*Warning, lengthy post ahead, but every word is intentional. Also, if you stick with it, you’ll find out ttc updates ;)*
The other day, Oprah’s Life Class was about anger and it was such a game changer in so many ways. One question she asked her readers to consider was to answer what we are angry about. I’ll be honest. On my first though, I thought “there’s nothing I’m angry about. I’m a peaceful person, blah blah.” But I knew immediately that was a lie. But I had such a difficult time owning anger and couldn’t figure out why. It came to me that for me admitting anger was a source of shame. Not for the thing(s) about which I am angry, but for even having that emotion—to be angry, in my mind, is some sort of weakness—an admission that I can’t resolve something, haven’t forgiven, haven’t gotten past something. It also forced me to see anger beyond the demonstrative, grandiose types that are easy to name. My anger was (is?) a different form. My anger is the quiet seething that’s just under the surface of my (supposed) good girl image. That realization caused me to think about exactly what I’m angry about or who I am angry with. The truth is that I’m angry at myself. Angry at myself for my relationship issues and overlooking flags (it’s been enough to admit why I’m angry with myself, so I highly doubt that I’ll share them here—can you believe it? A topic I *don’t* want to share!). Angry at myself for infertility (yes I used the horrible *I* word).
My anger about my infertility was revealed by one of the speaker’s description of what forgiveness is. He said that forgiveness is “giving up HOPE that the past can be any different.” I realized that I have been spending so much time and effort (physical and emotional) hoping that the past could be different. Wondering if I had done xyz then my infertility would be different. Wondering what I did to possibly cause it. Mourning of what could have been. Spending the two week wait wondering if I had done enough. As bizarre as it may sound to someone who hasn’t gone through it, I realize that I blamed my infertility in part on myself (because it feels like something I should be able to control) and subsequently haven’t forgiven myself for being infertile. I realize that I rarely spent my time in the moment—content that I’ve done all that I could do regardless of the outcome. I spent time looking behind and wondering. I spent time looking forward and fantasizing about what might come.
So where does that leave me now? Aware. I can’t say I’m all better, over IF, and healed. That would be a monumental lie. But I can see my thought patterns and have a new place to anchor my thoughts. I can choose to anchor it in forgiveness, acceptance, and present-ness. At the present, this means that A is my egg donor. At present, it means that my eggs are what they are and I have done all that I can. At present, it means that I have no idea when the stim phase may start—it could be in 3 weeks, it could be in 2 months. I’m not spending my time trying to rush it; I’m taking it day by day. At present, it means that anything can happen along the way, but whatever happens is what’s supposed to happen. At present, it means looking inward and trying to learn the lessons along the way.
At present, it means acting in love and in faith.