Don't Count Your Eggs

Hubs guest post: Who is your 12th Man?

Disclaimer: lots of sports references in this post

This Sunday, I will get to watch my beloved Seattle Seahawks play in the Super Bowl. As you know, I've had only a few championship teams in my life as a sports fan. As far as football goes, you'd have to go back to the mid-90s to find any of my favorite teams winning a trophy. I care about the Seahawks more than I've cared about a football team in close to twenty years. Quarterback Russell Wilson is 3-5 inches shorter than most people in his position and was told he'd never be a starter in the NFL. Their fullback, Derrick Coleman, is legally deaf. Marshawn Lynch eats Skittles on the sidelines. And Richard Sherman is Richard Sherman. Here's another thing I love about this Seattle Seahawks: the fans. They LOVE these players. And the players love them. As you've no doubt heard if you've turned on ESPN in the last two weeks, the Seahawks' oh-so-loud fan-base is called the 12th Man. 11 guys on the football field, the loudest fans in the NFL become #12. The 12 make the Seahawks a better team. They make things difficult for opposing players. The also LITERALLY create earthquakes (youtube "beastquake" for best results).

IF Island sucks. It can be a lonely, frustrating, helpless place. And on a daily basis not even necessarily just be about getting a baby. It's about surviving this process, intact, with the support of people around you. Supported can be the hardest thing for you to feel sometimes. It's been tough to find support in our situation. We've lost friends, severed relationships, and generally had to adjust how we interact with people because they didn't know how to or simply decided not to support our situation. But we also have our 12s. I try to be my wife's loudest supporter. But she's also got a great group of her own. From Gilli, her acupuncturist, to people she's met through this blog, people have stepped up. We've got our families, who understand the process better as time goes on. We've got friends that want to talk about it, want to listen, and do their best to understand something that is our problem and not necessarily their own. These are our 12s. 

So this Sunday, when you see a handful of "12" flags in a stadium 3,000 miles from Seattle, think about who your 12 is. Are they sitting next to you on the couch watching the game (hopefully not wearing a Broncos shirt)? Are they texting you just to check in? Are they setting a time to meet with you simply to see how you're doing? Appreciate your 12s. No matter what happens during the big game, those Seahawks players will thank the 12s when its over. And if they win, I'm going to feel like I won because I've cheered and yelled at them throughout the long season. Let's get loud. Let's wave our flags. Let's make our families. Let's win. For us and for our 12s. Go Hawks.

What's Within Our Control

So before I found myself spinning and frustrated about issues mentioned in my last post, I reminded myself it's a lot more productive to focus on the things I can control rather than things that just add to the unfairness of the situation. OK, the honest truth is that there really aren't very many things I can truly control on IF Island, but there are some.

I actually started thinking about this the other day when we interviewed one couple who got pregnant naturally at close to 40, after being told they had less than a 2% chance and needed donor eggs. I asked the couple what they did after getting this information and while the wife said she was totally devastated, the husband said he did squats and ate a steak before they tried to conceive. OK, that's not exactly what he said, but it's part of it. He said he didn't feel the information from the doctor was very positive or conducive to procreating, and he chose to believe there were things they could do differently to maximize the situation. He read up on dietary changes and exercises he could do to increase sperm potential, and he remained optimistic. Essentially he looked at what he could actively do, and committed to doing those things, and he didn't let his wife's blood test results upset him. At all. They got pregnant in about five months, I think. After he did specific kinds of squats and ate a steak!

I don't know if that recipe would necessarily work for the rest of us, but I do know that shifting the focus on nurturing our bodies and our minds with healthy and positive things can only help our situation. I've been juicing and eating well and taking vitamins and herbs. Yesterday I bought Royal Jelly (WTF is that weird stuff and why doesn't it taste like honey?) because I read it is good for my huevos. Why not?

