Beware the Blamers

We’ve all met the advice givers during our infertility journeys. The ‘just relax’-ers and ‘put your legs in the air’-ers. Those that can’t wait to give you their best piece of advice that will somehow help you achieve something that fertility doctors and medication just haven’t managed to. For me, as frustrating as these people can be, I’ve always known they’ve wanted to help. Their motivation is to get us what we want. However, not all the helpers are quite so generous.

During our journey, a close ‘spiritual’ family member said he had had a vision about our struggles. He had been sent some information by the spirit world that he believed was the key to us getting pregnant. I am a believer in the spiritual world, and I’m open minded about these things, so I was happy to hear about and try what he recommended. Whether I believed in this methodology or not though, I saw this again as somebody who cared about us, offering their selfless help.

So this person sent me a package. In it was a little wooden box he had made, filled with healing crystals. Each had been carefully chosen for me to target one of my ‘barriers’. There was a little purple stone to help me sleep, a black one for letting go of work stress as well as a couple of traditional fertility stones. He explained what to do with each one and I started using them in exactly the way he recommended. I loved that they were specifically chosen for me, and I’ve always found crystals and stones to have a calming influence.

Time passed. I continued to use my crystals, eat my fertility diet, do yoga, track ovulation, take medication, take vitamins, attend appointments, pay thousands for treatment, try acupuncture etc. Etc. I loved the crystals and used them throughout this struggle, but I also knew they weren’t going to solve this alone. It had been many years and we’d had a lot of unsuccessful medical input. I felt lucky to have people in my life who cared enough to to try and help.

Months passed. I noticed that this person was less interested, and eventually returned to their pre-crystal pattern with me; seeing me at family get togethers but not making contact otherwise. Eventually I realised they had got bored. I was their project and I’d let them down. Understandable. I’d got bored and felt let down by this project for quite some time! However, I was shocked to find out it wasn’t quite that simple.

A few months ago a couple of family members mentioned something to me about things that had been said. Apparently, this person had been more than let down. They felt that I had disregarded their advice. I clearly wasn’t doing it right, because if I was I would be pregnant right now. In fact, this person was angry. I was supposed to be a success story for them. The long term infertile couple who had a miracle baby thanks to their spiritual leader. What a great advert to sell his products to others. His reaction to our failures was anger and he had a lot to say about us and how wrong our approach was. If we could just do what he said, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

Obviously, I felt upset and angry. This person who has NO IDEA of the struggles of infertility, who thinks they can just swan in and give me some nice stones, has the cheek to be annoyed with me. They have no idea how gruelling it is to spend 6 years of your life tracking, injecting, scanning, going to appointments, watching what we eat, exercising, having surgery and procedures etc. So using a few stones is nothing compared to everything we have been committed to over these years. I do NOT have a problem committing to something I’m trying for fertility. I have been on folic acid for 6 whole years!!!! I am probably solely responsible for keeping the Holland and Barrett open in the small town we live in…

Apart from the anger, this also got me thinking about our community and the extra care we need to take when looking for help. It’s not just the spiritual healing realm. Whether it’s dietary changes, working out, going plastic free or searching for the magic supplement, there will always be people looking to exploit. When you have tried to conceive for a long time, and particularly when you are told you have ‘unexplained infertility’, you are willing to try anything. We are a community who dips into their life savings and throws thousands at a 20% chance of success This makes us very vulnerable.

How do we make sure we are not being exploited? This little anecdote has made me consider some ways to guard ourselves:

1. Look out for the way things are presented to you. If you are told you’re doing things wrong, if you feel blame and judgement in the way something is explained, steer clear. Infertility is not your fault. That is a fact. Infertility is a medical condition, which is why we need doctors to help us. You wouldn’t blame anybody who was suffering from any other medical condition, so don’t accept the blame yourself.

2. Be wary of egos. If you’re bombarded with all the amazing success stories, it’s probably not as great as it sounds. Infertility is complicated, messy and difficult. There’s not going to be one thing that works. If there was, we’d all be doing it!

When you’re considering taking somebody up on their latest thing, do so with caution. Look for the honesty. Marketing that acknowledges that this method may help, but it doesn’t promise to. Scrutinise the language used and avoid anything that feels like blame. It is vital during this journey that we do all we can to protect ourselves and to feel good. Don’t accept anybody who makes you feel worse.

Friendship After TFMR: Dear friend who hasn’t said anything….

