meditation | Laughter Through Tears

Control What You Can Control

I spent the majority of the day worried that my treasured iTunes library with all its organized playlists had disappeared forever. I spent two hours with Apple support and an equal amount of time beforehand in chat rooms and reading troubleshooting links trying to avoid Apple support.

Of course I backup my Mac regularly like any responsible person who stores thousands of songs and family photos on her computer should so it shouldn’t have been a problem, right?

Yeah right.

I diligently backup like every 8 months or so.

I wasted the evening away desperately searching for a way to not have to go back to July of 2013 to replace the playlists. Early on in the process I was able to recover the music, but not the playlists. There was a point where I nearly gave up and accepted that it was enough to have all my music even if it wasn’t organized neatly in a slew of lists that together represent a chronological and musical expression of my entire being since I became an Apple user.

These playlists mark so many phases of my life. As a runner, I have playlists for certain distances that I run. For a short time today, the playlist that kept me company for nearly (but not quite!) four hours during my first marathon was lost. And there was so much more, like the first lullaby list I made Spork and countless playlists I have created as gifts for special people at special times. And let’s not forget my myriad fertility playlists with meditations and music put together in collections designed for specific stages of the IVF process.

All were gone for this short but panicked period of time.

I have mentioned before that I am Type A. This is why I have playlists that are the perfect length with just the right BPM to cover 5, 7, or 10 mile training runs. This is why I have multiple fertility playlists. This is why I spent the better part of the evening turning over every cyber rock I could find to determine how to get these playlists restored without losing a single song. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. I won.

I usually do.

In the fertility world, this type of behavior makes me a cliche. I am about to embark on my fifth IVF because I waited too damn long to start trying to get pregnant. I had a world to conquer, a career to develop, and a Master’s degree to complete before I could even fathom making babies. When I finally got serious at 34, we discovered that baby making was going to require more effort than all of these things combined.

So its no surprise that like a lot of women I try to exert as much control over the process as humanly possible. I do this despite knowing that IVF is a process that you simply cannot control. I have written before on the importance of acceptance and I believe fully in the mental benefit of being at peace with the fact that there is very little you can do to control or change infertility.

I fall short, however of relinquishing all control. There are certain things you can influence in IVF and as with other things in life I choose to live by the rules of the Serenity Prayer, letting go of those things I can’t control and controlling what I can.

There is so much with infertility that we have no ability to impact. Ultimately I cannot control whether we will have another baby or not. But I think its necessary to recognize that you can influence certain aspects and do your best in the process. There are things you can control. Many things.

I can make sure I take my shots on time and schedule my meds to arrive when I need them. I can control how I manage stress. I can control my weight. I can control my nutrition and exercise regimen. I can control my quality of care by being an educated patient who asks questions and advocates for myself.

You get the idea.

This is why we are taking an ungodly number of supplements. Its one tiny little thing that we can do to improve our odds of success.

Each and every single one has some added benefit that in one study or another led to increased success rates. Every item on the list has been vetted by one of the best clinics in the country and they believe it could have a positive impact.

So why not take them?

I do, however, think its a good idea to keep our ability to directly influence the outcome in perspective. My eggs have been with me since birth and we are having trouble because they are getting old and sticky, no longer dividing cleanly and quickly. All the Coq10 in the world is not going to reverse the impacts of aging.

However we have noticed a difference in our lab tests and our actual cycles since starting this regimen last year. My resting follicle count increased and our embryo production improved by 26% (22 resting follicles produced an additional three embryos). Bill’s count and motility were always good, but his morphology improved from the very low end of the range to the high end of the normal range in the last two specimens since starting the supplements.

So yes, the crazy number of supplements are probably an exercise in exerting control over infertility. But I don’t think that’s bad nor do I feel its futile. If it creates that one super healthy sperm that unites with that one magical and nutritionally nurtured egg to make a perfect little baby it will have been worth it.

