Category: family

family, IVF, parenthood, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

Guest blogger: my sister B

thesolomamaproject

My sister B came with me to the retrieval this morning and I asked her if she wanted to do a guest blog post. Here it is!

“Family is the most important thing,” I find myself saying to friends, colleagues and even strangers, on a regular basis in all sorts of contexts.  No question.   It was an honor to be with my sister K today for her retrieval, and to be the first guest blogger on solo mama project!

When she asked me to be there for her today I did not hesitate.  Yes, I gained clarity and conviction in making family a major priority in my life and schedule several years ago, however my strong drive to support K is as much a testament to her unwavering conviction and drive to create a family of her own.

One year ago we sat by a pond at the SF Botanical Gardens brainstorming on a name for her blog.  Her choice to write and express her feelings and her journey has been such a wonderful gift to herself and to us all.   What a journey the past year has been!  K has taught us all so much in the past year about perseverance, passion, and community.

She sat in the comfy chair at the clinic, with a hairnet and hospital gown, covered in a warm blanket, looking up at the nurse.  The nurse put the thermometer under her tongue and K kept her eyes on the nurse with gentle obedience.  She looked so much like a child and I felt a wave of emotion rise in my throat.  I took a breath and cherished the moment.  Her vulnerability was so beautiful and childlike.  She is laying it all on the line for her dream and she has been every day for the past year!

What are you willing to risk it all for?  What are you willing to challenge your emotional limits to create?  What are you willing to share with your community?

I am confident that K will become a parent, somehow some way.  Thank you to each and every one of you who is reading this blog, cheering her on and loving her every step of the way.  I speak on behalf of my whole family by saying that your words of encouragement, calls, texts and emails have meant the world to K and to all of us.

The details of our lives are different yet there is a “solo” in all of our “projects,” and journeys.  Whether we have several parents or one, several siblings or none, or a partner or none.  No matter what our lives look like there is a community, a world, of love and support when we open up to it.  K, thank you for following your dream.  Thank you for being you.  Thank you for sharing the journey with us.  I love you.  Family is the most important thing.

– K’s youngest sister B

anxiety, family, fertility, IVF, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

trigger!

thesolomamaproject

At this morning’s appointment, I learned that my biggest follies had jumped from 15-16mm to 20-22mm and my estrogen jumped from 2900 to 3500. Which is a lot. The docs say that’s why they check every day at this point, and I’m “ready to go.” I watched my giant follies on the screen, exponentially bigger than when we started, and all snuggled up together. Hi, girls!

Of course, I can’t tell you how many, because I was pointedly not counting. I’d say there are “plenty.” I told my mom today that I think my total letting go of obsessively tracking data was purely a survival strategy for staying sane. It’s working.

I told Dr. Fujimoto, “Long time, no see!” and he said, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this!” I’ve seen him the last 4 days. He will do my retrieval, because Dr. Tran has a conflicting appointment. I requested Dr. T. just because he said he would try to be there if he could, but I feel fine about Dr. F. Everyone says I’m in good hands, and I believe it.

Afterward, I drank some ginger tea with two nurses in the hallway, Nurse Stephanie came in and said hi as she walked by, and Maria gave me two hugs and wished me luck because she’s taking Thursday off. I seriously feel like I work there.

Next, I went through all the trigger and surgery paperwork with another nurse, Jackie. Different protocol for tonight: Lupron between 6-7pm (check) and at 10:15pm, exactly 36 hours before my retrieval, I’ll do my HCG shot with Follistim co-trigger.

Hard to believe that tomorrow I have neither a morning appointment nor any injections. And I get to see Annie and Sam Lamott on retrieval eve with my friend C! So perfect! (PS no one took me up on the free ticket giveaway, so I invited C who secretly wanted to go!)

Thursday, my sister will come with me for my 10:15am appointment. After that, rest. And really no running for a little while. My ovaries will take a while to go back down to normal size. Fert report: Friday.

I bought some bright pink tulips that were all closed up the other day, a visual reminder of my blooming ovaries. They are also looking just about “ready to go.”

