By Lucy Coffin on 7/17/2015

Over two years ago I felt that pull to have another baby. You know the one, of course you do. To be honest though, considering the couple of years I have had I have not been surprised it hasn’t happened, and why I think there will be no more babies for me for quite some time.

Following my divorce, growing my business, caring for my son and nurturing my new relationship, a normal day for me would be something like this:

Get up. Spend two hours getting myself and my son Ruben dressed and sorted. Some mornings it will take Ru one minute to be persuaded to put shoes on, another it will take half an hour. Arrive in the school car park to drop off Ru. Do self coaching and breathing techniques to muster up strength and courage to go in. Draw pictures for Ru to tell him we are going to school now. Take Ru into school, watch him tear up and down the corridor, barging into people and making lots of noise. Spend 20 minutes trying to settle him. Have another chat with the teacher. Spend another 20 minutes trying to settle him. Leave school.

Get a phone call from school. These happened most days, and would inform me that he was under a table and wouldn’t come out (again). That he had run away from school (again). That he had barricaded the door with a pile of chairs and thrown books at the teacher (again).

Attend another meeting with another specialist.

Try to work out more strategies.

Sit in my car and cry.

Go to clinic and immerse myself in the work that I love.

Research more strategies.

Stand at the school gate and feel my heart race and my stomach knot. See the teacher and catch her gaze waiting for some kind of sign that maybe, just maybe he had felt ok at school today. As usual, a shake of the head would tell me that he had struggled again.

Go home determined to figure it out.

Wrap Ru up in love and care.

Try more strategies.

My son is super duper sparkly and awesome. He is a beautiful soul with a heart of gold but when he is in any kind of crowd or often when we have to transition from one task to another he just loses it completely. One particularly awful day I closed my eyes and begged for help, for someone to help me figure out what it was I needed to understand in order to help him.

It came in droves and now, as well as understanding his crazy awesome magic and gifts, we also know about his autism, and his sensory processing disorder. I can now get how practically the world is pretty terrible at times for him. Now we have tons of stuff in place that works, and when his day is good, mine is bloody brilliant. So after a year of him doing half days, or coming home for lunch then going back to school, or volunteering at school just so they could let him try for an afternoon he is finally doing full time, and he is finally content and peaceful most of the time. He loves it when he copes at school and this is why I knew the right thing for us was for him to have support to figure out how he could manage and enjoy school.

So to be honest I wasn’t surprised that my hormones had gone bug nuts crazy. I knew in my heart that trying for another baby would be another journey. Logic told me it should be fine this time, but my instinct wrestled it down until it could be heard. What it told me I ignored for many months. I couldn’t get to it, I couldn’t see to helping it because my heart, my energy, my body were wrapped up in Ruben and helping him. I also of course put a lot of love into my work and there just wasn’t anything left for me to attend to my own self. I knew if I listened carefully I would know what to do.

‘Endometriosis’ it gently chanted.

More months passed as I began tuning in to my symptoms. breaking the silence on my body. Mixed in with this time I was inherently aware of the spirit who would be coming to join our family, I was having amazing sessions at work, my relationship was strong and gorgeous and I fought every day to create ways to help my incredible Ru.

So it wasn’t all bad, but school stuff was tough and eventually I found myself enough energy to find out for sure if my hunch was right.

Emerging from my anaesthetic I was indeed told that I have endometriosis. The surgeon used beautiful words but she looked concerned. She said she didn’t understand what I could possibly be doing to cope with it. My tubes were blocked. The endo was everywhere. I would need a bigger operation to try and sort it.

At that moment my heart shattered into a million pieces and I waited for her to leave so that I could let the tears that were stinging my eyes cascade down. But they didn’t. I stared into space like a stunned rabbit in headlights and all I could think was “I’m so sorry”. I was so sad for my body, that it had been enduring all of this and I had been ignoring it, bundling it along, insisting that it just keep going.

As I sat there, half cut on various drugs and slightly shell shocked I realised with violent clarity just how much a soothing touch is needed in these situations. The nurses appeared unaware of what I had been told and not one of them seemed to hear my silent cry for help as I sat wishing somebody would ask if I was ok, or if I had taken it all in. Instead I was ushered into a discharge lounge and handed a bag of dressings.

My dear friend Leah scooped me up and brought me home where eventually I sobbed deeply into my partner Joe’s chest as I let my brain process the information.

A surreal few days followed as my head continued to spin and the tears continued to flow.I felt so sorry that I hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t given my body or the baby I longed to have the love and care it needed. There was anger too – why must I have to do this again? Why do I have to have another fight?

After a few days though a weird thing happened.

The anger, the disbelief, the fear, the pain, the tears, the frustration, the confusion…..

It disappeared.

It was replaced by a soothing bubble of calm that wrapped around me. My head felt rested and at peace. I had clicked back to that gentle instinct again. The one that always works when I listen. The one who sits and waits patiently for me to be ready to hear her. I felt the assurance that this soul would of course come into our lives, but I suddenly had absolutely no compulsion to fight or push. I just felt like when it was time my body would tell me the right path to go on.

I don’t know if it will be natural or IVF or adoption – I really don’t but I am honestly right now not in that horrible desperate hurry that I have been in before. I don’t feel it’s all in my hands either and I do trust now that if I follow my gut it will lead me to the happiest place. For once in my life I am not racing to the finish line. I am not in a rush. I know she is there and right now there is a beautiful respite in being allowed to just do what I feel like doing in each and every day. Allowing my body to be mine and having a chance to be present with what is here and around me right now.

So I am amazed to say that I don’t feel sad. I feel relieved and peaceful to understand myself a little more.

I can’t deny there weren’t times when friends would say the wrong thing and I would rant and rave and be horrified that they could be so crap and tactless. Then I realised – why would they know? Why should they know? How could they know? I chose this path. I know I did. I know when they were handing out lives if they had asked for someone who would be prepared to have these journeys, or help a special little boy find his way then my hand would have shot up. Once upon a time I think I made a soul commitment and it was based on things that would essentially allow me to carve my way to an exquisite life. I really feel like I AM doing that, I AM on the path that is mine. But I have somehow decided not to make it so damned tough anymore. I don’t need to pressure myself with speed. Things evolve as they should and for once I actually feel like I am filled with patience

So I don’t feel sad or heart broken just now. I know she’ll come and I know she’ll tell me where to find her. When my gut tells me what to do, I will let you know. I can’t know that there won’t be more frustration, more sadness, more worry on those days where my fear and logic try to take over but for now I am loving the fact that I am better than OK.

I no longer berate myself because I can figure out everyone else’s paths to pregnancy but haven’t got there myself yet. I just realised it’s so not about taking score. Time is not the main factor in ‘success’. Sometimes it really isn’t the right time, or it takes longer than you think to get to where you need to be.

In the meantime I remain honoured to do this work and I am utterly at your service. All that has happened is that this little one has reminded me that I need to be at my own service every now and then too.

xxx