I Fought My Body To Have A Child, And It Made Me Better In Every Way

A few years ago, I learned I was struggling with infertility.

“If you want to get pregnant, you will likely need to use an egg donor,” my OB/GYN cautioned after running some preliminary tests before I even started trying to get pregnant.

A pretty cruel joke, I thought. After several years of hemming and hawing, I had only just come to terms with having a baby solo. What I had assumed to be my “fertility window” was closing and I didn’t have a partner yet, so it was time to move forward alone.

And, even though it was a horrible cruel joke, one that I was not willing to accept after attempting to beat the odds, I learned more about myself and how to be a mother from my journey through infertility than I could have through numerous years in therapy.

What followed was one of the most difficult and introspective 18 months of my life.

Rather than accepting my doctor’s advice, I fought the diagnosis — determined to beat the odds, refusing to use an egg donor. But it meant I was thrown into a constant cycle of hope and despair when each month I tried to inseminate, and each month it was a big fat negative.

After many failed attempts, I was forced to decide whether a genetic link to a child was important enough to forego motherhood. Could I use an egg donor or adopt and still be happy?

The answer to that question was eventually, "YES!"

Now I am the proud mother of a gorgeous 2-year-old boy. This journey, horrible and painful as it was, tore me apart and spit me out the other side as a better person and, more importantly, a better mother. It made me better because I had to face head-on so many self-defeating ideas about myself and the world.

It fundamentally changed my way of being in the world. Here are 4 of the best lessons I learned from my journey.

1. There are no guarantees in life.

As phrased in Buddhist teachings: The nature of life is uncertainty. Oh boy, did I learn this one — multiple times.

My first encounter with this was in deciding to become a single mother by choice. I was fixated on the idea that if I had a child alone, I'd be single forever.

My teacher pointed out to me that there were no guarantees in life. I couldn't guarantee that if I got pregnant with a partner he would stick around for the baby to be born or reach certain milestones. I couldn't predict whether he might die or we might divorce. (I know, sort of morbid to think about, but it’s true).

In short, there was no more certainty that I would end up finding a lasting partnership if I waited to get pregnant than if I didn't.

2. Self-kindness isn't a luxury, it's a vital necessity.

While I was struggling to get pregnant, it was staggering to me to realize the depth of my self-hatred. I was angry at myself for not having decided to get pregnant sooner. I was angry for not having a partner. Most of all, I was angry at my body for failing to perform this basic function of being a woman.

At one point, my doctors screwed up and gave me someone else’s positive pregnancy test results. For 48 glorious hours, I loved myself more than I ever have. I was so proud of myself and so in love with the baby growing inside me. When the doctor’s realized their mistake, the self-hatred came back in full force.

The contrast between these two states helped me see the constant stream of insults and criticisms I normally inflict upon myself. They are usually quiet and subtle, but they lurked there, constantly whittling away at my being.

That stark contrast forced me to see that I had to love myself despite my "failing" body and numerous other imperfections. I kept repeating to myself, "Nothing except love makes sense!" It played in my mind like a broken record for months afterward.

I’d looked at this idea many times in the past through therapy and self-help workshops, but it never integrated into my being — it remained an idea. This time, I really got it. It was no longer a saying or an idea — it became part of my being.

3. Doing my best IS good enough.

While I was trying to get pregnant against the odds, I took on a healthy eating regimen, meditated, practiced Qigong daily, got good sleep, and gave up coffee, wheat, dairy, and alcohol — you name it. Yet, when I reflected, I still felt like I wasn’t doing enough. I had to do more. Sometimes I would slip up on my regimen by having a cookie or a glass of wine and berate myself for screwing up. With these slip-ups, I would convince myself that I had blown my chances of getting pregnant.

Until one day, I came across two articles back to back.

One outlined a study in which women who added large amounts of milk to their diets suddenly got pregnant at a staggeringly high rate. In another study, women who gave up dairy and milk significantly improved their pregnancy rates. At first, I was mad and confused. And then, suddenly it dawned on me ... No one really knows the answer!

There was no magic formula that was guaranteed to work. I could drive myself crazy trying every approach under the sun. Or, I could trust my intuition, and recognize that I was doing my best and that my best was enough. I had to forgive myself for any missteps along the way.

4. Knowing when to surrender is one of the greatest blessings you can offer yourself.

I’m one of those left-of-center, alternative, woo-woo types, and I was determined to have a natural birth. Not only did I read and watch every birthing book and video about the medicalization of childbirth, but my undergraduate thesis had also been about it. I was determined to have a natural childbirth. I was also planning to develop a Qigong birthing style and spent my entire pregnancy trying to understand the effects of Qigong on pregnancy and anticipating how I’d incorporate the practice into my birth plan.

Then a few weeks before I was due, I found out my blood pressure had skyrocketed. My midwife immediately had me admitted to a hospital, transferred my care to a doctor I didn't know, and induction of labor began.

More than a week later, I was still in the hospital, fighting to deliver my baby naturally. Eventually, I had to surrender my expectations and give birth via C-Section.

At first, I felt angry. I'd been robbed of my dream in so many ways. My first few days (and even weeks) after the C-Section was incredibly intense. The pain prevented me from sitting up and walking, yet I had to lay my baby across my stomach to breastfeed. Trying to care for a baby as a single mom while suffering that much pain was mind-boggling.

It was like someone hit me over the head and said, “Welcome to motherhood. Your life, your body, your identity, and your notion of control are gone! Get used to it.”