There is a balance between eating right and obsessing over a restricted fertility diet. There is an art to allowing the frustrated and doubtful thoughts to come up as they most naturally do, and then letting them go. There is necessary effort in remaining hopeful and positive, even in the bleakest moments. It's all hard sometimes, but these are the things we can try to control. 

Is Having a Baby a Luxury or a Right?

    Forgive me in advance. I hate to gripe about our messed up health care system and the fact that infertility is rarely covered for most people because, well, that's what it is. But I just got a bill for the sonohysterogram I had a week or so ago and was told that my insurance, "no longer covers infertility testing," which it did last year. It was the only thing we had covered, so you can imagine the shock at receiving this bill. Needless to say, I will be looking into the situation (another fun way to spend a Friday!), but for now I will bitch.

    Having a baby is not like having a Cadillac or a sweet pair of perky silicone breasts. Being able to have a family is not the same as being able to eat at fancy restaurants and wear Prada shoes. Yet if I were to classify IVF and other infertility treatments and/or family building options like adoption, it would have to go into the category of luxury, because insurance sees it that way—not medically necessary. Therefore only people with some means can afford to do these things.

    When I talk to couples who have been successful at constructing a family, I’m often hesitant to ask them the cost.   Not physically or emotionally, that’s a given.  But  financially, what did they have to spend?   The answers  have ranged from 10-20K for one successful IVF round, to 250K PLUS for failed IVF and adoptions or egg donation plus surrogacy.  Even the lowest end of this scale is a huge luxury. 

    In Israel, according to the Israeli National Health Insurance Law, all Israeli citizens are entitled to fertility testing and treatment, including IVF. They may have some form of co-pay but in general, fertility treatment is not just for those who can afford it. It is for those who want a family. Period.

    I have problems with my reproductive system and there are some medical ways that can potentially help it function as it should. If IVF wasn't so insanely expensive, or if it were covered by insurance, I could perhaps try several rounds of natural IVF, which is supposedly more successful for people in my boat with DOR.  

    If I had a bunion that was a little annoying but I could still walk, the removal of said bunion would be covered by insurance so that my quality of life could be restored. Who can I write to at my insurance company about my quality of life right now?

    I get it. This is the way it is. It's obviously unfair, but so is a lot about American health care. But it just feels so terrible sometimes that money has to dictate what many of us can and can't do to create our families. 

    Resolve's advocacy day is coming up on May 7th. It's good to get involved and feel heard, but it's not going to change the immediate outcome for many of us. The financial aspect of all of this is an additional loss, and an additional piece of acceptance we all have to come to terms with. It can be a challenge at times, that's for sure. In the end, I know it will all have been worth it.  It better be!

Miracles do Happen

This weekend I met/interviewed two incredible women, with incredibly hopeful stories. They were both almost 40 when they started TTC. They were both told by doctors that they would probably never conceive naturally. One woman was given a less than 2% chance naturally and less than 5% chance with IVF, given her blood test results, and an egg donor was immediately recommended. The other was told her husband would NEVER be able to get her pregnant. Both women did several months of acupuncture. Both women have the most gorgeous babies I've ever seen. 

Meeting them couldn't have come at a better time. Granted, there is more to their stories of course (hopefully I'll be able to post a short video clip soon), but the moral is that miracles do happen, and doctors don't know everything, and acupuncture can be very helpful.

What I've begun to notice in the world of infertility, is that it seems like many doctors make decisions and recommendations based on statistics and age rather than the individual. If you're under 35, in my experience, you're often ignored and told to relax. If you're over 35, you seem to be ushered down the hallway of panic and you're given the most dire prognosis. It doesn't seem like a fair or functioning system, and though the stats exist, each couple has a unique situation that should be catered to. 

Noah and I tried naturally for well over a year. We've tried naturally between bouts of ART, and we've been trying naturally since the Lone Ranger didn't stick. While I know I clearly have an issue with my eggs, I also know that there are people who also have had problems with their eggs and they were able to conceive. It revived my sense of hope a little bit, and reminded me to never stop trying.

