Time to take off the mask – again
image source: prophetspeaks
I am reposting this from last December. I have just returned from a hospital admission for another miscarriage this week and I wanted to repost by way of explanation for why I won’t be blogging on this site until I feel a bit better. I am going to concentrate on my Diary of a Miracle blog to help me through this time and I would love if you would continue to journey with me there for the time being. Thanks to everyone who has contacted me over the past few days via texts and e-mails. I am so grateful for your support xxxx
I have been inspired by Lorna, a regular commentator on this blog, and her courage recently, in appearing on a national TV programme, to talk about her fertility issues. I say courage, because there is still a taboo about speaking publicly of your infertility. We just don’t talk about it openly in society. Because it is such an emotive and indeed private subject, many couples find it difficult to discuss what one writer has called the baby-shaped hole in their lives. The subject smacks of failure. Somehow there is something not right about you – you have failed in the basic task of becoming a mother. I hasten to add that Lorna is in no way a failure – in fact she has two beautiful children already, but is having difficulty conceiving a third baby. I speak instead of my own perceived sense of failure in my inability to conceive. I feel judged by a society which places family at the centre of things, especially at Christmas time. The reason why I am writing this today is because I have had several discussions with Lorna, arising out of my earlier post on wearing a mask. I admit that I have worn a mask since starting this blog – the mask has been one that has hidden my true self, because I have felt a failure. It is easier to write about how my cancer experience has enriched my life, than to admit the other darker truth. So I have striven to write mostly about these positive experiences, deliberately hiding the other truth behind a mask of positivity. The truth is that infertility is the dark legacy of cancer I hide. I have hidden it because I wanted this blog to be about hope and I made the decision to write about my lack of hope in another blog, which some of you have already figured out. So, I switch masks, between hope and despair, as I switch from one blog to another.
Thinking back on another blog post recently- the bozos on the bus – I felt a bit of a hypocrite when I read one comment which said that we do each other no favours by hiding our truth from each other. As a young woman newly diagnosed with cancer, I only wanted to hear that there would be a good outcome – I searched for stories online of women who had gone on to have healthy babies after chemotherapy, and clung onto those stories like a drowning woman holds onto a life raft. And those stories are out there, so please take heart from them if you are also looking for hope. I wanted so much to be that success story but I am finding it harder to hold onto that hope. I write all of this today, not to discourage anyone, but so that those who are experiencing fertility difficulties after chemotherapy know that they are not alone in their despair.
In re-reading my Christmas Eve post, I feel a deep sense of irony. I wrote it in great hope and expectation, because I had taken a pregnancy test earlier in the week and it had been positive. It was my precious Christmas miracle. However, the miracle was short-lived, because not long after writing my Christmas Eve post, I started to miscarry.
Lorna mentioned to me last week that in looking at my happy smiling santa-hatted profile picture on Twitter that it was hard to imagine anything was wrong in my life, and I told her that was my mask. To the outside world, I am so together. Someone told me once that I was their poster girl for surviving cancer, but the truth is I am not, because underneath the facade of having it all together, I am filled with a deep despair and hopelessness and rage at this legacy of cancer.
So today, I am taking off the mask, I am admitting that I am just a bozo on the bus, for whom sometimes, cancer is not the life-affirming, positive experience I write of. It can also rob you of precious things, and leave your spirit broken, your hopes and dreams shattered. Sometimes cancer just sucks..and this is one of those times.
Related Posts:
Fertility concerns of young women with breast cancer
Well let me the first to applaud you for taking off the mask! As a younger woman struggling with infertility, I am glad you are breaking the taboo surrounding this. I was never diagnosed with cancer but I came across this post on my google alerts for miscarriage. I am still reeling from a miscarriage earlier this month which has pretty much spoiled Christmas for myself and my husband too. So sorry you had to go through this, but thank you for your honesty in “coming out”.
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So sorry to hear this has been your experience over the holiday season – I really hope you get your miracle next time
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What a dreadful thing to be hiding – you shouldn’t feel ashamed or as if you are some kind of failure – you are a survivor and you will survive this too!
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You poor thing – what a terrible thing to happen at Christmas – my thoughts are with you and your husband.
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I have just read your post on Diary of a Miracle with tears in my eyes, for you have captured in words perfectly how I felt when the same thing happened to me 2 years ago. I wish I could tell you that 2 years later I now have my miracle, but sadly, I am still waiting, and sometimes, not just cancer, but life really does suck.
