“The rampage of advertisements has already begun” Chamberlin calculates. Read more
A Week in the Life of an Infertility Survivor Pt3
One of the greatest losses stemming from infertility and childlessness for me is the hefty strain it has put on socializing and forming relationships with people. It is, in my opinion, one of the least understood and most underrated challenges of not only childlessness, but of one’s changed perspective having survived trauma and loss.
The phone rings in my car, somewhere on the New Jersey turnpike, interrupting my pop music reverie. Perhaps it was Rachel Platten’s Fight Song, or Adele’s Hello, or Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk, I don’t quite remember. In the midst of anticipating a quiet Thursday evening at home organizing myself and gearing up for my yoga teacher training weekend, I was reminded by my husband that we had a party to attend at one of his restaurants. Read more
It was three days after Easter. I awoke with a slow bleed into consciousness. I know there are those dramatic shoot up from the pillow in the still of the night bursts – this was not that. But something was…..wrong, amiss somehow. Read more
Hi All –
Wanted to remind those of you in the IF community about Justine’s #MoreThan1in8 project over at Ever Upward. She’s asking for our photographs and stories of surviving and thriving that she’ll compile, in some surprise way I hear, for National Infertility Awareness Week. Which is next week already!
I submitted mine a little over a week ago. I wrote whatever came to mind (shocking, I know) and focused more on the survival aspect as I myself have barely entered the thriving part. I sense I’ve got a ways to go before that takes hold.
Like Justine I do believe we have power and voice in numbers, and that it is past time for us to be seen. So if you are in the place of being ready, have your submissions in by this Friday the 22nd.
My writing this week comes in a few parts, so buckle your belts and off we go……
Musings of an Easter Scrooge
“Cover your left nostril with your right hand ring finger. Inhale to the count of five through your right nostril. Pause for one. Cover your right nostril with your thumb, release your ring finger from your left. Exhale through your left side to the count of five. Pause for one. Inhale through your left side to the count of five……”
I’ll never forget the first time I was instructed to pause between the inhales and exhales of my alternate nostril breathing. The suspension, for me, was unquestionably luxurious. I thought I had been introduced to a utopia of sorts, where neutrality and all else that is coalesced, emerging as the perfect cocktail.
In my current life, I’ve been having a decent stretch lately. I have regained some of my ability to see into the future, at least a few months into it anyway. What an oddity to have my future vision yield something besides dull blobs of blankness. I’m slightly busy again, busy for the first time in six years with something other than baby making, surviving and grieving. And more importantly, it seems I’m actually ready to be. Read more
“I only sobbed for a couple of hours. And then I laughed because it was just so absurd.”
“Holy crap” I said. My friend who was unexpectedly and tragically widowed four years ago was in LA filming a movie this year in mid-February. She got through the whole of Valentine’s Day without a trigger, and it seemed her chosen tactic of ignoring the day had triumphed as she was driven back to her hotel. Looking forward to chilling out after an intense week of work, she arrived at the hotel only to find a Valentine’s extravaganza of sorts in the banquet room in proximity to hers. She was greeted at the hotel by dressed up ladies in the arms of their dates and “relaxed” in her hotel room to love ballads galore and amorous prompts filtering through the walls from the over eager MC across the hall.
Kind of like unintentionally stumbling upon a church service or a restaurant on Mother’s Day in our world. Triggering times a million? Oh, I think so. Read more
Speaking out on Infertility Survivorhood
The question came up suddenly with no warning.
“How are you a teacher in your daily life?”
I was in my first full day of yoga teacher training, the significance of which was not exactly minor. Although I’ve taken many unofficial and organic steps in my journey forward, specifically with writing and embracing the grieving process, this 200 hour training is the first tangible “goal” I’ve committed to since losing our children. And it’s something I would not be doing, at least not now, had I gotten to have children, and I can assure you this truth was lurking as the training drew near. It is, partially for me now, a blatant symbol of this new life I didn’t chose. Read more
Infertility Survivorhood Meets Perimenopause
Sitting with my feet in the stirrups things were notably different from the year prior. My first visit to the gynecologist six months after we had lost our children, though preempted by good “I’m getting back to taking care of myself again” feelings, ended up being served with a big fat panic attack. Read more