Solidering On

At yoga yesterday I did something I’ve never done. I purposefully didn’t look up at the clock. I didn’t check the time once while I was there.

I’m the kind of person who ALWAYS wants to check the clock, especially if I’m in the middle of a difficult physical activity. When I used to run, and especially when I was training for my marathon, I alway had to know what mile I was on. When I trained and rode very long, 100+ mile bike rides I was similarly obsessed with keeping track of how many miles we’d gone and how many we had left to go. I found that I was better at pushing through when I knew how much lay ahead; if I didn’t know I was more likely to give up, if only momentarily, and walk or rest.

It’s the same in yoga. When we are in very difficult poses I am much more likely to come out of them if the teacher hasn’t told us how many breathes we’ll be holding the pose. Sometimes I’m just coming out when she says, “five more breaths,” and I think, “well if I had known that I would have stayed in the pose.” I don’t know what it is about an end in sight that gives me strength.

It was hard not to watch the clock today, at least at first. When the first urge hit, I was spending a lot of energy willing myself not to turn around. But as I reminded myself that knowing how much longer we had to go wouldn’t change that time or make it pass more quickly, I lost the urge to look. By the end I was purposefully looking away during certain poses when the clock would have come into view.

There were a few times when I came into child’s pose when I might not have otherwise, but that’s okay. Once, the teacher came over to me and adjusted me in child’s pose, while everyone else was holding Warrior II. Having her take the time to support me in my time of required rest had a profound affect on me.

I’ve thought a lot about how one of the things that makes TTC hard for me is I don’t know what it will happen. If someone just told me, “yeah, you’re going to try for nine months, have a miscarriage and then try for three more,” I would be able to handle the whole thing so much better. As it stands, the not knowing drives me a little batty. I try to tell myself, even if you knew how long it would take, the time wouldn’t pass any faster.

Except that maybe it would, because if I knew I wouldn’t get pregnant for nine months, I wouldn’t put so much pressure on myself, or my partner, during those nine months. I’d let myself drink all the Diet Cokes my heart desired and I wouldn’t push sex even when neither of us wanted to do it. I would just live my life, knowing that that month just wasn’t the one.

Sometimes I wonder, are we destined to get pregnant during a certain month or do we need to fail all the months when we do for pregnancy to finally be achieved? If we had not missed our first month trying might we had gotten pregnant, because we were just destined to get pregnant that specific month? Or do we need to go through all these failed attempts to finally get there and missing that month just pushes back our eventual succes? Or is it nothing like that? Is pregnancy just this magical thing that happens at random, having nothing to do with when you try or for how long? I honestly have no idea how it works, I think that is part of why it’s so hard for me.

After that yoga class I came home to a moment with my partner, and our daughter, that was difficult for me to understand. (He has requested I not blog about it and I am respecting that request). It makes me question our attempts to have another child at all. Isa is so challenging lately, and spending all of most days with her this summer I frequently wonder how I’d manage with another child. It’s clear that Mi.Vida has similar fears about our ability to navigate the waters of parenting two small children.

Again I am made to wonder if I’m forcing something that no one wants but me, something that maybe I can’t even handle. Maybe this whole trying to have another baby thing is a terrible mistake, one my family will suffer greatly for. I honestly don’t know what to think of any of this anymore. I feel so lost and alone. How can anyone understand what I’m going through when I don’t even understand it myself?

This is all so hard, so multifaceted and I find myself failing time and time again to make any sense of it. I feel like right now I’m just operating on faith, a faith I can no longer embrace. I don’t have faith that we’ll ever get pregnant. And I don’t have faith that if we do, it will be a positive thing. And yet I keep solidering onward, blindly stepping one foot in front of the other, marching on without any idea of where I’m going, because really, it’s all I know how to do.

It’s hard not knowing how many steps I’ll have to take before I arrive at my destination. And it’s even harder to not know where that destination is, and if I’ll even like it when I get there.

4 responses

  1. I’m there with you. I was drawing that parallel before the writing kicked in, about knowing if there’s an end, or just the ‘not knowing’ in the first place. And of course, the wondering if what you’re wanting to achieve is, in reality, going to be what you hope it to be.

    And if I knew it would take 9 months and a miscarriage to get there, would you totally be slacking off up until that point? Or do you think we would try and prove the prediction wrong? Guess that depends where the info comes from in the first place.

    Oh yeah it would be nice to just know when this is going to end, not even how. I find that when I start thinking about that though, it kinda defeats the object of engaging with life – whats the point if you know there’s another 4 years slog? If I knew 3 years ago what I know now . . . fuck! I don’t know how I’d cope knowing I was still going through this, and more.

  2. It would be great to have a crystal ball, wouldn’t it?

    There is no clock in my yoga studio. And I am so, so thankful. Because it’s one of the few times I can remember that it doesn’t MATTER. It doesn’t matter what time it is. It only matters where I am at that particular microsecond in time.

    Of course, when you’re trying to plan for the future, that approach doesn’t work so well. But looking deeply into the now can perhaps help us think about where we could or want to be. And it sounds like you’re doing that. Be patient, be as quiet as you can, and listen to your heart. I suspect it knows more than your mind. Mine does.

  3. Oh I feel you, K. I think I would do so much better with TTC if I had some clue as to how long I’ll have to wait or what I’ll have to go through to get there. I can handle expected so much better than the unexpected, I can pull through hard times easier if I knew brighter times were just around the corner. But I can’t know that there are. It’s difficult and it’s what has me pumping the brakes at nearly every turn on this. But I have to keep going.

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