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Taking off the mask?? I have to wonder what a beautiful world it wouldn’t be, if we all took off our mask? The chance to see each other with the truth and experience LOVE. I have found that when people are “perfect” or “put together” on the outside, yah, it’s easy to love them, but the true love comes when they take off their mask and we can see that they have struggles, pain and hurt like us. My heart saddens at your news and your struggle with infertility….I understand where you want to have a blog that just offers hope and encouragement–that is so needed, yet, the truth is needed too and you captured that beautifully today. My prayers are that you will find peace and comfort in the Lord, knowing that HE does have a grand plan, even if we do have to go through some “sucky” times. Thank you for risking taking off your mask.
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I love what everyone has said today – especially Kim..”sucky” times indeed! Hang on in there!
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My dear Marie,
First of all: what an awful thing to have to go through over the holidays. I am so sorry for your loss. I wish I’d known so I could’ve been there for you.
Furthermore: you are not a loser. You are one of the sweetest, bravest, most loving and supportive people I have ever met.
We all wear masks Marie. We may not all be as honest about it as you’ve just been. But we all do.
Have you ever heard the song ‘The stranger’ by Billy Joel? It’s about these faces we try on for the outside world – even for ourselves. We hide who we really are, for very different reasons. Shame, insecurities, pain, whatever. It’s a universal truth. No one shares everything with everybody.
So please don’t feel ashamed or alone because you’ve been wearing one of these masks or faces. I am so proud of you for choosing to take it off. You will find that there are only up sides to this decision. We can be there for you now to help you deal with this grief. No one will hold it against you because we all wish we were as brave as you.
Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They’re the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on
(‘The Stranger’, Billy Joel)
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Dearest Karen, I am overwhelmed by the support you have shown me and for sharing the Billy Joel song with me, which I hadn’t heard before. Thank you so much. I think you may just have mended one little corner of my broken heart xxxx
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(((( HUGS )))))
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Dearest Marie! I dont know what to say except you are so beautiful! You are the farthest thing from a failure I have ever seen. And your truth here is part of your beauty. Cancer sucks. That is a fact and there is no way getting around it. And from you it has stolen some very precious dreams, but I know you have the power to get them back. It is wonderful what you do on this blog to give people hope for better times ahead and to look for the positives in hard times. But by letting people in and showing them that there will be very dark times ahead is inspiring and moving. Taking off your mask in so brave and I thank you for that..it allows me to do the same. You have given me a gift with your honesty and I hope I can pass that gift on down the line…
Much Love to you as always, Debbie
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Oh Debbie..what can i say except thank you for your honesty and support always xxx
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Oh, Marie, you are such a brave lady. Wearing a mask is something we have to do to just get thru the day sometimes but it is so exhausting. You referred to the TV programme in which we spoke about our experiences with infertility, in many ways, it was our ‘coming out’. It has felt strange since – we know that so many people know about it but so few have said it to us – to my relief really, as we did the programme to help those in our situation.
I am so sorry I didn’t have my laptop on on Xmas day to respond to your message.
Our society is downright strange – we celebrate the birth of children yet 6000 women every year feel the need to travel to England to have an abortion, we don’t talk about infertility or miscarriage only in small groups and more lately, on morning tv programmes etc. We hide so much from life’s realities that it really gives an obscured sense of life. I remember when I was pregnant with my first child and hearing that 1 in 4 or 5 end in miscarriage, yet at that stage, anyone I knew you had had a miscarriage, went on to have healthy pregnancies and babies. Multiple miscarriages happened to ‘other people’.So many couples are walking around on a daily basis with infertility filling their thoughts. and you are right
You are a strong, brave lady to have come through cancer with such positivism and that will get you through this. I hope and pray that you will have a healthy baby and it will be one that will be worth this long wait.
Love Lorna
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sorry – back again! I just reread your post and your comments feeling that society regards couples without children as failures and I totally see where you are coming from. I suppose that is something that I didn’t have experience of as we are so lucky to have 2 children but I did feel a failure myself. I remember going to a kineologist (and in hindsight, I was so depressed) and she came up with my feelings of how I felt so guilty, such a failure, so unworthy because I hadn’t been capable of carrying my child to full-term, in many ways, I felt I had killed my child.
I think society looks on childless couples with a degree of pity, which isn’t necessarily helpful either but because society doesn’t tend to acknowledge infertility, poeple tend to converse about it in small groups. There are so many people who I told about my miscarriages who then revealed they had one or two or even three miscarriages and I had never suspected as they had one or two children. Even one woman who has 5 children, went on Clomid to conceive her first and then never looked back!!
I’m waffling now but I just wanted to say that I can so understand your feelings of helplessness and failure.
xx
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Thank you Lorna – I have learned so much and been so inspired by you when it comes to trying to figure out this whole thing…thank you for your suppport x
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Gather your strength from the wonderfully supportive comments above – i can clearly tell that you are very far from a failure if those comments are anything to go by.
