Ruth Guest
Stage 1 the 70s
Brown and orange swirly fabrics, flares and Abba the first time around
Three TV channels and telephones attached to the wall
Used to draw pictures of my wedding dress and never imagined I would not have children
Wanted to work in a sweet shop so I could…you know…eat all the sweets
Everything and anything seemed possible
Stage 2 the 80s.. my teens
Indiana Jones, Duran Duran and Princess Di
Rara skirts and new romantics
The Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) came to light.
Still assumed there would be a husband and children and that it would be no problem achieving either of them.
Everything still seemed possible as I went off to university
Stage 3 the 90s… my twenties
A career and a consummate people pleaser
The job, my vocation was all that mattered
Married to my job and the only thing I needed was to be …well… needed. A dangerous thing
Carelessly lost an ovary
Wondered if there would be a husband. Or a child. Felt I needed the first generally before the second
Bought a house and still felt fairly invincible
Stage 4 the 00s… my thirties
Finally met my soulmate amongst my first dance with burnout and depression
And then wanted life to be full of life
Riding on the back of motorbikes, new escapades and lots of adventures
A wedding in a red dress.
A whole future ahead...and all things still felt possible.
But PCOS and now Diabetes made conceiving hard
Almost gave up but then two blue lines and infinite possibilities again
And then a miscarriage…
Miscarriage?
What does that even mean? Miss what?
Sounds like I had mislaid that precious life? I did not mislay it. It had my full attention
Neither did I miss a connection at some railway terminal. I was there. For every single second
Miscarriage of justice? – certainly. Mother nature dealt a cruel hand that February
And then unexplained infertility. Clocks ticking.
And then nothing
Nothing
Stage 5 the 10s… my forties
Throwing myself back into work to hide the emptiness. Seemed like a good idea
Fighting with a grief I didn’t even know was grief
And then more burnout and depression. So much worse than the first time
But a dog mum. Lazy crazy greyhound mum
Trying to make life make sense and it often didn’t
Beginnings of the delightful menopause….woman-pause.
Woman stopped in her tracks more like it.
Nothing seemed possible anymore
Stage 6 now… my fifties
Caring for parents
Grieving for parents… one and then the other
Untethered now. Adult orphan
More burnout and work stress. And this time it brought me to my knees
And then if that wasn’t enough …Bang!
PTSD…. Or should I say Post Miscarriage Stress Disorder
Or should it really be Post Childlessness Stress Disorder
Flashbacks and memories brought back to the surface…finally.
Because it all resurfaces eventually
Unremitting unresolved grief for something I had had no label for… until I found my tribe
This tribe
This precious childless tribe
And here I am
Menopausal, chronic depressive, living with childlessness, grandchildlessness.
Writer. Potter. Crafter.
Trying to find peace
Trying to find ease
Simply Trying
Trying every single day
to simply find my way.
