Day 99: A letter to myself
There’s magic in the waiting
On my 31st birthday this year, just days before starting Mom Brain, I wrote a letter to my 30-year-old self. It was cathartic and a much-needed farewell to a year so delicate, transformative, and grief-ridden. I’m re-reading it now, and all of it remains so, so true.
March 11, 2024
To my 30-year-old self.
Hey you,
I wish I could hold you right now. You’re completing the hardest week of your life. One last kick from our Saturn return, as we tried to make sense of it all. But you handle it the best you can. You are surrounded by so many people who love you, but I get it. The only thing you want right now is your baby back.
I’m here to tell you it gets better. No, really. I know you know that it gets better (you’re already amazed by how well and resilient you are doing just one week out from your miscarriage). But I don’t think you realize how much it gets better. 30 is a tough year, but you come out of it so so sweet.
This is the year you (finally) put a lot of yourself and your foundation first. You connect more with your spiritual side and align that with your health and self-care. Your brain will fire off in so many ways as you take in all this new information and craft a vision for how you want to live your life moving forward.
You travel to Chiang Mai — twice! You find yourself comfortable in a place that is so important to your guy and the children you know you will have one day.
You complete your yoga teacher training with Y7! YES. You took on a huge commitment all for yourself, and had the most amazing support from Adam in doing it all. You studied, you practiced on the mat, you brought yourself down to NYC every Saturday available, and even showed up for your classes when you were half a world away. You sequenced and taught your first class at your practicum. You have so many new topics and disciplines to learn and integrate here. A beautiful foundation for a lifelong practice.
You walk through two more pregnancy losses (chemical this time). You are smart to know something is up from the moment you see those faint lines. You know they are passing. Energetically, you are down but you see the hope here. And it kick-starts your journey with more advanced testing to figure out what’s going on. You find out that, most likely, your first loss was probably a loss that was always meant to be. Not something you did, or a failure of your body. It was, like most losses, just incompatible with…this world.
After months of fighting for answers, you finally get your diagnosis. A quick round of antibiotics and you’re good to go.
You get pregnant the very next cycle, and it’s like magic. You are amazed and validated seeing that line come up. It's the day after some Halloween festivities, when you were surrounded by little babies with their costumes and just hoping next year would be the one you take your own little one, all dressed up for the occasion.
You knew this pregnancy would be tough, especially getting through those first few weeks. Miscarriage will do that to anyone. It robs the joy of those early moments. November and December are rough, swinging between so much hope, and so much uncertainty. Thankfully, your workload is light, and you can survive through the days you are nauseous, exhausted, and anxiety and depression-ridden. These are the days where the only way out is through, and you had already strengthened that muscle earlier this year with your first loss.
You do make it, though! You get through each week. You see your baby at 8 weeks 2 days, right on schedule — in fact, measuring a day bigger than you had originally calculated. You share those proud, precious two ultrasound images with your parents and close friends, gradually as you become more and more confident. You hear the heartbeat on December 20 and the amazement is still there. You tell A, and then the rest of your family, and now, it’s not a secret anymore.
On Christmas, you get the test results that you’ve been waiting for. Our baby is fine. And he’s a boy. You sprint downstairs to tell our parents and brother. You see in these moments how much our dad is a softie, so excited himself that he will soon be a grandpa to a grandson. The next 24 hours all you can replay is the pure joy and amazement of finding out. Suddenly it makes so much more sense. Suddenly it’s always been him that’s supposed to be here with you.
Sprinkled in between all of this you found so much joy beyond your fertility journey. You enjoy the ease of feeling more sure of yourself than ever before. You find new integrity in your business and secure a huge win in arbitration—a sweeping success, and the validation you needed to move onward and upward in your work. You get invited to your first speaking events! You find new footing in your Substack writing! You have the best relationship with A. You and Adam find so much peace and friendship this year—you’re more in love with him than ever. You see your friends, you visit your family, you find more confidence in your current home.
You’re doing better than ever before. And I know I’m forgetting a whole bunch here, but I promise it’s good! And I know: there’s some part of us that is now waiting for the other shoe to drop. That life can’t possibly be this sweet right now. But for now I know this: you will look back on this moment in time and wish to go back. You are in the good days right now. Hold onto it, and know that you have the wisdom, strength, and integrity to navigate whatever comes next.
Love,
You
P.S. The growth you achieve over this next year will surprise yourself. There will be so many times over the next 12 months where you think, as much as you’d love to have your first baby on the way or in your arms, there’s a magic to the waiting, to the “not just yet.” Trust me, we could not be at more peace with a July 2024 baby, both with your own personal growth and preparation, as well as the settlement you will find on the home front, with your work, with your relationships, and so much more. All good things are coming.