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you poor thing – what a dreadful thing to happen at anytime of the year, but Christmas is a very poignant time to go through this.
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This was a fantastically honest piece of writing – you should be very proud of your honesty, for I know it has helped others!
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Having just read Lorna’s comments above, I can see why you have been so inspired by her!
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My heart goes out to you in your struggles. I too had breast cancer at 35 but I had completed my family at this stage. The thought that cancer could have robbed me of the joy I get from my beautiful precious children would have been too much to bear.
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I am so sorry to hear of your miscarriages. I can imagine the devastation you must’ve felt to go so quickly from hope to despair. Thank you for taking off your mask for us. I find the same is true for my work in the BC community. Most see what I do as inspiring, but underneath it all, I crawl through a dark depression every day! I went from thinking I could go off all my meds early and get pregnant to being told I should stay on tamoxifen for 10 years, shooting all hopes of carrying babies out the window. I know its my choice, but what an impossible choice to have to make. Do I risk going against the evidence we do have about my recurrence risk and stay on tamoxifen or do I go off tamoxifen early, against my onco’s recommendation?
You sharing the on-going traumatic side of this BC journey is uplifting! It gives all of us the reality that we aren’t the only ones dealing with it. I’ve been chronicling my own journey here http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alice-crisci
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Alice, thank you so much for letting me and the readers know about your organization – it is a wonderful vision and I am full of admiration for what you are doing.
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Marie…I am so sorry for your loss and grief. Thank you for the courage to reach out and be assured others are reaching back. {hug}
Marcia
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Oh Marcia, thank you so much for your support. it really means a lot to me!
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What a beautiful, honest post. The picture is so powerful. Thank you for having the courage to utter words many women cannot.
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Darling Marie ~ you have leapt into 2010 with a vengeance for the stripped down version of the destruction that cancer leaves in its’ wake for those of us that are fortunate to survive its’ brutal hold on us.
for this i applaud you. what i am witnessing here is not a “bozo on the bus” nor a mask being removed ~ but ~ a complex unraveling of the reverberations of a life threatening disease. it doesn’t threaten just or own life when it hits us. it threatens our families, our friends, and our unborn babies.
it breaks my heart that you have to endure this continual loss from the killer that is cancer. we who read your tweets and blogs are on this journey with you. that’s because everyday you come prepared to “PLAY HURT” (like they say in American football)
for my part, i am honored to be learning right along with you. you have made no missteps here. you are adding dimensions to your healing.
i love you. xoxo
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My Dearest Marie,
I’m a weeping for you, maybe with you as well. I am so sorry for your loss. I have not gone through the cancer journey myself (except as a caretaker and someone who’s cheered or mourned the victories or losses of friends and family).
Nevertheless, I want you to know that this is a place of darkness with which I am well acquainted. A convergence of factors has led me to the harsh reality that my chances of ever having a child, let alone getting pregnant, are extraordinarily slim (probably nil)
Benign fibroid tumors would render me infertile and their removal could entail – worst case scenario – a hysterectomy (even though they are small one lies part-way inside my uterus with the other half outside). And my hormones in the last few years, have decided to wreak havoc with my already fragile mind. I am perimenopausal or prematurely menopausal. As I take the necessarily strong birth control pills now that help me not to CONSTANTLY bleed, I also suffer from PMDD rage. And I resent every minute.
I also came to the realization this year, that because of inconclusive tests I had at one point for Lupus, there are strong indications that I could have the same genetic disorder my younger sister has. She has two beautiful little boys, but she has suffered through six miscarriages (one pregnancy was twins as well). The last loss was especially heart-breaking. It was the little girl they wanted so much. She was healthy and perfect and she just died one day about half-way through the projected shorter length of the pregnancy. They named her after my Grandmother and Great-Grandmother: Evelyn Marie.
I am the only one of my siblings without children. Two brothers and two sisters… True, my Baby Brother and his wife have gone through the horrible journey of genetic disorders and infertility issues from both of them, but last year they adopted a little girl and this summer were able to adopt her half-sister. I love my niephews, I do. But sometimes I have held those beautiful babies and just wept.
I think about the children I planned with my ex-husband: Whimsical, bizarre, wonderful children with ENORMOUS heads (inherited from both sides). They were so real to me. And I mourned their “loss” like they were.
Thank you for so bravely taking off that mask and showing us your gorgeous tear-streaked face. I hold hope for you, My Friend. And I believe there are miracles for you.
All My Love,
Kate
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The number of responses you’ve received regarding this post speaks volumes. You are not alone in your pain. At 52 years of age, my biggest life regret is that I never had children.
