Category: outdoors

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

thankyouthankyouthankyou

thesolomamaproject

Sitting in the blazing sun in Justin Herman Plaza, I looked up into the blue sky and said, “please.” I had only the tiniest flicker of hope.

Then I listened to Olga’s voicemail which was already 40 minutes old.

“K! it’s Olga! I have great, great, great news for you! You are pregnant! Congratulations! Your number is 998 so that’s a fantastic number, we like to see a number of 100 and above so you are right right right on target. Congratulations, so happy for you! I can’t wait to tell Dr. Tran.”

And then I had to listen to it 3 times before I believed it was real.

And then I hyperventilated and cried and speed dialed my family. And then I called Olga back to see if that means twins. She said it’s a “definite possibility” but also could be a singleton. She said that she and Dr. T. high-fived when she told him the news.

And then I celebrated with a grilled cheese sandwich and smiles.

We are off to a good start and have already cleared many initial hurdles. An unexpected miracle!

Amazing how my reaction never changes; even after all I’ve been through I am 110% excited.

One day at a time, and so much gratitude for this day and all the love around me. xoxoxo

dating, fertility, IVF, outdoors, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

my 40s

thesolomamaproject

My 40s have been stellar. I’m sleepy but must force myself to blog this before any other big news can pile up:

  • I flew home late Friday night, returning to my cute little studio whose days with me are now numbered. The number is 4.
  • On Saturday, I dropped by my new apartment which was left in beautiful condition by the former tenant, with a big note on the blackboard that said, “Welcome Home, K!!!”
  • I got my hair cut–Nicholas, superhumanly handsome and not my usual stylist, insisted on blowing my hair straight (“They ALWAYS see your hair curly, right?”), and also insisted that I come back at 4:15 with my own makeup so he could do my eyes for my birthday. Then I got a pedicure with B and her sweet new bundle S.
  • I tried to nap but I was too excited about my party. I ended up drinking coffee to fight the jet lag.
  • Arriving in the restaurant, I found one friend sitting with her glass of wine, plus one gorgeous floral centerpiece sent by my thoughtful boss in NYC. 
  • More friends started to flow in and my heart was overflowing with joy. Flowers, champagne, cards, hugs, love.
  • I was so happy. I could have floated around that party forever. I have the most wonderful and thoughtful and hilarious friends, many of whom I’ve known for 20+ years, some less than two months, and they have all been my raft in turbulent waters at one time or another.
  • The food was delicious and we flowed from one course to the next, wine topped off at frequent intervals, the lighting in a soft glow against the brick walls, lots of laughter. These moments are so fleeting and the wine makes them slippery… and before you know it, the party’s over.
  • And then you head to the after party with about 10 friends and drink bourbon until 4:30am and then you’re pretty much so far gone between the joy and the drinks and the time difference and the four decades, you’re maybe hung over for 3-4 days.
  • The next day should have been rougher but I navigated through a lovely baby shower and a birthday party and went to see The Way Way Back with the birthday girl.
  • On Monday, I showed up at my new office on Sacramento Street. One block from my first office in SF when I moved here in 1997, I walk by Starbucks knowing that’s not what was in that space 15 years ago, but not remembering what was there before. Isn’t this the very definition of getting older? I have a window facing south and was delighted when the sunlight found my desk and moved along it for much of the day.
  • At mid-day, my new landlord showed up with the lease, and we sat on a bench in my new lobby and chatted a bit after signing it. I expressed how thrilled I am about this apartment and he seemed genuinely glad. He truly either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care about how much more he could have gotten for that place, and I am his lucky lucky lucky lucky tenant who happened to be in the right place at the right time.
  • Later, I called my building manager to give notice and he completely blew my mind when he told me the price he will ask for my current, 400 square foot studio.
  • The universe is sending me a love note.
  • I went on a third date. He’s easygoing, has a nice smile, is older. We’ve gone on a couple of hikes, to the farmer’s market, to dinner. With everything going on, I enjoy hanging out with him and yet there’s no real momentum or wondering what will happen next.
  • Today, I lined up packers to pack my apartment on Saturday (yes, I am paying the $ to keep stress low) and a mover on Sunday.
  • I went to UCSF for my lining check this afternoon. (I saw Dr. Tran in scrubs from a distance–he didn’t see me.) Good news at the appointment: 7.8mm lining, great, and all quiet on the ovarian front (no cysts). I was cleared for transfer next week: Thursday, 8/15.
  • Did I mention: gratitude.
  • I was texting with my friend M in Mexico City tonight, and she said that my new place is “like feng shui. But for your whole life.”
  • I believe it.my new apartment
family, fertility, IVF, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