I feel proud to have made it to this point. “Homestretch,” says B.

acupuncture, anxiety, family, fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, pregnancy, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

numbers

thesolomamaproject

I think I’ve been avoiding writing, just like I sometimes avoid meditating–with anxiety following me around like a shadow, not wanting it to catch up.

What you need to know is that everything is going fine.

What’s going on behind the scenes is that I’m getting information every other day, and now every day, on my estrogen level and number and measurements of my growing follicles. And I’ve had to consciously back down from a) trying to be an overachiever, b) interpreting, c) doing math, and d) obsessing about the numbers as if it will help me control the final outcome. It won’t. You also need to understand that the numbers at this point are almost irrelevant–you can have dozens of follicles and only a few mature eggs. You could also have only a few follicles but one mature egg that results in a healthy singleton. And everything in between.

At the first appointment, I didn’t know what to expect. This is a vulnerable place.  I felt like the doctors had grim expressions and were disappointed in my number of follicles, which was around 13. It should be noted that they didn’t say anything (at all) to this effect, but when I walked out I felt like a failure and spent the day on the edge of tears. I texted B that I was spiraling and she said, “Don’t interpret. It’s too early to do that and trust your doctors–let them do the work.”

I went to acupuncture the following night and emerged so deeply drained. I asked him if he’d done anything differently than usual, and he said that when you’re that stressed, it’s a long journey to get back to your baseline.

For the second appointment, I brought my sister, who kept me plugged into the irrelevance of the numbers in the short term. Bringing my sis got the docs’ attention and suddenly Dr. Rosen seemed to realize that I was stuck on the anxiety channel and needed strong reassurances–and he gave them to me throughout the appointment. Everything looks really good, you’re doing everything you’re supposed to do, see here on the monitor? Everything is growing, that’s what we want. Don’t worry, you’re doing great, it looks really good. I wanted to celebrate, but my helpful sister reminded me that just like we wouldn’t get destroyed by numbers now, we’re also not going to celebrate. But I did feel way better. My acupuncturist confirmed that my pulse conveyed a much lower stress level the following night (another zapping session, though–afterward, I went home, ate pizza, and fell asleep at 7pm).

At the third appointment, on Saturday, I went alone. Different docs this time, and I didn’t even try to track the measurement of every follicle or do math in my head. I let go, just letting them take over, maybe finally realizing that, no matter what, it will be what it will be. There’s nothing to adjust, except my dosage of meds, which is totally up to Dr. Tran and he hasn’t changed anything since I started. I’m doing everything right, according to Dr. Rosen. All we can do is see how this cycle turns out and have faith that my baby is in there.

I did a pretty good job of letting go on Saturday but I also just happened to be in a terrible mood. I felt like crying about everything, couldn’t bring myself to do the dishes from Tuesday, etc. Still, I managed to finish my taxes AND do laundry, so why I didn’t feel my afternoon was a record-breaking success should be blamed on the hormones. I felt sad and lonely and stuck.

At around 4:45pm, I threw on my running clothes and drove out to Ocean Beach. As I sat in my car getting ready to run, a hurricane-like wind threatened to lift my car into the air. I opened the door and it swung open so hard I thought it may have been damaged. Stepping out into the gale force, I thought YES THIS IS WHAT I NEEDED and began my run along the boardwalk.

I almost couldn’t run straight it was so windy. Specks of sand blasted onto my bare skin, stinging. PERFECT. Despite its ponytail anchor, my hat flew off. Then my hat flew off again. Then it flew off AGAIN. I found myself screaming into the wind FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER and suddenly woke up to my storm-like emotions. I actually started laughing.

Holding my hat in my hand, I continued up the boardwalk with my hair whipping around my face, forming a frenetic, lion-like frizz. I ran up the hill, past the Cliff House, and turning inland into Lands End, where the wind became a mild breeze, the golden afternoon sunlight at an angle that melts my heart.

I needed that. I kept thinking, “This is my natural Paxil.”

Today, after 9 hours of sleep, I woke up better. A gloriously clear day. I picked up my friend C who graciously offered to come with me to my appointment, which are now every day because we’re getting close. It was lovely to have her along although I feel sufficiently detached now, not even particularly asking questions. They’ll tell me if there’s something I need to know or decide.

