My mom recently sent me a Quan Yin statue she bought 33 years ago before she was pregnant with my brother. She had been trying to have another baby and her friends recommended she acquire a Quan Yin to pray to. In a store of brown wooden Buddhas, dragons and furniture, the white ceramic Quan Yin holding a little baby glowed amongst the dark wood. She knew right away that this was the Quan Yin that would bring her, her baby boy. She brought the Quan Yin home, and in the next year, my brother was born. She was 40 years old.

Was it the Quan Yin? I don’t know. I don’t consider myself superstitious, but I want to believe in that type of magic, so why not be open to its possibility? I figured it wouldn’t hurt as I’ve been muddling through the pregnancy journey with my packs of supplements, weekly acupuncture appointments, and morning basal body temperature recordings. Each month after doing it all “right”, I hope and wait, only to be disappointed when I begin to feel the loud cramping knocking in my womb. The alarms have rung — this isn’t my month.

My mother who is usually the worst in most challenging situations, has been strangely supportive. Her typical M.O. is to add more worry, with the “Oh my god! What are you going to do?!” catastrophized, frantic response, rather than the preferable soothing “Everything is going to be okay”. Even if it’s not true, at least there’s no fuel added to the fire. It always ends with me calming her rather than being calmed, which caused me to not tell her what’s going on in my life, unless I absolutely had to.

In the last couple of years, I’ve been working on being more open with what’s going on with me —or at least not hiding — so that I can be more authentic in my relationships. When I told her that we were trying to get pregnant, I was worried she’d call me constantly asking, “Well?!?” — but she hasn’t, even though I know she desperately wants another grandchild. In fact, her advice is exactly what I want to hear, encouraging me to not put too much pressure on myself. Repeating actually helpful statements like “Whatever will be, will be!”, and “Either way, you’ll have a happy life.”

To hear that statement, “Either way, you’ll have a happy life.” from my mother was weird and remarkable, since I recently came to the same realization. In my TTC (trying-to-conceive) journey, I had gone through a variety of phases. It had begun as many journeys do, with arrogance. Whatever, we got this. I had my basal thermometer in hand, I knew I was ovulating, and so we just gotta have sex right before I ovulate, and BOOM! Baby, right? Apparently not. Then, I reacted with a phase of over-controlling — so, this isn’t happening, so what can I do to control this into happening? More research, more tools, more supplements. The more I controlled, the more out-of-control I felt.

And now, I’ve come to this stage which is really hard to describe. It’s not giving up, but it’s also not trying so tenaciously. It’s doing what needs to be done, but not giving all of my power over to getting pregnant. It’s what Dr. Randine Lewis calls “The Taoist way of fertility.”

 

The Quan Yin my mother sent me

 

How are you living your fertility?

Three months ago, I began going to see an acupuncturist who specializes in fertility. I knew I was in the right place when she took my pulse and said that in TCM (traditional Chinese medicine), fertility begins in the heart. As someone that had been striving to live from a heart-centered place, that idea — fertility begins in the heart — just feels good and right to me.

After my first session, she sent me a video of her mentor, Dr Randine Lewis, talking about ‘receptivity’ and the mind-body balance in fertility which was congruent with my philosophies and values. It wasn’t until the end when she said something that hit me to my core. She said:

“Chinese medicine is all about being in alignment with your natural state. It’s your life right now. How are you in harmony with your life, right now? Your work. Your relationship. Your fertility. What supports you? What are you enlivened by?

How are you living in accordance with it, and how do you live at odds with it?

When you live your fertility in a way where you might not have the rest of your life ahead of your life, today, to do it. Right now, how are you living fertile-y? Not what you don’t have, but what you do have. How would you bring forth the joy, the life that you have? That to me, is fertility.”

I wondered — am I fully living my life right now, or am I putting it on hold waiting to become a mother? It made me think of that thing Oprah said: “You cannot wait for someone to save you, to help you, to complete you. No one can complete you. You complete yourself.” This is primo advice for dating and those looking for love —love yourself first, then love will come to you. But perhaps this also applies to becoming a mother.

