Infertility: When you feel all of the walls closing in on you, turn around and look for a window

 Lately I have been feeling bad, I mean really, really bad–physically.

My body is burning hot, and then moment’s later freezing cold (all day, and all night). My back hurts. Headaches are constant. I don’t sleep at night–plagued with awful night sweats. I am sad. I feel angry. Everything just feels wrong.


Bottom line, I just don’t feel well, at all.

This battle of the body I have been fighting for three years now. It’s hard, it’s exhausting, and sometimes it seems like no relief is in sight. Even making the decision that our family would come to life through adoption, did not take away the physical agony of hormones that just can’t seem to balance, and stay that way.

It sucks.

So what’s a girl to do when she feels all of the walls closing in on her? When she feels that no matter the treatment, the lack of treatment, the herbal concoctions, the emotional healing, the dietary changes, things just won’t go back to being “right” again? What do we do when we can’t see any way out of the place we are stuck and the walls are closing in fast?

We turn around and look for a window.

Because the windows are there, they are always there. Sometimes it’s just that the shades on them are blackout shades and so we cannot easily distinguish them from the walls. Yet they are there no less.

So how do we find them if they are shrouded in darkness? We close our eyes and join them there.

We go into the stillness, into the quiet, and we ask that which is greater than us (the angels, God, Buddha, whatever name you name it) how to sink under the loud voices to find our path.

Today, with the help of an incredible holistic chiropractor / friend / healer, I heard my whisper, I found my window, and it was named “Project Cuddle,” a non-profit committed to providing safe and legal alternatives to baby abandonment.

You see I have too much fire in me, too much to give and nowhere for that energy to land–so it spirals out of control within me. And after my session with Trish I knew, completely, that I needed water. I needed the flow of emotions, to be the shoulder to catch the water of tears. I needed the coolness of babies–whether mine forever or only for five minutes–and birth mothers, who needed warmth.

But how; adoption isn’t instantaneous? Pregnancy does not seem to be part of our path. How do I bring some coolness to my fire?

I volunteer, I give my fire away, and I open to the coolness of need. 

When we are locked within the four walls of our mind–stuck in the cavern of ourselves–it can feel like we are in a room quickly closing in. And when we are feeling the claustrophobia of too much self-focus–perhaps it is time to look for the window—a window to the world outside of our painful struggle. A place where we are needed more than we need. And maybe just maybe, it is there that we will find the light to our darkness.


  1. A woman of my own heart. I did playwork with an autistic child and later worked for a children’s charity because of the amount of love I have to give. I also sponsor a child through Plan International and hope that I’ll have the means to continue to do so until she turns 18. The money goes into development work for her community and ensuring she gets an education.

    Still, for me it hasn’t quite filled that hole but at least I sleep at night knowing all my efforts are being poured into something worthwhile.

    1. How truly wonderful Mina! I do agree that it will never completely fill us to full–the longing lingers–yet it gives our stuck love an outlet. It keeps our hearts open, and prevents them from shutting down. What wonderful ways you are loving in the meantime, as you move toward your child.

  2. Damn. I so hear you. In my case, the problem isn’t hot flashes, but excruciatingly painful periods. I have tried *everything*, and I still get that occasional period that is just a nightmare. And these days, the period itself is a reminder of all of the failures of my body. For me the problem is that I’m stuck, but being childless keeps me in my position of being stuck.

    I hope you continue to find your coolness.

    1. Oh Sarah, I’m so sorry to hear of your struggles. It is truly awful when our bodies won’t just let us forget, when all we want to do is forget and feel “normal” again, like before we unknowingly hopped on this gigantic roller coaster. I do so very much understand the feeling of being stuck, so very much. May you find a way to wiggle out of the “stuckness.”

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