I've met a lot of new friends. fellow warriors, other IF survivors, through this blog and my time spent as an IF Island native, and I'm constantly amazed by all the suffering and the strength. I've been hearing from ladies in their 2ww, people waiting to see how many (if any) embryos develop, gals waiting to start a cycle, or scheduling their WFT doctors appointment after an unsuccessful cycle. I have a new online friend who is patiently waiting for her beta numbers to go down after yet another chemical pregnancy. She got a BFP last week but it's slowly fading. I'm anxiously waiting beta results from another new friend who has a bad feeling about it as she's been testing her pee and hasn't seen two lines.
I woke up this morning thinking about all these people and the very different places we are all in, and I felt my chest tighten up. While we may have some similarities in our past experiences, what we all have that may be exactly the same is the this difficulty taking a full, deep breath and this sense that we'd rather be anywhere else than where we're at. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm speaking for people and I shouldn't be. But I know that there have been so many situations, so many moments on this never ending journey where I've felt suffocated by what's going on and I've thought, "Wow, I'd rather be ANYWHERE but here!"
OK. Maybe not anywhere, but I swear I would rather take my chances outrunning a pack of hyenas than wait for a negative beta again. Hm. Maybe. Hyenas as pretty fast. Anyway, y'all know what I mean. So much of this non-sexy baby making process is so painful, trying to escape it seems like the only logical thing to do.
So we can distract ourselves with bad TV and good books. We can treat ourselves with ice cream and a massage. We can go to work, sometimes zombie-like, just to get our brains to try and focus on something else, but unfortunately the feelings of panic or sad or anticipation usually linger. Wherever you go, there they are.
While distraction can be great, it's also important to learn to be wherever we are, even if we really don't want to be there. I woke up this morning feeling heavy in my heart. I was thinking about the millions of people who deal with IF and just felt...sad. I thought about it being a Monday morning, the start of a new week, and how I am no closer to my goal of having a family than I was in November 2010 when we started trying. That's not entirely true, I guess I've learned a lot. But I've never been pregnant and I don't have a baby. That was my goal three years ago. I started counting my frustrations and feeling panicked about not having a tangible plan and then I stopped myself and asked:
How can I be where I am even if I REALLY don't want to be here?
I don't totally know. But I'm trying. Here's what I did this morning:
1) I thought about all the things that we're bothering me and I let the worries and the frustrations swell like a tidal wave. I acknowledged the presence of all this crap and all the years of crap I'm trying not to resent, and then I imagined that wave crash against the sand and become calm. I said, "Good morning" to my baggage and checked it.
2) I sat up and tried to meditate for 15 minutes, and all that meant for me was I tried to take deep breaths. I felt like I couldn't breathe when I woke up, like there were paper weights in my lungs or something, so I sat and breathed and just focused on the air going in and coming out.
3) Hubs brought me a cup of tea and I have been doing a little mindfulness practice, noticing the heat, the taste, the smell. Feeling grateful for him that he does this for me almost every morning.
4) Then I realized I can run, but I can't hide. I'm going to be wherever I am, so I have to just embrace it. I can remind myself I won't always be in this space, in this place in my life, but I am now. If I can fully learn to sit with it I'll be better off.
So that's where I'm at this Monday morning. Learning more about patience and acceptance (I'm going to have PhD in those subjects very soon!). Trying to find gratitude and perspective. Remembering nothing stays the same forever and that this chapter will one day end and a new one will begin. Sending so much love to all those in a place they don't want to be.
It sounds like, feels to me, like a grief. It takes time. So many shades of loss: empathy, selfishness, frustration that things are as they are, and all emotion close to the surface, impossible to avoid. For me, understanding and coming to terms with such catastrophe is about time. It takes as long as it takes.
Posted by: Anna | November 21, 2013 at 10:11 AM
Thank you!
Posted by: Nadia | November 19, 2013 at 07:07 AM