It brought up an existential evaluation of my life and what I’ve been doing. Intuitively, I can hear in my inner voice speak to me about next steps in my 2nd career in spiritual service, but I’ve been dragging my feet. I’ve been making excuses like “Well, if I have a baby, all of this will need to be put on hold anyway…” But what Dr. Randine said about not having the rest of my life made me consider — what if I don’t get pregnant, what would I be doing with my life? I thought about my new career and my inner voice. It was time for some realness and self-honesty.

Letting myself go there, I realized I was scared. The next step in my career meant I really had to put myself out there — no more hiding. To show my true self in a more public way, which to the shy, socially anxious little girl inside was completely frightening. Becoming a mother was a good excuse to not face my fears and simply accept motherhood as my sole purpose and I convinced myself that everything else is meant to be put on hold till later. By doing so, I did what Oprah warned: I was waiting for this child to come into my life to complete me, rather than me completing me.

And it made me think: Is that the type of mother I want to be? What kind of example would I be, if I sacrificed my dreams and goals for this child? Of course, in every important relationship, there’s always negotiation. Instead of taking that meeting, I’m going to go to my child’s school play. Instead of going on a romantic vacation in Paris, we may go to Disneyland instead. Sure, negotiations happen. But what kind of mother do I want to be to this child? Do I want to be the mother who loves only them, or the kind who loves them, but also exemplifies self-love as well as love to our community by being of service? Do I want them to look outside of themselves for someone or something to complete them, or for them to know they are whole unto themselves? I’d prefer it if they listened to Oprah — You complete yourself, hon. I can’t control them into this realization, but I give them a better chance if I show how I’m doing it myself.

 

Child or not, we’re fertile and abundant, just as we are.

And then, there’s the scenario of: what if I don’t become a mother? What if we spend all of our money on IVF, and we’re still left without a child, what then? When I think of something that’s fertile, I think of rich soil that makes life grow. It makes me think of abundance. Fruits and vegetable seeds that are planted and becomes nourishing apples, squashes and tomatoes that feed the body and soul. Like Dr Randine inquires, “…how are you living fertile-y? Not what you don’t have, but what you do have.”

When we’re on an infertility journey, we’re so focused on what we don’t have. We don’t have a good egg, or hormonal balance, or whatever the issue is, that we don’t see what we do have. I have a loving husband and relationship beyond my wildest dreams. I am overall a healthy individual, physically, mentally spiritually. I live a very peaceful life with very few ‘problems’. “Infertility” makes it sound like I lack something when it’s not true, I have so much. I have everything I need in this moment, and when I live in the present — I can feel the abundance in my heart. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have that desire to be a mother, and do what needs to be done to contribute physically. It is a fact that older women’s egg quality declines, and I have to face that and take the necessary steps to cultivate a positive contribution to this effort. But emotionally and spiritually, I don’t have to give my power away to it so that the feelings of lack knocks me out of my center.

Overall, my cup is overflowing. And that’s part of why I want to be a mother, because I have the love, the energy, the nurturance to provide for another. But traditional motherhood is not the only way I can provide what’s in my cup. This mothering energy can be used in a myriad of ways. I am mothering when I do a reading for a client or hold space in a meditation class. I am mothering when I make congee when friends and family are sick or when I listen compassionately to a friend who’s having a tough time. Or even simply giving a warm smile to someone who needs it at the grocery store is a way to use my mothering energy. These are all things I can do in the present, with what I do have.

I hate to admit it when my mom is right, but she is. Either way — baby or no baby, I’ll have a happy life. I’ll be a mother in my own way, knowing that I am a complete woman, helping others to also see and glorify their own fullness just as they are. All we can do is take one step in front of the other, be present to all that we have and live fertile-y one day at a time.

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This article is a continuation of Jumble & Flow series, ‘Pregnant over 40’ chronicling my journey in trying to get pregnant as someone over 40 years old — See series articles: