It's been a couple of days since my last post. Work has been busy and on my off-hours, I've been working on planning two fundraisers to raise money for Walk Now for Autism. My family and I participate every year in support of our nephews, Xavier and Alexander. (I interrupt this post with a short and painless ask: I'm looking for generous people to sponsor me and/or donate in-kind items for our silent auction. If you are interested, please email me at missyah1@sbcglobal.net)
I'm happy to report that I've been pretty consistent about eating a healthy breakfast every morning and taking my multi-vitamin and fish oil pill but the eliminating caffeine goal is sort of touch and go. I'm definitely drinking more water than before and when I do slip, it's usually for a can of coke instead of my usual starbucks caramel frappaccino - those of you who live by Starbucks fraps on a daily basis know what I mean. (Anyone? Anyone?) It's a very difficult vice to give-up.
Last weekend LH and I finally went to the sporting goods store to buy our running shoes. $130 later and we were ready to begin training! We had our first session on Monday night - let's just say I have never felt more out of shape in my entire life. However, I was proud that I stuck it out for nearly 45-minutes and I wasn't nearly as sore as I thought I would be the next day. Unfortunately, LH came down with a bad cold so we've put it off for the past few days. (Yes, I know I am perfectly capable to go by myself but well, someone has to stay home to take care of him...was that convincing enough?)
This past Monday I met with the Director for our Adult Program at the University to register for my very first class at La Verne. You may very well be looking at (so to speak) the newest member of the Class of 2014. And as strange as it may sound, I'm really looking forward to getting back into the classroom. I'm sure the excitement will wear off after a few weeks but I'm enjoying the "honeymoon and I'm registered!" phase for now.
Which brings me to my next topic of conversation: over the past couple of weeks I have had several loved ones ask me what our next move is and whether we are planning on trying another round of IUI. (Thank you for asking!) I know this is going to sound crazy to some of you but we have decided against it. First, let me explain - I haven't given up. I'm just letting go - a bit. Truthfully it would be impossible for me to ever really let go of my dream of having a baby.
However, I do have a plan and I know what I am going to do. I'm going to keep staying positive, keep taking better care of myself and use my Twelve by 2012 as my map to keep living in the moment. Set my sight on things that are within my grasp because I need to stop letting this issue run my life, my emotions, my confidence and my outlook. I'm done with the doctor appointments, the procedures and the too-many-to-count negative pregnancy tests. It's been nearly six years of planning, researching, obsessing, speculating and yes, even more researching.
Interestingly enough, over the past week I've been reading the book, The Infertility Cure by Randine Lewis. It's written by a doctor who after experiencing infertility and miscarriages, studied and received a Masters in Ancient Chinese Medicine. It started off really interesting but after the first two chapters, it started to feel more like a chore. Then last night, I forced myself to open it up and after flipping through most of the book, I stumbled over this little nugget of information that I thought I would share with those of you who like me, are grappling with the possibility of letting go and moving on:
The chapter starts with this poem, written by Tao Te Chung:
If you want to become whole,
let yourself be partial.
If you want to become straight,
let yourself be crooked.
If you want to become full,
let yourself be empty.
If you want to be reborn,
let yourself die.
If you want to be given everything,
Give everything up.
Deep, right? And here is a excerpt from the same chapter:
Over and over I have seen the ending of the pursuit of fertility become an opening to a fuller idea of who we are. There will be grief and mourning, of course. We must move through the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance - before we can take a look at what we would like the rest of our life to be.
But in my experience, like the child who lets go of the table leg to take his or her first step, women who consciously choose to let go when they know the time is right find it much easier to step into life after infertility. Sometimes the point where we find our soul is the point where we finally let go. Shedding the identity of being a biological mother or of being an "infertile" woman can mean loss, or it can mean discovering the deepest truths about ourselves. Our ability to have children and our role as mother is only part of who we are.
I can't say that I'm there yet and and it's difficult for me to see a point in my life where I will be ready to truly let go and move on but I do have the power to make the best of my life today, in the now. I'm already loving life without being concerned about cycles and looming doctors appointments. I can leap in the air, just from knowing that my long nights of sometimes obsessive reading and researching are finally over.
I'm finally (big exhale) on the right path. It's been a long road to get here. The best part of this road is knowing that instead of feeling like a door is closed, I know that the door is actually wide open.