Everything is about infertility (even missing Grandma)

Lee-Anne is a beautiful, brave woman who has been sharing her challenges with infertility with her family, friends and readers through her blog. My heart broke for her when I read this post (which originally appeared on her blog) that she has shared for Life is Sweet month. 

My Grandma has always been a big part of my life.  Time with her was the source of most of my fondest childhood memories from Christmases, to swimming in her neighbours’ pool, to greasing our bodies with baby oil and tanning together at the beach (because it was the 80s and that wouldn’t have been considered child abuse yet).  As an adult, we developed an “adult” relationship with frequent visits and dinners out.  I’ve always felt so lucky to have had the privilege of having an adult relationship with my Grandma. It allowed me to really get to know who she was (a very sassy lady) and for me to hear about parts of her life and parts of history that many people would never get to hear about first hand.

When I found out I was pregnant the first time, one of the first people I told was my Grandma.  She was 93 years old at the time.  I was so happy to be able to share this with her.  We have a small family and all of my cousins (all of whom are very close to me in age) have had children.  Their children have relationships with Great-Grandma.  Great-Grandma has knitted them blankets and sweaters and mittens. Great-Grandma sends pictures of them as her Christmas card.  Great-Grandma has their artwork on her fridge.  I wanted so desperately to be a part of this joy.

When I told her I was pregnant, she started to knit.  When I lost the baby, she stopped.  I may have mentioned this in a previous blog, but she even “announced that there was another Great-Grandkid on the way in her retirement home newsletter. The next two pregnancies I didn’t tell her about personally but my aunt let her know when I lost them.

My Grandma had her own struggles with infertility.  I don’t know the whole story because “we didn’t talk about these things”.  But I know through piecing stories together that there was “something in there the size of an orange” and that my Grandma adopted my father and my aunt.  Even though we’re not technically related by “blood”, people would always comment about how much we looked the same.  We had the same eyes and the smile (and some of the same sass).  We also have the same initials.  We had a special little bond over these things.

When I told her our plans to adopt, she was excited.  She was completely shocked by how much the process had changed and by how long we will likely have to wait.   Her experience was very quick and very different.

On Thursday, my Grandma passed away.

It took too long. She will never meet my child (if I’m lucky enough to ever have one). She will never finish that knitting. My child will never be on her Christmas card and their art will never be hung with pride on her fridge.

I feel like I failed.  I feel like I missed out.  I feel more alone than ever.  I wanted her to know that everything turned out ok.

Her funeral is today and I’m not there.  There are a few reasons for that and it was a huge struggle to come to that decision.  When her health started to go a few weeks ago, I started to panic.  Not for her.  I knew she was ok; I knew she’d had an amazing and full life.  I knew she was 95 years old. I was panicking about how I would deal with it.

One factor is my father. My father has been out of my life (and the lives of my Aunt, Uncle and cousins) for several years for a reason that I’ll save for another blog. My father has not met my husband, and never will.  The idea of having this “reunion” at a funeral was too much for me.

Adding to this panic was the fact that my brother and his pregnant wife would be there.  Pregnancy at a funeral always provides people with comfort. It’s the perfect symbol of the cycle of life.  To me right now it represents the exact opposite.   It compounds my grief rather than bringing me relief.

Everyone else in my family would be there with their children and babies.   For me to bring my own grief to that situation wouldn’t have been healthy for me, wouldn’t have been respectful to anyone else and would have made the situation worse.

I sat this one out.  I sincerely hope they understand.  I’d like to think my Grandma would have.

I feel selfish for making the passing of my Grandma, who I loved and adored, about infertility. Why is EVERYTHING about infertility?

I’m sad, so said, and I don’t think that the people close to me really understand why.

Lee-Anne is a 37 year old teacher who got married in May 2012. She writes candidly about the challenges she and her husband have faced in starting a family on her blog. 

Loss to Love

Curating posts for the Life is Sweet project has introduced me to some pretty awesome people with incredible stories and unique perspectives. I was introduced to Stephan through a mutual connection on Twitter and he offered to share his story for this project. 