An unsent letter…

Dear friend who hasn’t said anything
●
I know you know. When we pulled out of that Zoom meet because we were ‘having a bit of a tough time’, I know you did the maths. The sober guest at the hen party. The many conversations about treatments and IVF over the years.
○
I know you probably think it’s best not to say anything, that I’ll come to you when the time is right. But, the truth is, the time will never feel right. Society has taught me that bringing up my almost baby in conversation makes me weird. That sharing pregnancy loss is over sharing. That people want to hear about your joyful, healthy pregnancy, but anything less is too much information. And in my grieving brain, your silence confirms this.
●
I’m not asking you to read my mind. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to make space for me. ‘How are you doing? I know you’ve had a tough time recently’. Can you see how that might make the time feel right? Because I DO want to talk about it. I do want my baby acknowledged by those I care about.
○
Or, you could continue to say nothing. You can continue to wait for me to speak, until weeks and months and years have passed, and the silence is deafening. An ocean that drowns my little one, deeper and deeper so that they matter less and less to everyone else and more and more to me. Their unspoken name etched on my heart forever, and yours fading into the distance.
●

Tips for IVF Newbies

Disclaimer: I am by no means an IVF expert! We’ve been trying to concieve for almost 7 years, but we only started IVF just over a year ago – sometimes you have to wait a while for the NHS referral! One thing I’ve learned is that everybody’s journey is very different, so it’s highly unlikely that anyone else’s treatment will take the same path mine has. So please don’t read this as an expert guide! I’m sharing my own personal learnings from my own specific journey. I hope it might help ease the nerves of a newbie, or provide a comparative story for others, or maybe just fill some time while you wait for treatment.

So now that bit’s over with, here’s my Top Tips for IVF Newbies!

1. Get Organised

When you get your treatment schedule from the clinic, it can be a little overwhelming! Your first fresh round is likely to include a lot of different medication at different times, and the first time I saw an IVF schedule I just couldn’t make sense of it! When you get it, spend some time looking at it and making sure you understand. Write a list of questions and call your clinic – Never forget that no question is a stupid question! You don’t want to be left holding a needle at 10pm with no one to call, wishing you had just asked (been there…)

Once you’ve got the schedule and asked your questions, you can never be too organised. Spend some time prior to starting the cycle getting as organised as possible. Some of my tips for this:

My homemade schedule
  • I like to copy my schedule out onto my own homemade wall planner. This way it sticks in my mind a little more, and it’s nice to look at!
  • Set alarms on your phone for each medication. They will need to be taken at specific times, and trust me, it is easy to forget once you’re in the swing of things.
  • Buy or make an IVF planner to record your journey. The IVF Positivity Planner is fantastic, and Bear Face Prints make some lovely ones too. They are a great way for staying organised, positive and also are a lovely momento of each cycle.
  • Create a folder to keep all your notes and info in if you havent already. Infertility generates a lot of paperwork, and not all staff you speak to will always have access to everything. A folder helps you be an advocate for yourself.
  • Think about storage that will keep your medication organised, visible and avoid mistakes. I’ve got a lovely vanity box where I can see everything and its stored in the order that I’ll need it all.
Vanity box for storage


2. Create Calm


Even the most serene of us can find themselves a little shaken up at points in treatment. Work to build an environment of calm around you during this time.


The first thing to do is look at your calendar and try to cut down on your commitments. You don’t want to be injecting during your first round in a moving car or behind the cinema! This really is time for you to be selfish. You’ve worked hard to get here, so don’t feel guilty about turning people down and retreating into your own bubble for a bit. You’ll need space to process everything and potentially deal with some hard hitting hormones and side effects.


There are some physical things I have found helpful to have around me:

  • Diffusers with calming scents (Neom is gorgeous! But there’s plenty of cheaper options. I also have from Amazon, a bit like this)
  • Stones and crystals, if you find them useful (not everybody does)
  • Music, meditation and mindful breathing exercises. I’ve used them during injections and they’ve helped a lot. My favourite is the Calm app, but there’s millions of other things online.

It’s useful to consider your worries before you start, and then mitigate against them. For example, I have a fear of needles, so I researched ways to make the injections more comfortable. I bought some ice packs and watched videos of people using the meds I would need so that I felt mentally prepared.
If you are lucky enough to have access to a counsellor, having a session to talk through your worries before starting can also be so helpful. If you don’t have a counsellor, talking to your clinic, your partner or a trusted friend or family member can work just as well.