My likely retrieval day is this Thursday, to be confirmed at tomorrow’s appointment. Then we’ll have real numbers to contemplate: number of eggs retrieved and then the number fertilized. My letting-go skills are getting honed.

My sister has me focused on what it will feel like to have a baby. I’m skipping all these steps in my mind and visualizing the final outcome–the only thing that matters.

Yesterday, my estrogen level was 2,014 (aka my baby’s birth year).

All it takes is one.

family, parenthood, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

birthday card for my dad

thesolomamaproject

So, it’s April 3 for at least another couple of hours on the west coast, and I’d like to honor my dear Dad on his birthday.

If you know my dad, you know that he wears his heart on his sleeve, tearing up with joy (or sadness) at the tiniest provocation–and this only gets more intense as he gets older. Years ago, he would raise a glass at the family dinner table to give a holiday toast and barely get a few words out before getting choked up. Now he just raises a glass and gets choked up wordlessly and we all laugh/cry and clink glasses and know what he was going to say: I’m so happy we’re all together.

I am starting with the tears because I’m sitting here teary as I consider all the things I could write.

My dad is someone who truly lives in the moment. He can get deeply happy about a cheddar cheese sandwich with kalamata olives and Miracle Whip. He will enthusiastically invite you to try one of his margaritas like they were just invented. He can’t wait to tell you about the YouTube videos he stumbled on, or the treasure he just found at the antique store for $30, or the crazy story he heard from some guy he met today at the tennis court. He treats everyone with deep interest and respect, whether at a dinner party or the grocery store. “How’s your day going?”

My dad has been wearing his collar up since before it was cool. Usually with a handkerchief tied around his neck. His sense of style is timeless.

Most important to me over the years is that my dad has always Been There for my sisters and me. I mean that literally and figuratively–he worked from home starting when I was in kindergarten, which meant that he was my Room Dad in school (likely inaugurating the title of Room Dad as this was in the 70s). Our parents were (and are) Around.

He took us on roadtrips to visit his parents in New England–his own father truly his opposite, an engineer who missed social cues, barked orders, and didn’t particularly express love. His mom, on the other hand, my sweet namesake, is where he got the goods.

These days, we do an incredibly good job of getting together despite being far apart, still giving each other the gift of Time. We talk on the phone. We Skype. We fly several times a year and pile into someone’s house.

Recently, my dad emailed me after reading a post to tell me how happy is that he’s my dad. And I just know that his dad didn’t tell him that, and many dads don’t tell their kids that, and my kid won’t ever hear that because he or she won’t even have a dad. And I feel so lucky that I’m his daughter. And excited that my kid will have a Grandpa Cha Cha.

There is no bigger supporter of the Solo Mama Project. My parents are tied for first place.

I remember my dad coming home from the hospital to bring me the news of the birth of each of my sisters. I remember sitting with him on the stairs while he wept with joy.

Thanks for keeping the joy flowing, Dad.

 

anxiety, depression, family, fertility, IVF, outdoors, pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

the ride

thesolomamaproject

This past week went fine–a busy work week, relaxing evenings, injections at 10pm. My friend C asked me on the phone last night if I was feeling anything yet and I said I didn’t think so–a little more tired, maybe, but that was it.

Today I started to feel it. I woke up around 7am and cleaned my kitchen from top to bottom, including every cupboard and inside the refrigerator (super abnormal behavior). I made myself breakfast and soon after started feeling sick to my stomach. I sat down on the couch and felt overwhelmingly tired. I wondered if I’d feel well enough to hike with my sister. Then it started to rain. And the tears started to fall.

I know that it was the hormones because I wasn’t crying about anything. There was no trigger, nothing in particular on my mind. I just looked out at the rainy streets and cried, and then, as long as I was crying, I cried about having to put my body through this, and about not knowing what’s next, and what if it only gets worse, and it will because I’m only 6 days into Lupron and the big guns come out in about a week.