sunset

thesolomamaproject

Hi, people. I’m sitting in the living room after dinner–my sister and mom are chatting and my dad is doing the dishes. The pink sun just dropped from behind the clouds and is descending brightly over the lake. Bill Evans plays gorgeous jazz piano in the background.

My birthday was wonderful. Run followed by hike followed by nap followed by (just as predicted) duck, champagne, and profiteroles. The birthday love rolled in throughout the day and my heart was filled with love and gratitude. It felt so momentous that when I woke up on Monday, I felt like I was 41.

Yesterday, I went on an adventure drive with my dad, a tradition left over from childhood and my Father’s Day experiential gift. Have you tried this recently? It’s so refreshing to get in the car and not know yet where you’re going  A metaphor for life and letting go and being open and curious and expecting great and beautiful things.

Sometimes we had a gut feeling about which way to turn and sometimes we flipped a coin. We ended up south of town on a remote seasonal road that looked like we might get stuck–which kept it suspenseful. We stopped to walk around a totally remote old family cemetery. We stopped again to take pictures of a butterfly and a beautiful red and black bird. The further we went, the more we wondered where (or if) we would pop out–this was a two-track with no signs of civilization. Eventually, we popped out at Pearl Lake in a fancy development! Then we passed someone’s yard that had a sign: “Come on in and set awhile,” so we walked around and met a giant metallic grasshopper and appreciated the flowers and vegetable garden (and, by the house, a sign with a rifle that said “We don’t call 911”). Then we cut over to Lake Ann for soft-serve ice cream on a totally deserted beach, and visited a summer camp, my Dad’s horse Lily, and three other lakes I’ve never seen before as the late afternoon sun intensified, casting longer shadows. Meaningful time with my dad.

Today was the first day of the film festival in Traverse City. I put on two estrogen patches this morning which likely contributed to my weepiness during the first film and afterward–it was a Korean film called Dancing Queen (highly recommend), about a guy who runs for mayor of Seoul and his wife whose dream is to be a pop singer/dancer–the theme was following your dreams: and never giving up. Every time someone almost gave up on their dream, they got propped up by those around them who knew just how important the dream was, and I thought of how you all prop me up during the setbacks. It made me feel like I just know we’re going to do this thing. My mom held my hand as we walked down the street together afterward and I cried it out.

Tomorrow I will log back in to work email after nearly two weeks away. I am rested, sun kissed, wind blown, reset by chilly Lake Michigan. Bracing myself for 700 messages (that’s just an estimate) but also intrigued to see how things are going for my team and my projects. I had a good break.

It’s almost time to westward ho! Toward my dream apartment and a birthday bash with my SF family and giving embryos #2 and #3 my best shot.

Meanwhile, enjoying my last days of Pure Michigan. We all just gathered on the balcony to watch the last of a fuschia popsicle sun melt into the horizon. See you on the other side.

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

40 eve

thesolomamaproject

It’s the first time I’ve been home alone since arriving one week ago! In such a constantly boisterous  household with my little nieces around, I’ve been on the family channel with almost constant activity every day, including reading The Phantom Tollbooth with newly-5-year-old E (we got almost 200 pages in) and bouncing in chilly Lake Michigan with almost-2-year-old S (she loves splashing). Given my limited time with the girls in particular, who call me K.K., I didn’t really want to tear myself away for regular grown-up vacation activities like a book or a phone call or…writing. So, I didn’t. I just rolled with the days, inventing inside jokes, playing hide-and-go-seek, and going out for activities like seeing my dad’s horse.

Today, we did the whole unbearable scene of the family waving from the parking lot as the adorables drive away waving their little hands from the back seat. I felt flooded with despair for about ten minutes and then got on with a quieter day. I cleaned, did laundry, did yoga, read the New Yorker, napped, did a couple of online errands, meditated, and now it’s time to write. This is a big preamble, just trying to set the stage here.

