So if you knew my family growing up you knew us at the house full of girls with pretty cool and fun parents (except Dad who had major strict rules for dating us). My parents never cared about grades or accolades, more that we were kind to others and were passionate about what we did and happy. It was a pretty ideal upbringing.
Our house was mostly bare of inspirational quotes and artwork but we did have a magnet on the fridge that said “life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you react to it”. As early as I could remember I would read that magnet and try to understand what it meant. As I got older it became more and more clear. The world is not fair, and there is so much out of our control, but rather than lament the bad or unfair stuff, we have control over how we react to it all. It empowered me when I felt powerless. It inspired me when I felt beat down.
I think about how relevant it is to this struggle. IF/ RPL is SO unfair. It doesn’t discriminate. Why are our bodies made this way when our hearts are meant to be Moms? Why does one pregnancy end in a beautiful baby and another in heartbreak? It can all just beat you down. It can break you. So much of this is out of our control. Really the only thing we can control is how we react. How do we grieve another failed cycle? How do we find the courage to try again? How do we handle all the hormones and shots and drugs? How do we summon the ability to celebrate our friend’s and families babies? How do we keep our spirit alive and hopeful?
How we react to this fight will define us our whole lives. I am NOT saying we don’t grieve and cry and vent and wallow. We must do that. We are human. This sucks and we need to process it. But we do have to find a way to keep a piece of ourselves along the way. To remember we are more than this struggle.
Since our reaction to all this is all we can control, I have always wanted to feel empowered and proud of mine. This meant grieving and crying but then dusting myself off and finding the optimism wherever I could. It meant celebrating the good news of others, even when I just wanted to crawl into a hole. It meant sharing my pain with those I love and giving them grace if they unknowingly said the wrong thing. It meant not feeling like a victim of Infertility and pregnancy loss but rather a victor of a shit hand because I was still standing and ok.
Sending you all love and strength as we start another week.