“And at this stage we expect to see a 25 - 35% loss occur…”
All I could think was, “we’re preparing for losses before having anything to lose.”
Tension flooded my nervous system. Every muscle tightening against the unknown, the numbers and the potential for failure.
I walked away from that conversation with my fertility doctor stuck on a loop.
Anxious about grief. Frustrated with myself for being anxious when nothing was happening yet. Overwhelmed by data. Arguing with unknown futures.
The overwhelm and arguments feeding into my anxiety, fueling the loop.
I couldn’t tell you about the drive home or if my husband and I had a conversation. I’m sure we did because we always debriefed, making sure both of us still wanted to move forward. But I was so far from the present moment that it didn’t feel possible to engage with reality. I wanted to be in fight mode without knowing who or what it was I was fighting against. There was no one stopping us from starting IVF, just a lot of well intentioned doctors giving us the science.
What saved me that day, and many days afterwards, is my meditation practice.
Because while I can’t tell you what happened in the immediate aftermath, I do remember coming home and unrolling my mat.
I laid there for a few minutes to simply witness the movement of my breath, knowing I needed to find a way back to the present.
Following the breath, the rise and fall, visualizing it moving energy to each of corner of the body. With the eyes closed, I remember seeing a green light behind the eyelids.
And it’s the very the practice I’ve crafted to share with you here.
In this meditation you’ll be guided through breath awareness and a visualization, to support your own journey back to the present. These two techniques are my personal favorites for breaking the anxious loop, so that I can compassionately work with myself.
Because when I got off the mat that day, it wasn’t like my anxiety disappeared.
And it would reappear, again and again, throughout my IVF experience, pregnancy and continues into the motherhood. I’m just a person who runs anxious, and that’s okay.
What shifted, and continues to shift, is my ability to witness my anxiety non-judgmentally. To see it within me and know that I can work with this side of myself. I don’t need to rid myself of anxiety, rather care for the part of me that is asking to be seen.
I hope that, even if you don’t need this practice today, you’ll come back to it when you do knowing that you also can care for this side of yourself.
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