living in the moment
Once again, thanks so much for your kind words and support. At first I was a bit surprised by some comments (here and elsewhere) about my strength and resilience. As is often the case, I think appearances might be somewhat deceiving. I think my words sound stronger than I actually feel. Maybe I thought that if I said it, the feeling would soon follow. Well no, I know it comes from somewhere within. It’s just that I don’t really feel so strong at the moment…
I feel so many other things besides strength. One minute I feel like I’m falling and broken. I’m grieving this loss and every one that came before it. I’m missing my angel boy and doubting that I will ever be a mother. I’m cursing hope, which has only hurt. ok, b r e a t h e. The next minute, I’m digging down to my core and gearing up in my head for a FET. I get excited, maybe even hopeful. But I start to feel a little anxious. I know that FET is truly our last stop on the fertility train. I am depressed, distressed. I fear the end of my fertility. I am empty and alone and powerless. I wonder how I will ever accept that I will never be a mother. Deep ache and inconsolable tears. I can’t think, I can’t focus, I can’t work. I’m exhausted. How can I live like this? And just then, the Amazing M will say or do something that will make me smile or laugh. Or we’ll share a brief moment of joy, or feel the love that has kept us together for so long. We’ll hold each other up, as we always do. And I may feel grateful and marvel at how lucky we are to have found each other. Or I may feel like crying. There’s no telling which. That’s just how it is right now. So to help me get through this whirlwind of emotions, I remind myself of a few things.
Respect yourself. I try to remember to be true to myself and to honor my emotions and instincts. All my life, I have tried to avoid feeling vulnerable. My mother raised me to be independent, not to rely on anyone. It has taken me years to allow myself to lean on my husband in times of need. This may sometimes give the impression that I’m stronger than I really feel. In truth, I know I have a solid foundation. I’ve lived through a hell of a lot already. Sometimes I am a rock, yet other times I’m molten liquid. And maybe sometimes I’m full of hot air. We can feel so many things at once. It’s what makes us human. But I’m learning to be true to what is there at the present moment, to trust that I need to feel whatever rises to the surface and give it the respect it deserves.
This too shall pass. I try to remember to stay in the moment. To sit with it and allow myself to feel whatever is there in that very instant. To not look behind with regret, or forge ahead in anticipation, but to embrace right now. I try to remember that this too shall pass. Anxiety, depression, anger, frustration. just b r e a t h e. Whatever it is, joy or sorrow, it will pass. Because nothing really lasts. Maybe love lasts, but it changes as it grows. Grief lasts, but it too evolves. We are constantly changing and evolving. To us, time may stand still for the moment, but it never stops moving. Energy in motion. Life is transforming around us and we have to roll with it. Such is the ebb and flow of life, as the Amazing M says.
The only way out is through. I don’t think you ever truly “get past” the toll of infertility. You don’t really ever “get over” a loss. It is a process. And it’s hard and it sucks. But over time, we work through it and try to find our way to the other side, to whatever awaits us. Maybe our dreams will come true, or maybe we must try to accept that they won’t. There is no short-cut, no quick-fix, no easy answers. There may be no happy ending for some of us. We still don’t know what the future holds. Perhaps we will find joy through a new baby, another living child, a partner, or in the company of good friends. Perhaps we will need to dig deeper to find meaning in our lives when they haven’t turned out as we had hoped. Either way, our experience will remain an integral part of us. It shapes who we are, who we become. Maybe we can overcome a certain struggle, or somehow come to terms with a deep loss. But we don’t just leave the journey behind. We work through it every day. It is part of our story.