What's hard is holding out for that one good egg. I think it can drive a gal total insane wishing/hoping/praying month after month. I've been there, done that. It's exhausting. But talking to these two women this weekend reminded me that I need to be able to hold optimism and hope in one hand, and my back up plan (complete with specific time line) in the other. That's the recipe for being open to and hopeful for a friggin' miracle, yet strategic and calculated if that miracle doesn't happen. Families are made in all kinds of different ways, and there comes a point where getting off IF Island becomes more important than biology or even getting pregnant. It's about creating a family and being a parent. That's what's most important, at least to me, at this juncture.

I guess my point is just that sometimes it just takes time, sometimes it takes alternative medicine, sometimes it takes a simple ART procedure, sometimes it takes major medical intervention, sometimes it takes multiple rounds of IVF, and sometimes it takes third party reproduction. But all the time it takes an open heart and an open mind. It takes being determined yet flexible. It takes advocating for ourselves and doing our own research. It takes trusting our gut instincts and believing that we will hold our baby one day. It takes being reminded that the body changes all the time, and no one person or doctor can ever tell anyone that something is 100% true, because things get disproved all the time. 

I hope to high holy heaven that some miracle happens for all of us out there on IF Island. Eating well, sleeping well...and doing...other things well is what we have immediate control over. Having a plan is what keeps us sane. Sending lots of love and strength.

 

Dos and Don'ts of Donor Websites

Our new favorite pastime is trolling donor egg websites. Noah and I can spend hours going through profiles and thinking about what kind of baby he would make with these strangers. It's crazy to think about how we got to this point. I vividly remember being really upset that I would have to go on Clomid to up my egg ante so we could try to make a baby. That was over three years ago. Now, here we are, typing in our password to have access to endless pages of girls who could possibly contribute 50% of DNA to a child that would grow inside me. I would think I'd feel more...sad, but I don't. Through the  struggle of trying to build a family, I've had to let go and process the many losses, redefine my goal (to be a mom, not to have a biological child), and create a new normal over and over again. 

Laying in bed clicking on "Donor #663, Asian" is my new normal. Trying to decide if it would be strange to give birth to a child that is a completely different race than I am is our before bedtime discussion. Processing the possible loss of my ethnic heritage in a child that is not made from my egg is what I'm wrapping my head around. There are a lot of things to consider when moving on to egg or embryo donation, and in the end, I feel like there is only one thing that matters. That it works and we get a healthy child. We will love that kid so much. This much I know.  But part of the acceptance of making a family in this way is thinking about all the implications. It's thinking about what we will tell this child. It's being open to whoever and whatever this child may be. It's knowing they may be genetically predisposed to things that have nothing to do with Noah or me. And it's being fully okay with all of it.

Seeing my ovaries the other day during my sonohysterogram really sealed the deal for me. I had two follicles in one ovary and one large one, ready to be ovulated, in the other. Three total. I'm not yet 34. My ovarian reserve has diminished significantly since I was first "diagnosed" with Diminished Ovarian Reserve. The tank is running low and my ovarian functioning is compromised. I know this. I accept this. I don't give up on the hope that maybe there can be a diamond in there, but I know that considering a donated embryo and trolling donor egg websites is what we need to do to focus on making our baby and getting us off IF Island ASAP.

So as I make online egg shopping my new favorite hobby, I have to give myself a few...parameters so that I don't go nuts. I'm sharing them here with you.

1) Don't get angry at skanky looking donor photos. Noah and I have found that there is a fine line between donor egg  profile photos and dating profile photos. It usually goes..."here I am next to tree, here I am at prom, here I am with my dog, here I am in short shorts on a bicycle, here I am in a bikini, here is a semi-professional model shot with my hair blowing in the wind and my belly button exposed." I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE BELLY BUTTON OF MY POTENTIAL EGG DONOR! But alas, there it is, so don't get upset. When I first started looking at these sites I thought it was all kind of creepy, now I just laugh and try to look for the best looking gal who doesn't seem insane.