3. Find Your Tribe


Infertility can make you feel like the odd one out. When you start IVF, you might find that people have lots of misconceptions and unhelpful ideas about what this means. Just look at the #WhatNotToSay posts on my Instagram for an insight! Be patient with the people who care about you, but don’t be afraid to find a tribe who do get it. You may be lucky enough to know somebody who has been through a similar journey. There is also an incredible community of infertility warriors online. I joined an IVF UK support group on Facebook which has been really helpful. There are lots on there if you search. After our recent loss, I also took the plunge and started my infertility Instagram, and it has helped me so much to have an outlet, and a feed geared solely towards this crazy journey.

4. Visualise It

When you receive your medication order, get EVERYHTING out. It is important to be familiar with it all. If there’s something in there you weren’t expecting, call the clinic and ask. We recieved a huge bundle of needles and didn’t open it up. When it came to using them, we didn’t realise there were two types, one for drawing the medication and one for injecting. We ended up using the drawing needle for the whole trigger…. OUCH! A very traumatic evening! It could easily have been avoided if we had spent some time unpacking and looking at everything, visualising what we needed to do before the big day. If, like me, you have a fear of needles, this is even more important. I watched some online videos of people injecting their meds to familiarise myself with the process. I also read up on top tips, such as icing the area first, prodding to find a numb spot and injecting slowly. I imagined the process and checked I had everything I would need. You can keep visualising once you’ve started treatment. Imagine your next injection, mentally walking through each step and seeing yourself remaining calm throughout. These visualisations helped me prepare; I bought ice packs and found a breathing exercise on the Calm app to play as I injected.

5. Affirmations

The mountain ahead of you may seem insurmountable, but know this; You WILL do this. You have got this! We are given what we can handle in life, and this journey can be full of joy and amazing highs. One of those highs is taking on the challenges of your first round, and smashing it, which you totally will! It’s helpful to have some affirmations ready for the tough moments. Write a list to remind yourself. Some of my own:

  • My body is strong and it is doing everything it needs to
  • I have everything I need to get through this
  • This medication will help me get to where I want to be
  • My life has purposes beyond having a baby (for when it feels all encompassing!)

Above all, remember that you are a warrior, even when you don’t feel like. My inbox is always open if you want to share your own tips or ask anything about my journey. Good luck!

Loss During Lockdown; Learning About Grief

I’ll never forget that day. The worst day of my life. I went in for the dating scan for our much longed for, 6 years in the making IVF baby, in the midst of a global pandemic. I’d had 4 scans to date, due to spotting and general anxiety, and every one had reassured me that everything was fine. I was an anxious first time mummy after everything we’d been through, but nothing prepared me for that day.

I was 13 weeks pregnant exactly. We’d opted for the screening test for down syndrome and other abnormalities, but it turned out even if we hadn’t I would have been ushered into a private room away from all the ‘normal’ pregnant women. Whether I wanted to or not, I would be told to call my husband in urgently, despite the lockdown restrictions. With or without consent, we were going to be told that our baby was very, very sick, because we didn’t even need the screening test to tell us this. Our baby had fluid all over its little body, and it didn’t move throughout the scan. There was a heart beating, but this was not a healthy little person.

My heart broke a thousand times and then I had that experience people describe of floating above their body and watching the scene unfold. I thought it was the worst I had ever felt, until we were thrown into the pit of horrific decision making that comes with situations like this. I cannot even describe those two weeks. It was the darkest time of our lives, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

This story doesn’t end well. Our little one had Patau Syndrome, and the pregnancy ended at 15 weeks and 3 days, via termination for medical reasons. The grief and shock were extreme.

In the days and weeks following the loss of our little one, the biggest challenge felt to me to be adapting to a world that wasn’t affected by the loss of our baby. Our whole world had fallen apart, but when I went to the supermarket, or had a work meeting, or chatted to the neighbours, everything was the same. I spent a month wanting to scream at everybody who spoke to me that I’d lost my baby, and I just wasn’t who I used to be. In the depths of this awful time I was angry about so much, including the fact that I was facing all of this in lockdown, without my family and friends around me.

But, 6 weeks later the fog has started to clear, and there are some things about that situation that were a blessing. The anger I felt was hard to handle, and I’ve written about how destructive it could have been in a previous post. I am grateful that lockdown provided the time to step away from relationships when I wasn’t in a good place to safeguard them. I wasn’t ready for others to ‘fix’ the situation with their love; I wanted to be fixed, because I knew my sadness was a weight for those I care most for, but I just wasn’t ready. This made me feel awful, ungrateful and selfish, and hiding away from these relationships for a time helped me to manage these feelings.