I can’t change who I am any more than I can change the fact that we are infertile. It’s in my nature to try to control and influence. My DNA doesn’t allow me to give up without a fight. But I have at least learned to not allow the ability to control give me the false sense of responsibility when a cycle fails. That is the risk you run with trying to control infertility. If you accept that you can make a difference, then it is all too easy to make the mental leap that you are to blame when things don’t go well.

You cannot blame yourself when things go badly. What you did still may have had a positive impact, it doesn’t mean you did something wrong any more than it means you should stop trying to make a difference. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, pop a few more supplements, be compassionate with yourself and proceed to Plan B.

Knocked Up

It’s done!

And yet it begins.

“Blob” as we are calling him (or her) is now resting peacefully at home, preparing to burrow into my lining and take root for the next nine months. It was a harrowing, exciting, and ultimately pleasant experience which began with our wondering whether we would be transferring Blob at all.

Blob’s First Baby Photo

Yesterday at the top of Breck’s Peak Six, I picked up a call from the clinic asking if I could come in right away for a cautionary ultrasound. It seemed the doctor was concerned about my cyst and the pain from the night before. Rather than blow our day of boarding we opted to arrive very early this morning to check on the status of my temperamental reproductive system. Until about 7:30 this morning we feared we would be coming home empty handed (or in this case empty “uterused”). Luckily the lining, ovaries, and vitals all checked out fine and we continued with the embryo transfer.

Our first hurdle overcome.

Next up was the transfer.

Because our ultrasound and lab appointments were at the break of day, we had time to kill before the 11:45 transfer. We spent it at Target where I picked up these groovy lucky socks. These socks were so perfect they jumped into my shopping cart and I was wearing them before we left the parking lot.

Fertility green and orange with the luck of the Irish thrown in for good measure.

So far the knee highs worked their magic.

Ease of transfer is one of the many critical factors that lead to enhanced odds of success. A fundus (top of the uterus) touched by the catheter used to transport the embryo is a lousy precursor for implantation. Much effort goes into making sure the depth and shape of the uterus is understood before the procedure so the doctor can avoid the edges. It’s like that game of Operation we played as kids, except on a fuzzy black and white ultrasound screen with no buzzers to tell you when you screw up.

Image by Mykly Roeventine via Flickr

The doctor gracefully guided our little bundle of cells to the exact right spot without a single hiccup. Dr. S navigated Blob to the sweet spot with the precision of a fighter pilot landing on a aircraft carrier. What makes this feat more impressive is the embryo can barely be seen by the naked eye. Try landing that in a tiny little spot on a computer screen with only a bit of guidance from an ultrasound tech.

Way to go Dr. S.

Catheter releasing Blob in the perfect spot

Another hurdle overcome.

Blob was a busy little fellow this morning and hatched completely out of his shell prior to transfer, earning a final grade of 6BB. When the lab flash froze him after genetic testing back in January the embryologist graded him a 5BB. He’s overachieving already.

You can see the incubator holding Blob who is waiting in the background while we prepare for transfer

Blob’s incubator in the background

You may be wondering, what the heck do those letters and numbers mean?

Embryo grading is a complicated process, but essentially this means Blob was at stage 5 when he was frozen. This is the final blastocyst stage right before he hatches and burrows into the lining. The letters are grades for the inner cell mass (ICM) and the Trophectoderm Epithelium (TE). The ICM is a clump of cells that will eventually become a baby. The TE will grow into the placenta which will replace all the hormones I am taking between 7 and 10 weeks.

6BB is a good quality embryo. 6AA would be perfect. Both are fully capable of becoming future Rhodes Scholars.

Blob as a Rhodes Scholar

Typically an embryo reaches stage 6 on the fifth day after fertilization. Blob started slowly and took six days to get there. This is the main reason Dr. S gave Blob slightly lower odds than other genetically normal embryos. However, Day 6 blastocycsts like Blob fair much better with a frozen cycle like ours. This is due to the surprisingly short window in which the lining is receptive. Unlike in a fresh cycle, in a frozen cycle the doctor can control the timing of the lining receptivity and match it to Blob’s developmental stage, increasing the odds he will stick.

