The last two years have created difficulties for everyone, raised questions that often remain unanswered, created barriers where none existed before, broken friendships and understanding. Empathy has been created but equally stepped upon and crushed for those we once loved and strangers alike. Emotional turbulence is everywhere and drama is only a breath away.

After World Childless Week 2021 I slowly wrapped myself in a cocoon. I’ve been both emotionally and physically absent for months, watching the childless community continue on around me but rarely interacting. I’ve felt guilty for being silent: ignoring emails, not sending out any newsletters and only sharing the odd post on social media. But I remained silent.  

Perhaps it is apt I have written this blog on Valentine’s Day, as a way to remind myself of the importance of self love. I needed the last few months to focus on me, to prioritise me. In fact I’ll be so bold as to say I know I shouldn’t feel guilty. Today I give myself the gift of self love. To recognise and respect the time I needed to remain silent and wrapped in my cocoon, the freedom to remove any guilt.

The reason for my absence was a repeat incident of facing the reality of cancer again. I found out in August that I had a tumour on my right lung and on Tuesday 14th September (during World Childless Week) it was confirmed as malignant metastatic ovarian cancer. On Thursday 16th September I attended a funeral for a friend who had died from cancer, and that was when the tears hit. The last few days of World Childless Week were hard and in the weeks that followed I tied up as many loose ends as I could before I gave in and entered that cocoon.  

The next few months were filled with consultations, scans, treatment plans, additional cancer concerns and delays. Eventually in January I had a microwave lung ablation to kill the tumour. It went well and all looks good.

I have shared how cancer has played a part of my life over the last two years, in the same sense that I have shared my childless story. I see comparisons between them all of the time. Both situations can make conversations uneasy and the idea of a cocoon extremely appealing. Sometimes the silence is welcomed and embraced.

Over the last few weeks I have started to re-share the submissions from last year’s World Childless Week. At the start I tried to respond to the comments but I found it too much, so instead I sat back nestled in the comfort and security of my cocoon and peeked at everyone’s words.  They were full of understanding, empathy and support for the original writers. I felt the connections and personal comparisons, the grief, and equally the love. I saw and see the amazing strength and resilience of people to speak out and be seen.

Before my ablation I had back pain from the tumour. Thankfully that spot of pain has now completely gone but I am still experiencing some pain in my shoulder blade, side and chest, believed to be nerve damage that is hopefully temporary and will subside. It is a physical reminder that whilst the initial problem may have been removed, I have a hidden scar on my lung that can radiate out and create ripples of pain that were unexpected and unpredictable. The scar childlessness has created on my heart may not physically exist but the damage it caused has also entered many aspects of my life in ways I didn’t expect or foresee. Pain is a reminder to take things slowly because all healing takes time.   

As I slowly emerge and rejoin our wonderful community I know I can return to the safety and comfort of my cocoon at any time. I hope that if you ever need the silence and solitude of your own cocoon you don’t feel guilty or see it as a weakness, but recognise it as a place to prioritise self care and self love.

Stephanie Joy Phillips

Founder, World Childless Week

At the weekend I doodled some artwork and it feels apt to share one piece with you today.