My sister texted that she was on her way over, and I pulled it together and showered and got ready. As soon as she got here, I felt better. We planned an urban hike. Even though rain was forecast through the entire weekend, it really only rained for about 10 minutes this morning and then transformed into a glorious, warm, sunny day with only the mildest of breezes. We walked to the new Bi-Rite on Divis to get sandwiches, oranges, popcorn, and kombucha, and went over to the Panhandle and then to the tippy top of Buena Vista Park.

I noticed the beauty all around–the plum and cherry blossoms, the daffodils, a blue jay. The erratic streaks of clouds across the blue sky as our storm apparently sideswiped us. I felt relaxed because I had nothing to do later, nothing to check, nothing to get done. We came back to my apartment and watched The Hunger Games, which I read last summer and she just finished..another good distraction (and better than I expected). She went to have dinner with a friend while I stayed in and ate homemade black bean chili and cornbread.

And, here I sit, warm from today’s time in the sun, with the window open next to me and the sounds of cars passing by on the wet streets. As the sun was setting, I went up on the roof and took this:

rainy sunset

I did a little googling of Lupron side effects and found that pretty much anything goes; the lists are long. The drug originated as a treatment for prostate cancer. We’re playing with the pituitary gland which seems like the epicenter of hormones, so it kinda makes sense that things could get a little nutty.

But not totally–I feel fine right now and had an awesome day. I just think I expected to have no side effects–I even wrote that in my last post–much like me and Ms. R. thought we’d (obviously) get prego on the first try. I’d call it naïveté, or maybe even willful ignorance, or false confidence–it doesn’t always work out the way you expected.

I texted my friend Dr. B.: “Uh oh, tears just hit,” and she said, “Hang in there. It’s a ride.”

So true. And calling it a ride kind of makes it sound more fun, like an adventure. What will happen next? Stay tuned!

I just signed up for 3 upcoming events and wanted to let any friends in on it who may want to join me.

First: two back to back events at Spirit Rock:

As I told my sister today, at the beginning of June I’ll be in “some kind of state of mind…” so a couple of daylongs will be well-timed.

And, finally, I would like to announce my first Blog Giveaway in honor of the upcoming first anniversary of The Solo Mama Project. I have two tickets to see Annie Lamott and her son Sam do a reading at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Marin City on Wed, 4/17 at 8pm. Email me if you want to go with me–first friend to contact me gets to come with. One of my favorite authors, in the very church about which she frequently writes, and one of the original voices of a single mom by choice. It’s a benefit for St. Andrew’s. I only heard about it because Annie herself posted it on facebook and I follow her. Excited!

Don’t cry for me, Argentina! My sister says I’m rockin’ this.

anxiety, dating, donor sperm, family, fertility, IVF, outdoors, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

ivf. omg.

thesolomamaproject

This morning, I said to Dr. Tran, “I feel like I’m about to climb Mount Everest.”

He looked at me solemnly and responded, “You are.”

I’ve begun my IVF protocol, without a break, careening straight into a full calendar and a giant box of meds. It is so huge. I hope I can adequately convey to you how big this is.

It was a good time to take a break from the blog considering this monumental transition and the fact that I had no bandwidth for writing (or even thinking) while traveling and working and spending time with family and processing the neg bomb. I have not even close to sufficiently responded to all the love that poured in after my last post. I needed an escape, I took a break from everything, including you. But not including work–it’s my busiest time of year. I spent time in therapy talking through the way I channel a lot of my anxiety about fertility into my job, trying to stay on top of it, trying to control it. But while my job is a priority, it is not THE priority.

I am myopically focused on the priority. The intensity of it is awesome in the old-fashioned sense of the word.

IVF began in Indianapolis, when I emailed Olga to give the green light on this cycle. Yes, it was short notice to get all of our ducks in a row but her next email bowled me over: you need to go to IVF orientation, sign a consent form in person, attend an injection class, have a saline sonogram, do a test transfer, meet with Dr. Tran, meet with a genetic counselor, order your meds, start birth control pills, start antibiotics, have a financial consult, and clear your schedule. Next, I called the pharmacy and got bowled over again: Lupron, Gonal-F, Menopur, Methylpredisolone (I actually don’t even know what this one is), Progesterone, Estrace, more syringes than I want to count, 3 different gauges of needles, and 10mg of Valium. I could have used the Valium at the top of this paragraph.

