Written June 6, 2013
"It hurts! Wounds so sore! Now I'm torn, now I'm torn.
I've been far away: when I see your face my hearts burst into fire."
-- "Hearts Burst Into Fire," Bullet For My Valentine
There has been radio silence on my blog for two reasons: 1. I have been sick as a dog with first-trimester pregnancy symptoms of nausea, fatigue, and light-headedness. Some days, I am incapacitated by it. 2. All I want to write about is this experience, which I have been too scared to talk about publicly. For that matter, I still am.
All women are nervous during their pregnancies. Who doesn't want a perfect, healthy baby? And what is more uncontrollable than this most precious of outcomes? But, for most of us who have had a pregnancy loss -- and all the more so when you have had many pregnancy losses -- the fantasy of a glowing, relaxed pregnancy just won't happen. Consequently, I have been a nervous wreck. Last night, however, I had a total nuclear mental meltdown. Someone I
know posted something about a five-month stillbirth on Facebook, and I
had an out-and-out panic attack.
One thing that's nice is that this has been a very closely monitored pregnancy. Not because monitoring would affect the outcomes, but because it makes me feel better. With each positive sonogram I can stay on this side of sane for a few more days, until the anxiety again takes over ("Wait! I don't feel queasy this second" or "Wait! My boobs only hurt a 6 out of 10 instead of a 10 out of 10!")
The above-quoted lyric from BFMV really captures my mental health right now: I am truly traumatized by my miscarriages, and oh, the wounds are still so very sore. The sonograms are like CPR for my soul, so I can check on the little one. And yes, when I see his or her face, my heart bursts into fire.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Email To A Suffering Woman
I got an email from someone who just suffered a miscarriage after her one and only pregnancy after trying to conceive for five years. She asked for my advice on how to move through it, since she is in so much pain. I am posting my response to her here, in case it contains advice that helps someone else who is hurting.
"Dear H,
I am so sorry for your loss. I have been through this three times, and it is excruciatingly painful. Since you asked for advice about how I survived, here ya go. Take what you like and ignore the rest:
1. You WILL get through this. One day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time. You are grieving, and that is ok. Take it easy on yourself, and stay out of self-judgement. Try to take good care of yourself, the best you can: good nutrition, getting to bed at a reasonable hour, perhaps tea with a trusted buddy you can cry to. If you are spiritual and part of a faith community, connecting with that might help, though anger at a Higher Power is totally normal, too. And, dare I say it, exercise helps. Getting my ass to the gym post-miscarriage was one of the best things for me mentally and physically.
2. The biggest challenge for me was that my husband and I grieved the loss of our babies differently. It was very hard to be with him because seeing his face (the father of my kids!) really heightened my grief. He was the only other person on the planet suffering the way I was, and sometimes being with that was too much. Instead of pulling away, I had to consciously move closer to him. Not easy, but worth it. We had to figure out a way for each of us to grieve our own ways; me by wallowing in it for a while, him by losing himself in work. One isn't right or wrong, better or worse. Just different, and we had to allow space for each others grieving styles.
3. This is very, very hard to hear, and I don't say it lightly. Nor would I say this to you without having lived through this: as much as I understand your sentiment that this feels worse than just not conceiving, it is actually a very hopeful sign for your ability to conceive in the future. Several reproductive endocrinologists have told me, "It's a sign that something is working." Cold comfort for where you sit now, I know.
Please know I am sending healing thoughts your way and I am here if you need something. This hurts like hell, and yet you will rebound, I promise. Winston Churchill wisely said, 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Take it easy.
Blessings,
Sarah"
"Dear H,
I am so sorry for your loss. I have been through this three times, and it is excruciatingly painful. Since you asked for advice about how I survived, here ya go. Take what you like and ignore the rest:
1. You WILL get through this. One day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time. You are grieving, and that is ok. Take it easy on yourself, and stay out of self-judgement. Try to take good care of yourself, the best you can: good nutrition, getting to bed at a reasonable hour, perhaps tea with a trusted buddy you can cry to. If you are spiritual and part of a faith community, connecting with that might help, though anger at a Higher Power is totally normal, too. And, dare I say it, exercise helps. Getting my ass to the gym post-miscarriage was one of the best things for me mentally and physically.