While our overachiever was quick to break out of his shell, he was slow to expand. If you have ever taken a balloon from a warm place out into really cold weather you know it shrivels up and loses its fullness until warmed again. Embryos are the same. They compact when frozen and then begin to expand when warmed. We are slightly concerned that Blob didn’t expand more prior to transfer, but encouraged that he is still developing. Most important, every last one of Blob’s cells survived the warming process.

A final hurdle overcome.

Post transfer I remained on bed rest for an hour before being wheeled to our car. We are now at the hotel where I will spend today and tomorrow at a 45 degree angle, able to rise only to powder my nose. Butler Bill enjoys this part of the process because it is the time he is most involved in IVF. I enjoy abusing my personal butler and make the most of being cared for by the love of my life at this sensitive stage.

If you look hard enough you may be able to see all the way to Blob through those nostrils.

If you look close enough you may be able to see Blob through those nostrils.

Butler Bill will bring me food, water, and medicine for two solid days. I will read, watch stand-up comedy, blog, goof off on the internet, meditate, and try not to obsess about possibilities. I am allowing myself only a half hour with Dr. Google to see what I can learn about slowly expanding embryos. After that half hour I am firing that negative jerk in order to relish being pregnant.

Pregnant.

In the IVF community we describe this part of the cycle as being PUPO (Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise). I am so done with the uncertainty implied by “until proven otherwise.” This mama has decided she is straight up knocked up. I plan to prove it on March 22nd.

Our countdown begins anew…

Making the Most of It

We made it.

We are finally in the same state as the 100 celled baby we are taking back home on Saturday.

Even though real romance is a no-no at this stage in the process, we are making the most of it by tagging on two days of snowboarding prior to transfer. This is our fourth trip to Colorado for fertility purposes and we are infusing some fun and sport into the journey. On the last trip we ventured to Vail. Now we are giving Breckenridge a go. We both love boarding and are paying for the flights, so why not? Especially since I hope to be done with boarding for the next nine months.

We discovered a rustic mountain lodge only a few miles away from Main Street and were upgraded to a mountain view suite without even having to play the “we are here to get pregnant card.” Sweet.

We arrived just in time for some grocery shopping and a leisurely dinner last night. We hit up the local Safeway to pick up a prescription, beer for Bill, and water for me. Turns out the labs from Sunday yielded low estradiol levels, again. Now I am on four estrogen patches and also talking estrace orally twice a day. Holy estrogen overload!

Once again, this shouldn’t be an issue as long as we fix it by Thursday morning. The lining is nice and thick and my progesterone levels are right where they should be to make a cozy home for baby.

When the clinic called to relay the need to pick up more meds, we also learned that Bill has to have blood work done prior to transfer. They want to make sure he hasn’t picked up any communicable diseases before they send us home with a baby. The sadistic side of me is eagerly anticipating him getting poked too. Its only fair.

But today we put all the meds, labs, and procedures in the back of our minds as we enjoy two pristine days on the slopes.

Breckenridge is crawling with people, its one of the busiest weeks of the year. The first board rental store we stopped at was completely sold out of boards and bindings for Bill. We start the search anew today. Worst case scenario, we will buy new ones. Both of our boards back home are more than 10 years old and its past time. Still, the trip to Breck is stretching our already taught budget and we hope to score rentals.

Despite the crowds and not having a reservation, we consumed a delicious dinner without having to wait. Tonight we aren’t risking it and made reservations at an upscale, gluten-free, vegetarian restaurant. Simply perfect for our pre-baby making meal.

I booked an apres ski couples massage in the hotel spa today. Between shredding the hills today, the massage tonight, and the clean dinner I am doing the best I can for my body and should be toxin free by Thursday.

As far as how I am doing, physically I feel amazing. Stopping lupron has done wonders for me. Emotionally, I continue to feel unusually optimistic about this cycle.

