Another Lesson

I like to believe that everything happens for a reason. When I got laid off in 2009, it was certainly a blessing in disguise because I now LOVE my job. When Mike and I lived apart for two years after college, it turned out to strengthen our relationship. When Mac got his corneal ulcer, we learned just how much we love our cats and how very far we're willing to go to nurse them back to health.

But sometimes the lessons in life are harder to see. For the past four years, I've been struggling to figure out why we aren't parents yet. At first I thought it might be that we just needed more time (for financial stability, for career stability, for 'whatever' stability), and I fully believed that I would get pregnant when it was the right time for us. Despite this - or maybe because of this - I've even been able to find meaning in the back-to-back miscarriages we had in 2009: shortly after the first pregnancy Mike found out that he got into grad school, and it would have been awful timing for him to have a new child within a week or so of starting school. Shortly after the second pregnancy I got laid off, and it would have been awful for me to be pregnant and job searching. I still wish we hadn't had those experiences, but in retrospect I can find some hidden meaning for why they happened.

Now, however, I'm really struggling to find meaning in that fact that it's been almost another year and we're still not any closer to being parents than we were in 2006. Isn't now the right time?!? At first I thought it was because I needed to take the time to take care of myself - and I have! I'm in better physical shape than I have been in a very long time. But that's apparently still not enough. Then I thought maybe it was because I needed to learn to relax and enjoy life - and I have! I've always been so driven and achievement-oriented (and, to an extent, I still am), but now I also have so many hobbies (photography, quilting, reading, baking) that I truly enjoy just for enjoyments sake. So then I thought maybe it was because I needed to learn to love myself more - and I have! Sometimes I get so caught up in comparing myself to others, from seeing how much faster other people run, to seeing friends who already have two kids and are thinking about a third, to seeing people at conferences who had already written books and they weren't even done with their postdocs yet! It takes constant reminders, but I truly have made progress in letting go - in simply choosing the path that is right for me and allowing myself to appreciate just being me.

I had a realization yesterday as I was reflecting on a particularly good session I had with a client. I was struck by the awareness that I am incredibly generous and pretty patient with my friends, but I so rarely ask for any support in return. I'm sure all my friends can recognize that when we get together, I'm a pro at helping you solve your problems -- and at the same time, I'd rather be hit by a bus than actually talk about my own emotions and inner struggles. (Sure, I might allude to them, but trust me when I say that very few people in the world have been privy to all the "crazy" that goes on inside my head.) Those qualities of helping others are partially what make me a good clinician, but those qualities also serve to keep me distanced from my own friends.

On Monday I was supposed to have an important doctor's appointment to figure out a preliminary plan for any necessary testing to determine why we seem to be experiencing infertility. I was so excited to get that process started! But on the way there, literally as I was about to exit the highway to my doctor's office less than three blocks away, I hit a patch of ice and spun out. It was terrifying. I couldn't get my car under control and I felt utterly helpless. When the awful ride finally ended, my car was launched up onto a snowbank at about a 45-degree angle, bumper wedged firmly into the asphalt.

I feel so incredibly fortunate that I was completely fine and so was my car - things could have been so much worse! But I think it took that event to really cry and let myself feel all the sadness and frustration that I've been bottling up for so long. Of course I've had friends and family ask how I'm doing, but I know I tend to give vague responses like, "oh, I'm fine. Some days are hard, but right now I'm doing okay." But with my emotions on edge from the accident, I couldn't keep it all inside any longer. I bawled to Mike (poor guy, he gets the brunt of it). I bawled to my dad (poor guy, I don't think he knows what to do with my emotions). I bawled to my mom and ended up opening up to her in a way that I haven't before. And then, after asking the front desk to cancel all my afternoon appointments, I even confided in two friends who I trust at work (thanks, Amanda and Angie!). Then, via email, I confided in a couple more friends (thanks, Ryan and Sara!). And now here I am telling everyone just how much I've been struggling.

I know it's still somewhat limited, and I know I still feel incredibly uncomfortable doing so, but I want to make the commitment to continue to be honest with my feelings. I want to continue to be more open with my friends, and more willing to ask for support. I don't want anyone else to have to do anything differently (please don't have all my extended relatives and facebook friends start asking me about fertility stuff every few minutes!), but I want to give myself permission to seek out whatever support I need. I know I have so many people who would be willing to hear me out, and I want to commit to letting them give me support.

I'm certainly not saying this because I think it will magically make me pregnant, but I do think that this is another opportunity to learn a lesson. Perhaps there are still more lessons I will need to learn, but learning and practicing these lessons will hopefully make me a better parent whenever that day eventually comes.