My husband and I have talked about how we would have handled things outside of lockdown, and it’s clear to us that we would have been eager to ‘get back to normal’; braving the shops for a good old wardrobe update, accepting social invitations, filling up our calendar. But what is also clear to us now is that there is no way we would have been ready for those things. It’s as if lockdown restrictions have been put in place just for us, as if somebody or something bigger than us knew what we needed, and recognised that we weren’t equipped to provide it for ourselves. And now it’s as though restrictions are easing in line with our recovery. We are just about ready to start seeing small groups of friends and family for short time periods. We are ok with being in shops without the crowds, and protecting our personal space feels important.

Now that we’ve had the time to start recovering and are gently easing back into life, I see the importance of stepping back. I know that without taking this time we would not be able to move forward in a positive, healthy way, and I hope that we can now. Obviously, we can’t always have a convenient lockdown in times of grief and struggle. But one of the many things this unique experience has taught me is that sometimes it’s ok to check out. There is no need to ‘keep up appearances’. Sometimes we need to say no, to shut ourselves away for a bit and hide from the relentless marching on of normality. Sometimes we need time to slow down, just for a little bit, and to cocoon ourselves in a protective bubble. We might need to step away from loved ones, those who usually provide comfort, because some experiences need to be faced together so that we can truly honour our feelings, without the burden of others’ emotions.

My Grief Is Not Linear

Am I doing it right? This niggling thought won’t get out of my head. It’s been a month and I’m still feeling like I want to blurt it out to anybody who expects me to be who I was before; ‘I lost my baby! Im not who I used to be!’

I’m expected to be myself at work and to carry on like nothing’s happened, and sometimes it shocks me so much that the world can carry on just the same when I feel so irretrievably different. I keep waiting for the grief to end. I feel like a month is long enough right? I need to be feeling fresh and positive and ready for a fresh start now. Its time to start the ‘stronger’ part that everyone promises…

I’m not there yet and I’m frustrated. I want to burst into tears regularly, and I’m working at a snail’s pace as I dwell on my sadness. All I want to do is wallow.

But maybe it’s not going to be a linear thing. Maybe there’s not a set time before I move on, stronger than before but still me. Maybe what’s happening right now is not getting over the grief, but actually making space for it. Maybe I’m rearranging all the parts of me so that this new part fits. I’m not who I was before, and that’s ok. And maybe I don’t leave this behind, but pick it up and carry it with me. I’m just working out how to carry it less awkwardly and heavily.

Anger

Anger can be a double edged sword. When I’m feeling angry, I feel passionate and I can rant and rave and get everything out. This feels much healthier and more cleansing than the emotions that can make me despair, or shut down entirely.

It can be addictive to release into anger. To go on a rant about the unfairness of it all, and to shout and swear. While coming to terms with the situation we were in, I found myself looking at my whole life through a different lense. I angrily proclaimed that things needed to change. I was too considerate of others, at the expense of my own wishes, and I spent too much time stressed and worried about work. What was the point in these things? I was trying to be a good person, but I’d still ended up being dealt the worst hand I could possibly imagine. Why not spend my time doing what I wanted? Forget about everyone else! Forget worrying and stressing about work! It was time to be selfish!

But, there’s danger in submitting entirely to anger.

In the weeks after we found out about our little one’s problems, friends and family desperately tried to offer support and love. I felt so grateful and so privileged to have such amazing support around us. However I also felt the creep of anger in every conversation I had in those early days. It didn’t matter what anybody said, I felt angry. They didn’t know what we were going through. How could they? When the people we love try to support us during difficult times, often they fall back on cliché phrases and platitudes. All they want is to help, but when drowning in grief it can be so hard for us to understand that. ‘Everything happens for a reason’; ‘It wasn’t meant to be’; ‘Stay positive’. Each of these sent me into a rage, and this wasn’t fair. These people love us and they were doing what we all do when the ones we love are hurting. They were trying to provide comfort and show love. I knew this even as I felt the anger boiling over inside me, so I resisted expressing it against those who cared about us most. And I’m thankful that I did, because we needed those relationships more than ever. Returning to work was tough, but I also realised that my job was a blessing too. It gave me something else to focus on, and it reminded me that I was more than infertility and pregnancy loss. My life has purposes beyond having a baby.

So my advice for anger is this. Feel it and at times let it take over, because it can be so cleansing and refreshing and healthy. If you have experienced infertility, pregnancy or baby loss, you have every right to be absolutely furious at the world. But be mindful of its dark side. Do not let it settle. Do not let it become you and do not let it infiltrate your relationships. You need these more than ever.

