Category: writing

dating, meditation, running, writing

quietness and escape

thesolomamaproject

In bed post-work day, post-run, post-burrito, post-bath. It’s 8:49pm. I had intended to keep working this evening but just gave in to the need to rest my brain and write and get some extra sleep.

To pick up where I left off, the phone call cleared everything up and made me like the Artist even more. I felt so silly when I re-read my reactive tough-girl emails now that I could see his true intention. A mini-misunderstanding, a mini-outburst, and a mini-resolution. Afterward, he said he found this ‘strangely encouraging.’

My behavior is new and fits with my new no-bullshit attitude. Just enough anger to cause a messy little scene plus trigger its resolution. I got perilously close to dismissing him altogether (and probably vice versa). I’m on the right track here.

Meditation was well-timed last night. I felt so wound up and totally un-grounded and worn out and stressed. I slowed the F down. I sat. Thoughts and fantasies and fear and wonder spun through my brain and spiraled on until I got quiet. And then, at the dharma talk, I heard this:

Quietness

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.

Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.

Escape.

Walk out like somebody suddenly born into color.

Do it now.
You’re covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side.

Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.

Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.

The speechless full moon
comes out now.

– Jelaluddin Rumi

When Howie recited these last lines, I was left breathless. “The speechless full moon”–so poignant, so how we always find it there. I saw it there tonight, hanging speechless in the lavender sky, above the fog.

And the running from silence–we do, we do, we do.

Meditation is an escape, but you’re not running ahead of a pack of wolves; you’re still, you’re silent, you’re (in the poem) dead. You’re peaceful. Who doesn’t crave this?

Today, there was an uproar on facebook over what seems to be an untrue rumor that old private messages were now showing up as public wall posts. Everyone, including me, freaked out. Before I could really evaluate what was there, I erased it all. And I felt mad at this entity that connects us and yet controls us. The type of escape that’s great in moderation but over time becomes addictive, that eats up free time, that can leave you feeling less-than. Running from silence.

Then Pema Chodron posted this (on facebook!):

RENOUNCE ONE THING

“For one day (or one day a week), refrain from something you habitually do to run away, to escape. Pick something concrete, such as overeating or excessive sleeping or overworking or spending too much time texting or checking e-mails. Make a commitment to yourself to gently and compassionately work with refraining from this habit for this one day. Really commit to it. Do this with the intention that it will put you in touch with the underlying anxiety or uncertainty that you’ve been avoiding. Do it and see what you discover.”
(From Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change)

For me, for now, my ‘one thing’ is facebook. I’m doing a terrible job of renouncing it (even just went there to get the quote!) but I’ll keep trying until I can get it to unlock its grip. Slide out the side.

I’ll see him again tomorrow night. Early dating is feeling much like early pregnancy; the mantra is: don’t get too excited. Stay grounded.

He came up with a good second date: Nightlife at the Academy of Science (theme: fungi) followed by one of my favorite bars with fancy bourbon drinks. But not too many.

Become the sky.

acupuncture, anxiety, dating, pregnancy loss, privacy, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

karma

thesolomamaproject

Last Saturday, the day after my return from Brazil, I went on a 10-mile run through Golden Gate Park with my housekeys, a $20, and my driver’s license in my little shorts pocket. When I was within half a mile from my house, I was suddenly ravenous enough to eat my arm, so I opted instead to duck into Falletti Foods, an outrageously expensive grocery with a buffet of hot food. In my delirious hunger, I grabbed a crazy mix of foods and the cashier totaled it at $14 and change. I handed him my slightly moist $20. He gave me back a $10, a $5, and some change. I blinked and walked away.

As I sat there eating my chicken & artichoke lasagna and french fries, here was the voice in my head, “This place charges an insane amount for its food. They won’t miss $10. I could give it to a homeless person. Redirect the corporate surplus. I should stop being so honest all the time. I could donate it to the Obama campaign. I could keep it. I’m sure it didn’t cost them more than $5 something to make the food I’m eating. But……..won’t I spend the rest of the day stressing about it? What if the cashier gets in trouble? What if it comes out of his check?”

And, with that, I finished up and returned the $10 to the embarrassed and grateful cashier.

This morning, I was running through my neighborhood and saw a BART ticket on the ground. I thought, “I should stop and see if there’s any money on it,” but decided to leave it and see if it was still there on my way back. Half an hour later, there it was. I picked it up. $13.05. The universe gave me interest!

I’m sitting in a café with a tall Pellegrino. It’s 7:22pm. I have a date here at 8, or “8-ish,” as I believe he said, which bugged me. I can write until he gets here which I will bet you will be in one hour. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being out of my mind excited to meet him, I am a 3.