I kicked off birthday celebrations on Thursday night with a family dinner, dance party, and jam session. It was the best party ever. As always, my mom masterfully pulled together a delicious meal over at the river house, including a made-from-scratch chocolate cake with pink frosting (my niece E perfected the shade of pink), with a little picture on top for each birthday celebrant: 40 for me, a heart for my sister, Wonder Woman for E, Fallout Shelter for my teenage cousin M, and Charlie Brown for my uncle P. The W family showed up with four bottles of Veuve Cliquot (my favorite) and we ate and drank and danced and then broke out the violin, guitar, and ukelele and played and sang and improvised hysterical blues verses, broke two glasses and spilled another, and it was a glorious evening of love and connection and music. What could be better?? I LOVED it. Party #1 rocked.

Yesterday, I got my birthday wish from my sisters: a financial consultation. (they are both financial wizards). I can now admit that I tried to get pregnant for over a year without really having a clue about how a child would (or would not) work with my finances. We sat down to start crunching the numbers and I realized that my fear was that they would look at me and shake their heads and say there was no way to make it work in San Francisco. But they didn’t–we created an action plan with several steps which will allow me to start saving now for child care.  This is my favorite kind of gift–the whole scenario feels more possible and my vision of the future is more clear.  I started taking the action plan steps today. Thanks, D & B!

Then, D’s husband took us out for a fancy (bday!) dinner and then left us to make room for girls’ night out, which included time in the bookstore followed by a huge monster sundae and hilariously ended before 10pm when there was still some light in the sky.

Tonight is the eve of my 40th birthday. I elected to stay home–B and my mom are in Traverse at the opening film of the TC Film Festival and my dad is playing tennis. After a day of chilly rain, the sun is bursting out over the sparkling water of Lake Michigan. It’s peaceful here. My bro-in-law just texted a photo of the girls at baggage claim in Baltimore saying they miss us already–it’s mutual!

What does my birthday mean to me? Well, first of all, I’m a Leo so I have always pushed the celebration factor to the extreme. Recently someone said to me that I seemed to have a good attitude about this milestone birthday. While I grant you that there are downsides to aging (and at 40, for me, it is primarily about how hard it’s been to get pregnant), I feel it is truly obnoxious to complain when there are so many people we’ve known and loved who haven’t been fortunate enough to make it this far. When we think of the only other possible alternative, we realize that all we can do and should do is celebrate.

Not to mention just how much learning and experience and love and craziness has led up to this day. As a cumulative number, 40 adequately represents it. 39 was just bananas and it got me to 40, to this moment, which is a good one. Now let’s look ahead.

As I turn 40, I am moving into a big, new apartment! I am moving into a new office! I am throwing myself a big party! AND I am gearing up to transfer two healthy embryos in about 2.5 weeks! My good friend T reminded me that I’m entering my fifth decade (thanks for that! 😉 ) –and I’d say I’m entering with extraordinarily positive momentum. It’s easy to say in hindsight that the babe wasn’t meant to be until now. The way the universe is throwing good mojo in my direction it feels like we’re finally almost there, maybe.

(Speaking of the apartment: I received the lease, went back and forth with questions, received the revised lease, and will sign it in person with the landlord in one week when I’m home–and the current tenant is leaving all kinds of great furniture for me! More details when I have the signed doc in hand!)

Tomorrow will be a mellow day. I’d like to be outside as much as possible. Then I’m putting on my party dress and my red heels which are totally over the top for this rural area, and we’re going to our favorite French restaurant where my parents are legitimately great friends with the French owner, and I will hopefully have something like duck and profiteroles and some champagne and we’ll toast the day.

On the occasion of my birthday, I want to tell you how much you mean to me, my dear readers, family, and friends!!!!! Whatever my 40s bring, I’m grateful that you are my companions on this journey. ❤ xoxoxo

 

acupuncture, dating, depression, fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

hope

thesolomamaproject

First, thank you to all who have reached out to me in so many thoughtful ways. I love you.