2) Don't be weirded out when only a baby picture is posted. It's weird. Noah feels totally gross trying to fathom what a baby would look like made from him and a picture of some baby. It's not very helpful but I understand the anonymity. 

3) Don't get caught up trying to find someone that looks like you. Often people get to the point with this where they just say, "brown hair, brown eyes? Fine. Done." It's overwhelming to look at so many profiles, there may just come a point where it doesn't even matter as long as there is no major family medical history.

4) Don't spend more than 30 minutes on the site. Your brain will feel like it's exploding.

5) Do find a way to have peace with the situation, whatever one you may be in.

6) Do feel grateful that whatever medical intervention, especially those including third party reproduction, is available to you. Unless it isn't, and in many countries it isn't, and that's B.S. in my opinion. Then you can be pissed. It's extra hard when certain procedures are technically available but financially unavailable. I understand that and it sucks. That may actually be our situation here with egg donation. Though you may need to make some compromises one way or another, where there is a will, there is a way.

7) Do find a friend, preferable on IF Island too, to share photos and feelings with. It helps to have someone to bounce thoughts off of and the laugh with.

8) Do remember you will find a way to complete your family. It may not be today, it may be with some slutty eggs, it may mean your kid may be a math whiz you completely don't relate to, but you will love that kid with all your heart and soul.

Happy egg hunting to anyone in a similar boat, and good luck to all those embarking on a different ART adventure that has taken much compromise and sacrifice. Hopefully the pay off is just around the corner.  

A Tuesday Check In

Today is Noah's birthday.

My gift to him was exemption from having to accompany me to my sonohysterogram this morning. Yeah. That happened. Catheter + Cervix + Balloon = Not Fun. But my uterus is still there, bored from lack of use, but there. So that's good. 

Noah has been such a trooper through all of this. He has come to almost every appointment and wiped 94% of the tears-- husbands/partners really deserve a special something. But then again, so does my cervix.

So I've been in the process of getting all my tests and procedures done for the embryo donation. Every clinic has their own process and requirements, it becomes kind of exhausting. My blood labs have also expired so I had to get all new blood tests. You know you've been living on IF Island for too long when you've had to renew your blood tests several times. 

In the process of preparing for the embryo donation, I've started having  thoughts about egg donation again. It's so hard to know the "right" thing to do on IF Island. It's so hard to have conversations about how much a baby is worth-- can we afford 9K now  for the embryo or should we save up to spend 30k on eggs down the line so that Noah can have a biological child? Should we stop all the medical insanity and use that money to adopt?

There really is no "right" choice. But given that there are usually several choices, all with some kind of compromise, what feels right one day may cause some hesitation the next. And when there is hesitation, there is often a long and windy trip down the rabbit hole of internet "research" which just leads to more confusion. 

Sometimes I wonder what else my brain could be doing if it wasn't completely obsessed with fertility related issues. 

It's good to know what's out there. It's good to know and understand your options. But it's also good to make a decision and see it through. I'm pretty sure we are going to see this embryo through. We've become kind of attached to it. We just have to process the multiple layers of loss involved so that we can get hopeful that our baby may be chillin' in a straw in a freezer somewhere. 

It's crazy to think about all the new normals we have had to adjust to. On Noah's birthday last year we were just coming out of our first unsuccessful IVF cycle and were gearing up for my sister to donate her eggs. A year later, all of that is a blurred memory and we are gearing up to "adopt" an embryo. I can't even fathom what his next birthday might bring? Hopefully all good things. Maybe even the birth of his first child. I can't even imagine that.

Wishing my Hubs a very happy birthday, and sending lots of positive thoughts to everyone out there trying to make some very tough decisions. 