Sigh. It’s been a wild week. Coming back from the forced respite from this project was a little tough, re-facing the reality of it. But, as my acupuncturist told me a couple of hours ago, why not just continue the vacation until my cycle kicks back in? I can’t really do or plan anything until then anyway. I like that. I’m still on vacation from this.

Coming back, I feel stronger. An unexpected result of this that I am in close touch with my anger. I don’t typically have a temper but lately I am on a hair trigger. Don’t cross a line with me right now, because I’m not putting up with bullshit. I should have done this a long time ago. Toxic people: out. Reactive, ill-considered e-mail, send. Insensitive post: unfriend. Surround me with love and support and otherwise I do not have time for you right now.

I had a shock this week when I met up with a friend who left my company a few months ago. Halfway through lunch, she says, “SO, I hear you’re pregnant!” I was stunned. I’ve been so careful about not sharing this with work friends, only the tiniest handful. I said, “Oh really, who told you that?” And she chirped, “Everyone!”

Well, first of all, I’m not. (Of course, she was mortified.) And second of all, it’s not public knowledge. I feel betrayed by whoever leaked this super-private news that I shared in confidence. I don’t really blame this friend, or the others who heard through the apparent grapevine. They thought it was public. But the floor absolutely dropped out from underneath me.

It dawns on me now (yes, now, 4 months after starting a public blog) that people talk. It’s human nature–this is juicy news to share. People love to be the one who knows first. Rationalization: I’m sure it’s safe to tell, I mean, after all, she writes it all down on a public blog!

It also dawns on me that I have no idea who reads this blog. I know who subscribes to it, but there are anywhere between 30 and 100 views per day beyond that. Are you out there, my boss’s boss? Hello, ex-boyfriends! Greetings to all my enemies, frienemies, stalkers, and identity thieves. You’re all invited. This is a public blog. We’re in this together. Please, please, please don’t F this up.

It’s risky putting all this out there, but you know what? This is my choice. This is how I live. This is so me. I’m loving writing. I keep a cozy loveseat for some of my favorite people in here. I love this!

I won’t subscribe to conspiracy theories… No one is taking this to my boss (right???). This post is about karma. I will be trusting and faithful that this will blog will do more good than harm, and that my readers will hold this information with exquisite respect and care. Lord knows, it’s done me a world of good to share with you, dear readers. The beauty rises to the top, the garbage falls away. What goes around comes around. I forge ahead with love and the best intentions.

And if you don’t like it, you can fuck off!!!!

IUI, outdoors, pregnancy loss, privacy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait, writing

validation

thesolomamaproject

I saw Dr. Tran on Wednesday, and I love him. I’m definitely noticing a falling-in-love trend with every male doctor I encounter in this process (is it ethical to date the guy who draws your blood? who causes you pain during a procedure? who gets you pregnant?). But Dr. T. has my heart for real.

He invited me into his office and I said, “I’m seeing you at 4pm and last time I saw you at 7am–you must work long days,” and he said, “Yes, I typically work from 7 until about 6, but I love what I do, so I can’t complain.” Aw.

At first, he assumed that I was there to talk about interventions (i.e. meds) but I quickly realized that Olga had conveyed to him exactly nothing about my recent experience. Which didn’t surprise me, since she acted like it never happened. On the bright side, I got to tell him myself, including the part about how Olga let me know over the phone (“I just can’t figure out how you got two positive tests. Was the test expired?”).

He turned his monitor toward me and asked me to show him on the calendar the day of my IUI, followed by the days of the positive pregnancy tests. He said, “OK, yes. You were pregnant. It’s what we call a “biochemical pregnancy.” He compassionately acknowledged the emotional side of what I had just gone through, and said, “But from a medical point of view, I take this as very good news. You don’t have fertility issues. Everything works!”

He even said he would make a gentle suggestion to Olga about how to approach this type of situation. (i.e. in Me vs. Olga, I won.)

I realized that the whole reason I set up the appointment was to hear him say all of the above. And he said it! More than once! I said, “You can say it again, if you want!” (PS do you want to get coffee after this?)

In a nutshell, since everything is working, it’s probably just a matter of time. No need to introduce hormones or trigger shot or ultrasounds for now. He said that if he were in my shoes, he would give it a total of 6 unmedicated tries. I told him about Rio at the end of August, and how that seems to be a natural turning point, after 5 tries (so: 2 more). At that point, if nothing’s happening, I can Rio-valuate.

I practically skipped out of there. It makes me realize how important it is to feel validated. I couldn’t really get through this until I knew for sure that it happened.

Validation is so important in this process. I feel its importance both when I’m talking to women who are down about another BFN (big fat negative) or going crazy in the 2 week wait, and I try to say things to cheer them up–but sometimes I’m missing that they just need someone to listen, to hear them right where they are. I feel it when people say to me, “Can you just be more laid back–put it out of your mind, go about your biz, pretend it’s not happening? The stress can’t be helping…” and it’s like UM, SURE I’d love to do that. Can you tell me how? Because, as much as it really is a great idea, I am incapable right now of just Being Less Stressed. Where I’m at is: losing my mind to hope and fear and joy and disappointment. I know it’s uncomfortable, but…can you meet me there?

I’ve also been giving a lot of thought to the blog and the public play by play. Because it’s all about me, total self-absorption, and that’s not how I live my life–I would write about all of you if I thought I could get away with it! The way I see it, this would all be going on in my head, only in a more chaotic, messy format, so the fact of keeping a blog is not influencing how excited or sad or freaked out I get. The blog helps me get it out of my head (which is positive) and helps me rally support around me (which I need). So, it’s win-win for me. Sometimes, though, I feel sorry for you, dear readers, dragged along on all my ups and downs. But, I won’t apologize… It takes two to tango: I’m not forcing your eyeballs onto these words. 😉

Thanks for being here. It’s messy, huh?

Finishing up my work day and heading home to pack for Girl Weekend in Sebastopol. Could this be any better timed? On the agenda, we have a hot tub, canoeing, a rodeo, yummy food, margaritas, yoga, stars, and five amazing ladies. Thumbs up!

pregnancy loss, privacy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

on privacy and openness

thesolomamaproject

Good morning, Day 27!

In general, I’m an extremely open person. If I have a complicated personal situation or TMI storyline going on that is troubling me or exciting me or puzzling me, chances are good that all you have to say is, “How are you?” and I will launch in. It’s how I connect. People usually respond by softening and opening up themselves, given that I so easily lay my heart on the table, and then we’re mutually sharing, and we have things in common, and suddenly we don’t feel like such alien freaks.

Of course, there is such a thing called “boundaries,” as I have learned in many years of therapy. There is an element of the process above that includes an aversion to withholding whatever is going on with me, as if I have judged this person unfit to handle the real back story, which can send me into an internal spiral that this person now realizes I’m lying to him/her by saying, “Fine, how are you?” It’s also tempting to want approval in everything I do, from everyone around me, all the time. But I’m pretty sure that’s everyone.

So, all of the above present an interesting dilemma in the process of trying to conceive as a single mom, which is notoriously cloaked in our culture, often kept secret until the end of the first trimester. I’ve always known that, partnered or not, this clandestine approach would be hard for me to the point of being impossible. I understand being cautious and the heartbreak of having to send a sad press release to the masses. However, in my case, especially un-partnered, it is those same masses that will pull me through. (I acknowledge that I may feel wildly different about this later on and do a 180 and that’s fine too.)

From the beginning, when I was in the thinking/planning/researching phase, I checked in with myself every time a friend said, “So, what have you been up to?” Just checked with my heart and it usually said, “Go for it.” I’ve been building up my support system the way a mama bird builds a nest. http://livestre.am/1kdZa

Of course, this opens me up for comments, opinions, recommendations, and zingers. I’ve already gotten tips on what to definitely do or definitely not do when it comes to giving birth and parenting (“You’re not going to do cry it out, are you?”) and questions that sound more like an indictment (“You do a lot of activities. You know you’ll have to give them all up, right?”) Overall, though, if that’s the worst my people can dish up, concern turned up a little too high and pushed through their own filter of experience, then bring it on. I’m getting better (god willing) at letting things roll off my back. If it really gets to me, I come home and listen to Pema Chodron recordings.

A few times, I have hit an edge. After I chose my donor (a great story for another day), I had friends ask if I would email his photos. That felt instantly wrong. I decided that I will show them only in person, and only if I feel like it. Later, when a TV production company approached the founder of Single Mothers by Choice about doing a documentary, I expressed my interest in participating as a way of raising awareness. After talking to the producer, I was turned off–it sounded more like reality TV. This journey is uncharted–none of us know where we’re headed. Broadcasting on national TV seemed like way too far over the line. I pulled out.

Which brings me to the blog. This  feels so good to write, and I’m so gratified that so many friends are checking in. My number of views is much bigger than expected and: we’ve gone international! I did take the step of keeping it anonymous, although the majority of followers are people I know very well. I may over-share sooner or later and end up with a vulnerability hangover… But, so far so good.

