That day.

That day was along time ago. 

That day was not long after we found out that as a couple we would be unable to conceive. 

That day was the light after a whole lot of grief 

That day was filled with hope and promise for the future.

That day I was heartbroken.

That day 

That day nearly killed me.

That day we decided to attend the welcoming meeting and start the proceedings for adoption. 

We were sat for about 45 minutes in a room with 9 other couples,18 hopeful parents to be. I remember every last one of their faces. I’m sure their expressions matched our own. Excitement and nerves. We silently judged them of course. Would that couple be better parents then we could be? I judged myself against them as visibly the youngest person there. But that did not matter to me, as they don’t know me. They don’t know that I met my husband at the age of 18 and never looked back. They don’t know us. 

We sat through 2 hours of talks and videos – it felt like they were all designed to almost put you off or give you the worst case scenario. Almost like if your put off by this, don’t go any further. If you can’t be strong now you are not strong enough for these children.

They asked us what sort of parents we would want to be. I remember thinking I would be exactly like my mum or try to be. My dear husband would be the softy, I could tell. Our kids would have him wrapped around there little fingers. I rolled my eyes thinking I may need to be a little stricter so they don’t end up brats. 

They showed us a truly awful video that showed some of the terrible things these children could have lived through and possibly why they were now in care. They gave us statistics and numbers. They asked us if we would take siblings. Coming from a big family myself, I remember thinking we would take as many kids as they would let us. They told me kids over 5 don’t get ‘picked’ often and spend the rest of there life’s in care. That made my mind up that our first adopted child would be older than five. 

I noted that 2 of the 9 couples left after the video. Another couple took some pamphlets and also left. I judged them as weak. But we were determined, we would not be scared away by horror stories. We were here for our family. 

The next step after a coffee is to have a one to one with a social worker. 

After a few pleasantries, she asked if she could be frank with us. My whole body went cold. I had been judging potential parents since the moment we got there and she had judged us right back. In less than 10 seconds she had judged us as unfit to be parents. 

Her reasons being we were young and we were overweight.It didn’t matter that yes we were young but we were committed to each other. It didn’t matter to her that I was currently looking after a 2 year old five days a week because his mummy couldn’t walk. It didn’t matter that I took him to the park everyday single day that it did not rain. It didn’t matter that I rolled around and played harder than any of his other aunties and uncles. It didn’t matter to her because I was fat and that was all I was.

She told me that before she would be willing to go further down the adoption route, we would have to lose weight. Still determined, I told her that we had already started and we were proud of our progress so far. At this she laughed in my face and told me I would need to be half the person I am and that I only had 6 months before a panel would say the same thing. 

She destroyed me. I cried for days. I’m hate to admit I stayed in bed for awhile, ashamed of myself. Humiliated, I spiralled. I had no idea at the time I was so deep in depression. I didn’t look in mirrors, I didn’t get dressed unless I had too. I didn’t cook, I didn’t clean. It must have been hell for my husband. And he never complained. Not once. I slowly got better bit by bit, but I was depressed for years. 

As a then size 18 she had no right to say that to me. To actually say that I should be half my weight would have made me under 8stone. I don’t know if she really believes to be a good parent you need to be a size 8/10 or if She miscalculated me to be larger than I was. Or maybe she was just a bitch. 

I hated this women for Years. Blamed her. She robbed me of a family. Robbed me of my future. I considered putting a complaint in. Over and over. But Ultimately it was all my fault. I gave up.

That day still haunts me.

I was too scared to ever reconsider adoption. I was too weak to prove that horrible woman wrong.

I gave up. 

I know I need to work harder, for my husband. He is everything to me and looking back – I let him down. 

I need to find my determination.

I  need to work harder.


29 Years 

I recently had a birthday – the title may given that game away. 

I had a birthday cake with a candle And even though my 29 year old self knows that wishes rarely come true,  I took I big breath and I wished a wish anyway. 

Obviously according to the birthday cake candle wish rules, I can’t tell you what my wish was. Can you guess?

