Thriving...Not Just Surviving
I just snuggled my sweet seven month old and put her to bed after she fell asleep nursing. Scarlett is watching Frozen in her pjs and I'm FINALLY sitting and relaxing, enjoying a New Glarus Raspberry Tart. I'm running on four hours of sleep after working last night followed by a full day of mom-ing....and I couldn't be happier. Or more exhausted.
The last few days have been profound for me and while I've been internally organizing my non medicated ADD thoughts, spilling my soul helps me better make sense of all these complex emotions. And for me, being transparent as I've navigated through this journey has not only made such a positive impact for me and my family, but has also helped others going through similar experiences.
I titled this post "Thriving...Not Just Surviving" because for the first time in two years I can honestly say I'm not just in survival mode anymore. I'm not trying to survive infertility, not trying to survive pregnancy and not trying to survive being postpartum. In a sense I feel like I've come out on the other side and am thriving in a way that I haven't in years. I think that is a huge part of why I've been experiencing a lot these last few days. I'm actually at a point in all of this where I have the energy and emotional capacity to reflect on what the last two years have been like, and man, it's hit me like a ton of bricks.
It started with TimeHop, of all things. Memories of us starting at Fertility Centers of Illinois came flooding back this month. Day after day where I documented where we were during the testing process. My naivety at just how extensive and all encompassing the next nine months of my life would be trying to get pregnant and not succeeding. I truly thought this process would be a month or two, and I feel that I compartmentalized so much of how I felt because of the constant disappointment and heartbreak I had during that time.
Yesterday I was unpacking my closest (this is a non judging zone...yes we've lived in our new house for six months now, and yes I'm just unpacking the rest of my closet) and moved aside four large boxes with "IVF meds" scrawled in permanent marker. I can't bring myself to get rid of them, the thousands and thousands of dollars worth of hormones, antibiotics, and steroids. In a suitcase I unpacked my IVF shirts. When we came to the hard realization that IVF was going to have to be our next move I bought a shit ton of IVF paraphernalia; socks, t-shirts, notebooks, bracelets...you name it, I probably have it. I packed my "IVF got this" socks in Genevieve's keep sake box after she was born. The bracelets got lost in the move and notebooks I donated since I didn't end up needing them. I wore the t-shirts for most of my pregnancy, but they've been out of sight and out of mine since Genna's birth. Yesterday I carefully unpacked the three shirts I bought and cried. It was like I had been hit in the stomach. All the feelings of inadequacy, fear, and uncertainty came flooding back in full force. I could never imagine that a couple of t-shirts would invoke such overwhelming emotions. I picked up my favorite of them,
"IVF is a Mutha"
And I laughed. I looked at Genna who had tipped over onto her belly on my bed and was squawking in utter happiness. IVF is a freaking mutha indeed. And while I feel so much sadness for that time in my life, it's a pain I don't think will ever fully heal. The gift I was given because of science, medicine, a tenacious doctor, persistence and above all hope, is worth every damn dollar, tear, and ounce of heartbreak. I've told people I would go through IVF 100x if it meant I would have Genevieve, and I would. She is the sweetest, feistiest, loveliest little soul there ever was.
I put on my IVF shirt today and carried my IVF miracle on my hip around the house, and felt so humbled and grateful. This is a whole new chapter in my IVF journey. I'm realizing more and more that it isn't something that ends when you get pregnant. It is something that sticks with you. It's something I'm going to have to continue working through and will try to continue to be candid about moving forward. Thank you (again and always) to everyone who has loved and supported me through this. And to anyone going through something similar, know I'm always here.
The last few days have been profound for me and while I've been internally organizing my non medicated ADD thoughts, spilling my soul helps me better make sense of all these complex emotions. And for me, being transparent as I've navigated through this journey has not only made such a positive impact for me and my family, but has also helped others going through similar experiences.
I titled this post "Thriving...Not Just Surviving" because for the first time in two years I can honestly say I'm not just in survival mode anymore. I'm not trying to survive infertility, not trying to survive pregnancy and not trying to survive being postpartum. In a sense I feel like I've come out on the other side and am thriving in a way that I haven't in years. I think that is a huge part of why I've been experiencing a lot these last few days. I'm actually at a point in all of this where I have the energy and emotional capacity to reflect on what the last two years have been like, and man, it's hit me like a ton of bricks.
It started with TimeHop, of all things. Memories of us starting at Fertility Centers of Illinois came flooding back this month. Day after day where I documented where we were during the testing process. My naivety at just how extensive and all encompassing the next nine months of my life would be trying to get pregnant and not succeeding. I truly thought this process would be a month or two, and I feel that I compartmentalized so much of how I felt because of the constant disappointment and heartbreak I had during that time.
Yesterday I was unpacking my closest (this is a non judging zone...yes we've lived in our new house for six months now, and yes I'm just unpacking the rest of my closet) and moved aside four large boxes with "IVF meds" scrawled in permanent marker. I can't bring myself to get rid of them, the thousands and thousands of dollars worth of hormones, antibiotics, and steroids. In a suitcase I unpacked my IVF shirts. When we came to the hard realization that IVF was going to have to be our next move I bought a shit ton of IVF paraphernalia; socks, t-shirts, notebooks, bracelets...you name it, I probably have it. I packed my "IVF got this" socks in Genevieve's keep sake box after she was born. The bracelets got lost in the move and notebooks I donated since I didn't end up needing them. I wore the t-shirts for most of my pregnancy, but they've been out of sight and out of mine since Genna's birth. Yesterday I carefully unpacked the three shirts I bought and cried. It was like I had been hit in the stomach. All the feelings of inadequacy, fear, and uncertainty came flooding back in full force. I could never imagine that a couple of t-shirts would invoke such overwhelming emotions. I picked up my favorite of them,
"IVF is a Mutha"
And I laughed. I looked at Genna who had tipped over onto her belly on my bed and was squawking in utter happiness. IVF is a freaking mutha indeed. And while I feel so much sadness for that time in my life, it's a pain I don't think will ever fully heal. The gift I was given because of science, medicine, a tenacious doctor, persistence and above all hope, is worth every damn dollar, tear, and ounce of heartbreak. I've told people I would go through IVF 100x if it meant I would have Genevieve, and I would. She is the sweetest, feistiest, loveliest little soul there ever was.
I put on my IVF shirt today and carried my IVF miracle on my hip around the house, and felt so humbled and grateful. This is a whole new chapter in my IVF journey. I'm realizing more and more that it isn't something that ends when you get pregnant. It is something that sticks with you. It's something I'm going to have to continue working through and will try to continue to be candid about moving forward. Thank you (again and always) to everyone who has loved and supported me through this. And to anyone going through something similar, know I'm always here.
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