Honour Schram de Jong
It began in 2014, with hope. A heartbeat seen, a future imagined.
And then, silence, loss in the Masai Mara, where the wild carried my grief away with the wind.
I stood alone after that.
I closed one chapter, walked out of love that wasn’t love,and stepped into the long corridors of IVF,
a place where everything looked promising on paper, yet promise after promise dissolved into nothing.
Clinics called for payments, never for me.
Forms filled, tests piled high, consultants with rather empty eyes.
Not once did anyone ask, How are you? Not once did I feel held in this journey.
And still, I tried.
Because when you long for a child, you do anything.
And yet, instead of understanding, I was met with disbelief.
“You’re crazy,” some thought.
One consultant, with cruelty thinly masked as advice, said,
“Why don’t you just go and find someone to sleep with?”
A family member asked, “Why not stop trying to be a mother and just date?”
Another, already holding a third child, told me,
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
The sharpness of their words hit deeper than the needles ever did.
I was told I had a good life, I didn’t need children.
But they never understood, to want to be a mother is not a lifestyle choice. It is a love already alive inside you, even without a child to hold.
After eleven years, I reached the day when I realised I no longer had any faith in the clinics,
and I no longer had the fight in me.
I closed the door on the dream of being a mother in the way I had imagined.
Now I am learning to sit with that choice,
Doing my best not to drown in the failure,
but searching for myself again. Trying to find meaning, purpose, and strength
in the life I do have, in the work I love,
in the tribe I am building slowly, and with my father who has stood by me, always.
I also had a taste of motherhood when my gorgeous Sinda had pups, watching over them, gorgeous tiny bundles of love,
the fierce joy of seeing life arrive safely.
It gave me a small glimpse of what might have been,
a taster of love, nurture, and responsibility.
One I will hold close, and one I hope to live again.
I do have amazing children in my life,
my beautiful niece, my amazing goddaughter, and children of friends,
who I am lucky to have
fill the room with laughter, and remind me what love feels like in its purest form.
Through their cuddles, their questions, their challenges and trust in me,
I am given moments of meaning and joy
reminders that I still matter in the world of children,
that I can still play a part, even if it is not the part I once dreamed of.
This journey has been unbearably lonely,
with little support for women who walk this road.
And yet, I have found strength in my working world,
among people who live with passion and compassion,
who care no matter the situation. For that, I am so grateful.
This is not the life I once dreamed of,
but it is still my life and I will live it fully,
even as I carry the love and losses of the children I never held