I don’t think I am breaking any birthday cake candle wish rules by telling you that ever since I was old enough to realise that my same wish had never come true, I stopped wishing for a fluffy pet flamingo and since then I made the same two wishes all my life. I either wished..

 1. To be happy in life
Or more often 
2. I wished that if there was such thing as a true birthday cake candle wish, than please give it to someone else. 

I didn’t mean to snub a (non existent) gift…  Chance… that was for me or admit that it may not actually come true. But in those moments, almost every year, when I had all my family around me, I had everything I ever needed. I was Am a very lucky girl. 

This year in a moment of panic I started to blow out my candle and realised I hadn’t pre-prepared a wish!!  The pressure was on and I had to make a snap decision on the spot. 

I know, crazy right? 

I wished with all my might for the one thing that would complete my life. But I totally lost all hope of that ever happening soooo…. I took matters into my own hands and bought myself a birthday gift.      

Meet Felicia flamingo – the name felicia choosen for its meaning – happy. When she arrives she will have pride of place on my bed to remind me every morning to make the most of each day….

or in cases like today were my day was just a bit rubbish… at least she is something bright and cheerful to look at

Or something mentally healthier…… Happy Birthday to me.

Make it Matter. 

A Sweet ‘intertility experienced’ friend, while giving me advice, told me that a ‘Dear Baby’ might help me grieve – I was sceptical but thought hey Ho Let’s give it a go.

The problem for so many months was that I couldn’t seem to get past ‘Dear Baby…’ 

As I said in the letter a huge part of me felt defeated, a sort of failure that I was allowing to happen and pride was screaming at me the whole time! I wasn’t raised as a quitter and here I was quitting. It really hurt to deliberately bring these feelings to the surface, knowing they weren’t going to be ‘heard’ in the manner it was ment for. 

Then the ‘what’s the fricking point?’ Part would take over and I would close the laptop and go about my day feeling irritable and frustrated. 

When I eventually tried again to write it was about midnight and I left my sleeping husband in bed and got out the laptop and just stared at the screen and let the tears flow, I imagined my child and the future we may have had and I couldn’t stop. I could have said so much more, I could have typed our entire life plan. It wouldn’t make a stitch worth of difference. 

Over all I took the advice and I can say, for me, I was suprised. It is most definitely Not a miracle cure, Nor did it suddenly take the pain away. I did however realise that although I already knew it was out of our hands – not a possibility – I was still waiting. I realised that I was foolishly waiting for nothing and had to put a stop to it. The relief that now fills me is most surprising.

‘Yes’ has become my new favourite word… Shall we go away next month dear? Why yes that would be great…. Shall we have a glass of wine to night dear? Yes what a fab idea! …. Shall we buy that selfishly delightful sports car?? Ok ok.. too far ..but you get my point. The pressure I put my self under and the limitations I put around us were suffocating. 

I feel free. I’m no longer waiting to continue living my life, this is it,it’s already happening. Lets Make It Matter.

One day I may wake up…

One day I may wake up – and be pleased with the lay in that my non existent children let me have.

90% of my posts start with a single thought. A one liner that takes hold of me and kind of splatters on a page. I don’t have a plan of what to write , I don’t pick a subject – Hey, why not Infertility today? It just is, so I mostly write about how I feel as oppose to whats on my mind. And usually if I’m seeking comfort from my online family I’m already not in a great place.

 I love being someone that visits just to try help, try offer my words where I can offer comfort to someone else also not feeling so great, I’m not that person today. Today Hurts.

I pray everyday that there are no reasons for me not being a mummy. Like, did I do something? Is it my fault? I keep hoping there is a bigger picture.And then I worry I have missed the big flashing sign stating what next.

I worry haven’t been sent a sign. 

I worry that not being fertile is the sign.

I’ve been through this before, so many times before. 

I feel fine for so long and then I look up and I’m still in pain. And I still can’t breathe. I can’t understand why after so many years I still feel the same burning sadness through my entire body.

One day I may wake up – and not have an ache in my heart.

