Clichés are universally accepted as phrases so overused, they’ve literally become meaningless.

They are eye rollingly groan worthy.

The early bird catches the word.

No pain no gain.

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Time heals all wounds.

Except that last one is so very true for me.

And it’s so clichéd, I want to smack myself in the face but, it’s true.

Almost 8 years…

It’s been almost 8 years since Ava’s miraculous arrival in our lives. I’ve been a mother for 8 years in December. Eight years ago, if someone had dared to say to me, in the midst of the pain, grief and trauma of our infertility journey, that one day I would heal from it, I probably would have high fived them, in the face, with a chair. I would never have believed that recovery was possible. The depth and the breadth and the enormity and the eternity of my pain was so intense. I would never have believed it. For the longest time, even after Ava’s birth, I struggled with the pain and the grief of infertility. I felt like I was destined to walk this earth with a shattered heart, for the rest of my days.

15 years ago

On the 12th September, 2002, I woke up in a pool of my own blood and in an instant the innocence, the joy and the miracle of my first pregnancy was just… gone. By the time we got to the emergency room, I’d already bled out the embryo, my baby. And that was the start of 7 of the most trying, painful, grief filled, years of my life so far. And every year for more than a decade, that anniversary would bring up all the grief, all the pain, all the emotional memories. Every year it’s a day of intense grief and loneliness. Just being alone, in my grief. I’d spend the day of that anniversary, every year, turned into myself, in quiet reflection, a type of mourning for what could have/should have been, the loss of a child I never got to meet, I never got to know. The loss of my innocence, so to speak, the loss of hopes and dreams and the grief….. the grief I thought I would never recover from. That anniversary marks the start of my 7 year struggle with infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss. Each year, during those 7 years, that day was a painful reminder of all we had been through, it was a day of praying, please God, let this torture, let this pain end. Please God, let my next pregnancy be the one that sticks. Please God, just let it end.

12th September 2017

Last week was the 15 year anniversary……

Time heals all wounds…. so cliché but so very true…

Because last week, that anniversary passed by and I didn’t even realize it. Fifteen years after losing my first pregnancy, I am able to say, I have moved on from it. I am healed from that pain, the grief is not so raw, so all encompassing, so excruciating. I am, like all women who have walked a similar path, forever changed by it, by the losses, by the worst case scenarios, by the pain and the trauma and the grief. But I feel I have healed or am finally, 15 years on, healing from it.