Finding my Feet on the Fly

This morning I struggled to get out of bed for my 8am yoga class. Bed just felt soooo good, but Noah insisted with his, "you'll be thankful you did it later" routine, and I hauled my ass up and over to the yoga studio.

Five minutes before class was to start there was no teacher. The handful of us that were there, rubbing sleep from our eyes, looked around concerned. I'm not the only one out there who has a rough time waking up at 7am on a Saturday. When I realized no teacher was coming, I went to the front desk and found my mouth offering to teach the class.

I am a certified yoga instructor, but I've only been teaching to my friends and family in the comfort of my living room.  I know how to sequence a class and keep people safe, but I wouldn't dare teach a "real" yoga class at a "real" studio--not because I don't think I could, but because I don't yet have the confidence to lead a group of strangers. Well, the front desk gal texted the manager, and before the clock struck 8 o'clock I had moved my mat to the front of the room and was teaching.

The first ten minutes were a little rough. I had to remind myself I am actually fluent in English and I know how to do a strong flow class, but then it was sink or swim. I had no choice. I committed to something and I needed to be present and calm and confident to see it through. We all made it through a 90 minutes class. People were sweating. One guy even thanked me at the end. And I didn't throw up from nerves, so it was a success.

The ability to think on my feet and respond to whatever the universe may throw my way is something I've been cultivating on IF Island. It's perhaps another unintended consequence. IF Island is full of...surprises. We are often having to readjust our plan, our expectations, our lives. We often have to make a quick decision when we least expect it, and we have to move forward and flow through that decision with as much grace and calm as we can. 

I can't say I like the feeling of not knowing what comes next, of expecting one thing and getting a completed different experience. But that's life. That's a curve ball. That's being flexible and accepting what comes at me and doing the best I can with the situation at hand.

I know everyone out there on IF Island is doing just this every day. And I commend each and every one of us for it! Wishing everyone a beautiful Saturday! 

Finding my Feet

I've moved my phone consultation with the clinic that has the donated embryo back to February, and I booked a trip to New York again in May. This means chances are we won't move forward with the embryo donation until late spring early summer. When I started counting the months and doing the math, I immediately felt panicked. How can I wait that long? If it works, then I won't have a baby until 2015, and we are hardly into 2014! And if it doesn't work, we will be in the same place with another year lost!!!

There is so much free floating anxiety on IF Island--it's like it's always drizzling little droplets of Freak Out. Just enough to coat the skin and make me feel totally aware of it and slightly uncomfortable. That's how much of this week has been for me. Sticky and blech. There are so many questions and unknowns and things I can't plan for or have any control over, that it starts to feel like I'm floating from thought to thought. I've been slightly uneasy this week and have been made very much aware how uncomfortable I am with uncertainty. 

As I wrote that last line I remembered a book I have by Buddhist nun Pema Chodron called, Comfortable With Uncertainty (perfect title right? I wish the book came in pill form). I flipped to a page I had marked and found this paragraph:

A warrior accepts that we can never know what will happen to us next. We can try to control the uncontrollable by looking for security and predictability, always hoping to be comfortable and safe. But the truth is that we can never avoid uncertainty. This not-knowing is part of the adventure. It's also what makes us afraid...If we find ourselves in doubt that we're up to being a warrior-in-training, we can contemplate this question: "Do I prefer to grow up and relate to life directly, or do I choose to live and die in fear?"

It's hard to commit to relating to life directly, when what's directly in front of you is scary. It's hard to breath into the fears and confront them. It's hard to feel grounded when so much feels up in the air. It's hard to be okay with the uncertainty of life, especially life on IF Island, and to find the patience necessary just to be with whatever is. It's hard to let the obsessive thoughts come and go. It's all just hard. But I do choose to learn to grow up and deal with the realities of life and the struggles of unconventional baby making in the best way I can. 

