It’s my birthday (soon) and I’ll party like I want to
This is a post for everyone who asked about my birthday. And maybe it’s about yours too if you’re ‘birthday shy’.
It’s my birthday next month. To me, it’s tough but not for reasons one might expect. Most people approach birthdays bemoaning their age, grey hairs and deal with the ribbing about ageing with humour. As the owner of my birthday, I am refusing parties, dinners, newspaper announcements and anything I don’t know about and with good reason.
Are we all ready to sit ever so slightly uncomfortably together? Then I’ll begin.
Throughout infertility we are given age as a marker. One must start trying to have children ‘early’ so say the armchair critics without pausing to ask ‘when did you start?’ Thirty-five is when female fertility really declines and thirty-nine is the age most CCG’s end fertility treatment assuming it’s offered at all (because of the postcode lottery that means solutions to this disease are for those who can afford it). Miracles sometimes happen post 40 and are much more media worthy for the likes of the Daily Mail than hearing about the 76% for whom IVF fails. I’m stat from that 76%, one of those whom nobody talks about, so nobody ever asks.
Despite the public facing information, adoption of babies and young children tends be frowned on if you’re older. Assuming one is ‘over IVF’ sufficiently to adopt at all. For us, age would have prevented us anyway, we tried.
In amongst these age driven stats are anniversaries. My 40th birthday was spent recovering from general anaesthetic. I plucked up courage to have a small party on my 41st away from home where the memories wouldn’t linger. Other birthdays, Christmas and my wedding anniversary carry echoes of our story.
Some people may ask why am I not over it by now. I have friends around the world whom I would never have met had it not been for loss. Ironically by using meditation, not medication, to repair my mental health, I’m healthier than I was in my late twenties through my forties when I was on a cycle of failed IVF, drugs, miscarriages, questionable counselling, hospitals and considered taking my own life. Those thoughts are (mostly) in the past (I say mostly because grief is not linear as we know). My physical health is much improved as I’ve started to invest more in my health (at long last trying not to metaphorically beat myself up for the failings) and ethics with a shop local, in season, plant based diet. I cycle and walk miles with Molly and rarely drive the car these days. Ironically I still feel fat - a legacy of the side effects of medically induced menopauses and endless injections.
Still, it’s hard to hear the words ‘get over it’. Infertility stopped my career, having stayed too long in jobs hoping for maternity benefits, prevented us from travelling because it’s impossible to know when the body responds to hormone injections and have you tried going through customs with a suitcase of needles? Even travelling to the Isles of Scilly meant changing travel plans. But I’m proud I tried, that I, a needle phobic, married to a needle phobic, actually tackled injections. It isn’t a narrative I want to forget, even if I could. My children had names too. I think of them every day and what we might be doing together. I’m sure many of our podcast listeners do as well.
The celebrations that matter to me aren’t my birthday. It’s getting through a day feeling worthy, a week of good mental health, a night when I sleep without worry, or a honest and empathic conversation about childlessness. It’s running on the beach with my beloved dog next to me. My wedding anniversary is a celebration because it is impossible to underestimate how much pressure infertility places on partnerships. Even the closest couples struggle to know the words. Events are painful for endless reasons not least well meaning words, the awkward what to do with the elephants in the room, means we childless folk have to give an extra level of mental effort. I rarely drink because I know that emotions are heightened after alcohol. Do you find that you sort of get used to being a introvert when you’re childless even if you never were one before?
Before you think, OMG, this is terrible, someone save this woman(!) I’ve learned a lot from the many guests and my amazing co-presenters, Sarah and Michael who I adore beyond words and can’t wait to party with in May. We have, as Michael noted in an unrecorded chat recently, all noticed a different kind of anxiety as we reach our middle years. Self-worth is always called into question but add in age to an inability to give birth, and it can take a down beyond-your-pants nosedive. This is where I find myself. Too aware of fragility at past celebrations to want another, often lonely in this pro-natal life and at times feeling brave to help others, but also vulnerable as I’ve shared more than most with complete strangers, even friends and family, often with no response - tumble weed does have thorns - I have had to bite my lip so not to apologise.
My celebration is to know you’ve read this, and carry this message on, so that others you know who don’t feel content at birthdays, have space and choices too.
Instead of presents I’m going to do that Facebook thing and ask close friends and family for donations to Molly’s rescue Animal Helpline Rescue Trust or to buy me, Sarah and Michael a coffee so we can grow this Full Stop podcast as it celebrates a first birthday this May. These are the important celebrations as we (Michael, Sarah and I) know from our 2.6k and growing listeners, that this podcast means a lot. Now that is worth celebrating isn’t it?
Love Berenice xxx
P.S. The Full Stop Podcast first birthday party is on 9th May in London, to book go here. It’s for all our listeners and we will be joined by Michael who is flying over from Australia. We will be talking podcasts, and sharing birthday cake.