I would say that for my entire life I have lived with anxiety. It's the sort of anxiety that made it impossible to meet new people on my own. Imagine that. Here I am on the first day of school, so fear ridden that when everyone else was mingling and making friends, I was buried deep into shyness and self-imposed shame. Frozen in my own prison of emotion. What the hell was wrong me with me?

Fast forward 20 years and I finally approached a girl on my own. At 27, I finally slept with one. At 28, I lost one, and it was the most difficult thing I've ever been through.

You have to see it in perspective. Nearly 30 years of trying to find love, love, and be loved in return, only to find it, have it and stubbornly lose it. Was it me? Was it my failure at being a man? Was I destined to be alone?

This is my story. But this also was my story. See, spend decades of your life with these feelings and you will be driven to discover why. So driven that you will go to the ends of the earth to discover the why, only to realize that what seem to be the most complex challenges have the simplest answers.

See, anxiety can be outer driven or/and inner created. Mine was inner created. It appeared every time I was attempting to be someone or do something that was outside my true values, my authentic being. I look back on it, after I educated myself and observe that I spent 27 years without having sex and had a fantasy about it. I can look at that as a problem or I can look at it and say sex just wasn't important enough to me to do something about it, and the truth is it's actually not. My biggest love is helping people open their heart to themselves and the universe. To me, no orgasm is better than expanding the heart.

That's the key of anxiety-- Expanding the heart. Anxiety is a symptom of trying to live outside your values. The minute you try it, anxiety creeps up to let you know about it and bring you back to the center. But it doesn't have to be that way. If you just asked how doing whatever it is you feel anxiety over would actually help you, you can turn anxiety into energy to move forward. But anxiety was only half the game for me...

The bigger fish for me was the loss of the girl of my life. This was to me, at the time, the most terrible thing that could have happened. I remember saying 'not in my universe' to her on the phone. I was delusional. Infatuated. Fallen in love too far.

I met my suicidal motives on that day. A far cry from where my friends had seen me and relied on me to be; a strong person, a helper, a healer. A genius turned sufferer of his own emotions, his heart finally blown open by the girl he loved. I stayed with this for weeks, hoping that by some string of potential that she would still be with me, but it never came in the way I wanted...

The song says 'You don't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need." If there were words I could live by every day, these are them. I made a choice to seek help, from the people who taught me to work with everyone else who was going through my challenge. I went back home to my greatest love-- The Demartini Method®.

Nearly a year later and I had progressed. Doing lists after lists of answers to questions like "What are the benefits of her breaking up with me?" "What were the downsides of being with her?" "If we had continued in the way I fantasized, what would have been the drawbacks to me?". The hours and hours of effort had paid off, but it wasn't entirely 'right' yet. See, when doing emotional work, unless the heart is left open and radiant, it's not done. I knew I wasn't done, but it had ceased being about her. It was now about me and how I felt that I wasn't enough for her.

Going back to trainers in Houston I felt like I was starting anew. I was shocked out of working with others from my awareness of my own inability to break myself through. I figured if I can't help myself, how can I give myself permission to help others? But sure as I knew my heart the first time, when I finally loved myself for being enough, more than enough, for her, I felt love again. So greatly that I poured my heart into her reflection, loving her for what may have been the very first time and even now as great friends.

Why is this what I chose to share, here in this forum? Because my beloved Em opened my heart by giving me what it feels like to be broken. By helping me feel what so many others feel yet so few ever love. Because of my own experience in what I thought I couldn't feel, emotion, I get now how fragile the mind can be. How easily it can drench itself in darkness. In doing so I honored myself for the first time for being one of the few masters in the world who chose to be a master of the heart and of their hearts.