One thing that helps me is to pull back and remind myself it's not going to be like this forever. Seeing and believing the big picture helps. So does finding a way to feel rooted down through my feet--through  doing yoga, or taking a few deep breaths while standing for a moment and noticing all the physical sensations of "rooting down and rising up" as my yoga teacher often says.  

Wishing all the warriors and warriors-in-training much love and strength this Friday! Root down and rise up! 

Creating Rituals

There are very few, if any, rituals that help us  as a culture grieve the specific losses that occur on IF Island. This is something I've been thinking about a lot in this New Year, as I search for a way to recognize or validate what I've been through so that I can fully and completely move forward, knowing my past is not forgotten or discredited, but that my future is where I hold the most hope.

In Japan there is a Buddhist tradition called Mizuko Kuyo, where a person/couple gets their own little Buddha statue called  Mizuko Jizo, that represents a lost child. One can get their own and write the their name and date of the loss and keep it at home, or I suppose just give offerings at specific temples in Japan that have these baby Buddhas. This is a specific ritual for miscarriage or loss of a child that could have been. 

Here's what a Jizo looks like:

Kind of looks like Yoda.

There's something I like about this tradition. Something I like in the idea of a ritual to signify the end of something that was very loved, even if it never really "existed." A ritual to help both pay respect and mourn in a tangible way, so that the experience is never forgotten.  I think these kinds of rituals help bring the sadness out of the heart and into the world to mark the end of a difficult time and clean the slate for new possibilities. 

There isn't any ritual I know of that signifies the loss of embryos that could have been, or the devastation that comes with a cancelled cycle, or even with the loss of being able to create a baby without intervention or without pieces of your own biology. As I've said before, there are many different kinds losses and compromises we have to make on IF Island. 

I was thinking about this and feeling like maybe we could create something, do something, to acknowledge the losses and help us focus on what's happening now and the possibilities that lie ahead in the New Year.

That said, I'm CALLING ALL LA BASED LADIES to join me for a meet up at the beach one weekend day soon. I will organize and come up with some kind of ritual, so if you're interested please POST A COMMENT saying, "I'm in!" and make sure to include your email address (don't worry, it doesn't get posted on the site unless you write it into the comment box, so don't do that). 

When I figure out when and what our ritual will be, I will write about it so that anyone else, from Australia to Sweden (hi Gals!) can also participate.  

I'm excited to start bringing this online community to life! 

It was the worst of times it was the worst-er of times

I've been coming across several people who have experienced a recent disappointment on IF Island, and I want to make sure I'm not coming off as a total Pollyanna, skipping around smelling the roses and being all "in the moment" in the face of adversity and pain. Yes, I have found a certain sense of  peace and calm and have a bit of distance and perspective on our whole situation, but I also know and remember all too clearly the absolute heartbreak and feelings of anger and confusion and despair that come with cycling through the stages of grief that happens after an unsuccessful ART adventure. Here's a previous post from the day our embryos died during our first IVF cycle (in 2012, kill me!), and another depressing post from after something else that didn't work (I'm losing track), that may share some of the sentiments of those currently in this awful, awful place.

I am not all jacked up on meds and in a cycle right now, which allows me to work on having clarity and being patient. It allows me to write about being present and grateful, because I'm not waking up to a shot to the belly or waiting for a phone call from my doctor to determine my immediate fate. Time and space have helped my heart heal, but I still carry all my baggage with me. Anyone who has been following this blog for a while knows there have been some VERY dark moments. Thanksgiving 2012 was one of them.  You can check out this past video post and this corresponding blog post if you want to take a terrible trip down memory lane with me. There are TONS of other rough moments from the past--after all, I've been living in this insanity for YEARS now. 

But being in this for all these year, there are a few things I am ABSOLUTELY sure of.

1) I will be a mother. I will. Period. 

2) I don't have any control over when my baby will find me. (Seems like he/she takes after dad--S.L.O.W. to figure out what they want--did I ever mention it took Noah 8 YEARS to propose to me? That's a story for another day).

