Back from a short holiday

During the darkest years of infertility I never thought I could be able to enjoy moments with other people's kids. 

I've just returned from a short holiday (2 days / 1 night) with my mum and three kids (aged from 7 to 10).  I booked for us a hotel with a beautiful thermal swimming pool, we all enjoyed swimming so much!

The photo above: we also visited the oldest town in our country, more info:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ptuj 

I am so happy that the darkest years of infertility are over so I can enjoy moments with my nieces and my cousin's children.

The Lasting Trauma of Infertility

When I started blogging I was very sure that the lines I was writing would be interesting only to women like me - childless women.  But during the last few years  I got quite some emails from readers who fought infertility, got a child but the trauma of infertility still affects them. So this article is for them (so that they see that they are not alone):

The Lasting Trauma of Infertility

I liked this part of the article:

"I recently came across a quotation by Vincent van Gogh, and it triggered something in me. “There may be a great fire in our soul, but no one ever comes to warm himself by it, all that passers-by can see is a little smoke,” van Gogh wrote, in an 1880 letter to his brother, Theo. The line haunted me for days; I was struck by this concept of the fire within. How many people do we pass every single day who are carrying around raging fires — who have a passion or a pain inside that is so great they can barely contain it? For me, and for thousands of other people, infertility is that raging fire."

But then I came to this part:

"We kind of know that cousin or aunt who loves kids, and we kind of see the sadness in her eyes at baby showers, but we don’t really know the depth of her pain. We see how our co-worker lights up whenever other people talk about their children, but we don’t really know why he and his wife never had any.  "

I agree - nobody (except the ones who went through the same infertility hell that left us childless) can truly understand the depth of our pain.  But the second part - about co-worker who lights up whenever people talk about their children - this is so very wrong. I have never ever met  another childless women who would light up when people talk about their children.

For me - listening to stories about children who are not part of my life is either hurtful or annoying or combination of both.

I am actually only interested in hearing the stories of children who belong to my life and who consider that I am part of their lives.

Sometimes I get a what's up message from my bloggie friend from Paris. She is very busy (and so am I) so we don't write to each other often. But sometimes she sends me few lines what her little girl told her about me and our time together. My heart just melts... I love that little girl so much!

And then there are my nieces and nephews and few other children... I am very interested in hearing about them.

Small acts of kindness

I am attaching a photo of the other lake that we visited with our visitors last week. It is an alpine lake in the north-west  of our country.

I wasn't sure whether my bloggie friend will mention her travelling so I didn't write who visited me. Now I can :)

I was deeply touched when reading her latest post:
https://www.elaineok.com/stand-der-dinge/

Dear Elaine - thank you for your kind words! I loved how you beautifully put my thoughts and hopes into words: "Ihr Ziel ist es, in ihrem Leben kleine Taten der Freundlichkeit zu hinterlassen bei den Menschen, deren Weg sie kreuzt."

The translation would be:
"Her goal is to leave small acts of kindness in her life with the people whose way she crosses." 

Exactly! 

****
Elaine and me were talking about how important a bit older bloggers were for us. Reading their blogs was comforting for us in the darkest days of our infertility since it gave us hope that there is possibility of living happily again. We both agreed that Mali was a motherly figure to both of us. We discussed that a word motherly is very strong. We hoped that it wouldn't hurt Mali. I am writing these lines just so that Mali knows that we where talking about her when walking around one of the  alpine lakes (the other that is less touristy) on the other part of the world. And that she knows that she has been a very important person in lives of many.  

****

After driving Elaine and her husband to Ljubljana where they spent last few days of their travelling and saying goodbye to them I went to work.. One of my colleagues was explaining about her awesome weekend. She rented a big house at the seaside with her friends. So there were 10 couples with the total of 24 children aged between 1 and 10. She explained excitedly: "ALL of us have childen aproximately the same age."  

I thought that probably not ALL of her friends have children. That probably there were some friends who were lost and excluded  - just because they don't have children and don't fit into their circle any more. 

After that I was even more thankful for having my bloggie friends, my penfriends and all the bloggie/penfriends whom I met in person and now consider simply as friends.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend.

Making a difference

Few years ago I got a kind email from a reader who lives 700 kilometers away from me. The part of the email that touched me the most was this one:

"One of the things that help me is your blog (and other blogs). It makes me feel less alone in my struggles. That's why I want to thank you for writing about infertility. It does make a difference. For me and many other women, I am sure."

When you write a blog on something so very personal as infertility it is just wonderful if someone writes you something kind. And tells you her (or his) reasons for reading the blog.

***
The photo above was taken at our most beautiful alpine lake this weekend. I went there with my husband, my penfriend (with whom we exchanged many emails since her first email) and her husband.

The infertility has taken a lot from me. But it has also given me so much - like these new friends. We invited them in our home and they stayed with us for couple of days. It was just lovely to see our new home full of life.

The visitors have already left but I am very sure we will meet again.