Yoga? ...Eh, not so much

So, last week, I bought Yoga 4 Fertility on Amazon. It arrived at work today, and I rushed home to try it out. Gee, do you think that was a precursor? RUSHING home to do YOGA????

So, as you may have already guessed, this yoga DVD is SO not me.

Exhibit A: I am currently watching Dr. Phil, worrying that the dog may be eating grass outside, or perhaps her poo, writing this blog, thinking about what I want for dinner, eyeing the battery strength on my laptop. I walk, type, and do everything a million miles a minute and all at the same time. I'm quite efficient this way. My boss once gave me a cartoon of this woman interviewing for a job and she says, "I can do the work of two men, but I'd have to slow down." And she got this for me, well, because it's true. I already do the work of several men in my office, plus my own job. That's how I roll.

But yoga, sheesh, yoga is for napping. Yoga is apparently like listening to a very long, very boring story that you've heard 50 times already. In fact, in the beginning of this video, the lady freaking teaches you how to breathe and you sound exactly like you're snoring. I'm not even this slow in my sleep!!! After about 20 minutes in the exact same pose, I stopped watching and hit fast forward. I was bored with everything below 20X.

Now, some of you may be saying this is my problem. I can't slow down, can't breathe, can't BE PRESENT! Okay, I know this. You're right. I cannot be present. I'm fine with that. I worry a little that this is contributing to our IF, but I'm going to let that little thought go and not obsess about how obsessions and multi-tasking are causing me not to have a baby, which causes me to obsess about IF all the time. No, I'm just going to sell this stupid DVD and get it out of my eyesight - just one more thing I've failed at. I can't even do yoga!

But back to being present. I've been reading A New Earth and doing the workbooks online with Oprah. And I am aware of the voice in the head, the one that kept me up last night obsessing about one sentence I said to one friend at church, and worrying that what I said was wrong or hurtful and thinking up a pretend conversation with that friend, or worrying that I should call. Seriously, if it is not one thing, it is totally another. Just this record player in my head, which records every word I say and analyzes every other person's response, or analyzes every word a nurse says for innuendo or some clue as to whether their clinical information is positive or negative. Obsess! Obsess! Obsess!

Yoga may not be the answer, but I definitely need to find some relaxation technique. I was awake on and off all night last night, with that stupid conversation and a million other crazy thoughts. Just replaying conversations, or trying to remember to do something when I got to work. How can I shut down my brain and that voice? Ambien. I should probably go see Dr. Drug Pusher and get some Ambien.

No more yoga. I will have to find another way to relax. Ambien might be nice. But I've got Bud Lite in the fridge, so for now, I think I've got a plan. Self medicate. Probably not as healthy as yoga, but more my style, that's for sure. Cheers!

What do you pray for?

These thoughts are all on prayer, but they also seem very random. Reader beware:

I don't know what to pray for.