On the plane yesterday I meditated multiple times. I visioned all the cells in my body breaking apart and joining with all the matter in the universe, including all the cells of our chilly little embryo. Then I imagined bringing those cells back into me. It was beautiful. I feel as though my body is calling our baby home. I have felt this way before, but this time is more profound.

Only two more days and we will be reunited with our baby and will hopefully be done with trips to Colorado for “medical purposes.” While we appreciate writing off the travel expense on our taxes, the next time we come back we hope it is as a family of four.

There still may not be much room for romance then, but that will be okay with us.

Its Not How Far You Fall

Image by John Kollege via Flickr

I missed an opportunity to mark a special moment yesterday morning and it didn’t register until I was reviewing my protocol last night. I took my last Lupron shot yesterday morning.

NO. MORE. HEADACHES.

Too bad I can’t have a nice glass of red wine to celebrate.

I begin taking progesterone at bedtime but I don’t inject anything until Sunday (I will leave how I take progesterone to your imagination for now).

So today is a completely shot free day. Yes!

I love having little reasons to be happy in IVF. The roller-coaster ride of attempted conception has many loopty-loos and inverted twists, but is mostly made up of enormous hills and heartbreakingly rapid drops. No matter how hard you try you can’t smooth them out. But we still try. Its human nature to try to eliminate pain, even if it is impossible.

Whether its IVF or any other uncertainty in life, we make valiant efforts to protect ourselves and develop a variety of coping and defense mechanisms to help. We say things like:

“I have to stay grounded.”

“Hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

and of course the mother of them all:

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

I am one of the world’s worst offenders. Only three days ago Bill and I settled on Plan C and I immediately posted about it with the excitement of someone who had found the Holy Grail.

Why do we even need a plan C at this stage? If this transfer doesn’t work, Plan B will take at least three months and potentially even half a whole calendar year. Is it really necessary to have a back up plan in this situation?

Nope. But we have one anyway.

We do it for many reasons. Humans evolved this behavior because it has real life benefits. In days of old, when we fought for survival or chased prey it made sense to anticipate outcomes and prepare alternatives. These days its a useful skill in business negotiations and competitive sports. Professional pool players do well to “look six shots ahead.”

With infertility, some planning makes sense. For instance, We aren’t ready to buy the pontoon boat Bill has his eye on. Not yet. That wouldn’t be prudent until we know what is next and how it will affect us financially. Plan C is expensive. But its more than just pragmatism. Thinking ahead also provides a momentary sense of relief when the decision is made, giving the elusive feeling of control in an otherwise uncontrollable situation.

Planning has value, as long as its kept in check.

But hope? Hope is another thing altogether. There is no sense in losing hope or muffling it in a futile effort to protect ourselves from being hurt.

I have seen little value in “not getting my hopes up” in the two different ways I have approached IVF.

First I tried gathering as much information as I could, considered statistics, worried about outcomes and worked my tail off to keep my emotions in check. I feared and obsessed about low odds and potential losses.

As hard as I worked, when it didn’t work it hurt like hell.

Next I bought into The Secret approach. I tried visioning a cycle filled with good news and a baby in my arms at the end of it. I worked to cultivate full trust in the process and embraced all the highs along the way.

As hard as I worked, when it didn’t work it hurt like hell.

There was no measurable difference in the pain at the end, but there was a gigantic contrast in my mood and the ease with which the process was navigated in the second approach. I savored the peaks, holding my hands up in the air and screaming with pleasure. When I plummeted to the bottom I was washed over with pain. But I pulled myself together and continued the ride.

This time I am struggling to have faith in the process and let myself believe it could work. I meditated at acupuncture today, fervently willing my mind to give in to the possibility that I will be pregnant in a week. I couldn’t get quite there as hard as I tried. My human brain won’t let me after 6 failed cycles.

I continue to try. While I may not be able to fully believe, I am committed to enjoying the high points and making the most of our conception experience.

