Drifting Ships

April 20^th marks the start of National Infertility Awareness Week.

Infertility is the place where you cry behind closed doors.  You feel like that singular flame burning long and flickering in sadness, alone.  It is a whisper that shouts.  It is the pain that bleeds.  It is a race that you are trying to run but you have metal plates in your shoes; slow, wide, winded steps.  Each step takes years.  Each year floats by like a drifting ship at sea; one with no destination.  You wake up empty handed again and again.  But you will not stop…ever.  I know.  I’ve been there.  People who I love have been there.  Yes they have. 

That’s right.  We are owning our journeys and we aren’t hiding behind any stigmas!  As you now know, I am not fertile Myrtle.  Well actually, I could get pregnant, I just couldn’t hold it.  There was a time when I didn’t think I could have a baby.  Infertility rang my bell and knocked at my door.  Thankfully, I opened it and shut it quick.  But, for a period of over 3 years, I questioned it often.  One thing I learned through those years is that it is nothing to be ashamed of.  It is nothing to look down upon.  And there is nothing wrong with a little help.

Resolve to know more.  This is the theme of 2014.  Know your options.  Be aware and do not be ashamed.  I don’t want to sit here and talk about adoption, egg donors, and embryo donation.  I honestly do not know a lot about it all.  But, I am here to encourage you to seek the next step; to tell you that you aren’t alone and to tell a story of hope.  After all, when I was going through it, I had people to lean on and people were able to lean on me in return.  In the end, I was one of the lucky ones.  But, I am well-aware that there are women out there who aren’t as lucky.  I pray and hope for all of them. 

When I was struggling, I worked with someone who was struggling as well.  When I got pregnant, she was so supportive and happy for me, even as she was going through round after round of IVF.  She started to give up having her own baby around the time I was due.  She started collecting information on adoption, etc.  It was a long struggle for her.  (6 IUI’s, 3 Rounds of IVF, 1 miscarriage)  I’ll never forget going back to work 3 weeks post-partum and sitting in her office begging her not to give up.  It was honestly the only reason why I worked that day.  I went there to convince her to give it one more try.  “Please,” I said, “I just know that you will get your baby.  One more round.  I will do anything to help” (It must have been the hormones talking for me to be so bold).  Our boss, who happens to be her husband, let me skip my session the next hour so I could sit with her a little longer.  I convinced her to try again, to have hope.  She did.  Her limits were stretched but she stretched them longer.  Her ship was drifting but she saw the lighthouse in the distance.  She.Tried.Again.  She.Got.Her.Wish.  She.Never.Gave.Up! 

Her twins are 3 years old. 

Our struggles united our souls.  Only a few times in life will you meet someone who speaks to your soul.  She does.  Meet Daryl Martin.  She is not ashamed to say who she is.  She is proud of her journey. She is proud of her struggles and she is proud of her persistence.  

I asked her, “What helped you through it?  What would you say to someone struggling?”

She responded, “There’s nothing I can say.  It’s just so hard!!! Nothing made me feel better except you.  Because you knew.  My advice then is to find someone who can hold your hand, hug you, listen to you and can say, ‘I know.”

She went on to say, “The only other thing that kept me going to get what I wanted was thinking to let my dreams be bigger than my fears.”

 She finished by stating, “Infertility tests the limits of yourself and all the relationships you’re in.”   

It does.  It hurts.  It is all-encompassing.  But, but, but…

Sometimes…

Somehow…

Your destination becomes clear.  And for everyone, that destination is different.  Maybe it is IUI, IVF, adoption, or surrogacy.  Maybe it is finally making a decision to be happy no matter what happens.  Perhaps it is deciding that you cannot do another thing/round/try.  Or maybe, like Daryl, it is giving yourself one more try.   Your heart will tell you.  It will never lead you astray.  Trust it.     

But, whatever it is and wherever you are going, there will be a moment when everything finally clicks together.  The stars align.  The light gets brighter.  The weights are out and you can run fast.  Home is on the horizon.  You will end up where you were meant to be. 

Best of luck to everyone out there who is struggling.  Remember you are not alone. 

The Dance

Sometimes I feel like I’m in a show, doing a dance, but nobody taught me the routine. My cues are off. But the show is continuing and I’m shuffling along, just a beat or two behind everyone else. Everyone’s arms are up in a V with their heads tilted upward and mine are down at my sides with my head turned to the side.

Meet my dance partner; she has dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a mischievous mind and grunts when she doesn’t get her way by crossing her arms over her chest and turning her head.

