I discovered I was grieving my not-born children in August 2014. Only then did I realise what the profound, yet indescribable pain was that I’d been feeling for a long time. The kind that has you prostrate on your kitchen floor, your arms wrapped round your empty abdomen, rocking back and forth crying uncontrollably and having no idea why.
I’d been keeping a journal for a project I was working on that would come to fruition in June of that year. Once it was complete I put my notes away and thought no more of them. A few months later and completely by chance I discovered what the distress I’d had to keep buried inside me actually was.
The realisation that I would never have my own children.
And I HAD wanted them, very much so. I could recall lists of names and the red diary I kept them in, an old love letter, vivid dreams I could recall from years gone by. Yes, I had wanted children. Before life and circumstances got in the way…..till it was all too late.
About a year later I revisited that journal and to my astonishment I had been making side notes all along about an inexplicable and horrid ‘weight’ in my abdomen. [Oh, the irony]