Infertility Heroes of the Day ~ Babies and Unicorns
Waiting for the results or even waiting for the next set of results. In our heads, going around and around during infertility. How’s my cycle going? How is it going now? How about now? How many follicles? How big? Have the embryos grown? How many? Am I pregnant? How pregnant?
We complicate things, we human beings, don’t we? We get into our own heads and we think and we think and we think and then we think some more.
We think we can think our way to all the answers and then we will arrive and know everything. And then, by gosh, we think some more.
Hence, my FB proclamation yesterday. I don’t often post things besides my blog or something educational. These past few days though, I have gotten so very tired of the real estate in my own head. So tired of my own thoughts and my own complications and then thinking more that I can figure it all out.
My FB post from yesterday, shared from a distant FB friend was this:
“Being a person is getting too complicated. Time to be a Unicorn. ~Unknown Author
I was driving myself crazy in the privacy of my own brain.
Then the day got much, much better.
From Prenatal Yoga to Newborn
I had the absolute delight and pleasure yesterday of holding a barely month-old baby. Interestingly enough, I am not all that much of a baby person. Not one of those people who swoon over every baby I meet.
This baby though is different. This is a baby that I knew about from embryo to emerged human being. That I got to see grow in prenatal yoga, that I heard about for the entire nine months that he was growing. A baby who I saw get larger and larger and move more and more. Who, in fact, heard my voice once a week for his entire time in utero.
That baby! Oh my. Nothing to get you out of your own head than a newborn sleeping contentedly on your chest. No more thinking. Brain shut down. Utter physical pleasure. Utter connection. Feeling him get heavier and more into his own comfort was inspiring.
That baby reminded me of a Unicorn. Too complicated to be an adult. I want to be a Unicorn.
He didn’t worry about when he’d be hungry next. Or need to be changed next. Or if he would be cold five minutes or five hours from then. He just was. There were no worries at all. If he was upset, he made it known and what he was upset about was figured out and solved.
That baby was Zen. In the moment. A Unicorn, uncomplicated by a busy brain.
He’s my hero. He’s my fertile hero. He’s the entire reason that we do what we do here at RMACT. Every single one of us on team RMACT is here to help you find your babies.
And let me tell you, the end results? Are miraculous. Every single one of them. Just like Unicorns.
That Unicorn baby yesterday got me right out of my head. He got me looking at clouds. And dragonflies. And birdhouses for purple martins. He had me looking at rivers and the way the sun hit the stones. He had me listening to my fellow human beings and seeing them as miraculous Unicorns.
Thanks miracle baby. I needed that.
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I admit it. I tend to be resistant. Some might even say ornery. At least on this topic. I cannot stand reading books when they are blockbuster best sellers and everyone is raving about them. I get truly annoyed when my friends tell me “you have to read this”. Pretty much, I won’t if I am told I have to.
Consequently, I have read the Harry Potter series (which I love), but I did so when the fourth book came out. Caught up with all of them at once. I have read The Book Thief, months after one of my closest friends started talking to me about it. Blink, a fabulous peek into how quickly the mind and heart sizes things up, two years after it came out. Three Cups of Tea, (one of the most stirring reads ever) I was actually ahead of the curve as a fellow passenger on a plane finished it and gave it to me.
A book I have been especially resistant (read snobby) to is eat pray love. It hit so fast and so hard and everyone was reading it, loving it, raving about it. Therefore, or ergo, I would not. (Yes, sometimes I even annoy myself with my attitude.)
So why am I reading it? Because I have another weird quirk. I like to read a book before I see a movie based on the book. The movie is coming out next week, a fun group of friends have set up a movie date and I want to go. Therefore, I must read the book. (Yes, I sometimes drive myself a little crazy. Or a lot.)
And to all of my friends out there, you were right enough. It’s not the shallow, sensationalistic take on things I feel intimately about that I was afraid it would be. I’m not done with it, but I am impressed with it. So, yes, you were right. You know who you are, I’m sure I’ll hear some “I told you so” type statements later.
Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of eat pray love, doesn’t want a baby. Now, I am not finished with this book, but what I do know, so far, is that she doesn’t want a baby and leaves a six year marriage at least partly because of that.
Doesn’t want a baby. Any of you out there relate to that? Probably not. But maybe just a little. Ever wonder when it turned from wanting to have a baby to absolutely needing to have a baby, to feeling positively frantic about having a baby?
I don’t wonder. It turned into desperation when you couldn’t have one. When you didn’t get pregnant the first month. Or the second. And so on. When you discovered that there could be a problem; that you might not be able to have a baby.
And yet, there’s a little piece of me that remembers some ambivalence about having a baby. Back before infertility, when I still felt the full spectrum of feelings, not just the over riding despair of infertility. When I was still able to want a baby and enjoy the rest of my life.
Eat pray love is a good read. Perhaps even inspirational as it reminds me of my orneriness. It reminds me to be in touch with how I really feel, past resistance, past desperation. Allowing myself to feel past reaction. Reaction is why I won’t read a book when it’s popular. Reaction is also my diving headfirst into infertility and disallowing any other aspect of my life.
Reaction is dear in the headlights, frozen, staring. It’s ok to blink, move, feel. Read.
Some poems about infertility and fertility that I found on the internet that touched my heart. I thought I would share. There was no specific author acknowledged.
Because if they look real close,
They will see the tears that fall like rain.
The room is picked,
And baby's things collected.
But, inside that empty room,
Something needs corrected.
Because there's a crib and a cradle -
There are baby toys and clothes too.
But, there is not a baby -
No baby to fill this womb.
I cannot stop the crying,
And my pain won't subside.
I'm lost for ways of trying;
I've run out of places to hide.
The holidays they come and go -
All the years that I look back.
And now I find the future's grim
When I look at what I lack.
I try to hang onto hope -
I try to wait and see.
But sometimes it's hard to cope
When I think it may never be.
I'm not the only one that finds it hard -
Sometimes I wish I were.
But, it's the hurt I see in his eyes
That digs in like a spur.
So tell me where to go from here -
Please tell me where to go.
Things just seem so unclear,
And it has challenged all I know.
It has tested and confused me.
It has brought me to my knees.
And now it's too hard to see
Just what you need from me.
Is it something I am doing wrong?
Is there something I can do?
You see, I've been waiting for so long,
And I've been crying out to you.
Please don't let this be a barren place-
In this place where my child should be.
Let me see your loving grace.
Please bring my child to me.
I hold you so dear.
Even if it's only in my heart
That I'm holding you near.
I sit here and wonder
Is it ever to be?
Will I get to display
The mother in me?
Wonder in time
How the story will end,
Will they just be for others-
The showers I attend.
When's it my turn
I ask God each day,
The only answer I get
Is, "Not today".
I ask only to know
What my future might be,
To plan and prepare
God, please tell me.
I just need to know
How long to be strong,
For sometimes I question
my strength to go on.
I sit here and wonder
Is it ever to be?
Will I get to display
The mother in me?