Hunting for Hope

This week, Dandelion Breeze is hosting a Bloghop with the theme of "HopE, suPport & wiShes." Our posts are suppose to discuss something that has helped us along our IF/loss journey. 


I don't have any sage words for how to get through IF and/or loss. Frankly, I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But what I do know is that if I'm going to keep hope alive during this journey, then I need to seek out reminders.

My current one involves visiting a local Buddhist temple to spin the prayer wheels.

According to the plack on this shrine, each wheel contains 1000 prayers for peace and love. Spinning the wheels releases the prayers.

I'm not a practicing Buddhist, though I one day hope to study and learn more as I think this is a beautiful religion. But, with each IVF cycle, it's become a tradition to walk down to the temple and spin all 44 wheels. In the past it was for our embies. 


This cycle though, as I walked around the shrine spinning the wheels, I also thought of this community: all those in treatment and those who are waiting for the next round. For those that had BFNs and those with BFPs who were hoping for healthy pregnancies. For those who those that had experienced loss, be if their first or their nth. Those those waiting for news on DE or surrogacy and those in the adoption process. For all those still on this journey to expand their family. All this done in the hope of finding hope and even bargaining with it for an end to this madness. 


Come on my little snowbabies. Grow.

Pills

In the spring of 2003, I answered an ad to rent a room in a house with a group of women. I remember the interview with each of the roommates, with my kitties in tow to determine if there was a fit. To this day, I still believe the only reason I got the room was because of my cats. My year in the Mint house was life-changing: not only did I meet Grey, but my time living with musicians, dancers and women who were artistically focused gave me a new outlook on life. It was during my year living in the Mint house that I met Jen Wood.

I'm not going to talk about Jen as a person. Her story is her own and I feel that people need to met her, spend time with her in order to learn what an amazing individual she is. What I will talk about, though, is her music. From those first chords, it's always touched a special place in my heart. Though described by some as melancholy and bare, her music does cause people to pause and contemplate. I witnessed first hand as the room has gone quiet when she plays, the audience swaying to and fore to her haunting melodies. During my year in the Mint house, my room was located directly above her's. Being a musician, it wasn't uncommon to hear her practicing and working through new pieces in the middle of the night. I can't tell you how much I miss hearing her music fill my room and the living room, singing me to sleep. Some of my most vivid dreams have been to some of her songs and I suspect her music had a similar effect on my furbabies. Even today, when I play some of her songs, I see a peace come across Jaxson's face, as he use to sneak down to her room as a kitten, simply to be in her space.

A couple of years ago, on a day trip together, Jen brought her recent demo for an album she and the Trio had been working on. Many of the songs were in their raw format, but were beautiful none the less. The one that stuck with me, though, was "Pills." The intro rang true and always makes me laugh. But the lyrics from the rest of the song, though beautiful, were not completely clear to me. Because at that moment, I was happy in life. And I couldn't understand being in a place where one would be so lost. Until now.

Yesterday, I was able to locate the video for "Pills." Reading the lyrics again made me realize how timely this song is, particularly the promise of "You won't be there forever."

Pills by Jen Wood


Today I threw away my pills

against my family doctor's will.
They said they would make me smile
but instead I feel nothing,
nothing at all.

I see that look on your face
wondering if I'm okay.
Mother need not to fear.
I promise to stay near.

You won't be there forever. 
You won't be there forever
You won't be there forever

I can learn to trust.
I can learn to scream.
I can learn to say yes
if that's what you need from me.

You can learn to trust.
You can learn to scream.
I can learn to say yes
if that's what you need from me.

You won't be there forever.
You won't be there forever
You won't be there forever
You won't be there forever

Socks = hope

I've been meaning to have a follow up post on fertility socks for awhile. For those of you who are not familiar with them, I recommend reading this post as well as this page.

A lot has happened since the first sock exchange. More than I could ever have imaged. Yet through it all, my life has been filled through my interactions with everyone in this community. And so, in an effort to spread the love and support, I propose a second fertility sock exchange.

Here are the rules:
1) Leave a comment below to let me know if your interested. This exchange is open to anyone who has been touched by IF, be it you're currently in treatment, preparing for treatment, recently diagnosed, pregnant after IF, parenting after IF or even supporting someone dealing with IF.

2) Once you've received your recipient's names, please contact them.