Our Story

Our Story

We’ve been trying to conceive for 6+ years. That’s a whole story in itself of wading through the overloaded NHS system and trying to get things moving….

We finally started IVF on the NHS in the summer of 2019. I have PCOS and it was inevitable that my ovaries would get over excited, so at the last minute I was told there would be no fresh transfer and all embryos would be frozen. They were concerned about hyper stimulation after collecting 22 eggs! 19 fertilised, but by day 5 we had 10 strong embryos for the freezer. We were delighted with this and the quality we had managed to get.

We were really sad not to transfer at this point, but what’s another couple of months in this never ending journey?! I enjoyed a couple if months of recovery before we were given the go ahead in October to start our FET cycle. Having spent years working hard on improving ovulation, and because I’d been on Letrozole for a while, I was having pretty regular cycles (finally!) So the medication was quite simple. 7 days of Fyremadol (ouch!) and a few weeks of estradial patches, as well as the delightful progesterone suppositories!

My lining was ready pretty quickly, so we had our transfer. The transfer itself was a bit of an ordeal, so we knew it wasn’t a great start. One of embryos didnt make it past the thaw stage. Losing one is sad, but we knew we were so lucky to have the other 9. Problem was we had to wait around for the next one with my bladder ridiculously full! Once in the room, it took ages and I was uncomfortable and tense, and so worried about having an accident with such a full bladder! But our embryo was finally in and I was free to run to the loo!
We had paid extra to use embryo glue, but we weren’t hopeful. I never really felt PUPO. The negative on test day wasn’t a shock. Still hurt though, and it meant we had to finance ourselves now as our NHS cycle had ended.

Next we had to wait for a consultation, then order all the drugs, then Christmas, so by the time we got started it was January. Our consultant believed we were unlucky in our first cycle, and there was no reason to change my protocol. He did agree though that I could stop taking Metformin. I’d been on it for a couple of years, apparently to help PCOS symptoms and improve fertility, but it obviously hadn’t had any impact, and I worried about the effect it might have on a pregnancy.

Transfer 2 took place on 11th February, and it was a breeze compared to number 1. We watched our little one ‘swim’ in perfectly on the ultrasound, and we both felt quietly optimistic throughout the two week wait. On test day we weren’t surprised, but we were ecstatic to FINALLY see those two lines! I still hold that memory as one of my absolute bests, despite what followed.

We had our dating scan at 13 weeks. We’d had scans before because I’d had spotting, but everything had looked great. So it was a huge shock to find out that our baby looked high risk for chromosomal abnormalities. I was ushered into a private room and asked to call my husband in. Partners were not allowed due to covid, so I started to get worried at this point. We were sat down and told our screening results indicated a less than 15% chance our baby would be born safe and well. There was an 85% chance our little one had serious chromosomal or structural problems.

We went home broken, but a small part of us still believed it would be ok. We went to see the fetal medicine specialist at 9am the next day, and she confirmed that things were not ok. There was fluid all over the baby, very little movement and restricted growth. She predicted a less than 10% chance that the baby would be ok. We were asked to consider our options, including termination.

Things got worse and worse. We looked things up, went back for further scans, got advice from various experts, but everything looked bleak. We faced the toughest decision of our lives. At 15 weeks, I attended a clinic in london and went through termination for medical reasons alone. My husband wasn’t allowed in due to Covid, and our hospital would not perform a surgical procedure. It was the most devastating thing I ever had to do, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.

Our baby had Patau syndrome, and there is no doubt; We know we made the right choice for us and our little one. But the guilt, grief and trauma is still very much there. I didn’t know where to turn when we were faced with this awful choice, and I didn’t know how to process these difficult feelings afterwards. So I started writing. I found it to be such a necessary release, but also I hoped that sharing our story helps somebody else on their difficult journey.

We don’t know what the future looks like yet, but we still have hope that we will bring a baby home one day. We are working though testing and options for trying again, but in the mean time we are also trying to honour the memory of our first little one and get back to feeling happy and optimistic about the future.

How to Start Feeling Better

I’m going to state the obvious; I hate feeling bad. Having just lost our baby at 15 weeks, I have an overwhelming feeling of wanting to fast forward to a time when I have processed these hard feelings and I can start to feel happy again. I’m writing another post on why this tough period is necessary. But for now I’m also focusing on the little things I can do to make me feel a fraction better each day.

