A little perspective goes a long way

Since January, I have worked for a large poverty-fighting organization. And we do really great, really important work, but are still somewhat divorced from the in-your-face realities that exist for the poor here in the United States.

But yesterday? Yesterday was different. I went to an organization that provides housing, food, healthcare and job training services to people in NYC. There are a lot of these organizations and they are mostly doing great work, and the people who work there every day deserve all of the credit in the world for sacrificing higher pay for this important work.

Yesterday I actually got the opportunity to sit down and talk with someone who is homeless. Someone who lived on the streets and in the subway stations pretty near where I live in my apartment. He lived on the streets for 15 (yes you read that right) years, and through the outreach from this program was convinced to come indoors and be helped.

He is polite, charming, well-spoken. He graduated high school. He is 55 years old. He has both a serious mental illness and is an active substance abuser. And for the last 15 years of his life he has lived with a suitcase and his wits on the streets of my neighborhood.

Hopefully, through this program he will get stable housing, treatment for his mental health issues and begin treatment for his substance abuse. But what he said was the most important thing was that he is finally, for the first time in a while, regaining a little bit of what it feels like to be human -- to be seen, and not ignored, to be treated with respect, and not discarded with the trash.

I went back to my office, and someone had sent me this presentation. And the combination of this with my meeting really, really, I mean at a visceral gut level, hit me: I am lucky. I have pretty much won the life lottery by being an upper-middle class American. But yet I complain too much. I whine about infertility, about my husband's lack of meaningful work, and about pretty much everything. Instead I should feel grateful -- grateful that I have a wonderful husband and a supportive family. Grateful for my health, for my education, for my income bracket. Grateful that I do not worry where I will sleep or what I will eat or my personal safety.

I'm not sure how long this feeling will last, but I am going to try to hold onto it for at least a few days. Because sometimes I need a little perspective on what is really important.

Breathe in, breathe out

My new acupuncturist told me to do deep breathing exercises every day for 5-10 minutes. And so I tried it last night, just focusing on breathing. I do this with yoga, but I'm also moving around (I'm a vinyasa/ ashtanga yoga person), but just sitting, focusing on nothing but deep breathing is hard. She suggests that it will help improve my somewhat sluggish circulation and get my energy flowing again, so I'm willing to try it. Plus, relaxing can't ever be bad, right?

I think that I will be a bit more able to breathe deeply today because my monitoring appointment was just so. much. better. Not only did I get the really nice RE who always gives me a pep talk, has rational explanations for things, and is willing to say "I don't know" instead of making up some half-assed answer, but I now have 9 (NINE) follicles of at least 10mm (largest is 14mm) and some smaller ones showing up as well.

(Take THAT you mean nasty RE who told me my ovarian reserve was empty and that I might considering cancelling this cycle.)

My husband attributes the good appointment to the fact that I made him come with me at 7.15 this morning. Retrospectively, it was really kind of ridiculous, but I needed a security blanket and a shoulder to weep on if the follicle count still was very low. So he hung out in the waiting room for me and was there to give me a hug as I got on the subway. It seems like a small thing, but it was great, and made me feel like it was all going to be ok, regardless of what happened with the ultrasound. It's weird -- I'm usually not this fragile, but I think this is harder on me than I sometimes admit. And I love my husband for not telling me I'm being silly, but for just getting up and coming with me for no other reason than to hold my hand.

And since I have a bit more perspective (read: I'm not freaking out about hearing the death knell of my fertility) than I did Monday, here's what I know:
- I know that I am lucky that all my numbers are still good and I am still responding so well to the drugs, considering I am almost 40
- I know that I am lucky that there is nothing obviously wrong that needs to be addressed
- I know that I am lucky that I have insurance that covers absolutely everything, including acupuncture
- I know that I am lucky that I live within a stone's throw of some of the best REs in the country
- And in the big picture, lest I forget, I am lucky that I have a wonderful husband who will pick me up and dust me off when I am knocked down, I am lucky to have a family that loves and supports me, I am lucky that we are all healthy, well-educated, and have a lot more resources than many others.

So today I am going to feel relieved, happy, and grateful. Grateful that my life is, on balance, really good, and grateful that doing this ivf cycle is as easy as it is. And to ensure that I hold onto the sense of balance and peace that I am feeling right this very minute, I'm going to try to breathe.