Now that I'm on maternity leave, I have snippets of time to think and write again. Currently my 1 month old son is sleeping in his Baby Bjorn (these carriers are genius), so I thought I'd put these two hands to work.
I've been trying to formulate just what I want to say in this post for some time now. I think that overall, I feel thankfulness, wonder, and yet, a deep awareness for those struggling to get pregnant, or for those not having the ability to have children at all.
When Jeff and I first started trying, we got pregnant within 2 months. It took us by complete surprise that events would move that quickly, but after 2 days of celebrating, I began to miscarry. The initial numbness moved to grief, and I joined the ranks of many, many women who experience this kind of loss (or to some, maybe relief). There was a lot of self-blame - and even moreso over the following months when the pregnancy tests kept coming back negative. I was convinced that I was doing something wrong to discourage life in me - my diet, stress at work, my age and previous health history - some of this I would share with Jeff, and some would just privately play on repeat in my head.
It was a strange thing . . .the shame I carried. Despite all of the ovulation testing kits, pregnancy tests, and basal temperature charting, etc., I found that despite my diligence and determination, this was one area I couldn't learn or master; I was at the mercy of nature/God/life.
Seven months passed and we decided to go to our provider for further consultation. After testing was completed for both of us, we were told that we had a 4% chance of getting pregnant. This news was both heartbreaking and relieving - though the answer was more severe than we anticipated, it was still an explanation for what we had been experiencing over the past few months. In an odd way, the shame and responsibility I had been carrying had lifted some, and Jeff and I could move on with realistic expectations.
That week I did investigate IVF options and even reached out to some providers I knew in the area. The procedure wouldn't be covered by insurance so we were looking at a minimum of a 15K investment that had no guarantee for a successful pregnancy. Jeff and I decided that maybe we would be a couple that grows old together and travels the world instead, and we made our peace with the situation as best we could.
A couple of days later, Jeff booked tickets to San Francisco so we could get away and relax. I was cleaning out our bathroom and came across extra ovulation kits and pregnancy tests. Ready to be done with them, I threw all of them out except for one last test. In a moment of flippancy, I thought "What the hell? Maybe it will provide some closure." To my COMPLETE surprise, the test read a very blurry positive. I was skeptical, was this one last cruel joke? I contacted my friend at work who insisted I skip the meeting I was supposed to call into to go buy a digital pregnancy test.
It so happened that my car was getting its oil changed, so I had to bike to the closest Walgreens. On the way, I was cursing the suburban hills on my single speed bike (built for flat Minneapolis streets). All said, the new test confirmed I was pregnant. I laughed over the irony of it, and then I cried. This was really happening.
I've titled this post Surrender because when I reflect back on the sweetest moments - the genuinely life-altering ones - they've come only after I've completely given up. Which is so counter-intuitive, right? I mean, all we're told growing up is that you have to dream big, work hard, strive, strive, strive to accomplish your heart's desires. All the talk about goals and action plans, etc. . . .I get their purpose, but are we doing a disservice in not also communicating the benefit of simply being and existing where we are, in this moment? I do understand that there has to first be a struggle for surrender to follow . . .the two need each other. But I think the act of surrendering needs more positive attention. It might not always return us something we want, but it at least puts us in a place free of forcing some outcome. Nature/God/life can unfold, and we can experience it less chained to expectations, or dare I say it, hope.