I hope you share it with friends who are considering single motherhood or maybe would just enjoy reading this, but I do ask that you not forward it to anyone I work with. That is the last frontier! Speaking of which, I’m off to a meeting.

fertility, IUI, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

maybe

thesolomamaproject

Feeling zen after a day that included therapy, acupuncture, and group meditation. Yes, I am a caricature of a Northern Californian.  I’ve been staying attuned to the yo-yo nature of the infamous two-week-wait (“I probably am!” “I’m probably not…”) and all the accompanying emotions, which thankfully have not been too intense. Mostly, I’m calm and going about my biz. However, I’ve experienced every phantom symptom under the sun (I won’t bore you with the extremely long list) and have been amazed at just how hyper-vigilant I can be about the minute to minute sensations of my uterus. Tracking my temps (staying high would be a good sign), resisting a home pregnancy test, and patiently waiting to see who shows up: Aunt Flo or a bun in the oven. Consider the vast difference between these two possibilities and staying prepared for both. 8dpo (days past ovulation). I will probably write  a novel before these 2 weeks are up.

I have a long-standing appointment to get set up with an RE (reproductive endocrinologist, aka fertility doctor, aka the doc who could do my future IUI’s) at UCSF tomorrow morning, so in the event that AF does arrive this weekend, I will have Round 2 in the works. I like how that turned out.

Meanwhile, how does one live with big uncertainty? I keep thinking about a poem I wrote in college, and wanted to share it here. It’s called “maybe”.

on the wall there

gold and starlike

MAYBE

it said

like a dogtreat,

a dangling affirmative,

a not definitely no—

and i can feel the warmth

of a yes,

the neat crunch

of the bullseye.

i used my fingernail

instead of a coin.

my metallic silver fingers

close around the neck

of a gun

and i’m chasing

a moving target,

peeking out its bright face

from behind trees—

i didn’t read the rules,

i couldn’t, they were

miniscule, needed a

telescope,

radar.

i throw out another line

from my stationary nightboat,

gaze up at that star.

biological clock, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, writing

writing about writing

thesolomamaproject

Wheeee! What an honor to receive such sweet comments! Plus, wordpress tells me that my site has been viewed 68 times, which I’m guessing is about a dozen visitors plus me checking back every half an hour… I know that blogging can be somewhat of a one-way street, so it’s really nice to get feedback, and I hope you loudmouths will keep it up.

Completely aside from the topic of trying to get pregnant, I’m excited to have a writing project. My last adventure in writing was when I took a Personal Essay class at the Writing Salon around the time I turned 30 and was heartbroken over the end of a long relationship. The class turned out to be all women. We dug up these super emotionally-charged topics from our own lives and everyone would be nodding and smiling and crying because we’d all been there and it was really more like therapy. When you’re going through a hellish time, it’s so important to remember just how many people are or were in your boat. Because it’s pretty much everyone. That’s an easy one to forget, and so consoling to remember.

After that class, I got away from writing creatively for many years. I keep a journal but honestly have become lazy over the fact of having to handwrite it. When I think to myself: What have I not done yet with my life that I would regret if it all ended tomorrow? What comes up for me is: “I haven’t written my book.” (And, “I haven’t started a family” but you knew that one.) It’s so silly and cliché and American, but there it is. Hopefully it’s also a commentary on how I’ve done pretty well with this one wild and precious life, with no major regrets that I can think of, just gratitude…it seems like things have turned out the way they needed to.

Including doing this without a partner. Somewhere in the years of casually considering and the 6 months of seriously planning, I adjusted to the idea of becoming a single mom. By choice. (Or, as some call it, a “choice mom” which sounds totally weird to me, as in, “That’s a choice mom,” or “Check out the MILF!) Not that I wouldn’t prefer doing this with someone. Do I even have to say that? Of course I would rather share parenthood with someone I love who helps out and gives foot massages and brings in a whole second income.

But the plain fact was that when the music stopped at the end of my 30s, I was left standing. It’s ridiculous! Unacceptable! Unfair! How could it be?? says the chorus of friends and family as well as the one in my mind in moments of high self esteem. But… it just is. And: it’s not forever. I’m convinced that ultimately I couldn’t be at peace in a relationship until I resolved this. So, that divorced dad is somewhere down the road, and he will think I am the most courageous and passionate lady he’s ever met. Or maybe I’ll meet him tomorrow, shoot! I’m not off the market yet, people! Or maybe he’ll read my bestselling book. Or see the movie. That’ll seal the deal.