I feel torn between talking about this amazing list of ‘coping kills’ I put together this week for our upcoming IVF cycle, as well as the paperwork my husband and I had to digest…annnnd the call that my mom made to me this morning where she detailed an event from the middle of the night about a man crashing his car into the side of their house…my house. My childhood home. And so maybe I can talk about all three and maybe there’s some way that the significance of these three things happening in this week might provide some meaning.
My first thought is that each of these things represents a total loss of control. The list I developed for the various stages of IVF are to manage my stress around the ‘lack of control’ I will inevitably feel over my body and my emotions while undergoing various treatments and procedures. I hope that they will soothe me, but it is not guaranteed. I developed a safety parachute that may not open when I need it to.
The paperwork involves signing documents that state that I understand what is entailed in the various protocols with regards to medications, injections, procedures, and finally (and hopefully) what our options are with our sweet little embryos. The whole process of taking these documents into our heads and our hearts and considering various scenarios that have not happened feels surreal. Like I’m floating above a life I live and trying to mindfully make decisions about events that I hope will never ever happen. This paperwork is a legal representation over the ‘lack of control’ we really have in how my body responds to medications and the invasive procedures. It represents the possibility that I will be changed. And that I cannot control it.
And finally, my parents having a stranger’s truck sitting half-way through the side of their home in an historically quiet and safe neighborhood is a big ‘Hello, you cannot control this!’ in my face and my family’s. The driver of the vehicle survived and nobody was seriously injured, that I know of. However, where my mom sets her beautiful stained glass window is now covered in glass and a window is boarded up where the truck actually penetrated their home. The space where my dad freely plays his harmonica and sways to his music, is a crime scene and unusable. Their security was threatened and their home contains a low fog of grief. Total. Lack. Of. Control.
All three of these things scream at me and remind me that I cannot control anything. I can’t control how my body responds to what’s about to happen to me through IVF…a baby cannot be guaranteed. My healthy, my life cannot be guaranteed. There are risks and I do not control them, but I must sign for them. For legal purposes. And my parents can be asleep in their home and a man can drive straight through their fence and into the side of their wall…and their safety can be affected. It all happens and I cannot control it. At all.
I think the best news is that what I can do is live my life in a way that will prepare me for all the chaos that is life. And for all that slips through my control. I can love myself and others and find deep peace in that connection. I can feed myself nourishing foods that support my sensitive nature. I can keep my eyes wide open and make myself aware of the good, the bad, and everything in between…and then choose to focus on the good. I can exercise and move my body for mental freedom. I can find ways to creatively express my truest self and my passions. I can be silly and I can be serious and I can have empathy for all people. Because truly, if I have no control, then nobody does. We share that as living beings. And I can feel…feel it all. So that when something crashes down upon me, I can trust that I will always do my best to get back up. That there will always be a rising after the storms that I cannot control.
I love you ❤️