It's Not Easy

Music has always spoken to my deepest emotions and connected me to myself in ways I cannot explain. While driving home tonight, one of my new favorite songs came on, "Not Easy" by Alex Da Kid. It hit me hard. I've been listening to this song for a couple of days now and actually felt that it spoke to me about a completely different situation in my life, an emotional experience that took place more than 5 years ago. But tonight, the words, "It's not easy, it's not easy breaking your heart" caught me in a completely different way.

After our recent decision to pursue adoption whole heartedly and set aside any further fertility treatments I just assumed that a lot of my grief would subside. In fact, after our announcement and the outpouring of support we received I felt a tremendous renewal of hope and joy. I felt hope that my dream of being a mother was close again, I felt the joy of a new direction in our journey, and I felt that having closure to the fertility treatment would help put it aside. What I discovered tonight is it's not that simple.

There is still grief and loss on this journey. My heart is still broken over the children that I won't get to carry. There is still loss around the baby that won't have my eyes or Kurtis' nose. There is still the grief of never knowing what traits our baby, our biological child, would get from us. I hadn't thought of those things, I just pushed forward focusing on my end goal, like I always do.

I had to let all of this sink in tonight. I had to let myself feel it. I had to play the words of my husband's regrets and sadness play in my head. He's been feeling it too. We spent the holiday's with my family and on our trip to the zoo, I spent a lot of time with my 3-year-old niece, Leiliana. After we left, Kurtis told me that while she was sitting on my lap, he had a moment of sadness. He noticed that her hair looked like mine and he couldn't help but feel sad that he may never get to see me with a daughter that looks just like me.

We are both thrilled to be on the journey to adoption, but we can't forget that there are still feelings of grief to process. Loss that we should allow ourselves to feel. Adoption doesn't negate fertility issues, it's simply a wonderful option for those who experience the deeply emotional life circumstance of infertility.  

Patience is a virtue. Especially when it comes to being patient with yourself.

I wrote the following paragraph over a month ago now:

Another 4 weeks, another failed procedure. I’m spent. Physically, emotionally, mentally, just utter exhaustion. I’ve actually being having a pretty big pity party for myself this week. It’s crazy how easy we can justify anything when we really want to. It’s not that I think I shouldn’t allow myself to be sad and upset and work through the healthy emotions that surround a difficult life situation, but rather the things I let myself get away with while going through it. I justify bad eating habits, laziness, irritability toward others, even poor hygiene sometimes. Even as a therapist I let myself slip into the mindset of “it’s just my depression” or “I just need to check out today, I’ll do better tomorrow.”  I come up with all sorts of reasons why it’s okay for me to indulge or slack off. Then I face my guilt for doing so, which takes a whole new toll on my mind, body, and spirit. It’s a dangerous cycle, dangerous because it’s so easy to slip into and then forget how to get out again.

However, I never posted it. I never posted it because I wanted to add more, I wanted to follow up with some amazing revelation about how to get out of that cycle. That revelation never came and weeks passed and I ignored that I ever wrote those words. Today I knew I had to sit down and read those words again. I had to be reminded of the cycle, of how easy it is to get stuck and that’s what I am right now, stuck.

I’m learning though. I’m learning the balance of allowing myself the pain, the frustration, the need for a moment away, without allowing myself to use it to justify every bad habit, behavior, and thought. It’s an everyday battle. I’m terrible at those. I’m more of a “identify the problem, fix it, and move on” personality type (also known as Type A…). It’s just not that simple when it comes to this problem. I wish it was, I wish I could discover that big revelation I was waiting for a month ago and move on from this, but instead I have to embrace it. I have to be okay with “good enough.” That’s where I’m at. I’m doing what I can and settling for “good enough.” That’s really all we can ever do no matter the situation. But I’m sitting here behind the screen telling all of you, it’s the most difficult lesson I’ve had to learn to date. So I’m going to exercise my best patience with myself and charge forward. I’m going to trust that someday I will learn to embrace this lesson fully and enjoy a fuller, more relaxed, satisfied life.