2. The biggest challenge for me was that my husband and I grieved the loss of our babies differently. It was very hard to be with him because seeing his face (the father of my kids!) really heightened my grief. He was the only other person on the planet suffering the way I was, and sometimes being with that was too much. Instead of pulling away, I had to consciously move closer to him. Not easy, but worth it. We had to figure out a way for each of us to grieve our own ways; me by wallowing in it for a while, him by losing himself in work. One isn't right or wrong, better or worse. Just different, and we had to allow space for each others grieving styles.
3. This is very, very hard to hear, and I don't say it lightly. Nor would I say this to you without having lived through this: as much as I understand your sentiment that this feels worse than just not conceiving, it is actually a very hopeful sign for your ability to conceive in the future. Several reproductive endocrinologists have told me, "It's a sign that something is working." Cold comfort for where you sit now, I know.
Please know I am sending healing thoughts your way and I am here if you need something. This hurts like hell, and yet you will rebound, I promise. Winston Churchill wisely said, 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Take it easy.
Blessings,
Sarah"
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Book Review: Conquering Infertility
Conquering Infertility: Dr. Alice Domar's Mind/Body Guide to Enhancing Fertility and Coping with Infertility by Alice D. DomarMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
"Conquering Infertility" is not a perfect book. It was written in 2002, and a lot of the medical landscape of assisted reproductive technology -- particularly in-vitro fertilization success rates -- has changed dramatically for the better. In spite of that and a few other issues, I still found the book a very worthwhile read.
The first part of the book instructs on some basic relaxation techniques to help calm the overactive stress system that gets engaged when you are undergoing infertility (IF) treatment. Domar details how to engage in progressive relaxation, visualization, and other techniques to kick in the relaxation response. She does this not because she claims it will help you get pregnant, but because it will help calm your system while you're dealing with this crisis. I did have a major criticism of this section: Domar is very quick to dismiss meditation as a helpful technique for overactive minds. She encourages you to try another relaxation technique instead. I don't know anyone who doesn't have an overactive mind -- it is the very nature of minds -- and the beauty of meditation is that you learn how to calm it. So, please don't give up on meditation!
The second part of the book deals with very specific IF issues. The chapters I found most useful were how to deal with handling IF at work, and the chapter on spirituality and IF. Both were full of compassion and practical advice for working through the problems IF poses.
The last chapter of the book is about how to deal with it when treatment fails. Domar discusses adoption, egg or sperm donation or living child-free. Again, she does so with compassion and practical advice.
Overall, if you are dealing with IF, I highly recommend this. A final note: the book, like most on this topic, is primarily directed at women, though I do think that men who read it would find it helpful.
View all my reviews
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
You Gave Me A Mountain
"This time, Lord, You gave me a mountain, a mountain you know I might never climb. It isn't just a hill any longer -- You gave me a mountain this time." - "You Gave Me A Mountain," lyrics by Marty Robbins, sung by Elvis Presley
"There is sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy and fragility, out of whose depths emerges strength." - Rashini
I have had a lot of reproductive disappointments lately. It feels unbearable to write about them, but when I realized I haven't posted anything in almost a month, I knew why: this is what is going on, and I'm not in the mood to talk about it. Yet, this topic feels like a blockage, and until I write about it, I can't write about anything else. This sucks unlike anything else I've ever been through. I don't want to make it sound like I've been on death marches, sex trafficked, or anything else truly horrific, but for a privileged white girl, I have had my share of genuine tragedy and heartbreak, and infertility (IF) exceeds it all. Perhaps it's because IF touches on such deep, personal longing: religiously and culturally, most people have been inculcated with a deep desire to have children. Hell, if you are from a Judeo-Christian background, it's the first frigging commandment. If I were inclined, I could write a separate post about what IF has done to my spirituality and relationship with God. It aint pretty. Add to that the intense biological drive to propagate, and you have a potent mix for being really fucked up if things aren't working in the reproduction department.