It’s been hard to decide what to write as I navigate the aftermath of FET#1. The depth of grief goes well beyond what I’ve previously experienced in this process. I will admit that my last post was written hastily after learning the news myself–I was in shock. I wanted to appear strong to those who might worry that the disappointment would send me into total collapse. I thought I might be able to skip over dealing with it; with margaritas, keeping previously-made plans, and working hard. Keep moving forward.

Here’s a shocker: that didn’t work. By Thursday it caught up with me. I felt the familiar old tentacles of depression wrapping around me and pulling me down. The awful chanting of negative thoughts in my brain. The worst one: I spent my 30s trying to build a family, and I have failed. No one will attach to me permanently, not a man, not an embryo. (Not even a dog!) I sobbed to my therapist. Poor, poor me.

While grieving and disappointment and sadness (and even anger at slacker embie #1) are normal and healthy after how much time, money, and effort I’ve invested in this process, I also recognize the ‘poor me’ refrain. It’s a sign that I’m hooking into distorted thinking and descending into a place of hopelessness. I’ve felt it before. There’s a healthy grieving process and then there are the terrorists. The terrorists aim to use this as proof that hope is futile. Thank God I know the difference by now. I knew it was time to use my tools before I sunk any further. My acupuncturist reminded me that depression is a state of static and clenching, and, even if it sounds like the last thing you want to do, it’s important to force yourself to get out and be active, go for a run, be outside. It moves things around, helps you move through.

So, yesterday I hiked from 8-4, with MM, along the stunning, sunny coastline of the Marin Headlands–a big loop from Tennessee Valley up to Muir Beach and back through Green Gulch Farm. I cried to MM that there’s a big scoreboard and my score is zero, to which she responded, “And the game isn’t over yet.”

Toward the end of the hike, I stood at a single high point from which I could see Bodega Bay, Muir Beach, Ocean Beach, Sutro Tower, the GG Bridge, the SF skyline, the Bay, Mt. Diablo, I felt my body in the warm sunshine. My anti-depressant.

This morning, I listened to Tara Brach’s latest podcast, called “Part 1: Hope and the Spiritual Path.” I beg you to listen to this podcast. I command you. It’s one hour. You can listen to a lot or a little. Not only does it perfectly articulate where I am right now in terms of maintaining hope, it has priceless nuggets of wisdom for each one of you. I will listen to it many times. The potential of the oak tree is contained within the acorn. What we hope for is already within us.

There is egoic hope based in fear, and there is a holy hope based in a basic faith that God isn’t just rolling the dice on us. Our lives have meaning. It will be some time before I become a cheerleader for FET#2, but for now I feel, deeply, that I am still on my spiritual path, and this is all part of it, and it is all making me stronger and better prepared for whatever comes next. (That still sounds a little stronger than I feel, but I know it’s the right direction.)

At times, I have wondered how this blog could be inspiring to people–I have tried and failed ten times. Sounds like a bummer. Then, this past week, I have been reading other women’s posts online, and every time I see someone weather a failure and then somehow continue to put one foot in front of the other, my heart soars. I get it.

So, here I go, out for a run at Lands End. xo

[Tara’s podcast will be available within a week or so on her website www.tarabrach.com. Meanwhile, you can access this podcast by downloading the Podcasts app through the iTunes store, search for “Tara Brach. Enjoy, and please report back if you listen!]

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

PUPO

thesolomamaproject

Yo! We are 4dp5dt to those in the know. Aka 4 days past 5-day transfer. 10 days till beta.

It was a good few days back at work–focused, productive, forgetting at times, remembering with a smile. I’ve felt every symptom on the list already, so that was predictable. Thrilled to have embie #1 with me. My little, huge secret. (PS 75 microns is the width of a human hair.)

Last night, with the distraction of work lifted away, I found myself sinking into worry over the not-knowing. Then I was instinctively scolding myself for not thinking uniquely positive thoughts during this critical time. I have this image of the perfect two-week-waiter: serene, neutral, intuitive, self-assured, full of faith (does this person even exist?).  Once I became aware of this layered internal dialogue, I did what I have learned to do: I turned to Buddhism.

I put on a Tara podcast. Her soothing and wise voice calmed me and encouraged me not to resist the thoughts–invite them to tea. On the night that the Buddha achieved enlightenment, Mara showed up, a demon who tried to tempt the Buddha away from his spiritual practice. He fired arrows at him all night, but because the Buddha didn’t react, the arrows turned to flower petals and eventually Mara disappeared. There were mountains of flower petals in the morning. Rather than resisting or reacting, we can invite our fears to sit with us, to  have tea with us. So I did. I remembered that I’m on a bunch of hormones. I cried and fell asleep. I moved through.