One day I may wake up – and know where in life I’m heading

One day I may wake up – and be satisfied living a childless life?
One day I may wake up – Old.. and then it will all be tough shippoopie anyway.

For the First ime since infertility…..


I’m going to be an Auntie!!

Yes my eldest sister is expecting, again!!
The Next shock – Due on Christmas Day!!

I’m incredibly happy for her and also for my 5 year old niece who is very excited to be a big sister! I wish them all the happiness in the world and pray for the best possible future for all 4 of them…

No Buts…. all I would like to say to my beautiful sister is…

‘If I need time or space or if I seem off or just plain miserable, please don’t take offence or think I’m not over the moon for you. I am. I am proud. And I will be the world’s best auntie as I try to be already. Really, it is not personal.

I just hate your uterus’


Invisible Bruises

I don’t write much anymore. I kind of don’t like repetition… And I feel like 90% of the time my posts are depressing….
And because Feeling like crap is a constant at the moment.

Don’t get me wrong I’m still a fairly happy person, I’m happy every day. But I’m also miserable every day. Sometimes for no reason at all, or sometimes because someone’s innocent questions makes my body ache.

I think everyone in the ever growing TTC group dread the questions.. the ‘come on you have been married for six years now,when are you going to start a family’ questions? most of the time it kind of makes me want to rip their face off for their ignorance – I promise I’m not really a violent person – but today I just feel hurt, I feel like I could shake them and scream that. They. Should. Know. Better.

I got asked today. I got asked what was taking us so long? I got asked why we would wait 6 years if I did want children?

My answer was pure honesty – I replied that of course I want children, I would have ten…. I did not add on ….If I could.

I didn’t add on that you asking me these question burns me to the core. I didn’t add on that your stupid questions have today emotionally set me back about 6 months. I did not add on that every time I get asked or every time I see a baby bump or a pregnancy announcement, it’s another punch to the chest. I did not tell you That you have left me feeling sore and tender and bruised.

That all the time, I feel sore and tender and bruised.

Being infertile leaves me invisibly black and blue.

Feel what is empty and empty what is full.

What is full?
I struggle to find what in my life is full. I mean it is filled with love from friends and family but who could ever have too much love? It’s full of work at the moment, I wouldn’t like to take on any more but you always seem to pull a little more time/energy/strength right out from thin air..

I know my fullness has to be somewhere because I feel so heavy ( not literally, I just got my stone and a half award at slimming world.. yey go me!!) But Emotionally I feel drained. The only part of me that is truly full is my worry pot. What else do you call it? It’s the part of my brain that asks the questions that I can’t find the answers to, like will we ever have a family? Will my husband still love me in another 10 years? Even if he has to put up with just me in his life? Will I ever not feel a huge amount of loss or regret?

Stop!! Empty the worry pot.
It doesn’t mean my questions are gone but prioritise I must. ‘What now?’ Is my ‘now’ question and until I have some sort of plan or order it is the only one I’m letting any where near my worry pot!

So.. What is empty? Aside from the obvious and quite literal empty nest and womb?

Well, I have an (almost) empty bank account. I have an empty spare bedroom?
Trying to take inventory isn’t easy. I have a huge hole in my heart, but it’s not empty. I have a big question mark in my future, but again, not empty. I have a blank space in my life right now… but It is still not empty. I am not empty.

For those of you that know me, you know that lately I made my self invisible. I disappeared because I didn’t feel like me, I didn’t feel like Jilly-Bean, or Jilly. I was frightened that I had lost myself forever. But I want to be her again, I want to be the kind of person who people I have never met want to come have tea and scones with.

I spent some time trying to peel back the layers that I thought I had built around me but there were none, I was completely raw. I had scrubbed away everything that made me me

Wallowing is toxic. It’s ok to feel sad and take time to cry in a corner but don’t let it eat you alive. I shut down every one who ever made me smile or feel good and if I carried on it would have killed me for sure.

Here is to re-joining my fight.
Good luck to everyone who may be struggling in theirs, hang on in there!