This is our dance.

I have to pick up my 4 year old daughter from school at 3. I go in and wake up my 2 ½ year old at 2:45. She is groggy and sleepy. I promise her a fruit snack if she takes a nap and I have to deliver. It is waiting on the table by the door. Her hair is messy and she sits there telling me the colors of her fruit snack one by one as she eats them while I put her shoes on. She is happy on the way to pick-up. She screams, “Mommy, a red one.” She eats them quickly and then throws the wrapper on the floor of the car. I ignore it.

I get her out of the car and proceed to walk across a long, grassy lawn that consists of more than 150 steps to get to the door, give or take. Her happiness disappears as fast as a magician getting rid of that coin. Poof!!! Now you see it…

Each day, the show goes on and I think I’ve got it, but my dance partner changes routines mid-step.

The whines start slowly but resolutely right on cue in her head; totally off cue for me.

Through the winter, I always held her as we walked across the snow covered grass, CRUNCH…CRUNCH…CRUNCH. But now she should walk and/or run; the grass is green and the sun is shining. It’s time for her big twirl. But, she doesn’t. She wants to be held. I insist on holding hands but she doesn’t relent. She walks in front of me with arms outstretched. I side-step and she side-steps with me like we are doing this special choreographed dance routine but it is a dance that she knows the steps to and I don’t. Shuffle, shuffle, step MOM! I pick her up and she wants down. She cries when I put her down. She continues the routine and I continue to pick her up and put her down all the way to the door.

The long winded dance routine has gotten old to me at this point but it is only the first act for her. And now we have to turn around and repeat it back to the car. Up, down, cry, hold. Shuffle. Step. Up, down, cry, hold. WRONG! HELP!

Why is it that sometimes the hardest parts of your day are the ones that nobody would think about? Like getting the kids in and out of the car will put me over. In and out, buckle and unbuckle. Sometimes I lie in bed in the morning and think about that part of my day and think to myself, “’I cannot do THAT part of my day today.” I just can’t.

That is how I feel about the long walk to the door of pre-school. Sometimes, I just cannot do it. The CRIES!!! If I ignore her, she stands in her spot and cries. She cries like I just told her there will never be another lollipop in her hand again. She cries like she is 14 and her Zach Morris look-alike boyfriend just broke her heart. She cries like her heart is broken in a million zillion tiny pieces and I have to pick them up one by one and heal her.

So I do. So, I pick her up. So I repeat this dance routine over and over again. September through April. What feels like now and forever; since the beginning of time; the end of always.

You don’t need to tell me that I will miss it when she is older. I KNOW! You don’t have to tell me to enjoy the snuggles. I KNOW! I’m blessed. I KNOW IT! I don’t want to hear that they are only young once. I don’t need to hear the old lady in the grocery store tell me to ENJOY IT because THEY GROW SO FAST! I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t need to hear these clichés. I want reason. Sometimes, we just need a reason to keep on dancing. To try and get it right. Here it is.

I understand that this usually happens when the child is going through a stage. She needs more holding because of the changes in her life. She is getting dropped off at school now. She is starting to potty train. She is a “big girl” now and she wants to be, but I think she also wants to be my baby. She is going through an internal struggle that she isn’t even aware of and it is my job to help her navigate through it by being there for her; her rock.

As she struggles and whines, I need to remember that life has changed for her and she isn’t always going to be on my hip, where she wants to be. I need to help her understand that I will always be her mommy so that she can feel confident enough to walk across the grassy lawn on her own, knowing that I will be behind her. I need to instill this confidence by taking the minute or 2 or 10 to hold her until she is confident enough to be put down.

It is hard on those long days. It is hard when my arms get tired of her 35 pound sturdy frame. But, as she struggles to hold on to her babyhood, I will TRY to lead her to the next step. Because I know life is a dance. As time moves forward, our dance will evolve, the moves will change, but the lyrics will always stay the same: “You will always be my baby,” and one day we will be right on cue.

This is the reason that I keep on dancing.

Losing, Grieving, Finding, Seeking; My Messy Beautiful

My mom always quotes Oscar Wilde and says “comparisons are odious.”  Even as I type this, I have to hit shift F7 to see the thesaurus.  But Mom, what does that mean???  In other words, comparisons are” horrible, obnoxious, and loathsome.”  Thank you thesaurus.  Bottom line, we should not compare ourselves to others.  The antonym of odious is “delightful,” meaning (in my mind) that it is a delight not to compare yourself.  That it is delightful to be unique and special in your own right.  Right Mom?! 

