Owning a Child-free Life

I just finished reading Ever Upward, a non-fiction book written by Justine Brooks Froelker on how she overcame infertility losses to own a child-free life. In full disclosure, Justine and I are friends, and I am mentioned in the book. I purchased Ever Upward to support a friend, but what I got out of it was a whole lot more. Through her writing, Justine made me face my own struggles with infertility, and the accompanying shame, that I had tamped down inside myself.

Justine and I met at Emerging Women Live 2013, waiting for Brene Brown to sign our books. We realized that we were assigned to the same small group dinner led by Erin Weed and made plans to go together. During that dinner, Justine told us her story but in a clinical, matter of fact way. Yet, Erin pushed Justine to be vulnerable, demanding that she tell her story in her own words. With raw emotion, Justine said, "I will own and not just prove." And she has done just that with Ever Upward!

Justine's Story: Due to two major back surgeries in high school, it was not safe for Justine to carry a child. She told herself that she didn't want to be a parent, but with surrogacy, she and her husband Chad were given just that chance. Ever Upward takes us through through their search for a surrogate, Justine's infertility treatments resulting in the retrieval of 3 eggs, and their devastating loss when pregnancy did not result. Justine and Chad also know that adoption is not right for them. Justine speaks openly of the shame and depression she felt and how she emerged into being her own self again and embraced a child-free but child-full life. She tells her story as part of her healing, but also so that other women facing a similar situation will know that they are not alone.

My Story: I have always wanted to be a parent. Yet, I am not. As I waited on the father of my children to arrive in my life, I focused on my career. Year after year slipped away, but I didn't act on my desire because I felt like I still had time and didn't want to be a single parent. And then I met someone special and was ready to begin trying to conceive when I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Undergoing radioactive iodine treatment required a 1-year pregnancy ban as it could cause serious birth defects. As the ban ended so did my relationship, but the desire to be a mom strengthened. Speaking with my doctor, I remember her words, "I'm sorry Tanya, but it would be unwise to get pregnant. Your health is too delicate." I reached out to an infertility specialist who gave me hope and even lined up a sperm donor. Yet, I didn't go through with it. Having thyroid cancer puts me at greater risk for other endocrine cancers, and as I researched the infertility treatments, I could not be guaranteed that they wouldn't increase that risk further. And then I met Ben. He wants children as much as I do, but he is adamant that my health is more important. I am that dear to him.

Justine's story in Ever Upward resonated with me. I know the longing in my heart to be a mom. I know the shame of being childless in a world full of children. I experience pain when someone asks how many children I have or even worse, being a full-figured woman, when I'm due. Yet, like Justine, I have to own my story and continue to emerge into my own. Thanks for the reminder Justine!

If you are experiencing infertility or know someone who is, please consider reading Ever Upward.

Kundalini Yoga & Me

As part of my life shift (aka my healthy mid-life crisis), I decided to first focus on reducing my stress. It wasn't a hard decision since my doctor has been telling me to do this for the past year! She even suggested how to do it - take up Kundalini yoga. And after experiencing a meditation led by Gabrielle Bernstein at Emerging Women Live 2014, I was hooked!

I found a local yoga center that offers Kundalini yoga for beginners and quickly signed up for a class before I could lose my nerve. I know myself -- once I'm enrolled in an activity, I feel obligated to try it! Browsing the website, I noticed the suggestion to wear white clothing for energetic purposes. Huh? I favor black yoga pants and bright shirts. I don't own an all white outfit. I began to worry that I would not fit in! And what if I couldn't do the movements? Would people stare?

Yet, on Sunday night, I rolled out early for the yoga center. As I drove into the parking lot, I could not miss the entrance -- everyone was wearing white Indian garb, complete with turbans. I felt like I was playing the childhood game of "which one of these things isn't like the others?" and the answer was me in my black yoga pants, white top and hot pink shoes! My nervousness being in overdrive, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and transformed into my alter ego -- brave Tanya who will try anything even if she might fail. I exited the vehicle and entered the yoga studio.

I was met by the instructor, a lanky elderly white gentleman with a long white beard. He looked like a wizard except with a turban, instead of a magician's hat. I introduced myself and signed up for the 30 days for $30 special for new students. Then, I picked out a bright purple yoga mat and entered the classroom with my newfound bravery, only to stop short seeing the dais with pillows for the instructor to sit on and pictures of a yogi surrounded by flowers. I began to wonder if my mother was correct when she told me at age 10 that she worried that I was her child who was most likely to join a cult.

As the other beginners trekked in, I was relieved to see that I was not the only one with a unique sense of style. My wizardly yoga instructor sat crosslegged on his pillows and encouraged us to do the same. My glutes rebelled, but I persevered. Mind over matter, right? As the wizard led us through breathing exercises and chants, I began to feel calmer, more centered, and relaxed. Given my paralyzed vocal cord, I saw that yoga could also help me with increasing my lung capacity.

We gently stretched our arms and legs in different poses, and then the wizard (his nickname in my mind) told us to push ourselves off the ground while sitting crosslegged, only using our hands for leverage. Needless to say, I tried but failed...my butt never achieved lift off!

At one point, we were laying on our backs, breathing deeply in and out, the wizard began to play gong music. My body totally relaxed, and my mind quieted. And then I felt an inexplicable pressure, like that of a hand, pushing down on my right hip. I knew it wasn't anyone in the room causing the sensation, but I also wasn't scared. I'd like to think that I was being given spiritual comfort while I was in a deepened state of awareness. When the gong stopped, the pressure disappeared.

I surpassed my expectations of my first Kundalini yoga class. I showed up and was seen and wasn't afraid to fail. I will be going back, not only because I want to get my money's worth, but because I felt a calmness that I have been lacking in my life recently. I can understand why Elizabeth Gilbert went on her epic journey to an ashram in India. Not that I would do that...or maybe I would. A life shift is occurring after all. But, would I have to wear all white?

