I'm not taking the yoga out of Write On Yoga. I feel the need, however, to acknowledge a new direction in the content of my posts here. I used to have a mom blog and a yoga blog, but who has time for that? It also felt schizophrenic to discuss mom stuff and yoga stuff as if they had nothing to do with each other. For an update on how I plan to unite the two subjects, check out my new About page.
Fair warning to my long-time Write On Yoga readers (you are still out there, right?): this post is going to be a heavy dose of mom blog because...
I'm ready to have another baby. I intended to be more subtle about it this time around, but I thought that would mean simply having the patience to get pregnant on our first cycle of secretly trying, surprise the family with a Christmas announcement, and let the cat out of the bag to everyone else at the end of the first trimester, which should be right about now.
Instead, we're on our third cycle of trying and shenpa has dug its dirty claws into my formerly nonchalant attitude towards achieving baby #2. If you have any sort of fertility challenges, let's pause for a moment so you can laugh and curse my melodrama.
For me, shenpa and trying to conceive go hand-in-hand. I just recently learned about shenpa--the Tibetan word for attachment or hooked--from Pema Chodron. It's that thing that makes you tighten and grasp desperately for something--anything--for relief.
During cycle #1, I felt relaxed, open. I practiced first trimester poses out of Iyengar Yoga for Motherhood and listened wistfully to Sarah McLachlan's "Building a Mystery." Now on cycle #3, I'm all tightened up about it. I'm on forums scouring for details that both encourage and discourage my hopes of having another baby. I'm considering digging out the basal body thermometer and Taking Charge of Your Fertility charts if this cycle doesn't work out. I'm pushing my toddler to wean faster than he would like just in case breastfeeding is interfering with implantation. There's nothing wrong with these things in and of themselves. In a weird way, the forums especially, are a fun part of trying to conceive for me, and I'm fascinated by knowing what's going on with my body, not to mention I'm ready to stop whipping out a boob every time it's time to nap or Cam has hit his head again.
What I'm doing, though, is reaching for these diversions to avoid sitting in the reality of being out of control. The space that I want to be sitting in is the truth that fertility statistics are in my favor and that it's perfectly normal to try for a year or more before getting pregnant.
That's so boring, isn't it? It's so much more entertaining to bury my head in self-perpetuated drama. But premature phrases like secondary infertility and aging ovaries are horror movies that come with negative consequences on my mental health. So I'm going to try to reframe this. Instead of focusing on all the maddening things about trying to conceive (cutting back on red wine and coffee, not knowing when and if I'll be pregnant, the two week wait...oh, the two week wait), I'm going to start exploring the inviting, fuzzy things about trying to conceive, like sex, anticipation (is that a fancy word for anxiety?), taking extra good care of myself, and enjoying one-on-one time with my toddler while I'm still a mother of one.