Stephan Gardner is a Personal Greatness, Stress & Emotion Specialist with a luminary understanding of behavior and emotions. Educated at The Demartini Institute under Dr. John Demartini and a proficient student of personal and spiritual development (from Tony Robbins to Shamanic Ceremonies around the world) his mission is to inspire you to new levels of life fulfillment through work, wisdom, and love. www.stephangardner.com

Demons and Darlings

When we were speaking about her post for Life is Sweet month, my friend Shannon said
that even some of her closest friends didn't know this story. Maybe it's because I speak so openly about it, but Shannon and I talked about her experience with depression fairly early into our friendship. I am honored she would open up to me as a friend, but also be willing to share it with all of you in this post. 

I was 21, and I was having the time of my life.  I was a professional cheerleader and university student, had great friends and a wonderful family. It was everything I could have wished for when I blew out my candles that year. That was of course, until I flunked my LSAT’s. Truth be told, I don’t have the brain for it. The way I think would always need to be flipped and altered to get the answer required to pass. But I’m a “trier” and gave it a whirl anyway. The night I found out my abysmal score, I set out for a wild night on the town, and wild I sure did find.

That night I met my boyfriend, and for the sake of this story I will call him Hunter. When we locked eyes on the dance floor, it was one of those movie moments that I can still recall like it happened yesterday. He glanced over, and I, with a coy eye, glanced back, and it was as if the sea of people parted for us to say hello, which we didn’t. Instead we danced and proceeded to kiss like we had known each other for years.  Immediate passion. This lead to a whirlwind romance I will never forget. Late night conversations 3 days before Christmas, and then the best gift I could have asked for – a brand new, shiny, boyfriend.

Things quickly became tricky. He played hockey in the States, and lived about 3 hours away. We were smitten, and would Skype daily, feeling like we weren’t even apart. He came home to surprise me a few days later at New Year’s, and I got what I had always wanted, the perfect New Year’s kiss, with my perfect new boyfriend.

Then things began to fall apart.

Two and a half weeks after we met I was at the Doctor’s office with my Mom and was saying that it was strange I hadn’t heard from Hunter that day. I had sent him a quick text asking him how his day was only to later receive one back that knocked the wind out of me.

“I’m in Toronto. I can’t talk right now. We need to talk later.”

At 21, I was very inexperienced in relationships. I had barely had a boyfriend before and this accelerated version of one seemed as though it was about to come to an end.  I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with me. My insecurities, of course, got the best of me.

Later that evening, when he wanted to meet, I demanded to know the reason why.  I didn’t want to be left out in the frigid cold January night air shut down by him. He proceeded to tell me that it had nothing to do with me, and to leave it alone. He said he would tell me later. I pushed it, I wanted to know.

“My brother committed suicide this morning.”

My heart dropped. He would be over soon – he needed me.

The next 5 days felt like one big blur, except for one defining moment. He told me he loved me. For most, that would feel quick. But for me it felt right. I didn’t understand how two people could be linked so quickly, but ask anyone who was around for those moments, and they saw it firsthand.

We watched movies. We talked for hours. We went on dates and often fell asleep on the couch in my parents’ basement, despite my Dad’s disapproval. Here I was, assisting in the distraction of a boy who was mourning the loss of his younger brother. A boy who seemed even younger than he was, confused with no answers. I became his escape, his shoulder to cry on, and his rock. After 2 ½ weeks I was someone’s rock, a role I had never played before.

Within the next week, the funeral came and went, and I was asked on the spot after the large service to attend the private burial. I met all of Hunter’s family, and was thanked repeatedly for helping him through this difficult time. I thought, naively  that this would all start to fade away. I knew that Hunter would mourn, but he would go back to school and start to live his life again, the best way he could. I didn’t think that the anger would be turned towards me.

For a long time I sat in the front seat of a roller coaster – up and down, loop-de-loop, clinging tight for survival. I felt like I was dating two people, none who seemed to remind me of the person I had met, the memory of a man that still brings a smile to my face. I had surgery that summer and he didn’t remember that it even happened. He made irrational life decisions, commented to an extreme length about my weight, and isolated me from my family and friends when he was around. I didn’t once realize that the instability could have related back to the event that shook his world a mere 9 months before.

The day we broke up, he shattered me. A brief phone call spun me into a depression as he pulled back and forth with my emotions. Wanting me and then dismissing me, on repeat for 8 months.