3) Socks do NOT need to be handmade. Again, when I originally started doing this, I did it because I'm a crazy knitter who in addition to wanting to give something that was handmade also uses knitting as a form of therapy. Please do not feel that you need to learn to knit, crotchet or sew in order to participate. And there are some amazing sock stores out there.

4) If you can no longer participate in the exchange, please contact me immediately. Yes, life happens and unseen circumstances can require you to focus your energy elsewhere. But please don't leave your recipient hanging. I'm more than happy to reassign, as long as I'm aware that you can no longer participate.

Deadline for participation is March 21st. I'll post a reminder as the deadline comes closer.

I'll end today by sharing with you the socks I received.

First set is from Toni at Who is this "Fertile Myrtle"

Toni sent an explanation with the socks: To the Egyptians, the frog was a symbol of life and fertility, since millions of them were born after the annual inundation of the Nile, which brought fertility to the otherwise barren lands. Consequently, in Egyptian mythology, there began to be a frog-goddess, who represented fertility, named Heget (also Heqet, Heket), meaning frog. Heget was usually depicted as a frog, or a woman with a frog's head, or more rarely as a frog on the end of a phallus to explicitly indicate her association with fertility.

That, and it's hard not to smile when looking at these guys. Thank you Toni!!!

The second set is from a friend from an online forum.

On top of being comfy, the message is loud and clear. Thank you Nicole!!


Finally, my third set from Grey.

As I've mentioned before, we have Anna's hummingbirds that have been wintering with us. Following the D&C, these little guys were one of only a handful of reasons to get out of bed (note for anyone with hummingbirds: they are very particular about their food). I still remember Grey laughing for the first time while watching these small animals chew me out after I allowed their food to freeze. They are my symbol of hope.

Finally, I'm leaving you today with an image that warms my heart.

Signs

This past weekend, Grey and I journeyed to our sanctuary. The journey was not without complications, as we encountered a snow storm while making our way down the coast. At one point, the storm was so bad that we almost didn't make it. At that moment, we looked at one another, remembering similar moments during our journey through infertility and decided to chance the road for a few more minutes.  Through luck and cautious driving, we made it to our destination.

Sunday morning, I awoke to familiar panges from menstrual-like cramping. As I cursed my body while hunting for the Advil, I turned over and looked out onto the ocean.The view from our room is the same as the one above.  I began to watch the waves as they rolled into the shore. As each wave crested, slamming into the shore, so did my cramps peak. Before long, I was left only with the waves. Mesmerized with the peaceful roar and they're steady pattern, becoming lost in their beauty. It was only then, as the snow began to fall, that I knew it was time to let go of my fear of the future and move to the final stages of my grieving process. Acceptance, reconstruction and hope. 

Being at the ocean has always been a spiritual experience of sorts. I grew up around lakes and always found peace with being near water. But the coasts of the Pacific Northwest have an added element due to the cooler temperatures, leaving them shroud in mists a lot of the time. Though sunbathing is a rare event in the winters, I've learned that wandering through those mists can be incredibly therapeutic when all seems hopeless in the world. 

This time as different from anything I have every seen before, though. The winter storm brought with it lots of precipitation in the form of snow and I saw some of the fattest snowflakes I've ever had the pleasure to behold. With the snow was an added level of silence, muting the roar of the waves so that it all seemed like a dream. Moments later, the clouds parted and suddenly a large rainbow appeared in the sky. Wide at the base and with a full arch. And with that rainbow, peace finally returned to my heart. Somehow, things are going to be okay.

Grey and I spent the trip reconnecting and regrouping. We talked candidly again about the plan, with me offering options that I never would have considered before. Finally, in a moment where I felt like I would lose myself, he held me and reminded me that we promised not to break ourselves in order to bring a child into this world. Because the reality was, if we were broken, how could we be good parents? It doesn't mean we'll be giving up, it just means that the plan is firmly in place for the next 6 months. We will try again. We will give it our all. And no matter the outcome, we will move forward together.

Today, I'm no longer frightened. I don't know what the future holds for us, but all doubts from decisions in the past are gone. Sure, there's everything that I could have done. But there's no guarantee that the outcome would have been different or for the better. I've made the best decisions I could during those times and despite how much infertility sucks, I don't know if I would have done things differently.