• I mentioned this to a group of Christians a few weeks ago and one girl suggested that I pray for God to turn my heart so that my will was his will. But what if his will is that I don't have any children? Do I pray for him to change my heart so I don't want this anymore? I can't accept that right now. Nice Assvice, you naive little twit!
• But when a friend is diagnosed with terminal cancer, I tend to accept their fate and pray for God to ease their suffering, to be with them, to let that person know that God is there with them, and to protect the family, and to guide the doctors. I rarely pray for a cure. Maybe I should. Maybe not. When I was in college and my cousin B. was dying of AIDS, I found a card for him that said Serenity is not freedom from the storm, but peace within it. He was going to die. We all knew it. So what was the point of praying for a cure?
• But for me, I don't accept this fate. I don't accept a life without a family of my own. I reject that. And so I pray for a healthy baby of our own. I don't pray for a pregnancy, because I'm afraid that's not specific enough. That could be misconstrued to be just a chemical pregnancy, or maybe I would miscarry, or my baby would be stillborn, or have a heart condition. Or my absurd parenting would cause it extreme emotional problems. So, I find myself being suspersitious and controlling with my prayers - I want a physically, emotionally, and psychologically healthy baby of our own. Not adopted. Not donor anything. Our own.
• I saw Rob.ert S.chuller last fall and he wanted people to repeat the words "God is answering my prayers." to themselves in times of doubt. But God doesn't "seem" to be answering my prayers. Maybe he is. Maybe the eggs I emit each month aren't healthy enough for me. Maybe there would have been a chromosomal abnormality, or I'll be diagnosed with some disease I don't know about yet, and so the delay is saving something so my prayer will be answered. How can you trust that your prayers are being answered, when you can't see it, when there's no progress or no movement, or no sign? How do you hold that faith, or how long do you hold onto it before you decide that you've missed the mark and he doesn't want this for you at all?
• In church a few weeks ago, the special music was My Deliverer by Rich Mullins. I enjoyed it so much, that I had to buy it on itunes. And when I listen to it, I'm brought to tears, like God is coming for me to deliver me. Like everyone or everything that torments me had better watch out, because he's a'comin! I feel like I can hear His footsteps with every beat of the drum, like its gettig louder and building up to this big event. But the song ends, and nothing changes. Month after month of cervical mucus and AF and my body doing everything right, and that nurse with her question, "What aren't YOU pregnant? WHEN is He coming?
• My friend T. told me a few weeks ago (stop me if you've heard this one!) that maybe the timing just hadn't been right for us yet. We're good enough friends that I called her on that bull right away, 'Are you freaking kidding me? How could the timing not be right for four freaking years!' but she had meant to comfort, not to torment.

And then on Thursday night, I read these words by Anne Lamott about grace:

"It is unearned love - the love that goes before, that greets us on the way. It's the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left, when you are empty and desperate and have discovered that your best thinking and most charming charm have failed you. Grace is the light or electricity or juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place and puts you with others who are as startled and embarrassed and eventually grateful as you are to be there."

They really touched me, because I can relate to the grace of being saved of my sins. But being saved in the present from a situation is kind of foreign. I immediately thought of the IF community when I read this, which has saved me from weathering this storm alone. Maybe that's what 'My Deliverer' was coming to bring me. A bunch of blogs.

So, I was wondering what you all pray for??? What do you ask God to do for you, or to give to you, or to work in you?

Again, I apologize that this was all so random. I'm a little beyond coherent thought.

For some reason, last night, I remembered these pictures I have of me and my brother last fall, when I was taking stim shots for our IVF cycle, and thought it would make a nice blog. B. was fascinated with the thought of giving a shot to someone. And talked all night about how he would help me with my Lupron the following morning. DH and I were at home in Iowa for my nephews' birthday party/softball game/extravaganza which is a story in and of itself (read: older sister (aka mother of the nephews) puking behind the dugout because she was so severely hungover, and we were fine and healthy only because we babysat while they went out, because we couldn't drink because of our cycle).

We woke up early, I dug out the drugs, and brought them to the kitchen. He was so nervous, and my sister (who took these pics) was not helping. I was so over shots by this time, but happy for the attention and support of the fam.

To make a long story short, he does not have a future in nursing or any other career that would involve shots. He poked me and then sort of freaked out and started twisting the needle around in my tum. But I didn't bruise or bleed, so it wasn't all bad. And I have these fabulous pictures to remember this special time - much more special than the stims I gave myself in the Houston airport bathroom stall while a woman beside me suffered Montezuma's Revenge!!!

I have a bunch of sad thoughts about our failed cycle, my poor response to those stims, and my super response since then which has caused these cysts that are preventing me from having an IUI this month. (As I write this, I sit in the airport for a work trip that most likely would have been cancelled if we were cycling.) But my family has been SO supportive - after the cycle was cancelled B's wife sent me a card and a gift card to Starbucks for all the caffeine I could enjoy not being PG. And she cried with me when she heard the news we had to cancel. LOVE her! Makes me tear up here in the airport bar.

So, do I have a point? Probably not. I'm just rambling. Thought I'd post these pics of my fabulous, wonderful brother, who will always be my brother, my family, even if I never have children of my own! It's not like I have nothing!



(Please note what a fabulous sister I have who helped me to strategically plan these pictures so that 0% of my bloated, pale, pasty belly would show!!!!)