I allowed someone to affect my mental health.

Someone who wasn’t fully stable, sucked me in, and left me in a dark corner to question all of my insecurities. It took a long time, and a loving family, to pull me out of it. I’m glad they did.

Looking back I can see how I risked my own emotional health for someone else’s. It was a domino effect. It wasn’t that I was really sad, and the break-up was hard to get over. It was beginning to make me sick, a syndrome I still manage today, and not crying prior to 10 am was deemed a successful day. I was barely functioning and I hid it well from people. I didn’t want my friends to know, I thought it would seem pathetic.

I often hated Hunter, and sometimes I still find myself angry with him. But what I have realized is that he suffered more than I did. I may have gone through a bout of depression but he lives with it every day of his life. It takes a strong and secure person to be a rock, and I did my best. He was scared to shed light on a dark issue, and all I wanted to do was hold the flashlight.

If we talked about mental illness more, about suicide and the effects it has on those left behind, I may have known how to protect myself from the vortex. I may have saved us both a long road of agony. Instead of talking, we immediately assume the worst and want someone put on medication, or simply think they are downright crazy. There is no dialogue, no conversation, and no place to turn without judgment. I can only hope that through many people opening up about their experience with suicide or someone’s emotional instability, or going through depression like I did, that the topic of mental health won’t be so taboo.

I drive by Hunter’s brother’s grave often, and give him a half smile. I’m reminded of how weak I once was, and how strong I now am. May his brother rest in peace, and may we all learn to show a little more compassion to those we don’t fully understand

Shannon wears pearls to the ballpark. A Social Media Manager and Toronto sports personality, Shannon was a Toronto Argos Cheerleader for 2 seasons, in-game host of the Toronto Rock for 3 seasons and the current Associate Producer for 3rd and Long on CBC Sports. 

The Science Behind the Mind Body Connection

I knew that I wanted to include a wide variety of perspectives and information in the posts for Life is Sweet month, so it was really awesome when I got Josh Gitalis on board. In today's guest post, Josh talks about the connection between our minds and bodies and the molecules of emotion. 

The term “mind-body” is thrown around like a nut in a coffee-grinder. To many, this term is about as meaningful as the quadratic formula. In other words, it is hard to understand what mind-body is, unless you are familiar with how it works.

I’ve attempted to help you understand the connection between the mind and the body by outlining what happens on a physiological level (body) as a result of our thoughts (mind).

The nervous system can be divided into two parts. The voluntary (somatic) nervous system, which is responsible for allowing us to move our limbs; and the involuntary (autonomic) nervous system, which is responsible for the internal environment.

Because science has made this physiological differentiation, we commonly associate the “involuntary” processes of our body as detached from conscious mind.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Have you ever found yourself saying one of these phrases?

• “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach"
• “I had a gut feeling"
• “My nerves are on edge"
• “You are on my last nerve"
• “I have a broken heart
• “He/she’s a thorn in my side”

We say, or hear people say these phrases almost daily. What we don’t realize is that these feelings are actually associated with distinct biochemical changes in the body. Candace Pert, a world-renowned neuroscientist and pharmacologist, labelled these biochemicals the molecules of emotion.

Each biochemical reaction that takes place is either moving us towards health or away from health. We are never in a state of stagnation. It is interesting that negative thoughts rooted from fear, are associated with inflammation and tissue break-down (catabolism). While positive thoughts rooted in love, are associated with anti-inflammatory chemicals and tissue regeneration and repair.

The Scientific Evidence Behind The Mind-body Connection

·         Military personnel that undergo intensive training characterized by mental stress, sleep deprivation, and physical exertion are more prone to developing infectious disease, particularly cellulitis and pneumonia.(1)

·         Children who encounter the stress of moving places of habitation, develop allergies more often than those who remain in one location.(2)

·         Stress may promote the development of inflammatory bowel diseases by decreasing protective biological substances along the digestive tract.(3)

·         Emotional stress is associated with various microbes such as Candida, E. Coli,and H. Pylori “sticking” better to mucous membranes more easily.(4)

·         Mental-emational stress can increase levels of C-reactive protein, an indication of inflammation.(5)

The Take Away Message

No matter what condition a person is trying to address, it is imperative that stress reduction techniques are practiced. Even more important is to make stress-reduction a daily habit before you develop a disease or condition. Unfortunately, we weren’t taught these skills in school, so we have to learn them for ourselves.