So today I am embracing the excitement of this part of my cycle. I am excited to throw the lupron in the trash. I am excited to be done with work for a full week, able to wholly focus on preparing for transfer. I am excited to enjoy my daughter this weekend before we leave on Monday. But mostly I am excited to be nearly three weeks pregnant on Thursday when our little snow baby comes back to me.

Sure, I could choose to say “I am excited to maybe be nearly three weeks pregnant on Thursday.” But it won’t make it any sweeter if I am pregnant, nor will it lessen the pain if I am not. I won’t know the outcome until March 22nd. Until then my hopes will soar.

Whether you fall from 10,000 feet or 1000 feet its going to hurt like hell when you hit bottom, but at least from 10,000 feet you feel like you are flying for awhile.

The Meaning of Fried Okra

Every year at this time I ponder the meaning of life and face my own mortality. 19 years ago today this Daddy’s girl lost her real life super hero to an 8 month battle with cancer. I was four days before my 19th birthday and he was only 41. Tragically, I am the oldest of four and my youngest sister was 11 at the time.

This year marks a sad turning point, I am officially crossing the threshold of time where I will now have spent more time without my Dad than with my Dad.

Everyone expects to someday lose their parents, at least parents pray that is how things go. Its how things should go. But when you lose a parent too soon, when that parent dies young, it forever affects your view on the world and your own mortality. Since I hit my thirties, I have been counting down to 41. The number looms around my subconscious daring me to surpass it and taunting me with dark possibility.

Last year, I decided to start making a video for Spork every year on this day. I sing her favorite songs, talk to her about how much I love her, and detail her milestones. I do this so if something happens to me, if I leave her too soon, she has 10 minutes of Mommy tailor made for her age and needs right now.

Between all of this and the imminent birthday, I cannot help but to contemplate the meaning of life and my own mortality. Of course, fertility is a factor. I keep thinking that if we get pregnant this cycle and I only make it to 41, I will leave Bill with a 5 year old and a 3 year old. I wonder if its irresponsible of me to even try. I worry what will happen to my little girl if she goes through her formative years without her Mommy.

Two nights ago, it all came crashing down on me. Lying in bed with Bill asleep beside me I began to question my faith and whether there really was an afterlife. My thoughts on the topic are for a different blog, but in the midst of what was threatening to turn into a panic attack I woke Bill up to discuss it.

Me: “Bill.”

Bill: No response.

Me: “Bill. Are you awake?”

Bill: Some rustling and grumbling.

Me: A little louder and acting surprised “Bill, you are still awake too?”

Bill: “Uh…Yeah.”

Me: “Oh good. I am freaking out a little bit. Do you ever start thinking about the meaning of life and freak out?”

Bill: “No”

Me: “Do you ever start thinking about what happens to us after we die and panic or get really scared?”

Bill: “No”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Because I am really freaking out.”

Bill: “Don’t freak out.”

I could tell from the grumbling and heavy breathing that followed that he was not awake enough to get me through my mini crisis and I was on my own. I did some deep breathing, a little meditation and eventually fell asleep.

And then I had the most amazing dream.

I won’t go into the somewhat weird and unimportant details, but I dreamed of my Dad. We talked. I don’t remember all the fine points of what we discussed or for how long but it seemed like it was all night. I do remember the sound of his voice. It has been so long since I heard it but it was unmistakably him. At one point I reached up and touched his face and I could actually feel the texture and temperature of his skin. It was so vivid and real. He had unique skin that was tough but soft at the same time, especially after shaving. I rarely dream of my Dad and have never had a dream like this. I didn’t want to wake up, and when I did I was exhausted even though I slept through the night.

Despite all my fertility superstitions, I am generally grounded in reality. I realize there is a limit to how much we understand about the universe but my open-mindedness stops short of believing that dead parents visit their kids in dreams. While I don’t remember the various things we talked about, I do remember the general feeling of the conversation was comforting. It felt like he was trying to put me at ease. He was letting me know he was okay and that I was going to be okay. Maybe this was a sign? Maybe he was visiting me from the great beyond to bring me peace?

And then he said something I do remember very well which totally shattered my illusions about it really being my Dad:

“I really miss fried okra. I wish I could have some fried okra. With bacon.”

Dad did like fried okra. And he liked bacon too. You can’t tell it from the photo in his twenties, but he rarely met a food he didn’t like which is at least part of the reason he is not here today. He could have used more exercise, a healthier diet, and a job that didn’t surround him with second hand smoke. But however much he loved fried food, I have to believe he would not travel through time and space and pierce the vail between two worlds to tell me he had a craving.

I know that what I experienced was probably just my slumbering brain working through its issues. I was unconsciously reconciling the pressure of getting closer to 41 and lamenting the loss of my father and my youthful eggs.

Still, I woke up at peace. Touching his face and hearing his voice gave me the feeling he was still with me, even if he wasn’t visiting me in my dreams. I knew with unshakeable certainty that just like I am okay, my little girl and her (God willing) sibling will be okay. I knew right away that as a parent I needed to accept that I can’t control what happens to them or to me in this life. I can give them life, give them my best, and pray.

I don’t know the meaning of life, but I am pretty sure we should soak it all in and savor every sweet moment. Kind of like the way Dad would have savored fried okra and bacon.

And just as it is with my Dad, I would rather have my family and this life for a short time than not at all. However I have a feeling that someday my kids will be watching decades worth of annual videos of their happy, old, crazy Mom.

A Subtle Change of Theme

Image: Opus Moreschi via Flickr

The self-discovery I experience as a result of IVF never ceases. When I began this blog, I had every intention of posting something humorous about infertility every day. I vowed to readers I wouldn’t complain. I promised to not provide gory details of ultrasounds and other tests. And above all I promised no pity parties or rants. My goal was to bring a little levity to an otherwise heavy topic while also reminding myself to stay positive and laugh.

What was I thinking?

Positivity and humor are still great goals and I am not planning to dive head first off the deep end, but I am only on day two of estrogen and I am already throwing in the towel on trying to be funny every day. I don’t know how I forgot about the effects of that nasty lupron and estrogen cocktail. It’s like having a never-ending hang over. The headaches are constant and pounding. Fatigue has wracked my body. The moodiness is already wickedly bad.

The scary thing is that it is only just beginning. I am wearing only one estrogen patch at this stage in my cycle. By the time I fly out west to reunite with my long lost embryo I will be wearing four patches. Tears will be flowing and fights will be picked. I know myself and my body and its inevitable. Comedy writing on a daily basis is not in the cards.

You can already see the effects of the drugs in my writing. My posts have grown longer and just a wee bit darker as the injections have worn on and the patch was added. What I am learning is that there are just times when I am not a funny person. There are times when I barely feel like a person at all.

Freaking out and worrying are also tell tale signs of successful progression in an IVF cycle that are sure to make humor elusive. Yesterday I was convinced I hadn’t shed my old lining and that I shouldn’t start my patches until I did. I pleaded for an ultrasound to confirm that it was gone and I was getting a fresh start on developing fertile ground for implantation. As expected the ultrasound was fine. Despite the good news, I still dialed up my clinic twice today for no good reason to ask a couple of questions that don’t really need answers until March, if ever.

The questions were about the odds of success of our lone embryo. The doctor already told us the embryo had about a 35% chance of making it to a real life baby. But yesterday I spent some time with Dr. Google, never a good idea, and began wondering what factors went into the creation of that number. Did the doctor take into consideration that the embryo had to be thawed and retested because the first genetic test was inconclusive? What are the impacts of an extra thaw and biopsy on our delicate embryo? What are the odds that we will get all the way to our clinic and the embryo won’t survive the warming process?

I pestered my clinic with these questions even though I laid in bed late into the night last night reminding myself that the answers are irrelevant. The clinic has a 95% survival rate for thawed embryos. And even if the odds were lower, its not as if we aren’t going to go through with the transfer. What would this information change? Nothing good can come from this knowledge. I have already been meditating on the only statistics that matter, my very own 100% success rate. I visualize a SART data report with my name on it and in every column my results are 100%. Why would I want to mess with that image and its mojo by finding out what some doctor thinks?

One word, hormones. Hormones make the sane insane. They make the intelligent foolish. They make the happy sad. And above all else they make the confident worried. I don’t like worried.

Worry is a meditation on shit.

Worry and hormones aside, there is another reason that I am having troubling channeling my inner comedian.

The real self-discovery has been that its not only that I am not always capable of humor, I have also discovered that I want to try a variety of types of writing. I don’t just want to tell cute stories about IVF, I want to pour my heart and soul out on a page and see what it looks like in black and white. I want to hear my emotions and deepest thoughts roll of the tongue of the voice in my mind. I want the therapeutic jolt of liberation I feel when I hit publish on something I have created. The writing process won’t allow me to limit my life to one genre.

With all this in mind, I made a little change to the Laughter Through Tears subtitle today. Yesterday it read “for those in search of the lighter side of infertility.” Today its simply “In search of the lighter side of infertility.” It’s a subtle change, but its recognition that I can’t promise anyone levity every day, especially not myself. I can’t always be funny and witty. However I will commit to always being in search of the lighter side. For you and for me.

Blown Away

When you take into consideration yesterday’s post entitled Shoot Em’ Up there is a good chance with today’s title that I will end up on the FBI watch list. Some algorithm somewhere out in cyberspace is considering my last two blog posts, weighing them with all my other activity and demographic data, and trying to decide if I am a threat to others. I assure you Big Brother, I am not. I am simply a woman looking for serenity in a world of insanity and I find it by “blowing away” anything that doesn’t fit with a spirit of peace and well being. Or at least I try to do that, I am actually terrible at it.

If you have done certain types of yoga and meditation you know what I mean when I talk about blowing things and people away. You breathe in good energy full of positivity, healing, light and life; and you blow away with the exhale whatever is on your mind or bothering you. In a simple, perfect moment you let it all go. You release it from your mind and push it out into the universe to float away and disappear into nothing.

I love blowing things away, it is my favorite pastime and its not something I did before I learned the concept while struggling with infertility. It is one of the tiny little nuggets of wisdom I have picked up along the journey that I deeply appreciate. I need it more that the average person too. I have been known to be what some people affectionately call “passionate” (read: I can be a real pain in the ass who reacts to things very emotionally in the moment).

The science behind whether or not stress plays a role in fertility is controversial and still very much up for debate. Most studies suggest that stress is not a factor in pregnancy outcomes. There are studies that show situations of extreme stress, like the loss of a loved one or a job, do have an impact on fertility. However it is generally accepted that every day run-of the-mill stress does not directly impact implantation or birth rates in IVF.

Most of the studies supporting this are limited to monitoring single cycles of IVF and not fertility treatment over time. My sense is that sustained treatment for infertility carries the same type of long term emotional and physical impacts as coping with a life threatening disease. It’s heavy stuff. In my gut I believe it must impact success rates.

If someone wants to give me several hundred thousand dollars I am sure I can design an experiment that will prove it.

What is the downside of managing stress? Even if it doesn’t impact your ability to get pregnant, it affects everything else. Stress can destroy your marriage, friendships, career, and physical health if you don’t find a way to control it and limit its impact on you.

Which is why this morning I was in the bath tub at 6 AM in the dark listening to a meditation on my iPhone and blowing just about everyone and everything in my life away.

Stress always accelerates as soon as your cycle becomes more active. The mere activities of managing the shots, other medications, and appointments speed up and demand more time and attention. Its more than that, though. The gravity of the situation begins to grow heavier day by day and shot by shot. This is more true for us right now than ever before given that we have tens of thousands of dollars, a ton of time, and a truckload of hope invested into one single embryo. One. Uno.

If this cycle doesn’t work we have already decided we will do one more full cycle. Financially that will probably be all we can do. But I really, really don’t want to go through it all from start to finish again. It will entail tens of thousands more dollars, at least 4 more months, more travel away from work and baby, more weight gain, more stress, more physical and emotional pain. More insanity.

I clearly think it would just be best if I get pregnant right now with this one and skip all that. Let’s just do that, shall we?

You get my point, IVF gets more and more anxiety producing as you move through the motions. It doesn’t help that the longer you go through it the more people who are in a position to support you take what you are going through for granted. I am jokingly blogging about it so I must be okay, right? I am choosing to try to have a baby so its not like I am fighting a real disorder, right?

Wrong. Even for those of us who try to find the lighter side of infertility we need the constant love and support of our friends, coworkers, and families. I am very blessed to have outstanding support pretty much all the time from all three. There are days, though. We all have our days. Yesterday was one of those days. A day I needed to breathe just a little bit more than usual, and maybe squish a few heads too.

I’m really dating myself and my 37 year old ovaries, but “blowing it away” kind of reminds me of the skit from Kid’s in the Hall where a character looks at people standing at a distance through the space between his thumb and forefinger and says “I am squishing your head, I am squishing your head”, while bringing the thumb and forefinger together and…well…squishing their heads.

That’s not very peace or bliss invoking, but it makes me laugh which is kind of the same thing.

Here are all the things I blew away this morning:

3 nights away from my husband and daughter for work this week? – I Blow You Away!
Having to be the rush through crafting my daughter’s Valentine’s Day cards and shopping because somebody planned a 2 day meeting right before the holiday?- I Blow You Away!
Everybody at work losing their mind because we are slightly behind pace for our 2014 goals and its only February? I Blow You Away!
Babysitter cancelling at the last minute for tonight when both Bill and I are out of town for meetings?- I Blow You Away!
Family stuff that I would never blog about without permission- I Especially Blow Your Sorry Toosh AWAY!
Reordering refrigerated drugs that were mistakenly sent by the pharmacy with 2 day delivery over the weekend and therefore completely ruined?- I Blow You Away!
Coordinating the FOURTH revision to my FMLA leave form between my clinic and benefits department?- I Blow You Away!
Sleepless night due to a furnace that would not shut-off thanks to the negative 23 degree weather here last night? I Blow You Away!
$500 heating bill that is on its way due to the wacko weather and crazed furnace?- I Blow You Away!
Waking up at 5 and not being able to get back to sleep because of everything that is going on this week? I Blow you Away!

I could go on, but I promised when I started this blog that it wouldn’t become a pity party and it won’t. Moreover, I want to make a point that blowing these things away while meditating doesn’t mean that I don’t care deeply about them and they aren’t all still there vying for the last ounce of my sanity when I am done. Its just in that 20 minute space of time the exercise reminds me to put it all into perspective and focus first on what is most important to positively resolving any of those items, my own mental health and well being.

Right now the fight for fertility is our priority. It can’t be all about infertility however. We have to have balance in life or we will lose the fight. We aren’t going to have a baby if our marriage fails. If we falter in our careers we won’t be able to pay for all the treatment. If we mistreat our family and friends we could lose one of the most important sources of joy a couple has when they bring a child into this world, sharing it with those they love. All that being said, we are in a fight for our family right now. The family we have today and the family we will be tomorrow. And for us, there is nothing more important than that. Nothing.

First and foremost we have to take care of ourselves and each other so we can be complete to tend to everything else. Its like every time you take an airplane ride, the flight attendant always insructs passengers to put on their own oxygen mask first before trying to help a child. Gotta take care of yourself and those closest to your first.

This is a lesson that applies in life even without infertility. Blowing it all alway helps us have perspective, focus on what is most important, and invokes the relaxation response and its numerous benefits.

So I ask you all, what are you blowing away today? Please share with us what is on your mind and your creative ways to deal with it.