I wish the same for all of you. Thanks for tracking with me on this journey. I’m humbled by you all.

It's Not All About Me

I’m sitting here struggling to begin this post. I have so many jumbled thoughts in my head about it, but no good way to put them all in order. I think this is because there are so many directions to go all at the same time. I want to make sure I write everything down because I do not want to lose these insights, but I cannot seem to make it coherent! So I ask that you bear with me as I work through this one today.

There are days where I cannot get out of my own head. I can get triggered by one small thing and it turns into an all day shift in my thinking, acting, emoting. I can very easily get caught up in how “alone” I am on this journey. I’ve even been angry about this feeling of being alone before. But the truth is, I am not alone. I have a partner who is on this journey with me.  

My husband and I have had many discussions about our situation. They started out with him being the cheerleader on my bad days. They took a turn to logistics, expectations, scheduling. They’ve progressed to grieving our situation together. There has never been a day that has been easy during this journey, but in every difficult moment when I realize he is by my side, I know I can get through it. Of course we have been far from perfect. In fact, I think we’ve had some of our worst fights around this issue. But they were only that bad because they were so emotionally charged. We’ve experienced this journey in very different ways, which has to be expected to cause some discord. As a woman, I feel as though I’m failing part of my purpose in life. As the man, he wants to fix it. These emotions can clash effortlessly. During this whole thing, I keep thinking about how easy of a breaking point this journey could be for a marriage. I know it happens, I’ve read the statistics, I’ve known acquaintances it’s happened to in fact. But the most amazing thing has happened for us, we’ve never been closer, more in love, and more determined to achieve a goal together. He has been there every step of the way, even at the doctor’s office holding my hand after only an hour of sleep, because he knew how important it was for me to have him there. He’s worked hard to take other stressors off of me because he knows how taxing this daily journey is for me. He’s also simply listened when I needed to get all my crazy out, and I have a lot of crazy! I do not know why we are going through this, but I can at least see the great things coming out of it in the meantime. I cannot imagine going through this journey or this life without my amazing, loving, and supportive husband.

I do not think I tell him enough how much I appreciate him. It’s difficult to keep up with all the wonderful things he does for me. I’ve never felt more loved in my life. I’m so thankful for him even at my most distraught. I hope this helps him understand that a little more. I hope that I have been as supportive and caring toward him during this time as well, but if we are keeping score, I’d have to be honest and say that he’s winning J

Why Me?

This post is overdue. I've known I needed to write it, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Vulnerability is not an easy thing for me as I discussed in my first post and now I feel in order to be honest I must be even more vulnerable. The thing is, I've been really angry lately. Angry that I have to go through this, angry at those who do not, angry that others do not understand, angry that some do not appreciate what they have, and just angry in general. I've never liked being angry. Even in the midst of my anger, I've always felt uncomfortable and disgusted with myself. Now I know that some anger is healthy and justified, but I just do not like the feeling of anger. But this has been different. I've actually wanted to embrace my anger, to hold on to it, to use it in some way to my advantage. As I began to realize my shift in direction about anger it certainly scared me somewhat. As I've continued to process this I think the answer is fairly simple, it's easier to be angry than to feel the hurt, depression, and despair.

Before recognizing my shift in anger, I'd been experiencing a lot of anxiety, depression, and general despair about my life. These feelings were too much, too real, too close. Anger has become the solution. It was actually pretty easy to redirect myself given my job, my social and family life, and my amazing ability to distract myself. Anger is interesting that way, it gives you the ability to direct the feelings that were welling up inside and direct them outward toward others so you do not have to "deal" with them anymore.

Instead of being sad every time I saw a facebook post about how great it is to be a mom, I could be angry that I haven't been given this same opportunity. Instead of crying after every social gathering revolving around children and families, I can be angry that the world has treated me unfairly. Instead of being empathetic to a struggling client, I can be angry that these parents do not deserve their children and I'm the one stuck being infertile. So much easier than letting those feelings inside my heart and mind or so I thought.

