Fear.
I’ve learned fear is one of the biggest factors in our decision making process. If we are too afraid of an outcome, we’ll avoid getting in the game and playing. Likewise, fear can change our course mid-journey after a break down or big, game-changing event. But what I’ve found in my own life, is that fear also keeps us from genuinely connecting with other people.
When others realized I’d survived domestic violence, they’d almost always try – whether intentional or not – to differentiate themselves from me so that they could say, “Well, I’d never be a victim because I don’t ____ like Lindsay did,” or “I would never make ________ decision so I’m safe.” They don’t directly say these things to me, but I know they’re happening. It’s human nature and we’ve all done this in various ways throughout life. I can’t say it’s abnormal, but I can say it’s seriously unhealthy.
Maybe they aren’t trying to be judgmental or blame me for what I endured, but – in their own way – they are, right? Because if something doesn’t make sense we all try to box it up and make it safer, distancing ourselves from it and promising ourselves that it will never happen to us.
The funny thing about infertility is I’ve found the exact same responses from the people around me, trying to break apart what has caused Joe (that’s my husband’s name) and I to have to walk this path. Is our diet contributing? Is it our faith (do we pray enough)? Could there be some medical anomaly preventing procreation? What about genetics? Is this a sign we shouldn’t have kids? Do we need to “just relax”? Have we looked into natural supplements? Acupuncture? Chiropractors?
While some of these questions come in the form of attempting to understand what is actually happening in our life (or as recommendations), they ultimately create a divide between us and the person who is asking the queries, and the other party might feel a little safer because they’d go a different direction while I feel alienated.
I’m sure you all know this feeling.
Now that I’m able to recognize these situations for exactly what they are (though I’m not perfect), I’m also able to put my own fears in check when someone else talks about their traumas. I know no amount of rationalization or resistance can actually change the path I’m destined to follow, so I better show up and do my part each day, and when things fall apart, I stir up the spirit inside of me and say, “Let’s start over. Let’s go again.”
What I’ve learned is fear resilience, the ability to recognize fear without allowing it to change or prevent experiences. You see this in the TTC community with people who have undergone countless tests or trials, maybe even losses, and definitely in those who’ve endured infertility treatments. They’ve stared rejection in the face, witnessed their worst nightmare (maybe a BFN), stood back up, strapped themselves in and said, “Yep, I’m in pain, but I’m ready for the next round.”
But sometimes fear resilience isn’t easy.
As we embark on our first round of IVF (with concrete plans for a September retrieval and tentative plans for a November transfer), I can’t help but think how scary it might be to share the entire experience with you.
No matter what happens, I know I can survive it. What I’m clueless to; however, is how much fear resilience I’ll be able to show.
I preach this message often and use it every day in my own life, but IVF brings with it a different level of stakes. Can I keep my composure and make the right choices moving forward knowing people are witnessing this as it happens?
Can I practice what I preach (in my own and my client work)?
If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s you’ll find out at the same time as me.
If I was willing to let my fear of being unable to access my resilience win, I’d already be silent, for sure.
So maybe I’ll make a few missteps, maybe I’ll have to talk more about positive affirmations and my bestie, my tool for all-things-survival: self-care. Regardless, I’m going into this with a heart wide open. I promise I won’t always be this introspective.
Even before our medication class at MCRM, my body isn’t responding the way that it should be. My period is usually clockwork, this one is majorly delayed. After emailing my fab-o coordinator, she brought me in to have an ultrasound and check my hormone levels (via bloodwork). Though all appears to be primed/ready for AF, if it doesn’t show up by Friday I’m going to need to have a full Cetrocide to speed up the process.
I’m not concerned so much about the side effects, though I’ve heard they’re torturous, but I am a bit worried about how my body is responding before we’ve even started the BIG pieces of this journey.
What if this is foreshadowing how the rest of our cycle will go? What if my usually systemic body becomes a freak show?
My theory up to this point was researching meds or hiccups would only lead to confusion and fear (of course), so I haven’t looked at anything online. I’m doing my best to trust the insight of professionals (Google is NOT a professional, peeps). I’m sure there will be moments I question whether or not I’m cut out for this path…
…but I won’t let those questions stop me from moving forward.
I can’t.
We’ve come so far and fought so hard through the normal hiccups (getting a diagnosis, finding a supportive, comfortable clinic, scrapping together the money because insurance doesn’t cover anything, deciding on boundaries of when/where/why we’d decide to start looking at other avenues like adoption, etc), and I’m absolutely certain letting fear steer right now – right here – would be the worst decision ever.
So I told that irritating beast aka fear ( if this were my own blog I’d likely call it something more inflammatory, I’m Italian after all) I knew he was around, I knew he’d be here through this whole thing, but he didn’t get to sit in the driver’s seat. No way. Instead, he could ride shot gun. I won’t ignore his existence, but I won’t let him dictate where the heck I end up.
We are driving through this journey, friends, all of us. You, me, our partners, our dreams.
Us.
So let’s make this choice. Let’s take back the power we actually have instead of feeling so helpless or hopeless.
Are you with me?
I believe you are (and I believe in you).
What hiccups came up that made it hard to face your fear? Share them in the comments below so others can see they simply aren’t alone.
All the best,
Lindsay
If you missed episode 1 of this series, you can read it and follow the entire series here.
About Lindsay Fischer & Her Books
Lindsay Fischer was once a high school English teacher with dreams stretching far outside the classroom. Lindsay has faced numerous turmoils and pitfalls in her life and today’s revolve around the dream of becoming a loving mother. Lindsay’s two books, The House on Sunset and The Two Week Wait Challenge: A Sassy Girl’s Guide to Surviving the TWW both provide self-help advice for how others can battle through as has Lindsay.]]>