Under Pressure

My brother and his family live in Norway, and for the past four or more years he’s been asking me the same question: “When are you coming to visit us?”

As I’ve told him time and time again, I would love to visit him in Norway but Mr Man wouldn’t be well enough for the journey, and he couldn’t cope with being away from the home for more than a few nights, either in Norway or in a respite home.

Everyone keeps telling me how it would do Mr Man so much good if he would go - the fresh mountain air and picnics by the sea; it’s so tranquil – as if one trip to Norway will cure him forever. Now wouldn’t that be great? But back to planet Earth...

Until recently, getting to the part of Norway where my brother lives meant a long drive to Newcastle, followed by a ferry, followed by another long car drive, followed by 3 more ferry trips and car drives – about two days of travelling in all. Now that there is a more direct flight, we would “only” have to drive to Stansted airport which is maybe a couple of hours away, and fly for a couple of hours as well. That’s great. But Mr Man can’t stand being in the car for a couple of minutes, so how exactly am I supposed to get him there?

My brother recently sent me this beautiful picture of the scenery where he lives, and asked me the same question yet again, as if somehow seeing the view will miraculously make Mr Man well enough to go.


When will people understand that their “gentle encouragement” doesn’t help me to find a solution, it just depresses me? I’ve learnt to accept my situation the way it is, so why can’t other people just accept it as well? Why do they have to keep reminding me of what I can’t have instead of encouraging me to be grateful for what I’ve got?


I have the same problem with my family when it comes to babies. As I’ve explained before, when Mr Man and I married it was actually me who was the sick one. From the moment we married my family asked me nearly every week when we were going to start a family, especially my Mum. I would try to explain to her that I didn’t think we would be able to cope because of my health problems, but every week she would ask again and we would go through the same conversation every time. In the end I had to explain to her how painful it was for me to discuss it. I didn’t need persuading; I wanted a baby desperately, but I just wouldn’t be able to cope. She finally let it go.

Then of course Mr Man became ill too. We always said we would review the baby situation when we had been married for 5 years, but on our 5th anniversary Mr Man was an inpatient on a Psychiatric ward. He had been there for 5 long months and had attempted suicide 3 weeks earlier, and at that time I couldn’t imagine him being well ever again.

Strangely, I remember sitting with him at the hospital and out of the window I could see two metal brackets attached either side of a post for hanging flower baskets, and I thought how much it looked like a womb and ovaries. Empty ones. Barren. I would sit there every evening looking at the same sight. A constant reminder of my situation.

Of course, Mr Mans health has improved dramatically since then, and I have gone through various stages of remission and relapse. For a while we seriously considered having a baby, but for some reason we didn’t hear about this “well known fact” that Anti-Psychotic medication causes fertility problems until Mr Man had already been taking them for a few years. Despite being childless and of child bearing age, no one considered it important to tell us. We started going to a fertility clinic for investigations, but since I relapsed again we cancelled our other appointments.

It’s probably because we seriously considered parenthood for a while that I now have problems with my family going on about children again.
“You’re not getting any younger, it might be too late soon”
“Thank you Mum, I’m aware of that”
What exactly am I supposed to do about it? I don’t have a magic wand. I can’t make Mr Man well. I can’t make myself well. I can’t make us fertile.

So, as I said earlier:
When will people understand that their “gentle encouragement” doesn’t help me to find a solution, it just depresses me? I’ve learnt to accept my situation the way it is, so why can’t other people just accept it as well? Why do they have to keep reminding me of what I can’t have instead of encouraging me to be grateful for what I’ve got?