Finding Balance

Don’t you love when the Universe gives you the same lesson in different ways?

I was listening to a podcast recently and the host named that balance is a verb. It’s not a state of “being”, but rather a constant action of finding the middle.

We are constantly moving in and out “of balance.”

I mean, stand on one foot (seriously–right now, try it): you aren’t “still”, are you? Focus on the muscles in your ankle, your leg, are you wobbling? Your body is moving back and forth in tiny (or big!) ways to keep you upright.

It’s an active state.

Then today my therapist throws out the statement that “life is about constantly recalibrating.”

Balance is found through constant recalibration.

I get it, I hear you, I’m listening.

I spent the better part of the past 7 months off of social media, then a month ago decided I needed to be on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

(yes, it was in part because I was excited about my course launch, but still. It was a lot…)

It’s like the pendulum that is ME swung from one extreme to another.

And here’s what happened: I lost sleep, forgot about my priorities, I got really stressed out.

No wonder I’m getting messages about balance and recalibration.

I am listening. And I’m slowing down. Which means less time on social media and online in general.

Are there areas in your life that need a little attention to balance or recalibrate?

Consider this a gentle nudge to listen to your exhaustion/stress/sleeplessness, ask what it needs, and honor the ask.

Recalibrate.

Move toward balance. Again.

Product Review: The Diva Cup

I was always a pad-and-tampon kinda girl until a few years ago. In 2015 my husband and I decided to do part of the Camino de Santiago in Spain, which meant we were going to be walking for 5 days, carrying everything we brought with us on our backs.

Of course, you know the timing of the trip lined up with when I expected my period. Of course.

The last thing I wanted was to pack a box of tampons just-in-case and take up precious space and weight. Especially considering the fact that my bleed was still pretty unpredictable at that time, so it stood the chance that I wouldn’t need it at all.

These were the circumstances that led me to finally try a menstrual cup. Back then (ok it wasn’t that long ago) the Diva Cup was the only product on the market—but if you search “menstrual cup” today you’ll find all sorts of makes and models!

I bought it a few months early so that I wasn’t testing it out on the road, and gave it a couple cycle’s practice. Here’s my review, including things I learned and how it best serves me now:

Pros:

• Reusable/less waste

• You can wear it up to 12 hours on a light day

•  More comfortable than tampons, especially on a light day

Cons:

• Murder factor is high when removing it

• Makes my cramps worse

• Challenging to get in and out, especially if it pops open when you’re not ready for it...

• Leaks on heavy days

• The stem can be poky*

Overall, it has become something I would wear if I wanted to go for a swim or take a bath, or if it was a light day and I didn’t want to worry about changing pads. Though I always wear a pad for backup, because it usually leaks on me when it gets full.

Couple things to note:

• Flip it inside out if the tip bothers you (this was a game changer for me!)

• Make sure it seals around your cervix by squeezing the air out of it

• Bear down gently if you have a high cervix and have a hard time getting it out

• Check out the videos here for help with insertion!

In summary, this isn’t my fave right now, but it served me well for a few years. It might be good for you if you have light flow and a higher cervix, and aren’t afraid of getting all up in there!

Product Review: The Diva Cup

I was always a pad-and-tampon kinda girl until a few years ago. In 2015 my husband and I decided to do part of the Camino de Santiago in Spain, which meant we were going to be walking for 5 days, carrying everything we brought with us on our backs.

Of course, you know the timing of the trip lined up with when I expected my period. Of course.

The last thing I wanted was to pack a box of tampons just-in-case and take up precious space and weight. Especially considering the fact that my bleed was still pretty unpredictable at that time, so it stood the chance that I wouldn’t need it at all.

These were the circumstances that led me to finally try a menstrual cup. Back then (ok it wasn’t that long ago) the Diva Cup was the only product on the market—but if you search “menstrual cup” today you’ll find all sorts of makes and models!