Are you feeling overwhelmed? Because if not, you did not read carefully. This is Mount Everest.

I have mountains of compassion for all women who have gone through this and I have only just started. Having a full life and then taking on IVF is like a second full-time job. And I have only just begun–what’s going to happen to my body, my finances, my mind?? And, the biggest question of all: will it work?

I am about a week into birth control and started the antibiotics last night (coincidentally I have a cold and maybe it will help with that). I attended injection class, along with 2 straight couples, a lesbian couple, and a couple of single women freezing their eggs–very educational. I learned that triplets are rare (maybe 4x/yr at UCSF) and cause for many staff meetings where they discuss “where did we go wrong???” Not your every day occurrence. I paid attention during Gonal-F but zoned out during Follistim, then got an email from Olga that I’ll be switching to Follistim because Gonal-F isn’t covered on my insurance (my reaction: yay, medication covered on my insurance! but damn–should have paid more attention during the Follistim presentation). Had my saline sonogram and mock transfer yesterday, thankfully not at all painful (I had visions of the HSG test and hives)–Dr. Renato said the transfer will be really easy and none of my fibroids are in the cavity: cleared to go forward.

Today, I met with Dr. Tran. As I have mentioned, I love him (as in IN love with him). Today he was in a tie and white coat, his coffee from Peet’s. He is masterful at drawing upside down. I had more or less decided to go with PGS (genetic testing on Day 5) and then had second thoughts when weighing out the cost and the risks. You can either: transfer 3-4 embryos on Day 3 and freeze the rest at that point or let them go to Day 5, lose 60%, genetically test them, freeze them, and later on put back the 1-2 normal ones (for an additional $7k on top of approx $12k). There are huge pros and cons on both sides and no guarantees for any of it, so it’s very complicated and gave me visions of gambling in Reno.. At this point, and on his recommendation, I am hedging my bets–opting for Day 3 in an effort to have a fresh transfer, enough leftover to freeze, and at least a little money left in case I have to do it all again. Higher risk of miscarriage which is terrifying. But I feel like there’s safety in numbers… I’m meeting with a genetic counselor tomorrow just to be informed.

And I start Lupron on Monday night. I might be on the road and this time I know to bring a doctor’s note for airport security (wisdom of experience). I have put my schedule and life and online dating and pretty much everything on hold–everything is canceled except work and health-related appointments. I still need to walk in the fresh air with friends and talk on the phone so–don’t let me drop off the face of the earth. Just know that I am consolidating resources and hunkering down. And I’ll probably write a lot because, as you can tell, this is going to be quite an experience.

And I need you along for the ride xo

family, fertility, IUI, pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait, Uncategorized

neg bomb

thesolomamaproject

Our weekend was perfect–so fun and sweet to be living it up together in the big city. So grateful for the opportunity to celebrate our adorable mom.

Postponing testing was a brilliant idea–I let it all go for one more day.

I did some research and realized that progesterone delays your period, so I knew for sure that a late period didn’t mean anything promising (that and my total lack of symptoms). I was 90% sure I wasn’t pregnant.

This morning I woke at 6:30, got brave, and tested. I didn’t even let myself hope for a positive, so by default I rooted for a negative. And I got it.

All I wanted in that moment was to get some reassuring words from SMCs on the national forum but the server was down or something because I couldn’t get through. So I went back to bed. Sharing the news at breakfast brought on a big cry tidal wave that I couldn’t hold back (though I wanted to).

Now I’m on the way out of NYC on a Greyhound bus, the sky hazy. Negative thoughts are holding a drum circle in my brain.

Tired tired tired of this merry-go-round.

[insert hopeful conclusion here]

depression, family, fertility, IUI, IVF, meditation, outdoors, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

groove

thesolomamaproject

I just walked back to J’s from the office, stopping for two slices of pizza: one pepperoni and mushroom, one veggie. The pizza is always good here and rarely, if ever, gluten-free. Something was falling out of the sky that was right on the edge of rain/snow, probably hovering just above thirty-two degrees. Thousands of Knicks fans were streaming toward Madison Square Garden and I had to navigate carefully like a fish swimming upstream.