This isn’t about ignoring those hard feelings. It’s just taking some time to start building up that bank of positivity, gratitude, hope and well being.

Nothing on this list is revolutionary. You’ve heard it all before. But, for some of us (me), seeing words like ‘journalling’, ‘mindfulness’ and ‘self-care’ can make us want to vom. However finding myself feeling true despair at how dark life can be, I’ve dived in an given them a go. I am glad I did, and I’ve written about it for those as resistant as me.

My top 5 for creating moments of feeling well:

1. Running
This one has always been on my list. It’s hard and I really hate it at times, but when my brain is in overdrive, having 20 minutes to focus on how much my lungs hurt or how heavy my legs are or how shit my sports bra is, can be really refreshing. Running stops the incessant worrying of my brain. Also, over time I get a bit faster, it gets a bit easier and with that comes a lovely sense of achievement. You can run anywhere, any time. You dont need super expensive equipment and you don’t have to be in a gym to do it (I’ve always been intimidated by gyms). I recommend the Nike Run app guided runs to get you started, and reading Jog On by Bella Mackie for inspiration.

2. Self care products
I’m a great sleeper. I drop off in around 5 minutes and I can stay asleep through the night. I always want more sleep though, so imagine my utter horror when I found I couldn’t sleep any more! One of the first things to be affected by grief, shock, depression and all those other horrible feelings we sometimes endure, is sleep. In my desperation I bought a sleep kit online and, not only did it help get me to sleep, it also made me take a few minutes each day to (accidentally) be really caring towards myself. I bought the Neom Perfect Night’s Sleep kit – the directions for the hand cream are to warm in between palms before massaging in and then breathing the scent in deeply. If you do it properly, it’s such a comforting and calming process. Other self care savers I’ve accidentally discovered:
– When my skin was bad and my mum bought me a face sauna, I used all my little free samples and gave myself a glorious facial, using these instructions (losely… work with the products you have in your bathroom already!)
– After running a little too much I needed to soothe my legs and had an Epsom salt bath, complete with a gorgeous bath tray my husband bought me and some flower petal bath bombs sent by a friend
– With PCOS I’ve always struggled with painful shaving rash and reactions to hair removal, so I use products like this gorgeous scrub to exfoliate, light products like coconut oil to soothe and moisturise and delicious smelling creams like Cowshed to finish off. This process gives some time to feel a bit pampered and all the smells are so calming.
What accidental self care have you discovered? I’d love to add to my list!

3. Journaling
When I was a teenager I wrote and wrote in my diary, but as an adult I’ve never felt comfortable spilling my innermost thoughts and feelings. However an IVF journal with prompts got me started on just writing a little a day, and I found it really useful for tracking my feelings through our last cycle. Checking in with myself every day helped me to be more aware of how I’m feeling and to work on feeling good. I’ve kept it up after IVF and, although it’s mostly tough feelings right now, it’s helping me to notice the little bright spots and feel more positive and hopeful. If, like me, you don’t know where to start, consider a journal with prompts, or use a prompt list online.

4. Counselling
I went to see a counsellor when I was finding my job really hard, and I’m so glad I had that relationship built before facing the loss of our pregnancy. Talking through how I feel whenever I need to is so so helpful. For me, it works well as I feel like I’m talking to a friend. My therapist doesn’t give my psychoanalysis or over teach lessons; she allows me to talk and make sense. Sometimes she asks me a tough question and it really gets me thinking. In my last session, she helped me to uncover some of the lessons I can take away from this, helping me to feel like this challenge hasn’t just been a pointless and cruel experience. I know I’m privileged as I pay for my sessions. If you want to try it but money is a barrier, you can self refer to talking therapies. If you’ve lost a baby, Petals, Tommy’s and ARC are great charities that can offer support. There’s also so mich available through Mind Charity. I found my therapist on this website, and she is very reasonably priced.

5. Yoga
I’ve dabbled over the years and have always found yoga to be refreshing and calming. However in the past few weeks I’ve developed a much deeper appreciated for it. Somebody recommend Yoga with Adriene at exactly the right time. She has videos for dealing with all types of situations and feelings, and she talks you through them in such a gentle, down to earth way, acknowledging that we can all feel a bit silly doing it sometimes. If you haven’t tried it, I cannot recommend this one enough. Don’t be surprised if you cry….

It’s all too common to feel guilty about feeling good when you’re grieving. Be kind to yourself. Collecting these little moments of hope is part of your recovery. I recommend dipping your toe in the water of some of these – they’re wildly popular for a reason.