For one year and three months I have faithfully poured my heart into this blog on a weekly and at times twice-weekly basis. I have become acquainted with so many women far and wide who relate to the experience of losing a baby or to some form or reproductive dysfunction. I have made a wide range of dark jokes about my uterus and other things polite ladies don't discuss at tea. I have rushed to these virtual pages to share my tears, my anecdotes, my discoveries, my absurdity, my epiphanies, my confusion. The habit and structure of writing here every single Tuesday has been a life raft and an instrument of great personal and collective healing. 

For a long while I've been excited about the idea of transforming this blog into a book and then expanding these connections I've made into my practice as a Licensed Creative Arts Therapist. I've decided for a little while I am going to re-allocate some of my Tuesday blogging time slots to pulling together a draft of a book. I will still of course jump back in with a blog entry from time to time (like, for instance, I'm sure you're all on the edge of your seats to hear about how my much anticipated reunion with my OBGYN goes next week), but I am also energized at the prospect of taking the necessary time to transform the Ever Forward blog into something new that could potentially reach even more warrior mamas out there.

When I started this blog I was just looking for validation that I was not the only one who had an urge to throw an edition of Goodnight Moon through a cafe window and sob every time they saw a happily pregnant woman (and to in turn validate anyone else who was feeling the same, but was afraid to say so). What ended up happening has far exceeded my wildest dreams. It turns out that we're all just looking for creative ways to put back together the shattered pieces of our hearts and to keep our senses of humor while we do it. 

For those of you who have been reading every week (thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!), I can't properly express my gratitude to you for sticking with me! This is not goodbye but rather just a heads up that entries perhaps won't be as frequent as I turn my attention toward pulling the book together (I didn't want you to wonder what the heck is going on). Feel free to keep checking back in for updates and continue to comment and email whenever you like because you know I love hearing from you! I wouldn't be living into the promise of "ever forward" if I didn't take this next step and I truly couldn't have made it here without you (yes, I'm talking to YOU, specifically). You're the best. Thanks for being a mess with me, sharing your stories with me, growing with me, and being my tribe! Stay tuned for info about the next chapter in the Ever Forward adventure!!!!

So, I joined a gym. This is not terribly characteristic of me as you may know (I'm one of those people for which running feels like the worst sort of torture and who doesn't believe in this supposed "runners high" that people speak of. Come on runners, just admit it, that's not a thing). 

I did it partially because I'm doing a play soon and I want my energy and stamina to be on point (and lets face it i'm also highly motivated by the thought of strangers sitting in a darkened room and staring at me). I also did it partially, and probably more significantly, because this whole year of being utterly out of control of my body has really done a number on me. My body and I are in a bit of a weird place. In some ways I feel more comfortable in my skin than ever because I'm proud of it for emerging from battle and still getting me from place to place on a daily basis. In other ways however, I think, without realizing it, somewhere along the way I lost a certain amount of faith in its ability. I counted on my body to perform what I thought of as a basic human function and it punked out on me. I know those are unfair expectations to put on my little body, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't internalized some of those negative messages.

Now that the dust has settled and all my medical interventions are for the most part behind me, I am left to look at what parts of me may have atrophied from lack of attention over the last 10 months. There are relationships that could use more nurturing, there are projects that could use energy breathed into them, and there are body parts that could use strengthening. This is something they don't really tell you about miscarriage and infertility (well, to be honest, "they" tell you very little don't they?) : that you will emerge stronger in so many ways, but also emerge with quite a bit of repair work to do in terms of your relationship to yourself.  For me, now is the time to take stock of what is left to do and one small step toward that is chugging my butt over to the gym as often as possible. Each time I walk out of there a sweaty mess (which, for me, at this point is the best part of going--the leaving bit), I remind myself that I even though I may not possess the most grace or agility from a physical fitness standpoint, I am more than strong enough to clean up the messes that the Universe left for me. 

Muscle memory is a thing. I feel pockets of emotion shake out of me as my legs tremble and old pains and fears sweat out through my pores, but I'm doing my best to stay with it so that in a few months I will be 5'10" and 100 pounds (Just kidding. That actually sounds truly terrifying to me). I'm trying to stay with it because I want to continuously reinforce that my body is capable, is adaptable, is resilient, is enough. I think if that is the energy with which I approach my physical being, then the rest will fall into place as it is meant to. It's worth a try. 

There's a new tiny member of our family. It wasn't something we were planning on. It was more of a spontaneous falling in love and subsequent adoption. A friend of a friend was looking for good homes for a litter of kittens and we went "just to look" (famous last words). Fast forward to finding myself the caretaker of the teeniest ball of fur who follows me like glue around the house and wants to snuggle endlessly. We didn't purposely do the kitten adoption thing to fill any kind of depressing hole in our collective heart, although I'd be lying if I said that nurturing a little-bitty creature doesn't feel good after the year we've had. We actually didn't really make the connection between our reproductively challenged adventures and this until we were driving home with her swaddled in a blanket. At that moment Chris and I burst into laughter because it became hilariously impossible to avoid the "coming home from the hospital" comparison. It is pretty funny to hear myself and Chris engage in conversations over the last couple days that could just as easily apply to a tiny person as to a tiny kitten. I'm seeing parenting styles emerge and actually finding the whole thing to be really fascinating and heartwarming. I didn't put this level of thought into it before we brought her home, but now that she's here I'm learning a lot (and not just that its next to impossible to empty a dishwasher when a kitten is obsessed with laying on top of your feet at all times). There isn't much more to say about the matter, but to let you know that my journey forward, to my surprise, includes a kitten named Munchie.