An epiphany

It has been more than two weeks since my last post (I like to call this period Radio Silence) and while not much has changed, so much has. Really. I can’t really pinpoint when this change happened, but here’s what led to my little epiphany …

1. I did a guided meditation with my therapist about facing my fears around infertility. It was a practice focused on letting go and stepping into myself more fully. Now, I feel a bit funny talking about this as I like to think of myself as a fairly self-aware woman. I’ve had my share of tragedy and glory, joy and sadness, and with each day I know myself even more. But this process, this 45-minute guided meditation was amazing. I woke up more relaxed and more at ease.

fast forward three days …

2. At my school I’m required to partake in an end-of-the-year project, and my husband and I take a small group of seniors backpacking. The other adults in my group are new to the program, so initially my husband and I were asked to split up and go with other leaders. That wasn’t going to work because we were going to try an IVF cycle this month, and I couldn’t administer the meds myself. We shared some basic info with the other adult leaders, which led one of the other teachers to send me this email: “I don’t want to pry, but are you and hunny going through fertility treatments? That’s how I conceived M, and if I can be of any support to you, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. It’s not a pleasant experience, and it’s not to be experienced alone. And you must remember that regardless of the outcome, you will live a fabulous and full life.”

For the first time in more than two years, since before we started aggressive fertility treatments, I actually believed what my colleague said. I know that no matter what happens in June and July and beyond, we’ll be ok. I feel silly that it took two things as simple as guided meditation and an email from a colleague, but ever since those few days there has been a clarity to my thought and a balance to my emotion surrounding IVF and infertility. It’s like I let go of something enormous, something that has been plaguing my life. Don’t get me wrong, things are not all peachy in the land of baby … I am not pregnant and we have an IVF cycle looming in the distance. But I feel like I can see the other side regardless.

If I become a mother, I am ready. If I do not, I will be ok.

Here’s a poem that was also a part of the process for me. So fitting as I’m an English teacher. So fitting as I’ve taught this poet so many times but had never read this one until last week.

I Worried
by Mary Oliver
I worried a lot.  Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up.  And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
Here’s to giving up the worry. Here’s to singing each and every day!
dfb
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