Reading “Time to take off the Mask” brought back a wave of feelings that I too had pushed under the rug. Why is there so much fear over confronting and revealing our feelings of loss?
As you so eloquently wrote, Christmas is focused around “family.” But it also is about love for the people in your life today. Without their love, what would life look like? I give thanks for those people in my life and must believe my life has another purpose.
I send you prayers of peace and continued hope for the future.
Love to you,
Tamara
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Thank you Tamara – you have really helped put things in perspective for me – you are so right in what you say! Marie x
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Dearest Marie,
We have conversed on twitter over the last couple of months. I had no idea that you suffered this great loss at Christmas. I never read your blogs, as I knew they would be upsetting and I avoided that. But i sat down last night and was writing a guest blog post for you as requested, and suddenly found myself writing about a time of my life that I had sort of pushed to the back of my memory bank – until I began writing – loosing a friend through cancer.
On another note:
I am the same age as you. I do not know if I am infertile or not, neither does my husband. We are together 16 years and decided not to have children. I sometimes feel from others that we are being cruel, denying the world of healthy children, simply because we can have children and we are not.
So the taboo is there as you say, failure because we cannot conceive for whatever reason, and failure because we can conceive but choose not to.
I pray that I won’t have regrets when I am 52 like Tamara above. I am comfortable with my decision and wish people would let me have that decision without feeling disdain towards me. I am curious if people who cannot conceive consider people like me to be selfish in our decisions (I don’t believe I am selfish).
I am so sorry for your loss and wish you the miracle you so want for 2010. Thank you for sharing your story, your pain, and your wonderful insights x
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Oh no, I am so sorry to hear this Marie. I can’t believe you have to go through this again…life can be very unfair sometimes, but you are such a shining example to us all of the ability to rise above this unfairness and shine a light into the darkness of despair and I know you will be shining again soon – take care xxx
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Oh my dear, I am so, so sorry for your loss. Stay strong – you will get through this again!
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Thinking of you at this terrible time x
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You poor love – try not to give into despair and don’t give up on your miracle – I believe it’s still waiting out there for you!
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I wish I had the right words of comfort to give you right now but pardon my french..this is just shit! I am so sorry that you and your lovely husband have to go through this again – I know what wonderful parents you would make and how loved and cherished your child would be.
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Oh hon…I am so sorry 😦
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Marie, I truly believe it is important for you to remain vocal as you always have done, as you can clearly see, it helps so many other men and women out there, you are far reaching and improve peoples lives every day.
I have no words for how I feel, as it’s beyond my darkest thoughts, so I clearly have no idea of how this feels for you and your husband. But I do hope you find the strength to work through this. It’s time to take time out as you say, and heal. And share.
My thoughts are with you both.
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Dear Marie,I’m at a loss. I’m so, so sorry. I know that there’s nothing I can say to truly ameliorate this horrid and necessary grieving process.Quite a while ago I created a “Twibbon” under the name Remember Our Babies.This is the thought behind it:
It’s been on my Twitter profile pic for ages for my sister and for friends and family who’ve suffered stillbirth.I sent a “promotion” reminder today in honour of you (your name isn’t mentioned).Like I said in December, I hold hope for you. And I shall hold it for you know while you may not be able to hold it yourself.Much LoveKate
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Dearest Marie, I’m thinking of you as always and praying for your recovery both physical and emotional. You are so loved by so many. I will be reading Diary of a Miracle. All my love, Debbie
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Marie, I love this post! When we finally let go and say we are not perfect and sometimes life just sucks we are not being perceived as negative but as being real.
If the intent of blogging is to share and encourage others that we have to be real in the journey and say that not everything is honkey dorey and great all the time. I believe it is when we are real that people are really drawn to the message and story.
You my dear sister have done this with grace and inner strength. What you are suffering from is an effect from cancer. Thank you for sharing your story. Reaching out to especially young women with cancer you give them questions they should ask. You are an inspiration for young and old alike. Hugs and double hugs my dear blog sister. Luann
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Marie,
I’m so sorry for your loss. There can hardly be any words which can console you, so I’m sending my tacit support and love to you with my prayers that may this be the last of your tribulations.
I’ve recently came across a wise quote, “God’s Delays Aren’t God’s Denials!” I’m hoping this is proved true with you.
With my sincere support and prayers for you.
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So very sorry to see this. I am very sorry for you loss. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. I will follow your diary of a miracle. Much love and hugs of comfort to you.
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You are such a brave thing and I know you will get through this and come out smiling that gorgeous smile of yours xxx
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Thank you for opening up about this subject. It is one very close to my heart and you have written very movingly here about the pain of infertility.
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