References:

1. Anderzen I, Arnetz BB, Soderstrom T, Soderman E. Stress and sensitization in children: a controlled prospective psychophysiological study of children exposed to international relocation. J Psychosom Res. 1997 Sep;43(3):259-69.
2. Collins SM. Stress and the Gastrointestinal Tract IV. Modulation of intestinal inflammation by stress: basic mechanisms and clinical relevance. Am J Physiol Gastrointest Liver Physiol. 2001;280:G315-8.
3. Bosch JA, de Geus EJ, Ligtenberg TJ, et al. Salivary MUC5B-mediated adherence (ex vivo) of Helicobacter pylori during acute stress. Psychosom Med. 2000 Jan-Feb;62(1):40-9.
4. Yokoe T, Minoguchi K, Matsuo H, et al. Elevated levels of C-ractive protein and interleukin-6 in patients with obstructive sleep apnea syndrome are decreased by nasal continuous positive airway pressure. Circulation. 2003 Mar 4;107(8):1129-34.
5. Kimata H. Listening to Mozart reduces allergic skin wheal responses and in vitro allergen-specific IgE production in atopic dermatitis patients with latex allergy. Behav Med. 2003 Spring;29(1):15-9.

Josh Gitalis, Clinical Nutritionist, is a recognized expert in the fields of clinical detoxification and therapeutic supplementation. He runs a Toronto-based, private practice, with a worldwide client base. As a leader in his field, Josh teaches Clinical Nutrition for several natural health colleges and is the first Canadian nutritionist to be accepted into the Institute of Functional Medicine where he is currently pursuing his certification as an Institute of Functional Medicine Certified Practitioner (IFMCP). Josh is a noted expert for various media outlets including CTV News and CityTV.

It Does Get Better

It's been less than a week and already the support for Life is Sweet month has been pouring in. I was featured on a bunch of blogs last week, including Val's, who is today's guest poster. I've had the pleasure of getting to know this passionate, driven lady through the Toronto social media scene and was thrilled when she said she would be willing to share her story for this project. 

I started taking medication for depression and bipolar disorder when I was 12 years old. I had moved to a new city and as the new girl in school, underwent some extreme bullying that forced me to switch schools. Without getting into too many details, the bullying I underwent affected me so deeply that my young emotional self was simply unable to handle it.

I became withdrawn and depressed. I was scared to leave the house. I basically hated myself and wanted to die. I could not understand for the life of me why these people hated me so much. I started to believe that there must be a reason for it, there must be something wrong with me.

I had extreme suicidal thoughts. I was in therapy, underwent psychological assessments. It was determined that I had a chemical imbalance and was also diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The bullying trauma had brought all of this to the surface.

I have battled with extreme bouts of depression throughout the rest of my life. My teen years were the worse. The inner hatred I had for myself started to express itself in severe body image issues. I became anorexic and bulimic and went through a cutting phase.

There are still days when I cannot force myself to get out of bed. The cloud of depression causes my head to be foggy, tears to come to my eyes at little or no provocation and physical pains throughout my body.

The thing is though, I have an amazing life. 

I’ve recently gotten engaged to the man of my dreams, my career is taking off and I feel better and more confident about myself then I ever have. If I could tell anything to my teenage self who wanted to die, it would be that things do get better. You learn how to cope and there is life past the confines of junior high and high school. Life is a beautiful and amazing thing. I truly believe that my teenage years have made me the person who I am today, and I like that person. 

Life is worth living and I’m so happy to be alive. 

Val is a Toronto lifestyle blogger and founder of Charming Media.