Tara quoted Annie Lamott, which kind of blew my mind, given their recently prominent roles as my spiritual leaders. The Annie quote was, “My mind is like a bad neighborhood. I try not to go there alone.”

Today, I met up with two SMC friends and was reminded in a big way that I am not alone. I met C, 38 weeks pregnant, for a muffin and tea, then J, 18 weeks pregnant, for brunch. I came away remembering that motherhood at every stage of pregnancy and beyond is about living with uncertainty–heck, LIFE is about living with uncertainty–and I am getting a lot of relevant practice. My SMC friends are inspiring examples–even if there are days when they feel disorganized, they have their shit together in such a fundamental way. And they reflect this back to me. Which makes me feel like I don’t have to solve everything today, since I can’t anyway and neither can anyone.

I swam this morning, exercise being a critical part of the program of keeping me afloat. Swimming will be my new substitute for running, and although I don’t love swimming in the same way, it did feel good. Although wow is it really hard when you’re not in the habit. And kind of annoying with the sharing a lane, and boring with the repetition, etc. But a great low-impact, muscle-toning, cardio workout, and hopefully I’ll get stronger. Swimming and yoga. I signed up for a 3-hour hypno-restorative yoga class tomorrow afternoon with C. Also hoping to get outside into our deliciously cold weekend fog in the morning.

I’m back to being happily-maybe, and sometimes probably. Grateful to be PUPO = Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. Rolling with it. Making friends with the present moment and all it has to teach me.

night night

 

acupuncture, anxiety, fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, ovulation, parenthood, pregnancy, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

tomorrow

thesolomamaproject

Tomorrow is my transfer day, at 12:15pm! Good vibes, prayers, and love sent in the direction of Sutter and Divisadero, SF, CA, USA are  welcomed and appreciated! Thanks so much for the love, hugs, texts, emails, and calls already flowing in.

The weekend was a slow and steady build toward the big day. On Friday night, I had my two-hour clairvoyant reading. The five readers sat across from me with their eyes closed as they took turns reading my energy. They checked all my chakras, cleaned out the old pictures, told me about some of my past lives (I was a contented Eskimo mom as well as a famous actress in the 1910’s), and generally validated my commitment to having a child. No major blockage toward reaching my goal. After the intensity of the reading, I felt emotionally delicate. I walked to Dolores Park and sat on a bench overlooking the twinkling city, and cried. It was cleansing. If that’s what it means to get your chakras cleaned out, I’m for it.

On Saturday morning, I ran to the top of Twin Peaks, remembering with every uphill that it would be my last challenging run for a while–I savored it. I don’t normally go to the tippy-top, but this time I did.

In the afternoon, I went for Maya abdominal massage. At first, we talked about diet. She gave me some foods to target: avocado (superfood), cilantro (cooling), cinnamon (anti-inflammatory), chia seeds (another superfood w/ omega 3s, she wants me to eat them throughout the day), have a smoothie soon after waking up (to maintain blood sugar), avoid grains in the evening (to not spike blood sugar then crash overnight), drink cranberry leaf tea (to support healthy lining), etc. She has a really soothing manner. We both spoke softly.

Then, we prepared for the vagina steaming, which was very simple: she had been simmering some herbs in a regular pot which she put under what I think was a birthing stool, with the lid at an angle to let the steam rise up. she had me sit on the stool and then she wrapped me in a thick red blanket, leaving me to meditate for ten minutes. It felt odd but nice, not too hot. Every herb in there had a specific purpose, the end result ostensibly being an irresistibly sticky womb.

Afterward, I got on the massage table and she said she was going to feel around for my uterus. Did you know this was possible? I did not. I would have thought it was too far in the middle of the body. The uterus is, in fact, impossible for me to visualize, unless it’s a Georgia O’Keeffe painting, or a pancake. In the 3D environment of my body, I am clueless.