If you sit here and think that someone else has it better, think again.  Keep thinking.  Think yourself all the way to the place that says, “Everyone has their stuff.”  Remember that as you see Mr. Rocker tapping his finger on the steering wheel of his Ferrari acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  (Are Ferrari’s still in?)  Remember that even he has his stuff.  When you get to a place where you can understand that, you can live a much happier life.  That’s where I’m at.  But, it took a while to get here.

I didn’t really get my “stuff” until about age 25, when my husband and I decided we wanted to try for a baby.  We got pregnant first try.  Great, right?  No, it didn’t turn out to be great.  After a long, torturous battle, the pregnancy ended at 4 ½ months.  I found out something was wrong at week 12.  After an early amniocentesis, Turner’s syndrome was confirmed.  Our little daughter was not expected to survive the week.  She did.  In fact, she survived a lot of weeks.  It was actually weeks and weeks of torture and waiting; we were waiting for the inevitable to come.  We knew it was coming.  And, I had to live my life and go to work on the edge of my seat and without a chance in hell.  As I say words and phrases like, turner’s syndrome, edema, and drowning in fluid, it takes me back to the place of no return; the place where I got my “stuff” and I lived in it and with it for years; a place where I lost Riley, a fighting soul with no chance in the world; a place where I would wake up from nightmares of blackness and screaming babies.  That place.  She would have been 8 this September.  Imagine that?! 

It changed me.

It made me take off my rose-colored glasses and see shades of grey.  It started a long struggle with my weight, ups and downs.  It made me see and feel loss.  It made me lose hope.  But, it made me pick myself up and try again.  My second loss was at 8 weeks of that same year.  2006 was wretched to me.  My third loss was 9 months later, the following September which hit me the hardest.  It screeched me to a staggering halt.  And here came my odious comparisons, punishing me with their wickedness.  That is when I started comparing myself to other pregnant women I would see on the street.  Why can they have a baby and not me?  I compared myself to my friends, holding their bouncing bundles of joy.  Why are they right and I’m wrong?  Why me?  I wished, I prayed, and I tried to find my way.  What if I never had a baby?  Who would I be?   I wouldn’t be ok, right?  Or would I?

The truth is, if I never had a baby, I would be ok.  I would have to be.  I started to realize that in 2008.  That is the thing about life.  It is filled with pain and loss, but with it comes beauty, hope and understanding.  When we see how little we actually need to survive, it makes us realize how powerful we really are.  If we strip it down to the bare bones and hang on only to what we can’t do without, we can understand ourselves more. THAT is when I got my baby; when I stripped it down; when I continued on and lived in the midst of it all; when I found peace without it. 

My daughter will be 5 in June.  My little one will be 3 in July. 

And now, I am different.  I still have my “stuff,” thank God.  It keeps me grounded.  But, I also have grace and peace.  I am healthy and fit now; one of my strongest priorities.  I am learning how to be whole.  I am losing my temper at 2 year old tantrums and I am ok with it.  But I am also trying to enjoy every moment that I remember to.  I try not to forget to look up when my children are playing, but I definitely equally enjoy the moments that I can look down (at my phone or book) and breathe.   I laugh a lot at some of the things these girls say.  They are DRAMATIC!  HIGH MAINTENANCE!  They test my limits.  But, I eat it up like ice cream on a hot summer day.  Slurp, slurp.  They are everything that I knew I was waiting for.  They are everything I knew I could have if I found peace.  Don’t let me forget that!  Don’t you forget that.  Peace takes you through it.  Peace gives you life.

Back then, I didn’t think I could make it.  But, I did. 

I got through it.  I worked it out.  I found my way.  And now my daughters are spinning in front of me with a doll in each hand.  And today, I write about self-love instead of self-sacrifice.  I understand empowerment.  I reconcile with the fact that this was my messy journey.  It wasn’t a perfect way to get here but it led me here nonetheless, exactly where I want to be.  I understand myself now.  I understand that I cannot compare myself to anyone else’s journey.  To say someone else’s journey is worse or better than yours would make it an “odious” comparison.  My pain is not worse than anyone else’s pain.  It is all valid.  Your pain is valid.  My journey is my own and I love it.  Riley taught me that, to love my journey, because there are always lessons in loss.  She taught me that if we strip down to only what we need…what we can’t do without…we don’t just survive…we thrive.  Thank you Riley.  I love you. 
 