3) Whatever happens on IF Island is not going to kill me. It may come close, but I'm not going to die. 

There have been many more life lessons, and things I feel sure of. There have been a lot of things I have had to try and accept, and sometimes I can do that with grace, and other times I feel angry and resentful. That's the nature of the beast here. Our feelings will fluctuate for sure, but what also is for sure is that we become stronger. We have no choice. It's like when you get a deep cut and then the skin that heals over it feels a little tougher? We will be raw for a while, but then we become more resilient. 

Surrendering to the uncertainties of life has helped me accept the present situation--the fact that I may never have a biological child, or be able to give birth--and move forward to the best of my ability. Right now, moving forward means being still for a second. 

Noah is turning 35 in two weeks. We thought we'd be working on baby #2 by now--not saving up to try to assemble a baby #1. But life handed us some pretty sour-ass lemons, and as Noah always says, we have to try and make the sweetest lemonade we can. 

Unintended Consequences

My aunt just called me from New York to tell me how proud (surprised) and impressed (relieved) she was that I spent two weeks in the bitter cold without complaining. My aunt has known me since birth, and anyone who knows me since birth knows that I am quite good at complaining. It takes a precise temperature, specific soft fabrics, and exact body alignment for me to be comfortable. My aunt is well aware that wearing layers of itchy wool, having ear muffs pinning my ears down, and feeling my wet boogers drip down my frozen face would normally give me ample things to complain about. But complain I didn't.

I didn't even really think about it at the time. I felt uncomfortable, and it was freaking cold, but I also felt appreciative that we got be away on vacation and that I was able to do and see interesting and beautiful things. I felt grateful for every crisp breath I took and thankful to wrap my frozen fingers around a steaming cup of tea. 

This kind of appreciation is an unintended consequence of going through some real crap. Though my belly is chubbier than it's ever been, I'm appreciative that it doesn't look like this:

(Heather this photo is for you and your bruised belly! I took it on one of my last nights on Lupron).

Though I may not have my baby yet, I know our baby will have a dad who can express his feeling like a normal human being, and a mom who can be more patient than a Buddhist monk sitting under a tree. Okay, the latter is very untrue, but what I'm trying to say is that we all on IF Island have been changed by the experiences we've had to endure, and I am fairly certain that some of these changes have been positive. 

That is my challenge for the rest of the week. Noticing and thinking about any possible positive unintended consequences that have resulted from my three year sequester on IF Island. There's patience, and empathy for others, there's an understanding of the miracle of life, and the appreciation of being alive. There is learning better ways to be good to myself, and there is not complaining about things that are no big deal, like being cold. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore, because there are much bigger things to freak out about! 

Another unintended consequence is the new friends that I have online and in person because of our shared struggle. I've met some of the strongest and most inspiring people on IF Island. This is not to say I'm glad to have gone through all the shit that I have just so I can know y'all, (y'all are great, but....;)) but it is to say that I am truly impressed by the determination and resilience of everyone out there going through this, and I wouldn't have any awareness if I wasn't going through this myself. I thank all of you for reading along and reaching out. It's amazing to be strangers one day and friends the next. 

Though there is PLENTY to complain about, I challenge us all to also consider the things we can feel proud of ourselves for. Sometimes that may be just making it through a few hours without a complete emotional breakdown.There are a lot of dark moments on IF Island, no doubt. I challenge us to think about  all the life lessons or positive changes in our perspective or our personality or our relationships. And I challenge us to think about where we were when we started our journey, and where we are, who we are now. Chances are there has been some growth and some insight.

Home Sweet Home

Being away was great, but so is being home. It's 5 degrees in NY today. FIVE. 

I was afraid that coming home was going to be overwhelming. We spent the past 12 days running around NYC in our puffy coats (not a cute look for me, btw) not thinking about anything related to infertility. We couldn't DO anything over the break or from across the country. So we didn't and it was awesome. 