I’ve been in my most typical NYC groove–staying in J’s comfy and overheated one-bedroom, walking the 7 minutes to the office, traveling up to 175th Street to see E and E and their little genius L, eating at the Venezuelan restaurant in Chelsea, running the High Line. These are the rituals.

Now, I’m going to totally blast out of this routine and do everything completely differently: a touristy weekend with my family! It’s so exciting. NYC has no script for this, our family has no script for this. A true adventure. Can’t wait to blast out of this tiny corner of Manhattan and live some meaningful new family memories.

It’s been a good week although emotionally up and down. I started off so together, and then upon landing I got a call from a nurse through my insurance company to say she understands I’m pregnant and I was like…no, I’m not, and she got flustered and asked if I miscarried and then apologized and said “I hate this” and hurried to get off the phone. That was seven months ago, could they update their records?

Then a text that another friend got pregnant on the first try, and a careful heads up that I’d be getting an invitation to a baby shower. I believe I can be truly, unreservedly, wholeheartedly thrilled for friends’ good news and simultaneously punched in the gut–and it’s not a contradiction. The two emotions co-exist in me, and both are true. The punch is visceral…and then guilt over having a bad reaction to good news.

I called my sister for consoling words and she provided them. No, the universe is not ganging up on you. It went back to being a peaceful, sunny day, and I arrived in New York feeling great. Staying centered, getting sleep. Enjoying lovely, warm greetings from friends in the NY office throughout the day.

Then work stress knocked me down. I dragged myself through about 24 hours of a crisis in confidence (so many secondary and tertiary emotions–I’m mad that I’m sad that I’m frustrated etc), cried to J who gets nervous he’ll say the wrong thing, and sometimes does, but I love that he hangs in there and keeps trying. Eventually I am laughing.

I ran the High Line, where I looked for and found this art installation on the side of a building, something my friend S had told me about–breathtaking. I took my morning prenatal and twice-daily progesterone. I drank water, breathed, stayed present.

I felt pregnant-ish until yesterday when I really just didn’t, which added to my emotional distress. Signs of imminent menstruation.

But, since yesterday, I rounded the corner on most of it–dove back into work because the only way to go is forward. Decided that IUIs didn’t work and it’s time for IVF. Decided that I create my own destiny, and it’s a big world once you force yourself out of your groove. Decided I won’t take a month off because the last time I did, I landed in the ER. I have waited 18 weeks’ worth of two week waits. I’m done waiting where there’s a choice involved.

When I caught up with a friend recently, she sighed and said she didn’t think her life would turn out this way. Me neither. But why measure ourselves against an invisible and fictitious standard? Or other people? Or what other people think?

This is real life, how my life turned out, sitting on J’s couch in the quiet of his apartment (he’s at dinner), with rain/snow/sleet falling gently outside on a city about to be re-discovered; pizza in my belly; gratitude, frustration, love, and longing in my heart.

family, meditation, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait, writing

focus

thesolomamaproject

It’s the night before a 12-day business trip and I’m absolutely stunned by my level of organization. This seriously hasn’t happened in all my years of crazy work travel.

The evidence: I’m totally packed, including 2 pregnancy tests. My clothes for tomorrow are laying out, the cereal box is out next to an empty bowl, two vitamins sitting beside it. There’s a list on an index card of what I need to remember to pack in the morning. I have a bowl of quinoa and black beans cooling next to me. I’m calling for the morning taxi. And it’s 8:16pm.

Normally, I kick into packing mode around 10pm, regardless of pick-up time (which, tomorrow, is 4:30am). My last post about being in high gear was no joke–I’m so focused right now, I don’t recognize myself. I’m even getting picky (like J) about how I’m folding my clothes and setting things out either parallel or perpendicular. Let’s not get crazy now!

So what is a 12-day business trip about, you ask? Basically, it’s a series of smaller trips strung together for my convenience, involving office days, meetings, visits to colleagues, four nights at J’s place, a work event, and mucho family time in between.

