Month: May 2019

This Is Me

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Dear No One,

This is me, and I have anxiety.

What do you see when you look at me?

Do you see a woman crying in bed, not able to breathe, shutting down with exhaustion?

I have always led with my emotions. And those emotions can be big and bold.

It wasn’t until I was dating my now husband, that I even figured out that some of those emotions are led by anxiety.

In one of my many moments of feeling anxious, Marcus said, “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Which I responded with, “No. My chest is just tight.”

Cue the eye roll. “Betsy. That’s anxiety.”

And then a rewind of some standout moments and memories flashed through my mind, and I realized in that moment this wasn’t a new thing.

Yet, after realizing that, I made no changes and continued to wonder why I was having these anxiety attacks and constantly sick and tired.

No, anxiety doesn’t just affect your mind. It can affect anything and everything.

After getting married, I dealt with anxiety about moving to a new state and city where I knew no one. Fun fact: I’m not really a social butterfly. New situations and people are often a source of anxiety for me.

So I’m alone. In a new state. My husband was in residency and working a lot (A LOT)!!!! Then we decided to grow our family. First comes marriage, then comes infertility. Then the journey of adoption and raising our first son. Then moving back to Iowa (after finally making some amazing friends). Then starting IVF. Then pregnancy. Then postpartum anxiety (my anxiety multiplied by a thousand).

That one paragraph of one thing piled on top of another was over six years. Six years of not taking care of myself and my mental health.

This isn’t easy to write or admit because there is still such a huge stigma around mental health. But after multiple, major panic attacks after the birth of our second son, my husband (an obgyn) nudged me ever so gently to start medication.

I feel like I am finally coming out of a fog. An at least six year fog. My entire marriage. My entire time as a mother.

I can see. I can see what my anxiety looks like, what triggers it, and some ways to manage it. And I don’t say heal or conquer my anxiety because it is me.

This is me.

It is a huge part of who I am. My big emotions. My empathy. My emotional intelligence. Those are big, beautiful parts of myself that I’m proud of, but I think they are directly linked to my anxiety.

I share this today because:

1) May is Mental Health Awareness Month

2) Sharing my story may make it easier for another person to get the help they need.

3) And honestly, what don’t I share with you?!?

Mental health disorders are so common. Yet we keep it hidden. I don’t want people to see or judge my unshowered self struggling to find joy in motherhood that I begged for publicly for years.

But if we don’t step forward and share our stories, how will we make any type of advancement?

So, friends, (cue The Greatest Showman) THIS IS ME. I have anxiety. It is not all of me. It is not breaking me. It is just a part of me. And I am only at the beginning of learning to manage it.

And if you have or even think you have a mental illness, please get help. Work to manage it. Whatever that looks like for you.

It is part of you, but it does not have to control you. And as always, you are not alone.

All my love,

Betsy

“My Wish” Bracelets

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By Emily Misener

E1GHT.

We are one in eight. We are one in eight couples who struggle to conceive a child by natural methods.

I have had to learn to believe that this is ‘OUR’ story. That ‘WE’ will forever be changed by these last several months, and the months to come. In Jacob and I’s case, my body is the one that doesn’t produce the hormones necessary to develop a viable egg.

It is such a tricky thing to believe that something that feels as personal as my body is a shared journey. Jacob feels the hopelessness and emptiness. He feels the sadness and the lingering cloudy days, and he definitely feels the side effects of all my infertility drugs. He is my rock. But Jacob will be the first to admit that this journey is very different for him, simply because it isn’t his body.

Infertility for me feels so heavy. My chest aches. It feels lonely, even when I have an unbelievable support system. It is scary. It is unknown. It is uncontrollable. It comes with days of high hopes that crumble to the lowest of lows in one phone call. It steals my confidence. It makes my skin feel uncomfortable. It makes me question God and why He made me this way. It is a financial thief. It makes me sift through many lies that I tell myself to find a reason for the failed attempts. It feels really big, and makes me feel really small.

I have always told myself that I will be an advocate for women going through infertility once I am on the other side. Once we have conquered this hormonal hiccup, and conceived our miracle, I will be ready and worthy to help, but through countless conversations with God, I realized that I can be helping people right now. I can be ready right now, in the thick of this situation (I like to call our infertility a situation because situations can change). I think that being raw and real about infertility is a job that calls for present time. I won’t have answers for other women, but I can spread hope, and remind them that they are brave and not alone. That is a job for right now. I can sit and relate to the crappy parts of their story with them, and then offer them my hand to pull them up out of the darkness to try again.

So friends, this is a piece of our story, and now I want to spread my own piece of hope. I started making “My Wish” bracelets. The inspiration behind these bracelets is to remind women struggling with infertility of the community of warriors in it with you. Did you know that a star is formed once its dense core collapses under its own weight? The end stages of a star’s formation are violent and disruptive, a far reach from their peaceful existence when transformation is complete.

Sister, I know it feels like you’re collapsing under the disruptive and sometimes violent emotional weight of infertility. I know you are asking hard questions and praying relentless prayers. I also BELIEVE that on the other side of this journey is peace, and transformation in us and through us.

I would love to send you or someone you know this bracelet reminder that it is okay to feel all the feelings infertility brings you – but my hope is that at the end of the day you know that you are strong, brave, favored, perfectly imperfect, and your story matters.

More importantly, I want you to know that I am with you.

Love – fellow fighter, hope spreader, infertility sister, friend.