Today I started the day on the mat with Rodney Yee. I knew there was no way to get to a class given my insane schedule here in San Antonio — so I fell out of bed at 6:00am and got on the mat. I was exhausted in every possible away — physically, mentally, emotionally.
I thought — great, I am hitting a wall. It’s day 11 and here I am at the wall already.
I decided, for once, not to beat myself up about it.
My practice was easy physically, but emotionally I was wrenched with this heavy, icky guilt. Guilt is really a useless f!?king emotion.
Someone wrote me and asked if I was infertile because I had cancer. I was taken aback by the question, but then I realized I work in cancer — one might assume I had had cancer. It was an innocent enough question.
For a moment, I felt guilty for not having cancer as my excuse for my infertility. How ridiculous is that?
My “excuse” for my infertility is I never thought it would happen to me so I went for help too late. It was just too late. My eggs were done. My ovaries had given all they could give.
I started a business at 36. I got married at 38. I just assumed it would all happen and when it didn’t I still kept thinking it would. So, that is my excuse. My life is my excuse. I was living my life.
Today I was not crying on the mat — I was angry. I was angry because I felt like I had to justify my choices. My life was somehow flawed because I got going at this a little later than the national average.
I have never been average.
Thank God I was alone.
I went into headstand and held it for a long time, basically until all of the blood was in my brain. I needed to shake things up; I had to reset this channel I woke up on. Inversions are good for that.
When I came down, I went into rabbit pose for awhile and I tried to think about this from the perspective of the child I do not have yet. Do I think our child would ever want to hear that their existence was a last resort — the end of some line because I have rotten eggs?
No, I don’t.
That sort of talk is completely out of alignment with what I’m feeling inside — I’m not ashamed to be using a younger woman’s eggs to make our family. I’m not ashamed at all. However this all shakes out and whatever happens in the end, that child will grow in me and be nourished by me and loved more than even I can possibly imagine as I type this.
As I let myself relax in shavasana I knew the most important thing I needed to do was forgive. I have to forgive myself for whatever it is I think I did wrong by simply living my life — that is my roadblock.
I knew the best thing that happened on the mat today was facing this. I needed to start by changing the story I was telling myself.
People build their family in all types of ways, and this is how we are choosing to start ours. The key word is choosing.
Our child would not be whoever they turn out to be without coming into existence this exact way. That is a miracle. A different kind of miracle than perhaps we would have had a decade ago when we met; but still a miracle.
One of the greatest forms of healing the soul is through stories — at least for me. Not therapy. Not programs. Just sharing stories. We are all on an unique journey — it’s all ours, and with it comes our story. Stories can provide windows into life — past, present and future — unlike anything else.
I came back from the conference this evening and a Fed-ex was waiting for me in my room. I started the birth control pills and somewhere the young woman who likes chicken n’ dumplings is starting hers too.
My husband and I (along with an egg donor) are possibly starting our child’s story as we embark on this journey — it’s important that we make it a positive one; a nurturing one.
Tonight as I lie in bed typing this, my mind is not swirling. I’m at peace — it’s an exhausted peace, but peace nonetheless.
I am grateful to have so many positive responses from friends, family and a few of you struggling with infertility as well. I hope that by trying to share my story as honestly as I can, it might help someone else feeling alone and searching the internet for some magic egg juice.
Lord knows, I have!