For my Mom’s (milestone!) birthday, my sisters and I are treating her to a decadent weekend in NYC, with all three of us and my Dad! How deluxe and special that we get to share this time together. Then we’re going down to Baltimore where we’ll hang out with my two nieces! This part I just put together this morning and am feeling very gratified that I get to see them and cut out two cross-country flights.

Today, after a glorious hike at Mt. Tam with sweet C, I was at my sister’s house and she asked me if I wanted to pull a Goddess card. I pulled  one that now I can’t remember the name…Nematoma? It was about creating and preserving a sacred space–within yourself, within your home, wherever you go. I took it to be a reminder to keep my commitment to treat myself kindly on the road, to take time to prepare and rest and stay grounded, no matter how much activity is swirling around me. This means going to bed early, running on the chilly Highline, getting up ten minutes earlier to meditate, and blogging. (Undercommitting is approximately 80% harder in NYC.)

And, with that, it’s 9pm. Time for bed, xo

 

family, fertility, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

valentines

thesolomamaproject

And then I got sick with a bad sore throat, right after that last post. So predictable! And kind of reassuring that the mind-body connection is still strong. I’ve been home for two days on the couch, resting my voice, growing my follicles, and trying to keep up with a high volume of work emails. I am better enough to go on another work trip tomorrow, to Sacramento.

Now, what is a less romantic Valentine’s Day than a work trip to Sacramento?

Pretty much nothing. But I feel so lucky to have you all as my Valentines this year, and every year. Those who follow this blog, who keep it on ‘refresh,’ who drop what they’re doing to read, who are in a similar boat or were at one time, who resonate with me, who comment and text and call with concern and love–you are my core support team and I absolutely could not do this without you.

In honor of this, I offer this recent facebook post by one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott, who proposes that we Occupy Valentine’s Day in the best way possible. Lots of love!. ♥

We are all so pumped about Valentine’s Day. You could cut the excitement around here with a knife.

My first plan was to celebrate by giving the kitty a flea dip, and overeating, but I think I’ve come up with a better idea.

Now, most of all us have some wonderful Valentine’s Days over the years; or at least days that were not SO excruciating that we wanted to die. Which is at least a start. For instance, I had a wonderful man for seven years, who made me the most incredible little cards every year, but because he did not believe in climate science, or that there was any real difference between McCain and Obama, there were tiny tensions off and on the rest of the time.

I would estimate that approximately 17% of people enjoy Valentine’s day. Mostly, women will be given boxes of chocolates that they don’t want and can’t resist, and will be really mad at themselves for inhaling. Many people will be filled with resentment, anxiety, and guilt at having forgotten, or having shown up late, or having accidentally been having affairs with other people. Many people will feel a sheet-metal sense of loneliness and rejection. They will be comparing their insides with other people’s outsides, especially those happy valentines actors in advertisements and commercials.

Most of the day, except for the lucky few, will be a nightmare.

So let’s start an Occupy Valentine’s Day movement.

Let’s begin with the premise that another word for Valentine’s Day is Thursday. And on Thursday, as an act of radical self-care, we will celebrate the miracle that a few people love us SO much, that we can go on, and bear up, no matter what; that even though they know the darkest, most human and intimate and disgusting stuff about us, they still love us. In fact, they love us more and more through the years. This is so wild, and is really my only hope. It is what salvation looks like. A handful of friends is the reason my faith in God is so deep. Because they ARE love; they (along with the dogs) are my most obvious connection to divine love in this joint, the looks of love on their faces.

Let’s celebrate that all you need is love; and that God is Love and love is God; that Love will heal ALL, although unfortunately, maybe not on our time–ie by Wednesday, right after lunch. But it will. When all is said and done, Love is sovereign on this earth. So let’s go crazy with love on Thursday. If we want to be filled with loving feelings, all it takes is to do a bunch of loving things for others and ourselves. That’s all it takes! You take the action, and the insight will follow–that all you need is love. Crazy. We don’t need to buy or be given a single thing, and we don’t need to eat anything we don’t really want. We’ll just give each other secret love gestures all day. Okay? You in?