Rarely, there comes a period of time when everything I think I know for sure is questioned. I mostly like the new, the different. I enjoy novelty, new trends, new technology. This is perhaps why I love to travel and why I enjoy our proximity to Silicon Valley: I love NEW.
But I don’t necessarily love surprises.
I think a general feeling of confusion began when that meteor hit Russia. I hate meteors. They scare me. I think the primary mission for NASA should be predicting and protecting earth from asteroids hitting us. Yes, I am totally serious. One of the reasons I support President Obama is because I know he thinks meteors are a real threat. I know this makes me sound like a crackpot, but well, there you have it.
SO: when I heard on the radio that a meteor had hit Siberia, I was freaked. I had read that Asteroid 2012 DA would narrowly miss earth (yes, I keep track of this stuff) so this was an unhappy surprise. I rushed home and went on YouTube and watched the videos. Shudder.
A week later, the uneasy feeling still trailing after me, I met with the contractor who has been redoing our basement. He told me that his main sub-contracter, a man I saw almost every day for a month, a nice guy who had painstakingly reassembled a fussy Venetian mirror that is a family treasure and who had chatted with the twins: he was dead. Our contractor had been driving to the store to pick up dog food when he saw a van parked on the side of the road surrounded by police cars and an ambulance. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the van as the one that belonged to his employee. He pulled over, only to be told there was no hope. The sub-contractor had passed away of a heart attack while driving. He was only 52. I am still dumbfounded, and sad. I assumed he had many years ahead of him.
The Joyful News
That very same day, I got a text from Esperanza asking if I was sitting down. If you haven’t gotten the good news yet, please visit her! I don’t know if I have ever talked about this, but I have been taking Esperanza’s diagnosis of Diminished Ovarian Reserve rather personally, since it was the very same diagnosis I received at the exact same age. I know her diagnosis was not about me at all, but I was so very angry when I heard the news, because I remember how hopeless the prognosis was, and how no one understood how different and poor the stakes were. Also, truthfully, I am a bit of a know-it-all about DOR. I have really tried hard to keep out of E’s decisions, and respect her very different set of factors determining treatment. And also try to remember that the same diagnosis can lead to different results. (Wildly different, even.) I’ll admit here too that I didn’t have much faith in Eastern medicine to primarily treat my own infertility because of my OWN experience (The diet and the supplements were flop until I combined them with Western medicine) so I’ve been astounded at what has happened with E. And truth be told? I feel kind of stupid. Did I not try hard enough with the Fertility Diet? Did I rush to use fertility drugs? Will these decisions be hazardous to my health later on? I’m feeling a lot of self-doubt and regret. Before, I’ve always been able to confidently say why my poor prognosis directly led to our decision to do IVF, and to do it fast. (“Time is not your friend,” I was told. After 2 1/2 years of TTC, I had not once gotten pregnant on my own and my chances of TTC naturally were “less than 2%.”) But now, I find myself second-guessing that rush to treatment.
At the end of the day, it’s silly to second guess such things. I’m so very happy that I have my wonderful twins. And that’s all that matters.
I will say, however, that both of these antidotal episodes have reminded me of the incredible importance of eating the right foods, unlike any major medically-backed studies that I SHOULD have paid attention to. Growing up, my family ate peerlessly healthy meals: dark green vegetables, a lot of fish, olive oil, garlic, tomatoes, beans and legumes. These were the MAIN parts of every repast. There was no dessert, and locally baked sourdough bread was our only treat. The twins eat the food I grew up with now. But I don’t. There is a major reason for this: I have horrible acid reflux, the legacy of a drug I took to increase my breastfeeding supply. (Was I too obsessed with “Breast is Best?” More regrets.) A lot of food is painful to digest, so I end up eating things that are the LEAST painful: crackers, rice cakes, yogurt, bananas. Nothing very nourishing. I take a good multivitamin but it’s not the same. Then there is my Matcha Green Tea addiction. (Caffeine from green tea is the only kind I can tolerate.)
I think it’s time for a change.
Have you ever gone through a period where your “certainties” have been questioned? Was it a good or bad thing?