Anger only seems easier, but in all truth it's just as difficult. The end result is the same no matter what emotion I allow myself to experience. I'm hurting because I cannot get something that I want so desperately and it is out of my control to fix it. Out of my control. Those are difficult words for me to utter. For those who know me, there is a significant pattern in my life of needing to be in control. I've been in therapy several times due to my inability to control my entire world. I'd thought that I had made progress over the years in learning to "let go" and "be okay" when I cannot do anything about it, but the struggle is a daily one. Most recently I had an epiphany that the opposite of control is not letting go, but being vulnerable. Vulnerability to allow yourself to be seen by others for who you are and what you are and are not capable of doing. The ability to let things be the way they are even when they are not the way you want. This is incredibly difficult and I'm not good at it yet, but just realizing this position has helped me feel some release from these overwhelming emotions.

It is still a battle every day, but I feel more equipped to handle it now and that is a win.

"Friday Night's Alright For Fighting..."

The title of this post is taken from one of my all time favorite shows, but the twist is, I'm fighting with myself this Friday night. Friday nights tend to be a difficult night for me for many reasons. First of all, it's the last night of a three night stretch at home alone while my dear husband works night shift. Friday night is also when I actually make a conscience effort to decompress and set aside a long week of emotional interactions with clients. This last piece is an important component to working in my field, however, of late it has caused more problems than it has solved. The problem is that I am very good at controlling my own emotions throughout the week by burying them underneath the responsibilities of work, home, family, friends, volunteerism, and so much more. I like being busy, I like being involved, but Friday nights are my night at home, alone, which is a problem for my brain.

So, at this point you are wondering what this gigantic emotional struggle is I keep eluding too, right? It's difficult for me to put it all in to words. In fact, I have been debating whether or not to begin this writing journey for over a month now. Writing has always been an important emotional outlet for me, but simply writing privately has not been enough for me in this situation. However, I haven't been ready to write publicly either. But now, as another Friday night has rolled around, I cannot keep it all inside any longer.

The journey began about 13 months ago. It seemed so simple, so natural, and so standard at first. Go to the doctor, get a check up, get advice, ask questions, begin the process of conceiving your first child. Happens every day right? It does. But what was to come in the following months was unpredictable, unfathomable until you are actually in it. It starts off with high hopes, a little attentiveness, and just a couple negative pregnancy tests. No big deal, just getting into the swing of things and all of your friends told you it took them a few months to conceive. You continue on, disappointed it hasn't happened yet, but knowing it will be here right around the corner. You start planning out the future in your head. You imagine telling your family and your close friends the amazing news. You start imagining the nursery and how you want to decorate. You can't help but notice every baby, young child, and family around you. You start taking in more parenting advice, listening for names you like, and adjusting your own schedule in order to prepare for the life changes ahead. You can't help yourself, you've flipped the switch, you cannot wait to be a mother!

But reality starts to settle in around the fifth month. You start running through the negative thoughts: what's wrong with me? how do we fix this? how long will it take? what will we have to go through? what if we can never get pregnant? where do we start? Then you start taking action. The doctor's appointments seem endless, the answers are never quite enough, and hope hangs by a thread every 4 weeks.

Every 4 weeks... That's literally how I measure my life now. It's exhausting.

I'm constantly battling within myself between hope and defeat. This manifests both internally and externally and has caused many issues in my personal and professional life. My goal in making this journey public is to explore the challenges of mental, emotional, and physical health. To start a discussion for women who feel alone and isolated in this process. To encourage, process, and educate both myself and others. I seek to be a social advocate in my professional life and I think it's time that I do the same in my personal life as well. I know that many people face isolating struggles in their life whether specifically related to infertility or not and I hope that this exploration can encourage many that they are not alone.

I have a million thoughts that I want to share with you all, but I think this is a good start. I plan to take this slow and work through this as we go. I look forward to the journey ahead.