Happy New Year!!!

As my DeDa used to say, "today is the first day of the rest of your life; happy new year!!!"

I logged an entry into my personal journal today.  My writing ritual closes with a random peek back at a previous exercise.  Sometimes, there is a connection.  Which isn’t that unlikely considering I’m the only writer and I’ve been exploring some of the same themes my entire life.  Other times, the synchronicity is worth sharing, like today.  As many of you know today is Samhain in the Celtic tradition, which I don’t necessarily follow so much as get, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, it became Halloween as a night to let it all hang out before All Saints Day, cause the Catholic clergy knew the best way to attract congregants was to simply adopt their already existing holy nights and polish them up with a new name.  Come party with us, we have wine and incence!!! 

I connect with the older notion of this being a night of closure and renewal.  In the Celtic calendar, these last few nights have comprised their 13^th month and tonight is New Year’s Eve.  My journal entry that I looked back on from earlier this year happened to be from the Lunar New Year.  There is no doubt in my mind that the universe helped me to this list so I could see how well I’ve done.  I’ve notated what I’ve accomplished with a þ and (explained what I’m still challenged with).  I hope you enjoy this slice of my personal journey.  I love it when y’all comment cause then I know you really care enough to share your feelings too, but no pressure.  Aloha.

Journal Entry 2/22/15

Finally coming to the Lunar New Year…PHEW!  I totally understand, after the fact, how crazy this horsey ride has been.  Way too strong-willed toward the end.  Racing to get back to the barn before it gets burned down.  Ready for the goat: social, herding, ungulates – right up my alley, except for their crazy eyes.  Anyway, if I did want to realize this animals potential in my life, I suppose I should be looking at not head butting anyone, but also getting out in the larger Maui community more.

My wishes for the New Year are:

1.     Realize my personal power as an accomplished teacher and find more gigs.þ

2.     Continue my newfound healthy lifestyle, including making love with my partner everyday. þ

3.     Increase my inner resiliency with a continued effort at tubing every night and mindfully applying self-acupressure and self-study. þ

4.     Help David become financially successful. (Now modified to allow me to practice observing things I can’t control without trying to fix them)

5.     Customize our home and garden harmoniously. þ

6.     Keep watching my prickly-meter so I can live a drama free life. þ

7.     Let Noj go even more. (Still hard, especially this trip; but I’m trying, really)

8.     Make beautiful triplets.  (Having fun trying)

9.     Visit family, far and near. þ

By the grace of my will I truly desire these things, and however they choose to manifest, I will gratefully receive them. 

TTC 31 Years Post-Menarche

You know the memories that are so deeply impressed in your mind that there is no question they will ever fade?  I’d like to share with you the slightly mortifying story of my first menstrual cycle and how that shaped my personal views of AF (Aunt Flo), until just two years ago when I felt my very first longings to have children.  

If you’re still reading, the story begins at Lakeside Middle School in Irvine California.  I was in 8^th grade the fall of 1984, and it was just before my 13^th birthday.   Changing after gym class on Friday afternoon, I realized my shorts and underwear were period soaked.   My first thoughts were about how lucky I’d been to have on dark colors so the blood was unobserved.  I knew what was happening, but I wasn’t prepared and I was terrified of the gym teacher, so I stuffed tp in my pants and went on to class.  I think the shock of this slightly unwelcome intrusion of my burgeoning fertility kept me from feeling the initial cramps, but by the time school was out, I was uncomfortable and still slightly baffled.

You see, I was scheduled to climb Mt. Whitney that weekend with my Dad and little brother, and my Mom was already out of town at a Girl Scout event.  There was no way in hell I was going to talk to my Dad about what to do.  (In fact, Dad, if you’re reading this, please don’t ever tell me that you did.)  Anyway, I somehow survived the hike using tp, and Mitch got the two of us a reprieve from summiting when he had difficulties with altitude sickness.  There’s a shot of us feeding the camp birds the morning Dad summited.   It was nice to be still in our camp and observe the hustle and bustle of the many other climbers.

I remember the movement helping, and I loved backpacking back then, so the feeling of the hip strap may have been supportive and comforting.  I also remember being greatly relieved when we returned to civilization and indoor plumbing.  Even before my Mom got home, I had found the instructions in a box of tampons and successfully stemmed the tide of AF.  But I can’t help but wonder: if that life transition had been honored and celebrated instead of hidden, would I have valued my fertility in the way I now know it deserves?

It has only been two years since I started welcoming AF with joy, and secondary signs of fertility with excitement.  Most of my cycles were accompanied by extreme cramping that I now realize was a symptom of out of balance hormones.  I was a drama queen until I finally became aware of the ill effects I was causing myself.   My parents calling me Sarah Bernhardt when I threw tantrums as a child only made me react more.  I’ve learned stress control the hard way as I’ve tweaked my functional and emotional systems through trial and error with mostly allergen-free diet and mindful exercise, mostly yoga, walking and swimming.

However, for the majority of my adult life, I was partnered with, and behaved like an adult child, and I felt completely unprepared to care for real babies so I did everything in my power to avoid getting pregnant.  When I did accidentally conceive, there was no discussion about whether or not to carry to term.  We could barely take care of ourselves; we would be train wrecks of parents.  Some physical discomfort was endured in exchange for continuing our chosen lifestyle.  It seemed like the right choice.

Unfortunately, there was emotional trauma that didn’t get voiced or worked through.  I realize now that I didn’t even consult my ex or ask how he felt.  I went to him with my solution, and probably didn’t even ask for comments or suggestions.  Even though it was my body and my life, I now see that was callous, as was my horrific treatment of that precious unborn life.  What I can hardly believe looking back, is that I messed up twice more, and each time confirmed that I still didn’t consider us fit for parenthood.   I tried to question my ambivalence and attempted to turn my awareness up, but I didn’t feel a connection to those literally ill conceived fetuses.  I couldn’t envision a life with children of my ex.

Why were we together?  I think we truly enjoyed each other’s presence for a long time, most of 22 years.  We had common interests and hobbies; more like best friends than passionate mates, usually.  Settled, and ever so slightly stuck, but not uncomfortably, really.  The second half of our partnership was aboard a sailboat, so the energy always quickly refreshed if we happened to have a disagreement.  But we just slowly stopped connecting at all, unless we went away together, and then everything would seem great.   But it really wasn’t, so we broke up.  After all, there were no children to tie us together. 

Now I’ve built a successful relationship with a man who cares so much about my well being that I feel pampered into compliance with challenging preconception protocol.  And I realize if we want to make a great baby, we need a healthy vessel and conduit.  Shortly after meeting my new partner’s adult children, I knew I wanted to have his kids if I could.  I shared this desire, and of course my amazing partner (AP) agreed that it would be fun.  What a cool guy!  So here we are two years after that first decision to reverse his vasectomy.  On August 25 this year, the surgeon performed a vasoepididymostomy, where the vas deferens is surgically reattached directly to the epididymis.   AP healed up quick and clean, like a young dog, and could hardly wait out his two-week doctor’s ordered celibacy.

In the meantime, I’m working with a team of providers to smooth out my hormonal systems and thus replenish my ability to make and carry a baby to term.  Positive changes, even small ones, keep us motivated to stay on track with healthy, sustainable habits.  Cramps and stress are easing when I remember to follow my recommended courses of treatment and actions, and I’m settling into the magic baby journey.  I’m not feeling rushed as we cast off on this voyage together.  It’s taken me more than twenty years to embrace this adventure and I’m steady and ready.