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

   

The Enlightened Sun

Last week, my husband and I went away on vacation without the kids.  So no it was not a business trip, it was truly a vacation; a face in the sun type of vacation.  A “let’s get breakfast at 11 because we can,” type of vacation.  We recharged.  When I returned, I stopped giving my kids the death glare.  You know that look, eyes like slits with the furrowed brow as you get demanded “MORE MILK MAMA!!”  This is what vacation does; it allows you to take a long, easy breath while lazily walking, easily laughing, and sleeping as you wish; nobody making demands.  Heaven!  Hello?  Find time.  Make time.  It allows us to appreciate the daily grind when we get away from it for a little while.

When I sat poolside, I watched everyone but mostly, I watched the families.  I watched them all day and all night.  I saw a mom grind her teeth while she told her son to “stop splashing his sister.”  I saw toddlers running by with moms begging them to “WAIT!”  I giggled and opened my 770 page book…”Oh, I’ve got the time for this.”  I was LOVING not being them.  I also saw a dad throwing his daughter up in the air in the pool as they laughed (cute and fun) and I saw a mom holding a banana in one hand and a sippy cup in the other, squatting in her tankini (not appealing).  I smiled and then I did a handstand in the water.  FREEDOM!

Later that night at dinner, I watched a mom dancing with her 7 year old daughter to calypso music at a cute restaurant with white lights flickering all around.  Magical.  How I know that her daughter will never forget that.  I won’t forget that image either.  It brought tears to my margarita induced heavy-lidded eyes.  “Cheers, a toast to them,” I said and laughed.  I appreciated every image.  I respected them.  But, none of them made me wish my children were there.  I’m just being honest.  I was happy to be away with my husband.  I know we deserved it.  We all do.

You know what conversation always comes up when we are away from the kids…the 3^rd kid.  We can talk this thing to its death.  For real.  Remember when I wrote, “Limitless,” and I talked about knowing our limits; what we can and can’t handle.  Being away, it made me realize how lucky I am with what I have.  And as I heard my 2 year old on the other end of the line say, “more yogurt please,” over and over as I got an update from my mom, I realized that right now, I’m at mine.  “Gosh, she is 2,” my mom said.  Yes she is.  Terrible and 2.  Even her teachers had to ask my friend, “Umm, when is Noreen coming back?”  I laughed but I knew…I’ve hit my limits in terms of children at this point in my life.  Can it change?  Possibly.  But, not right now.  And as the time ticks away, I’m not sure it ever will.  It is hard work.  It is wonderful and hard, wonderfully hard.  Being away helped me gain clarity about it.  I am so happy with my place right now.  Why would I change that?  Why do we do that?  Why do we insist on rocking the boat just as we get to smooth waters?  Why can’t we allow ourselves to breathe through life just as we breathe through vacation?  Deep slow breaths of peace.

We made friends with a family of 4; tight knit and fun.  Happy go lucky.  We got to talking and I asked her why she didn’t “go for the third.”  How rude, right?  I know, but I had a few mudslides under my belt so whatever.  “I regret it now,” she said.  “Why?”  I needed to know why she regretted it when she created such a wonderfully close family.  I loved their dynamic.  “Because I like to be needed,” she said.  “I like people to need me.”  Interesting.  When she left, I looked at my husband and he looked at me.  “Well, that’s not you,” he said.  Indeed.  I definitely do not like to be needed.  In fact, I do a back flip every single time one of my kids can do something for themselves.  “You got dressed by yourself…YES!”  Backflip.  “You don’t need me to spoon feed you anymore….Hallelujah!!!”  Backflip.  I like independence.  I always have.   I want my children to be independent and I want to feel that independence as well (in small doses at least).  I turned back to my book and flipped the page (pg. 412).  Not bad.

I’ll never close the door on anything in my life, ever.  But, I will be aware of what I want in each moment.  And I will also allow myself to change my mind.  After all, we are ever-evolving humans.  We want what we want when we want it. And, we have a chance to make it happen, whatever that is.  For me, I realized what I want in my life at this moment…

Are you trying to make a decision?  Make it during a happy moment, not a miserable one.  Make it when you are at peace with yourself.  Only then will you know if it is right.

It is easy to obtain clarity when you are away from the situation. 

It is easy to appreciate your life when you have a little distance from it. 

It is easy to understand yourself better, when you understand what you want for yourself.

It is easy to see the light, when you have the sun in your face.

Happy Spring!