When I had my miscarriages, I was shocked at the insensitivity of other infertile women who said, "Well, at least you can get pregnant. I haven't been able to do that." I still stand by the insensitivity of expressing that comment to someone who has lost three babies, but from where I sit now, I agree. For unknown reasons, I have gone from the camp of the super-fertile to the "...and to think, I wasted all that birth control!" camp. When you can get pregnant, there is still hope that this pregnancy will turn out ok. Now, I understand the frustration of getting yet another period when you don't want one. This is worse.
That leads me to another point: I have had to eat some real humble pie. My IF journey has led me to feelings and behaviors that I thought I was above, and I find myself experiencing many of the things I judged other infertile women for. For example, I used to think it was strange when someone told me she couldn't be at synagogue with all the kids. Now, I totally get it. Not wanting to be around pregnant women? Check! Not wanting to be around babies? Double check! Feeling like a playground or Facebook is an emotional minefield (especially around the anniversary of Roe v. Wade)? Check! I actually hid a new parent's Facebook feed recently because all she posts about is her new baby (kudos and thanks to my other friends who are new parents who do a great job balancing info about parenthood with other things! I love you!) In a strange way, I feel like the Universe is giving me a dose of all the things I used to be judgmental of. I assure you, I'm not anymore. I have also learned that the IF drugs, with the intense bloating they cause, make you look pregnant, so I shouldn't assume anyone is.
Maintaining perspective on this problem of IF is not for the faint of heart. It is easy to let it consume you. One of the common ways to try to balance the pain is to look at what is going right in my life, which, thank God, is a lot! Most importantly, I get to wake up every day next to my best friend and partner, whom I'm still madly in love with. I think marriages like ours are rare. My life is full of blessings! Yet, I have to be careful with this tack, because I also use it as a way to negate my feelings of intense sadness. Yes, life is beautiful, but it still feels for both of us like our family is incomplete. For these reasons, it feels like this method of focusing on the positive isn't an authentic or truly useful way in and of itself for me to work through this problem.
I did have some relief this morning when I did a guided tonglen practice led by my meditation teacher, Tara Brach. This is a powerful practice that helps us connect with the suffering of ourselves and others in a meaningful, compassionate way. I found it very calming to view IF as a wave held in the greater awareness of my life as an ocean. To paraphrase Tara, when you're aware you're the ocean, you're not as afraid of the waves. I also like the tonglen practice because an integral part of it is focusing on the suffering of others, and in doing so, it feels like offering a prayer on their behalf.
Ok. I have been sitting on this post for a week, and can't think of anything else I'm willing to commit to the Internet, so here it is for now.
When I had my miscarriages, I was shocked at the insensitivity of other infertile women who said, "Well, at least you can get pregnant. I haven't been able to do that." I still stand by the insensitivity of expressing that comment to someone who has lost three babies, but from where I sit now, I agree. For unknown reasons, I have gone from the camp of the super-fertile to the "...and to think, I wasted all that birth control!" camp. When you can get pregnant, there is still hope that this pregnancy will turn out ok. Now, I understand the frustration of getting yet another period when you don't want one. This is worse.
That leads me to another point: I have had to eat some real humble pie. My IF journey has led me to feelings and behaviors that I thought I was above, and I find myself experiencing many of the things I judged other infertile women for. For example, I used to think it was strange when someone told me she couldn't be at synagogue with all the kids. Now, I totally get it. Not wanting to be around pregnant women? Check! Not wanting to be around babies? Double check! Feeling like a playground or Facebook is an emotional minefield (especially around the anniversary of Roe v. Wade)? Check! I actually hid a new parent's Facebook feed recently because all she posts about is her new baby (kudos and thanks to my other friends who are new parents who do a great job balancing info about parenthood with other things! I love you!) In a strange way, I feel like the Universe is giving me a dose of all the things I used to be judgmental of. I assure you, I'm not anymore. I have also learned that the IF drugs, with the intense bloating they cause, make you look pregnant, so I shouldn't assume anyone is.