I bought it a few months early so that I wasn’t testing it out on the road, and gave it a couple cycle’s practice. Here’s my review, including things I learned and how it best serves me now:

Pros:

• Reusable/less waste

• You can wear it up to 12 hours on a light day

•  More comfortable than tampons, especially on a light day

Cons:

• Murder factor is high when removing it

• Makes my cramps worse

• Challenging to get in and out, especially if it pops open when you’re not ready for it...

• Leaks on heavy days

• The stem can be poky*

Overall, it has become something I would wear if I wanted to go for a swim or take a bath, or if it was a light day and I didn’t want to worry about changing pads. Though I always wear a pad for backup, because it usually leaks on me when it gets full.

Couple things to note:

• Flip it inside out if the tip bothers you (this was a game changer for me!)

• Make sure it seals around your cervix by squeezing the air out of it

• Bear down gently if you have a high cervix and have a hard time getting it out

• Check out the videos here for help with insertion!

In summary, this isn’t my fave right now, but it served me well for a few years. It might be good for you if you have light flow and a higher cervix, and aren’t afraid of getting all up in there!

How to Show Up for Someone After a Miscarriage: 4 Things TO Do

I already shared some things to avoid saying to a loved one or colleague who has shared they had a miscarriage in this post. It can be such a lonely experience, and people often don’t know how to talk about it. or they fall into the too-common trap of “not wanting to remind you of the hard thing.” Trust me, we haven’t forgotten. In fact, the silence around it can be more painful than any mention of it.

Not a day goes by that I don’t remember I am supposed to be pregnant. There was supposed to be a baby. When milestones come up, the reminder feels like a punch in the gut. I went shopping for a dress the week before a friend’s wedding in August. I had put off buying one earlier because I wasn’t sure how much I would be showing. My eyes teared up in the dressing room knowing that I was supposed to be pregnant at the wedding. The reminders sneak up on me. Grief comes in waves; I understand what that means now.

Here are some ways you can show up with love for someone after a miscarriage.

1.     Let them know you are thinking about them. A quick text saying “Thinking about you and your baby today” can be so helpful. Try to avoid “How are you?” I often ignored those texts because to try and explain how I really am on a given day is just not going to happen over text. I appreciated the brief messages that told me they were thinking of me and that they care.

2.     Try to remember milestones. Remember the due date. Be aware of when they would have crossed into a new trimester. Reach out on the holidays, especially on the holidays, knowing that those might be even more painful reminders of what is missing. While the holidays are meant to be a time of good cheer, in these years of infertility the constant messages of joy and peace and thanksgiving have felt jolting when I’m feeling deep grief and sadness.

3.     Remind them that they are loved and whole; remind them that their worth does not depend on their reproductive system. Especially if the end of their journey does not include a child in their arms, they need to be reminded that they are enough in and of themselves.

4.     Acknowledge that the father or partner lost a baby too. Most of what we see about miscarriage and infertility are so focused on the mother or the one carrying the child. The father or non-bearing partner lost a child too, though. Honor that their loss is no less than hers; it is not secondary, and their grief is just as real and deep as hers.

Remember that grief is not a linear, one-size-fits-all formula. It is deeply personal, and experienced differently even within a couple. It may take months or it may take years or it may take a lifetime. Don’t be afraid to bring it up; they will let you know if they don’t want to talk about the baby, but they often won’t bring it up themselves. I am often afraid that I talk about it too much, but I so appreciate it when others bring it up. I think about our baby every day, and I’m confident I’m not alone in that.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. If you know someone who has lost a baby, whether it was months ago or years ago, reach out to them this month. Tell them you are thinking about them and their baby (by name if you know it). It’s ok if you don’t get a response. They’ll know you care.

How to Show Up for Someone After a Miscarriage: 4 Things to Avoid

I truly believe that people are kind and have good intentions. But sometimes what they say just sucks. Where is the class in Life School that teaches how to respond to someone going through something hard? How do I sign up? (Or sign someone else up...?)

Here are some tips for how to support someone who has had a miscarriage. We know you have the best intentions with your words, but here are some ways to keep it sensitive:

4 things to avoid saying to someone going through a miscarriage (and what to say instead):

1.     “What can I do?” Instead of this, just tell them you’re there if they need you. Especially in the first weeks and months, they may not be in a space to ask for anything, but need to know you are thinking of them and ready to help if needed. One of the best things I got was a package from a friend that had a necklace, chocolate, and a packet of forget-me-not seeds. I felt so loved by this simple, unexpected gesture.  

