sometimes, like just now, when I lie on my bed in the boat, I imagine all the creatures beneath me, right down to the murky depths. The sea pulsing her sweet rhythms on the underside of our boat, the fish moving as one beneath the hull.

I have been having a beautiful and weirdly wonderful connection with all the babies I've seen in the last few days. When I pass them in pushchairs and prams in the shops, we stare at one another for what feels like ages, their eyes following mine as we go our separate ways. I say weird simply because I thought a baby's range of vision didn't extend that far... But it feels special, sacred, as if they can sense something or know something I have lost a connection to. These wise souls just arrived, they know it all.