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Photo by Alfonso Surroca via Flickr. |
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You may have noticed I've done a little reorganizing and layout changes here. New year, new haircut... I figured it was time to spruce up the look of the place around here. Blogger has this lovely little template designer tool that I've been hesitant to try but I think I've made it work for what I need here. Oh, and my blog is now super girlie pink. Very vagina-y and feminist empowering, I think. Good for the barren bod. What do you think?
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ICLW begins tomorrow. I'm back in the game to get me back in the habit of posting regularly. Hope to have an intro post up late this evening.
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The winter is a hard season for me. I've been all over the map emotionally and for whatever reason, I'm finding it a little harder to cope with infertility right now. I tell myself, but Keiko, you were doing so well! What happened? as if there is imaginary imposed sense of decorum and composure I'm supposed to have at any given moment. For some reason, now that I'm public about my identity on this blog, I hold myself to a high standard, unrealistic even. I'm not an infertility superhero. I know I try to be, but... I'm not. I just try to live each day and keep myself toegether as much as I can.
Yesterday, I didn't.
I went to lunch at the Whole Foods near where I work. I was just finishing when I received an email from a dear friend, due in early March. It was an email to her family and friends letting us know about their schedule for visiting once the baby arrives. They both have large families and wide circles of friends so an email like this is a must for all of the myriads of folks who can't wait to see the new grandchild. I found it very helpful actually and have filed it away as a "keep for later" idea.
And then out of nowhere... tears welled up in my eyes. I swallowed quickly and grabbed my trash, dashing for the exit. A perfectly sensitive, well-composed, informative and ultimately joyous email, and yet - my emotional levee burst open. For a moment I thought, what's wrong with me? but dismissed it, realizing that I needed these tears and I had to quickly find a safe space for a few minutes.
As I got up, I saw that the woman sitting at the table next to mine was bottle feeding a young child in her arms. I sucked in a steadying breath. As I put my compostables in the appropriate bin, a female cashier turned to greet me on my way out: "Have a nice day!" she called to me, her large, round pregnant belly visible under her green apron.
I practically ran to my car, shut the door, and just sat there in the parking lot of Whole Foods, crying. You've got five minutes to get this out, because you've got to go back to work missy! I told myself. In those five minutes, thoughts roiled in my mind. I was torn between feeling sorry for myself, feeling jealous and then feeling bad about my jealousy, then getting angry with myself for this irrational outburst, and then I stopped myself.
I can have this moment if I need it. And so I turned off my brain for a few more minutes and just cried.
Reaching for a napkin from the glove box, I wiped my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I had a busy afternoon ahead of me, and it was time to get back to work. The ache was still present in my heart, but I had allowed myself the release I needed, a little steam from the valve.
I went back to work and got through my busy day.
I can never fully prepare myself for these unguarded moments, but I won't bottle them up. Otherwise I'll just have these endless bottles of tears and terrors that won't do anyone any good, bottles of self-pity and self-loathing that just take up entirely too much space in my life.
I'd rather let the tears flow, bathing my mind clean in the catharsis.
And then I go back out into the world, and do what I have to do: live my life, take it a moment at a time, and remain hopeful.
12 comments:
Keiko - no matter what you think, you are strong. The 5 stages of grief can become somewhat of a cycle, not just a once and done kinda thing. Take you time to get through this and process your emotions. You can do it and you have a whole support team behind you. That is the gift of blogging.
Suzanne
Suzanne... your comment has pretty much made my day. Thank you for the kind words and support :)
Keiko, despite undergoing secondary infertility, I am lucky enough to have my 3 beautiful boys (including the youngest who is my WIN over infertility). I still have moments when the tears well up and I wonder what if and long for the daughter we lost. I know it's not the same but what I'm trying to say is that there is no deadline on feeling grief and there will always be days that trigger things. Don't be too hard on yourself.
I've had that too. I totally understand.
Take care of yourself. If you need to cry--go ahead and cry. I only wish we could be there in person so you could use our shoulders.
Such a good lesson. I fight my tears most of the time, but if I allow myself to cry it out, just get it out, I can move on. Thank you for this reminder.
Tears are ALWAYS good...
...If they are tears of joy they mean happiness and if they are melancholy tears they are great also because as they flow they are making some room for peace to come in their place.
I never see any sense in bottling them up, we need to cry sometimes and honor those emotions as well!
Try not to be so hard on yourself, and always remember you are NOT a robot ;)
I can definitely relate to this post, I've has so many of those moments, but often times I try so hard to hold it together and you're right I should allow myself to feel what I need to. I do always feel better after a good cry. Love your new look...hope tomorrow is a better day ((hugs))
Thank you for this reminder that we are in fact, allowed to do this!
Oh, Keiko ... I think you're amazing, and I also think you're brave to allow yourself to feel what you are feeling, instead of trying to dismiss it or pretend that advocacy somehow turns you into Superwoman. You're still human. And humans grieve, especially when faced with triggers for that grief. *hugs*
You have to give yourself permission to let it out. You are not superwoman and Infertility hurts and it hurts in the worst way - a way that no one knows how or if it will ever get fixed. I am one of the lucky ones that IVF worked for and I have survivors guilt bad! My child is 16 months old and I was weeping as I rocked him to sleep two nights ago for my friends who are still fighting this seemingly neverending battle. My prayers are with you.
You are very strong. I have great respect for what you write and look forward to reading more about your journey.
Hi, I"m here from ICLW. I agree that August and January are the worst months. I get where you're coming from with the tears. It happens to me out of nowhere as well.
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