Not even two months after my final failed fertility treatment, I had entered the adoption option’s funnel cloud. As harsh realities and impossibilities swirled from every direction on this front, I was also sharing myself with people as I tried to make my way out into the world again. I’ve noticed since this is something that other grieving people commonly and spontaneously tend to do.
After conveying some grief over my unfruitful attempts at trying to conceive I was told by an acquaintance I thought well of, “Well, you can ALWAYS foster or adopt…..”. Given that this was someone with a few healthy biological children of her own, I was thrown by her unyielding certitude.
At the onset of my nervous system disorder four plus years ago, I became intimately connected with the spring phase of my gardens. It somehow served me to meander around and stick my face inches from the earth, securing ring side seats to nature’s first pokes back from dormancy. For the fifteen or twenty minutes that I could anyway. Dizziness, lightheadedness and light overwhelm would drag me back inside all too soon – where I would then be overwhelmed by the darker setting to which my body could barely readjust.
What I remember though was the awe at this phase of unfolding. Never again was I going to miss it, to dismiss it as subtle or to only turn my attention to plants once they became more “obvious”. I recall last early spring stumbling upon something I had forgotten I planted stridently spearing itself through the earth. “You came back!!” I literally gasped in wonder. It hadn’t owed me that, or anything else. But yet there it was.
Around four years ago, in the fourth year coming out of treatments, I found myself in a vehement phase of mourning.The pull towards expressing my love and losses through gardening continued to grow more fervent.It was then I created our candle and flower ritual to mark the conclusion of our final failed attempt – and to chauffeur me through winter in the absence of gardening.I was pulsing on a regular basis with the need for physical symbols that could mark, prove and memorialize. Read more →
The psychological trajectory of non parenthood is not a flatline
Over the past year plus now, I’ve been on an expedition with my body.I enlisted in physical therapy due to a shoulder injury, which then spanned, at my urging, to a fuller body physical therapy program to address scoliosis.Between that and osteopathic manipulation therapy sessions, I notice slow but steady improvements.It’s hard, consistent work.And even though my present musculoskeletal issues would likely qualify as minor, I’m choosing for now to keep trekking.
Characteristics that shaped my infertility experiences have resurfaced and this puts me on alert.My persistence, ability to commit, need to see what’s under every rock and general fire – the very things that screwed me in baby making land – have re-emerged within this plight.A scoliosis body carries with it a whiff of mystery, it’s conceptually akin to a Rubik’s cube that never quite gets solved.I remind myself that I am now also equipped with a much softened expectation of cause and effect, an awareness of persistence’s dark side and an honorary PhD in that which we don’t control.With all that, I think I’m ok to keep going.
I’ve gotten the idea along the way that I’m not your average patient.Much of this is due to my alignment based yoga practice and training, and the heightened body awareness that renders.But underneath the surface I feel there’s something else. Read more →
In a parallel universe not yet known to man, childless not by choice infertility survivor Sarah Chamberlin decided to hold a press conference following the six year milestone of her last failed fertility treatment.Actual humans attended.
AS a childless not by choice infertility survivor, Chamberlin knew she was going to be told – not asked – how things are for her.So as she looked upon the starry eyed crowd who came expecting all themes resolution, uplifting, and most of all peripheral, she knew she’d need to exercise some control.
“Ok, ok”, Chamberlin, who didn’t just become childless yesterday, bellowed as she tried to chorale the crowd. Read more →
As an involuntarily childless infertility and IVF survivor, the best Mother’s Day gift I can offer my Mom is my own well being
I know it has been awhile, dear readers.More on my unexpected hiatus from blogging and the pieces above later.
For now, I‘m happy to report that I made it through my end of the week travels relatively unscathed by any Mother’s Day hoopla.A few people with whom I’m in regular contact even remembered to not bid me a “Happy Mother’s Day” and upgraded to the somewhat inaccurate but much more welcome “Have a nice weekend” instead.
Or at least I’d like to think so.I regularly check myself as I’ve been prone to fantasizing about people giving a shit over the past five or so years, often to find out they were not even dipping their big toenail into my shoes.But assuming it was intended, these seemingly micro considerations render a difference in one’s well being for the better. Read more →