She found it with her fingers, pressing gently. She exclaimed, “She’s pretty anterior!” and then gradually guided “her” back to center. It felt a little strange to have someone pawing at my belly, but not as uncomfortable as I imagined it could be.

She finished with a full body massage, my first in years–so amazing. I was jello after that. I had no choice but to go home and take a nap. The rest of the weekend I spent holding babies at parties and celebrating my sister’s graduation.

Today, I went around feeling like I swallowed a canary. At the end of the day, I stopped to pick up groceries for an uber-healthy, delicious dinner, and ended up spending $15 on a wild salmon filet that turned out to be maybe the best salmon I’ve ever had, simply prepared with lemon and garlic in foil. Also, broccoli. And chips with homemade guacamole w/ cilantro. Now I’ll drink some cranberry leaf tea and take a bath before bed.

My evening protocol right now has me decreasing the estrogen patches on my belly while I increase the dosage of intramuscular progesterone injections. This is mimicking what happens after ovulation, but without the ovulation, getting my uterus right where a Day 6 blast would want and expect it to be. The progesterone shots are gnarly–1.5″ needle and a funky angle to do on yourself. They’re not so painful at the time, but I have a little painful knot developing behind each hip. I massage them a lot. I’ll continue these for several if not many weeks–and it should be noted that the side effects are identical to those of pregnancy (including delaying AF!).

Tomorrow is a dream day: therapy at 7:30, personal trainer at 9:30, go home and take a Valium, my sister picks me up at 11:30, meet embie #1 soon after 12:15, then acupuncture at 3pm.

How do I feel? I feel like I’ve done a really good job. I have done everything in the world I could reasonably do. I feel really hopeful and a little anxious, also grounded, centered, uterus-centered, nourished, peaceful. I feel like all that I’ve learned and practiced around self-care these past weeks are gifts already received from the baby to be.

What a process. Grateful for you and all of the above and the chance to get pregnant tomorrow.

xo

meditation, outdoors, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

weekend snapshots

thesolomamaproject

I absolutely must be in bed at 10 tonight, which is in 38 minutes, which means tonight we’re doing snapshots from my weekend at Spirit Rock:

  • I checked my email confirmation at 7:25am to make sure what time I needed to arrive for the Daylong in Nature and for the first time noticed that I was supposed to be there not at 9:30, but at 8:45. Which meant I’d have to leave in 20 minutes. I flew around my apartment eating breakfast, packing my lunch, showering, not washing my hair, and jumped in the car with only 45 minutes to do an hour’s drive. Rushing to a meditation retreat is ridiculous. I sped over the bridge and once on Sir Francis Drake realized I’d be about 10 minutes early. And I felt my brain click over to the next thing to worry about: would I have time to use the bathroom, find a refrigerator for my lunch, and get water? I didn’t even spend one second feeling relieved and grateful before moving on to the next worry. But at least I noticed it.
  • In a related story, later on that day a woman at the retreat mentioned that while meditating, she had a fly buzzing her left ear. Then her right ear. She was really irritated. Then the fly flew away, and she felt “lost.” We talked about how the fly could represent anything and how we all live from fly to fly, wondering when we’re going to get chocolate cake.
  • Back to my arrival: I checked in, used the bathroom, got water, and learned that there was no fridge available. I sat in the warm sun in the overgrown grass putting on sunscreen when I met two women sitting near me. I learned that their names were “Spring,” and “Rain.” I said, wait–did you say Spring and Rain? And then Rain says to Spring, “I thought your name was Stephanie?” and Spring says serenley, “Spring is just easier.”
  • We spent the day in silence, starting when we walked up the hill. I realized that it was my first full event in silence. I loved it. As much as I enjoy meeting people, it’s a relief for once to peel that layer off the whole experience and just focus inward. We were given permission not to speak, gesture, or whisper. We shuffled along the path together silently–and suddenly I noticed a lizard, a spiderweb, and a brilliant blue sky.
  • The nature event included less teaching and more meditation–alternating between sitting and walking. Sitting is going better for me, not so uncomfortable. Walking meditation is surprisingly mind-blowing. The point is simply to walk mindfully, which means walking slowly. I always get a zombie vibe when I look around at the people ambling aimlessly. But when I stop looking around, I get totally lost in the moment. I discovered wildflowers (orange, yellow, and purple, wished MM were there to identify), found patches where deer had slept, studied a dead tree against the blue sky. I walked barefoot. I ambled along the trail, up the hill, down the hill, into the bushes (here’s hoping no poison oak). I put my hands on a large rock, partially embedded in the earth, warm in the hot sun. It reminded me of similar rocks on my grandparents’ property and I had a moment with them. I came back to my cushion feeling like I’d had a busy day at work–but a whole new kind of work.
  • I noticed this weekend how many people at meditation retreats are on the verge of tears, how many going through true crises, my heart blew up with compassion for some of the people who shared their stories.
  • Today’s daylong was with Tara Brach, a famous meditation teacher from DC whom my friend A raves about. A went as far as giving her baby son the middle name Brach–such a deep connection to her spiritual guide. There were around 200 people there plus another few hundred online. I was excited to experience Tara’s teaching after listening to a few of her podcasts, and now I know why she has such a massive following. Her guided meditations were extraordinary. I pushed past stuck thinking in at least four different personal life issues. In one case, she had us envision a situation where we were triggered and reactive, to play it through like a movie, frame by frame, and then pause on the most triggered moment. Then imagine someone you admire (Pema Chodron) filling in your shoes in that moment–how do they react? What advice do they give you? Tears poured down my cheeks as I realized how she’d tricked us all into connecting with our own deep wisdom.
  • Afterward, I had her sign my book (she wrote: “For Katie, with blessings and love. <3, Tara”) and told her I’m a friend of A and another aspiring single mom, and she wished me the best. She told me her sister was an SMC. I put my hand on my heart and she put her hands in prayer and I am her newest fan. www.tarabrach.com (check out her weekly podcast)
  • I feel inspired. I remember what and whom I love. I am aware of my body. My heart is open.
  • I bow to the divine in you.
fertility, IVF, meditation, outdoors, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