Happy Birthday Dad!

Dad & me

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 76 today if he were alive. He was 33 when I was born, but, sadly, he passed away at age 52, when I was 19 years old. It's hard to believe that he's been gone longer than the number of years that I had him in my life. But what an impact he made!

Dad & Mom, Marine Corps Ball 1975

 My dad was a Marine. He served from 1956 to 1976 when he retired as a Gunnery Sergeant. He completed 3 tours in Vietnam, and, for his bravery and efforts, he received the Bronze Star and 2 Purple Hearts. He taught me to be proud of my country and that serving the public good was noble. Hearing his tales about his travels around the world made me yearn to travel as well. He is one of the biggest reasons that I help the most vulnerable – children – in Africa today.

Dad's college graduation day

 My dad was a scholar. His IQ was that of a genius. He excelled in math and science, teaching physics in the Marine Corps with only a high school degree. Upon his retirement at age 38, he enrolled in college, earning his bachelor's degree, summa cum laude, 4 years later. Seeing him walk across the stage to get his degree made me want to do the same! In high school, I learned geometry, chemistry and physics by studying with my dad each night. He was my own personal tutor.

My dad was a survivor. The year before his retirement, my dad spent the entire year being treated at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He had developed a never before seen kidney disease, possibly due to Agent Orange during his time in Vietnam. He retired with 100 percent disability. When I was 6, I found him in the bathroom vomiting blood and near death. He was given a 5 percent chance to live and spent 2 months in intensive care. He lived another 13 years before succumbing to a heart attack. From him, I learned to never give up! This has come in handy during my own health struggles.

My dad was a loving husband and father. He was loyal to his friends. He loved to laugh. He loved life. But, he wasn't perfect. My parents argued upon occasion. He was forgetful and embarrassing at times to his high school daughter. Yet, every night before bed, he would give me a hug and tell me that he loved me.

To sum my dad up in one word: AWESOME!!!

Body Image

Body image is defined as the feelings a person has about his/her body. I developed a negative body image at an early age, which followed me into adulthood. It started at age 4. I was an early bloomer in having unhealthy thoughts about what others thought of me. I was also a perfectionist.

When I was four years old, my little cousin made her arrival into this world, and I was no longer the baby of the family. I was jealous! One day, she wore only a diaper and a smile that had everyone in my family cooing over her. Desperately seeking to have the attention placed on me again, I decided that I needed to look more like her. So, I took off my shirt. One of my older male cousins spotted me and gave me a severe scolding: “You are a big girl, not a baby! Big girls do not show their titties! Now act your age!” For the first time in my life, I felt ashamed of my body. I had overheard a previous conversation among my cousins about a bad girl who showed boys her tits. So, I internalized that, as only bad girls show their tits, I was a bad girl. I had ruined my perfect good girl status. In that instant, I became self-conscious of my non-existent breasts.

Fast forward to middle school...the ages of 11-13 were difficult. I hit puberty -- my body changed, and my emotions ran rampant! I was one of the first of my friends to wear a bra, and my breasts continued to grow and grow and grow. It was like someone had put Miracle-Gro in my milk! I was a 36C in a 100 pound, 5 feet 5 inch body. And that's when my older female cousins began to tease me, pointing out how big my boobs were in comparison to theirs. Already fragile, I spiraled into shame. I didn't realize that they were envious of me. Instead, I believed my breasts were not normal, gargantuan even! I hated the attention that they brought me and became even more self-conscious. 

If that wasn't enough, in 7th grade, I was diagnosed with scoliosis and had to wear a back brace for three years. I was the freak who had to get permission from the Governor to play middle school basketball because parents, and therefore the School Board, feared that my back brace could hurt their children. Suffice it to say, my negative body image was cemented by age 13.

It wasn't until college that I finally accepted my breasts after realizing that society (um...men) considered them to be the perfect size. Unfortunately, by the time that I came to that conclusion, I had developed another negative self image -- my weight. Yes, I gained the freshmen 15. I felt fat; therefore, in my mind, I was fat.

I let fat define me for most of my adult life. I either dieted or indulged. I mostly indulged as I am a stress eater. I was unhappy with my body. I took another shame spiral when my sister-in-law gave me a weight loss book one Christmas because it confirmed in my mind how others saw me. I hated looking at my body. And, if I didn't love my body, then I was sure that men wouldn't love my body – and therefore me – either. So, why date? For awhile, I didn't.

Being diagnosed with hypothyroidism and then surviving thyroid cancer helped me re-frame my thoughts about my body. As the thyroid regulates your metabolism, hypothyroidism causes your metabolism to slow down, resulting in weight gain. Now having no thyroid, I must rely on the correct dosage of thyroid medication to regulate my metabolism. As I've come to understand the internal workings of my body, I stand amazed! I now eat healthier to give it the proper fuel. I strengthen it through exercise. And while I have challenged myself to lose weight this year, I know that I will never be the image of the lithe supermodel airbrushed in the pages of a magazine. Neither do I compare myself to that unreachable, perfect standard anymore.

Of course, there are days that I backslide – when I look at my bum in the mirror and see cellulite instead of a cute tush. But, in Ben, I have found a supportive partner. He's not afraid to point out when I am backsliding, which helps me re-frame He encourages me to strive to be healthy while not making me feel it's a statement that I am fat. He shows me that I am beautiful when I have difficulty seeing it on my own.

Life Lesson: Only you determine how you picture your body and how you feel about it. If you have a negative body image, seek out support to help you re-frame your thoughts. Learn to appreciate your body for what it accomplishes, not how you perceive it to look.