2.     Avoid telling them a story about someone else that you know who also had a miscarriage but then went on to have a healthy baby. Shifting the story away from them can feel dismissive of their experience, and is likely done to make you feel better. “I’m so sorry” is enough to let them know you see them. If they ask for a hopeful story, that’s your entry. Otherwise please keep your (or your friend’s) experience to yourself.

3.     “At least you can get pregnant!” Again, this feels dismissive of the loss. Yes, of course I was thrilled to find out that I actually can get pregnant after 5 years of negative tests. But hearing this sounded to me like I was supposed to stop being sad about my loss and focus on the positive instead. Grief looks different to every person, but it is not linear and usually not quick. Try to sit with them in their discomfort, even if it means it’s uncomfortable for you too.

4.     “Do you think [fill in the blank] caused the miscarriage?” A miscarriage is no one’s fault, but it is natural to look for something to blame. She’s already probably going through a list of things she did (or didn’t do) that might have caused it (that second cup of coffee? too much exercise? sex?). Please don’t offer more for her imagination. It was not her fault.

If you read these and think “Oh shit, I totally said that,” don’t sweat it. We all make mistakes. We can all do better. Just take it as a lesson and move forward. The biggest thing is to just let the person know you see them. Even if you can’t relate, you are willing to honor their grief by not dismissing it.

At the end of the day, if you can’t remember what to or not to say, keep it simple with “I’m so sorry.” That’s enough.

On Miscarriage.

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. This creates the opportunity to bring to light some hard topics that we just don’t talk about.

Our society prizes childbearing, and we are taught from childhood both implicitly and explicitly that motherhood is the ultimate prize of being a woman. So when that path is a struggle, whether it is through infertility, miscarriage, or stillbirth, it’s easy to feel that shame creeping in again. It is easy to blame your body, to feel that it is failing you, that it is not working the way it was meant to.

I haven’t shared a lot about my own infertility because I am still in the midst of the struggle. All the feelings I’m sharing here are my own, and I know I am not alone. I struggle to believe that I can truly be a full woman when my body seems to not be able to carry a child. Over my years of navigating infertility, I have often felt broken. I know this is a lie, but it’s a lie that is whispered in my ear over and over again. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you’ve heard those whispers yourself. Know that you are not alone, either.

I want to share a little more about my story.

After years of navigating infertility and trying all-of-the-things, my husband and I finally had a positive pregnancy test earlier this year. We were elated. This was the one. We had been working so hard and waiting for so long for this. We celebrated every moment of being pregnant and tried to push down the fears and what-if’s that came with it after such a long wait.

Six weeks later, I started spotting. We had an ultrasound that showed the baby was a week behind. My doctor recommended “cautious hope,” but within a day I knew we were losing it. We had a miscarriage.

I have spent the past few months in various stages of rage and grief and sadness and even still joy at times. We had already told our families and several friends, and now had to share the heartbreaking news that we lost the baby. I ran out of emotional capacity to keep telling the story. I wanted people to know, but it has taken some time to share the story. It’s hard to know how much is too much to share.

I want to share my story because I want to remind myself that I’m not alone. I want others to know that they aren’t alone. And I want the friends and family and coworkers who are witness to the grief of a miscarriage or infertility to know how to hold that person with sensitivity and kindness.

Even if you can’t relate personally, you probably know someone who has lost an infant or a pregnancy. 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, yet it is still something we rarely talk openly about. 1 in 8 couples in the US struggle to conceive, and we talk even less about infertility. It is a lonely struggle, but you are not alone. Your loved one is not alone either.

As I said at the beginning, October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. The next two weeks will bring you blog posts about what to to say or do and what to avoid when you find out someone close to you has lost a pregnancy. If you have experience with this yourself, I’d love to hear your story. Comment below or find me on Instagram. We are truly stronger together, and you and I are not alone in this.