receiving

thesolomamaproject

It’s so inspiring be here. Time passes slowly, the sun sliding gracefully across the sky, the clock ticking on the wall of the yoga room, the phases of the day unfolding gradually. No one is in a hurry. Last week, I was literally running from one meeting to the next. This morning, I finished my breakfast, hung around talking and laughing with new friends for what seemed like a long time, and I still have an hour free before our dharma talk at 9:30.

I never have this kind of leisurely pace. Here, even when we’re doing something like yoga or meditation or eating or walking or reading, we’re doing it mindfully, and time takes on a different dimension.

Here it is a holiday weekend and time is not flying by. (Bonus!)

With this kind of time, you get new perspectives, new ideas for ways of being. We’ve been discussing the concept of generosity and giving vs, receiving; we’re in a mindset of receiving. I receive the birds flickering by outside my window, this simple room, a slice of steaming bread just delivered. I receive the lighthearted company of new friends, a full belly, shivasana. In this mindset, we all clear each other’s dishes, offer to get each other a cup of tea, walk together in silence to 5am meditation. In a mindset of receiving, you have more to give.

Meditation this morning was better although I still feel like such a bumbling newbie in the zendo. Getting to my zafu I have down. Sitting for 40 minutes was good, I was on my knees and pretty comfortable. My mind was serene. I listened to moisture falling off the trees and hitting the roof. I heard the frog anthems give way to birds. I heard people around me sniffling and repositioning.

We transitioned into walking meditation and a nun had to redirect me as I was going in the wrong direction.

During the second meditation, I was more restless, I repositioned a lot to avoid the panic and impulse to run away (my teachers laughed yesterday when i asked about this and agreed that torture is not the point). Amazing how quickly my brain goes there when discomfort arises. But the posture clinic and the intense yoga yesterday have me looser, more forgiving, less perfectionist.

Then we segued into chanting and prostration where I was truly lost and a kindly older man pointed me to the right place in the prayer book. It’s good to be new at something and let the wise ones guide you. Lots of bowing. Glad it’s about the Buddha and not some weird California cult.

Coincidentally, there’s an SMC here who I met last summer. She is pregnant–after a failed IVF, she went back to IUIs. We keep catching each other on the way to meals and then get cut off as we observe ten minutes of silence at the beginning of meals. Somehow I think we both only want to go there in smaller doses, which seems appropriate here.