Waiting in security lines in a very crowded JFK airport, I started to feel my chest tighten. I started getting agitated, and while I knew this uneasy feeling had something to do with the crowds and being hot in the puffy coat and all that stuff, I also knew my internal state was starting to get agitated. My psyche, my spirit, my emotional self--whatever you want to call it, perhaps knew that the plane we were getting on was taking us back to IF Island. 

The terrible part is it was kind of true. Back home, my to-do list consists of going grocery shopping and moving my sonohysterogram appointment and my embryo donation cycle consult and making an additional appointment for an updated pap because mine "expired" and the new clinic needs a more recent one, and getting more blood tests... Ahhhhh!

But the good part is my increase in self-awareness has allowed me to take a potentially overwhelming and frustrating situation and make it bearable. Not just bearable, but totally fine. As I started to feel the sensations in my body tighten and stir and get uncomfortable, I looked over at Noah, carrying both of our giant bags, sweating under his full beard and beanie, and his eyebrows raised in a signal for me to "simmer down." I then switched my attention to what was happening in the NOW. I am in a line. Next to a woman who is taking a mid sized dog on the plane. I am hot. I am anticipating having to do stuff I don't want to do back home. I'm starting to get a little anxious. I AM OK.  

When we are more aware of our feelings and thoughts, we have a better chance to be able to observe them in a mindful way, rather than get totally caught up in them. When I notice the physical feelings first I know they are warning signs to what's going on in my brain and my heart. When I allow a little time and space to understand what's going on without judgment, I can then respond to what I need, rather than react to my anxieties, fears and frustrations. 

This is something I've learned during my sequester on IF Island. It's an unintended positive outcome that helps me deal with the uncertainties of life. 

I got on the plane and made a list. My name is Maya, and I'm addicted to lists! I wrote out what I needed to do, organized my thoughts, breathed through my feelings, and convinced myself the situation is under control.

I AM OK. 

We are going to go one step at a time. That's all we can do. We don't have a specific plan just yet, but we have steps to take. That's just what it is right now. It's not fair or fun, but it is what it is.

Hoping the New Year is kicking off to a good start for all you on IF Island! If you're still lost and wandering, just remember it won't be like this forever. We have a fresh new year ahead of us with lots of possibilities. Sending so much love and patience.

Out with the old, in with the new

I've been thinking a lot about ways to let 2013 go. To really close the chapter on everything that happened or didn't happen last year. To change my own narrative a bit and let myself be just a gal trying to make a family, not a gal with a series of losses and disappointments. That all happened. No doubt that I have some baggage. But what also happened is I've learned a few things about myself and my husband and I know I can fight tigers in the jungle if I had to. We on IF Island have super strength and determination, which is going to help us through whatever comes next.

Part of letting go of the past requires a different focal point. Sometimes it's a bit of a challenge over the holidays seeing family and family friends and answering the question, "so how have you guys been." Ummmmm....It's no longer about how we've been. It's about how we are. And in this given moment we are in bed, watching snow fall outside. We can feel warmth and love and the sensation of our breath fill our lungs. The focus can no longer be on retelling all the crap we've been through. It has to be on feeling open and ready to write the final chapters to how we get our baby.

I've been reading some of the blog posts on stirrup queens (I'm having a hard time posting links from the iPad but it's www.stirrup-queens.com). There are almost 100 blog posts from different bloggers that were submitted, and they give a good recap of the different struggles in infertility people have been through this past year. There are so many different struggles and so many different ways to build a family. Well not soooo many, but a handful. It's worth checking out. To see where people have been and where they are going. To see that many have resolved their situation and have created a family. To remember that all of the stories are SO 2013.

2014 has yet to be written.
Here's to a clean sheet of paper, a sexy new ballpoint, an open mind and open heart, and a good attitude.