Thursday, March 3, 2011
New Blog Hosting Site Down
Of course, just as I move my blog, the hosting site goes down. Please bear with me and check back tomorrow. Hopefully it will be up and running then!
www.infertilityawakening.com
www.infertilityawakening.com
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Losing My Voice: An Infertility Side Effect?
"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning."
- Louis L'Amour
Today I had to come face-to-face with my harshest critic. Stare her right in the eyes and see who backed down first. I am proud to say that I have grown better at holding my ground since those days of staring contests with my sister in the backseat of the car on long road trips. Today, I think I may actually have beaten that ridiculously tough woman, and her obnoxious glare.
Suffice it to say, that obnoxious woman is me. Well, the critical "me “who looks at my life and tells me everything I do is not near enough. The woman who whispers into my ear that because my body has been classified as such a catastrophic failure, so too am I (a catastrophic failure that is).
Today I was encouraged to let my voice be heard, really heard. To rally against my desire to bury the little flickering light that's left inside of me under the proverbial bushel. Come on now, I know you're humming the song in your head, go ahead, sing it out loud...”This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!" Whew, that's better.
Now back to the mean girl in the mirror. You see, I was so sure that I had worked through the biggest hurdles in my interior world presented by the label of infertility sewn on me like the Scarlett Letter on Hester Prynne. I believed I was pretty much finished with self-loathing and self-sabotaging. Yet today I learned that just when I thought everything was finished, that was only the beginning. Today I realized just how many times, when I opened my mouth, I have lost my voice--lost my belief that there is any reason for it to be heard.
So, it is today that I will start humming, maybe just softly and quietly to myself. Then tomorrow perhaps I'll add a few words in. And one day I'll wake up singing and forget that I ever allowed a Scarlett I to be sewn over my lips.
Note to my followers: Soon I will be moving my blog to my own domain, and as of today will focus much more on blogging than on providing a site for fertility resources (not to worry I will also provide those too-via my blog). I hope you will join me as I hum along.
- Louis L'Amour
Today I had to come face-to-face with my harshest critic. Stare her right in the eyes and see who backed down first. I am proud to say that I have grown better at holding my ground since those days of staring contests with my sister in the backseat of the car on long road trips. Today, I think I may actually have beaten that ridiculously tough woman, and her obnoxious glare.
Suffice it to say, that obnoxious woman is me. Well, the critical "me “who looks at my life and tells me everything I do is not near enough. The woman who whispers into my ear that because my body has been classified as such a catastrophic failure, so too am I (a catastrophic failure that is).
Today I was encouraged to let my voice be heard, really heard. To rally against my desire to bury the little flickering light that's left inside of me under the proverbial bushel. Come on now, I know you're humming the song in your head, go ahead, sing it out loud...”This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!" Whew, that's better.
Now back to the mean girl in the mirror. You see, I was so sure that I had worked through the biggest hurdles in my interior world presented by the label of infertility sewn on me like the Scarlett Letter on Hester Prynne. I believed I was pretty much finished with self-loathing and self-sabotaging. Yet today I learned that just when I thought everything was finished, that was only the beginning. Today I realized just how many times, when I opened my mouth, I have lost my voice--lost my belief that there is any reason for it to be heard.
So, it is today that I will start humming, maybe just softly and quietly to myself. Then tomorrow perhaps I'll add a few words in. And one day I'll wake up singing and forget that I ever allowed a Scarlett I to be sewn over my lips.
Note to my followers: Soon I will be moving my blog to my own domain, and as of today will focus much more on blogging than on providing a site for fertility resources (not to worry I will also provide those too-via my blog). I hope you will join me as I hum along.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
"Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck." - The 14th Dalai Lama
The concept of "a wonderful stroke of luck" lying beneath the surface of my challenges with fertility has been a concept I muddle over in my mind--flipping it back and forth like the pages in a book I keep losing my place in.
I have always believed that there is some greater plan, some higher meaning to the events that happen in our lives. That if we lean into them, allow them to unfold, they will do so with ease. And that if we fight them, fight as we may, they will simply continue to unfold as they were always intended, just with more pain and suffering.
This notion however seems to run counter to our western way of being; and quite counter to my Type A personality. In this uncontrollable world rife with uncertainty, I want to chart the course; I want to raise the sails, and to lower them, on my own time. I want to be the captain of the ship.
The last few days I have been experiencing horrible vertigo. The ground has literally been moving under my feet. The feeling reminds me all too well of a trip to Bimini several years ago, spending days on the ocean swimming with the wild dolphins. During this trip I learned that it was my need to control that caused my motion sickness, the need to keep a world steady that is rocking back and forth. I couldn't stop that rocking any more than I can stop my body from being as it is.
Yet, when I let go of the control, and accepted the dancing of the boat with the deep blue water, my internal struggle ceased, and along with it my motion sickness.
So too perhaps, if I let go of my need to control the path our child takes in coming to us, the struggle may cease; and I just may find a wonderful stroke of luck like the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.
I have always believed that there is some greater plan, some higher meaning to the events that happen in our lives. That if we lean into them, allow them to unfold, they will do so with ease. And that if we fight them, fight as we may, they will simply continue to unfold as they were always intended, just with more pain and suffering.
This notion however seems to run counter to our western way of being; and quite counter to my Type A personality. In this uncontrollable world rife with uncertainty, I want to chart the course; I want to raise the sails, and to lower them, on my own time. I want to be the captain of the ship.
The last few days I have been experiencing horrible vertigo. The ground has literally been moving under my feet. The feeling reminds me all too well of a trip to Bimini several years ago, spending days on the ocean swimming with the wild dolphins. During this trip I learned that it was my need to control that caused my motion sickness, the need to keep a world steady that is rocking back and forth. I couldn't stop that rocking any more than I can stop my body from being as it is.
Yet, when I let go of the control, and accepted the dancing of the boat with the deep blue water, my internal struggle ceased, and along with it my motion sickness.
So too perhaps, if I let go of my need to control the path our child takes in coming to us, the struggle may cease; and I just may find a wonderful stroke of luck like the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.
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