There was a yoga pose yesterday where we laid on a bolster going the length of our spine with the bottoms of our feet together and knees resting on zafus, arms splayed out. To me it felt like, “Here’s my uterus, universe! Ready to receive!” We held the pose for twenty minutes.

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

zen

thesolomamaproject

Well, can you believe it? The Guest House has internet. So my pre-posts can now be posts.

I arrived yesterday afternoon, abuzz after zipping in from NY, unpacking, packing, and flying over the Golden Gate Bridge while talking to my mom on the phone. Arrived 10 mins late, only to find that time is a bit fluid here, the Intro to Zazen class had just begun.

Thus began my re-entry into the world of zendos, zafus, Zazen, and zen. The little mat that goes under the zafu also starts with z although I can’t remember it now…

Green Gulch Farm is a gem, an absolutely stunning property below Highway 1 and tucked into a valley just behind the coastal hills. The place could not be more green, could not have more constant birdsong, could not be any closer to the city while feeling worlds away from the city. The buildings are beautiful in their simplicity, with stairways and lit pathways forming a small labyrinthine village. The people in the office welcomed me and I could palpably feel that their pace was about one-third of my own.

Intro to Zazen was brief and covered the important “forms” to follow in formal meditation practice: step through the doorway with a certain foot, take two steps in and bow to the Buddha, bow to your zafu, turn clockwise and bow to the room, sit on the zafu without touching the edge where the monks eat, spin clockwise and get into position. It seems religious but everything has a function to help you be mindful, grateful, present.

Then we started with yoga class which was perfect for my weary jet-lagged body which has not really done yoga in years since I hurt my back years ago. We did resting poses, opened up our hips, almost always were laying down with blankets next to the wood-burning stove.

There are 17 of us. Mostly people seemingly my age, some a bit older, thoughtful, friendly. We ate dinner in the dining hall–nuns carried out giant dishes of food with brown rice, a tomato vegetable stew, and roasted zucchini. We chitchatted and got to know each other a bit, lovely people.

After dinner we did an icebreaker and I realize how many people are overly stressed at work, struggle to maintain a meditation practice, want more in life than a hamster wheel. The teacher had us invite people into the room who are not really here, people for whom we will practice. I thought of many of you.

I went to bed at 9:00 and it was perfectly quiet even though there are many people here.

Alarm at 4:30 (thank goodness I’m on east coast time) and I dressed in many layers to head to Zazen in the meditation hall. I stepped outside in the dark and looked around to get my bearings and there was the full moon like a spotlight in the night sky, it absolutely took my breath away.

I didn’t need my headlamp. Walked in, a nun showed me to my zafu, whether or not I did all the steps right I don’t think anyone noticed, and I settled in. Occasionally there was a gong or a bell. There was a symphony of birdsong.

I felt wonderful and proud and grateful for about twenty minutes and eventually my body started hating it and going into distress mode and I repositioned and breathed and knew I would survive. (I’m going to a posture clinic in 15 mins which will help.)

I survived. Afterward, rather than walking meditation followed by a second Zazen, I went back the Guest House for delicious bread with peanut butter and jam and chamomile tea and then headed out on a walk. The moon now hung pale pink in the lightening blue sky. I crunched down the gravel path alone, through the gorgeous farm with its colorful rows of flowers and leafy greens, saw quail, rabbit, a red-winged blackbird, some horses, breathed the cool air. I emerged at Muir Beach as the sun came over the hills, heading over to the little house I rented with my family two Thanksgivings ago, the first time I officially told my family of my plans to become a single mom.

Facing the sun on the way back, I walked a bit faster to make it in time for breakfast. Everything sparkled in the morning dew. I ran into F, one of my favorite people so far, searching for a very noisy woodpecker he could not see. We strolled in to breakfast: hot rice cream cereal, tofu sweet potato something or other, hard boiled eggs, and hot apple juice.

Over breakfast, I connected with L who has a beautiful Hawaiian name, who is a freelance writer. She’s actually here on assignment. I got so inspired talking to her. Let’s be honest, this is my passion. I just have to start navigating from here to there, and write more, and write all kinds of new topics and formats and just dig in. When we were done she said she’d be glad to talk to me more about it later and I came back here to write this.

From here. With peppermint tea. xo

20130525-090709.jpg