• Ashley

Your Body is NOT the Enemy

Strange confession (I can't believe I'm coming out with this): there was a period of time when I became obsessed with other women's ovaries.

If I found myself in a room with women, I would become fixated on their presumably young, healthy, vibrant ovaries. I would wonder if these women even took the time to appreciate and respect their beautiful baby makers. How did they NOT wake up every morning, grateful for these parts of their bodies and what they're capable of??

I wanted them to appreciate theirs because I couldn't appreciate mine. Mine were failures, embarrassments, losers. Mine couldn't even do the 1 thing they were supposed to. Not even with the help of IVF meds. And the talk in the infertility community - we're "warriors" and should "never stop fighting" added to this war I was forging with my own body. My own self.

The other night, while waiting for my husband's flight to arrive so he could join me for IVF round 2, I started up a gentle yoga practice. Not sure if it's hormones or nerves or both, but I don't have energy for much more than that. Turns out, it was just what I needed.

As I lay there during my gentle practice, something shifted. I've been playing around with the idea of honoring all parts of myself. Loving all parts of myself. Respecting all parts of myself. Even the parts that have caused pain and heartache. As a yoga teacher, I preach it all the time. But as much as I can speak it, that sort of deep self love has been out of my grasp these past few years.

I could understand it - conceptually. Yet something was missing. I couldn't FEEL it.

Until this day, alone on my yoga mat, in my janky AirBnB, during IVF round 2.

Out of no where, I feel the overwhelming need to THANK my ovaries < WTF > This is new. As much as I've tried to appreciate the good and bad of my body, I've never felt truly accepting of my whole self - especially what I believed to be the reason for all of our struggles with fertility. Fuggetaboutit.

Until this exact moment when I tearfully and intuitively put my hands on my belly. I thank my ovaries out loud. I thank them for how they are working, processing these insane amounts of hormones, churning and hustling to offer the best results they're capable of. Tired from years of a silent disease that has left them feeling older and more worn out than my age would dictate.

From this moment forward: we are a team. Can you begin to imagine the relief you feel when you come to peace - come home - to your body after being mad at it for years?

My mantra moving forward is different. No more blaming my body for what it can't do for me. Instead, thanking my body for doing everything in it's power - my power - to have the best possible outcome.

My body is not my enemy.

My body is my home.