Happy Birthday to me!

Wow, time flies. Didn't quite realize it had been so long since the last post. During me time away I found out my HCG levels are continuing to decline (last week they were 38) and I turned another year older...39. I can't say the latter was a celebrated event. I anticipated being in a much different place than where I currently am. Last year at this time I was only a couple of months into pursuing fertility treatment. I had hope. I had been scarred by only one miscarriage. I had no idea what grief I was in store for in the coming months.

I've been chewing on something from my last therapist appointment. I mentioned my frustration at the feelings of desperation I was experiencing. I described I was feeling almost manic, wild-eyed at my need to hold onto some hope or illusion that pregnancy will happen for me. I was angry and frustrated at myself for this, I want to be able to move forward and these feelings of desperation postpone it. I relate desperation to weakness. I want to be able to move forward and accept my fate with strength...with grace (if that's possible). My therapist asked one question that has stuck with me... "Where is your compassion for yourself?" My response: "Huh? Compassion for myself? Why would I have compassion for myself?" Frankly, it never occurred to me to allow it. I'm much better at beating myself up, that's what I know....I'm not sure I know how to have compassion for myself. But it's something I probably should work on because I know I won't be able to close this chapter until I do.

I had my consultation and Mayan Massage today. I walked out of there feeling good, as if my body said "this is what I've been waiting for." I don't know if I'm completely buying into all of it at this point or if anything will come of it, but on the surface it makes some sense to me that your body can become out of whack over time and if at the very least this experience can provide me with some tools to assist in my search of peace, then what the heck.