How can you mend a broken heart?

Hahaha! Utterly dramatic title, eh? It's not really broken in the slightest, just a little dented around the edges. I had just noticed that one of my other blog entries was a song title too and thought I might start that as a theme instead of random questions. Isn't it maddening when someone mentions a band or a song and you might be a million miles away from music but it gets completely stuck in a loop in your head? Yesterday, I read a tweet from Pete Paphides (he might be a human being in his own right but he is and always will be Mr Caitlin Moran to me) and he talked about Boney M. That was it. Brown Girl in The Ring (tra la la la) was stuck in my head.

I love how music reminds you of a place and a time. You can be whisked away from a heaving bus in Woolwich to a holiday with friends or to a moment in a film. A song can make the sun shine on your face or transport you to dancing around the kitchen with your husband. It can whisk up the bad bits too- for example, realistically I can't listen to the Holy Bible by the Manics without feeling my teenage angst self creeping back! The Ellie Goulding song- Anything Could Happen- reminds me of my most recent miscarriage. I am desperately trying to tie it into the beginning of term (got to have a theme tune for the school year... or is that just me?) but it's just reminding me of that misguided hope that the pregnancy could have turned into a baby.

The worst part about having wonky chromosomes is the fact that in the law of averages, we should be able to become parents naturally. It's not a definite NO. YOU CANNOT HAVE A BABY. It's a horrible hold your breath and keep everything crossed position to be in. Of course one route is to keep trying but how many more babies can I really lose before I either lose my marriage or mind? Do you go the scary route of PGD or do you hold your hands up and say, enough. Enough of the constant heartache from either not being pregnant or the pregnancy not going to full term; it's time to adopt.

Even without the big decisions, my heart really is aching. Like properly aching hard right now. I see people with almost full term bumps right now and feel like screaming, "That should be me! That should be my bump! I should  be tired and irritable from not being able to be comfortable. I should have that rising fear of oh crap, how am I going to get through this birth?" It isn't though and it's really crippling at the moment.

I never used to be bad at seeing babies. It was only ever pregnant women that riled me- the old green eyed monster raging away as after all, I've never got that "bump". It's bad now. Made worse when I see someone cuddling their baby. Don't worry- I'm not about to snatch one as really, it's not their baby that I want. It's my own.

Since forever, failure has been a big thing for me. Not in a productive way but quite destructively as I used to scrape by, always pulling myself up at the last minute. It wasn't until I almost failed completely at something I really loved that I tried to avoid it. No matter how people say or put it, I do feel a failure in not being able to keep a pregnancy. I have achieved quite a bit in life, I guess- all the normal school qualifications, degree, PGCE, seven years of teaching (I think the average is 3?)- a family who are generally alright, if a little mad, a great group of friends, a house, and three furbabies- by the age of 30, I guess that's ok. However, I haven't made my parents grandparents or added to my in-laws' grandchildren. I haven't made my brothers or my sister-in-law an auntie or uncles. I haven't made P a dad.

To me, that's a big fat failure.

One that I can't even work harder at.

I have found a little bit of light recently. Obviously, I have a great human support network of friends and family but it is great to find other people who are having a bit of a shit time of it too! Through Twitter, I have found so many people from all around the world who are having a crap time of trying to have a baby. A whole group of people with so many differing reasons as to why they are struggling. I don't think it's a case of misery seeking misery, it's  knowing that you're not the only one struggling in a hopeless sea of imaginary babygros and nappies.

One of the people I have recently started following is Baby Hopeful. My most favourite post is this, which is called Anniversaries of Nothing. It's almost P's and my first anniversary. Next weekend, in fact. I have really struggled as all the anniversary cards mark another fantastic year spent together. Whilst any time with P is bloody amazing ( he is a truly incredibly human being), it hasn't been a happy year. Three miscarriages since we've been married. Over a month of having to live apart whilst we bought our first house together. It's been bloody tough. I think I mentioned in a previous entry about how I hoped that I wouldn't be able to drink for our first anniversary, there was a glimmer of hope that it would happen but sadly not now.

Hope is a funny thing. I taught my children to retell the story of Pandora's Box using story hands this week (thumb the beginning, index, middle and ring as the central events and the little finger as the ending). I had one child who was able to link it to multiple stories in the Bible and another who was able to link it to Sikhism. I then wondered about what hope means to me. As I have said, I am an atheist; a humanist. Humanism isn't about hope, it's about seeing the world as it really is and making the best out of it. Religion, beauty products and elections sell hope but humanism doesn't. It truly is a deep human need, especially after a significant trauma to want hope in your lives. Hope, to me, isn't about ideas, it's about needing human contact and support. It's saying, I need help or a hug right now.

Which is kind of what I need!

Oh and another song you won't be able to get out of your head...