Maintaining perspective on this problem of IF is not for the faint of heart. It is easy to let it consume you. One of the common ways to try to balance the pain is to look at what is going right in my life, which, thank God, is a lot! Most importantly, I get to wake up every day next to my best friend and partner, whom I'm still madly in love with. I think marriages like ours are rare. My life is full of blessings! Yet, I have to be careful with this tack, because I also use it as a way to negate my feelings of intense sadness. Yes, life is beautiful, but it still feels for both of us like our family is incomplete. For these reasons, it feels like this method of focusing on the positive isn't an authentic or truly useful way in and of itself for me to work through this problem.
I did have some relief this morning when I did a guided tonglen practice led by my meditation teacher, Tara Brach. This is a powerful practice that helps us connect with the suffering of ourselves and others in a meaningful, compassionate way. I found it very calming to view IF as a wave held in the greater awareness of my life as an ocean. To paraphrase Tara, when you're aware you're the ocean, you're not as afraid of the waves. I also like the tonglen practice because an integral part of it is focusing on the suffering of others, and in doing so, it feels like offering a prayer on their behalf.
Ok. I have been sitting on this post for a week, and can't think of anything else I'm willing to commit to the Internet, so here it is for now.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Elvis Birthday Shabbat
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David and I decided to finally give Elvis Presley his glory and celebrate his birthday. Although he would have been 77 on Jan. 8, we knew we wouldn't get many people here on a weeknight, and decided to throw a traditional Shabbat (Sabbath) dinner in his honor on the Jewish Sabbath. After all, the King had Jewish ancestry on his mother's side, so we knew he'd approve.
I have a genuine love of Elvis after three years of employment at Graceland, and I am always eager to initiate the uninitiated. I planned a traditional Southern meal for the occasion:
"Burning Love" Fried Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches
"Fever" chorizo beef sausage
Glady Presley’s Corn Bread
"Love Me Tender" BBQ Chicken
"Too Much" Memphis Coleslaw
"Viva Las Vegas" Lady Luck Black Eyed Peas
"Polk Salad Annie" Collard Greens and Kale
"Hound Dog" Baked Hush Puppies
"You're The Devil in Disguise" Pineapple Ice Box Cake (photo and recipe)
David, our sommelier, chose Clos Bel-Air's Montagne-Saint-Emilion wine to accompany our selection of beer and Coca-Cola. I'm not sure what that wine had to do with Elvis, but it is from France, and I'm sure Elvis French kissed!
Thanks to the handiwork of my sister, Lillie, we had awesome looking decorations including Elvis place mats and a kick-ass centerpiece for the table. David strung up Lillie's garlands and festive Elvis Birthday lights. You didn't think we'd leave the throne room undecorated, did you? The rock n' roll gods blessed us, and my mom sent some Elvis-themed gifts, including a Blue Hawaii tray that we used as a challah plate, a little pink Cadillac, and cups and napkins. Seriously, opening that box was better than Christmas, and I'm pretty sure this was the first time in history that someone served challah on a Blue Hawaii-themed item.
The meal was meant to be tasty, celebratory, informative, and, above all, FUN. To that end, we interrupted dinner several times to engage in some Elvis trivia questions ranging from the mundane ("How many movies did Elvis star in?" Answer: 33), to the racy ("Why was Priscilla Presley embarrassed to go to the Walgreens in Memphis?" Answer: because everyone knew why she was buying up all the Polaroid film, according to her book "Elvis & Me").
One of the most enjoyable parts of the evening for me was the Elvis Presley sing-a-long we did. David and I chose five of Elvis' most famous hits spanning his career and printed selected lyrics on a song sheet, which we all sang. What we lacked in talent we made up for in enthusiasm!
I had a huge smile on my face all night. My guests seemed to have a blast and enjoy dinner, and I have no doubt that all of us learned something about The King. Three days after the meal, I'm still getting very warm texts and emails from people who were here. The reason it was so much fun is that our friends got really into it, for which I'm thankful. They patiently listened while I regaled them with tales of working at Graceland, the best job of my life.
We wanted our guests to carry the spirit of the King into their life, so they left with a cute little Elvis magnet as a party favor.
There is little doubt that thanks to the success of this endeavor that Elvis Birthday Shabbat will be an annual event. What remains to be seen is whether it will stay small or morph into a bigger party so we can share the gospel with more acolytes. Long live The King!
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