Taking a breath

The wind along the front range is what I might consider gale force; but I'm not a meteorologist, so my opinion isn't official.   It was, however, strong enough wind to take the tops off the trash, move gardening stuff, and freak the hell out of the dogs and the kid (and me, but I stayed quiet). 

The last 2 months have been a challenge for me, and frankly, I'm not used to a challenge.  I figure this sounds lame, and I ought to do some 'splainin' on it. 

I'm used to getting what I want, and having the capacity to make that happen.  When I want a pair of boots; I budget for them or pick up more work.  Bam.   If I want to learn a skill; I gather my information and read/watch/absorb and plunge right in.  Bam.  If I want to pick up a hobby; I learn costs/lessons/efforts/time and BAM.  If I have a goal I want to crush, I set it in my cross hairs, list out hurdles to overcome and what I need to do to see it through, and BAM. 

You see how that goes?  Easy peasy.   But usually, when I put my mind to something, I don't fuck around about it.  I also happen to obsess about it, which makes it easier to accomplish.  I'll usually push everything else that isn't essential out to my peripheral world, and focus myself on accomplishing this one thing.  I'm not going to list all of the things this list encompasses because it's  years worth of activities that I've been up to, and it'll just end up making some weird pat-myself-on-the-back-list.  I can do that on paper and give myself an "atta girl" while I'm looking it over, or something.  Yeah.

So this whole pregnancy shtick is really hard to nail down. I didn't think it would though, and that makes me seem like kind of a whiny baby.  And yeah; maybe I am.   I know there are other people who have been doing this a lot longer than I have, and have had to endure many times over what I have only BEGUN to experience.  My heart goes out to those couples (or singles). Very seriously. 

This shit is ridiculous. 

The holidays approach upon us, and I reflect more and more about what I am blessed to have, and what I normally feel a great deal of fortune and appreciation for, which is my family.  As pathetic and campy as it sounds, they have become what I was always in need of.   The thing that I was looking for, was also looking for me as well.   These things in my life that I have surrounded myself, they bring me great joy.  I have very little to despair for, aside from not being able to have a baby together. In some ways this could be considered a fairly nominal thing.  Sometimes I myself make it into a nominal thing, however.   It would have the potential to become a very large part of our family (making us a 4, and not a 3 anymore).  But what cannot be helped, simply cannot be helped.

I still write in my journal to the baby that, I'm frankly not sure I will see soon, in hopes that someday he or she will be able to read it and know that even before they were made, they were loved and thought about with great anticipation.  Just like their older brother was.   It's a way to keep my hopes up, and to keep going through this.  Poor C is just floating along with me; unable to help much more than by just being near me (since a man isn't going through the physical part, like the exams, the calls, the visits, picking up the specimen, etc).  He's with me, and that is something I am thankful for. 

So this holiday season I will hold my family close, and remember that we are still whole and filled with love for each other.  Hopefully our whole will include a fourth before too long, but until then I will keep waiting with blithe anticipation that it won't be a very long wait.

Finding my blessings

So much about my life is revolving around getting pregnant right now, that a great deal of what I should be doing is following to the wayside.  Like, my human development class for example.  I haven't logged in to work on that all week, and my unit is due Sunday.

However, I should confess, between now and then is actually plenty of time for me to write a blog, a journal, read 3 chapters and take a test.  The procrastinator in me has already worked that out, so I have about zero stress over it. 

If there's not a pressing need to get this stuff done over a long period of time, frankly I don't want to spend every night with this one class.  I've got kid-cuddling to do. Probably 26 other things as well, but when faced with a toasty flannel-encased bed with your adoringly snuggly 6 year old, that other shit can wait. 

I've started reading the Little House on The Prairie books to G.  He L.O.V.E.S. them, and I will ask him to practice his reading with me while I read some parts.  I'm so pleased that he's getting into them, and how much he absorbs from them.  We talk about the social issues of that era, and how that compares to our more modern times.  At 6 years old, he's already begun to see the world as a far more overly-complicated place than it ought to be, which is tremendous to see him do.

I really need to start shopping for some good wool fleece.  I have a friend with a local farm that I haven't been able to come visit (mostly schedule issues), but she's been saving a few nice fleeces from this spring for me, and I'd really love to hunker down this winter with some non-strenuous projects seeing as how we're still trying to conceive. 

It should be said that beginning this whole "make a baby" parade shouldn't have been crusaded until after we finished remodeling the master bedroom (by ourselves no less, so it would cost $200, and not $2k) was true stupidity on our parts. I'm fairly sure our child now knows the word "cocksucker" as a result of both the steet rock hanging, and spraying texture.  

It should be noted that I am a crappy drywaller.  Do not hire me if you don't want your seams showing.  Painting, however, is where my talents can really shine.  Not shocking.  Way to go me for putting my fancy art degree to use, finally.  Thanks mom! 

 

Husband calls me every day while I'm at work and asks me how pregnant I feel.  I love that he asks. 


So here's the grit for today: My progesterone test came back at 4.6. A good level would be more like 5-10 to support implantation of a fertilized egg.  So, my OB will have me on clomid this cycle to push my ovaries a little harder to bring that up.  While my cycle isn't expected for another few days (I am not out of the game until she shows up), that 4.6 is a hauntingly low number, so I really wouldn't be pregnant.

After that I'll do an ultrasound to see what my eggs are doing, then somewhere in there when I ovulate we'll shoot up some more donor semen and do another 2 weeks of tedious, tearful, terrible, glorious and boring waiting.

I have a peak window left in later November, which will put me in August/September (which we were going to "tr" to avoid because our anniversary is in September), but I'm going to steam roll this whole thing on through until I've got a bun in my basket.

If this get's any closer to conception in December, I"m going to end up with an October baby, and that's going to suck.  Hubby's, (step)daughters AND baby's birthdays all in the same month. 

Fuck it though.  Baby's going to come when baby comes, and we can just suck it the fuck up.

Zing, and Zing!!!

Take two

Bust for round 1.  When my period started showing up, I found myself crying at almost every still moment.  I'd sit in a chair, and tears would be streaming silently down my cheeks in a few seconds.  They were welling up from a place I didn't realize they were even hiding.  3 or 4 days of that, mostly at night after I put the bear to sleep.  I cried alone, and often up until it was time for me to go to sleep.   This drained me considerably.

So when the app that tracks my ovulation gave me a heads up that I was going to ovulate soon, I was back to testing urine midday, in whatever bathroom I happened to be near at the time.  I got my first peak notification Monday the 26th, and had my second shot at 7:30am Tuesday the 27th.  Weirdly, I ended up with an awful and hateful headache that same day, and spent most of the day in bed, resting, with a heating pad at my shoulders.

Almost oppositely compared to my last IUI shot, I haven't spent nearly the same amount of time obsessing about what minute symptom my body might be experiencing, might or might not be related to conception.  Oooh, a gurgling in my lower abdomen!  This must be a good sign!    None of that.   I am, however, trying desperately to compare it with my first pregnancy and remember what was special about it that would have given me clues as to being knocked up.  The funny thing is; there were no major prior signs that clued me in.  My last period that year was on Cinco De Mayo, and on Monday June 10th, I happened to look at my calendar and realized that it had been 35 days since my uterus had reenacted the final scene in Carrie. 

About a week before this, I had astutely noted that none of my typical pre-menstrual symptoms were present, and had peed on a stick.  The pee test was an expired test, and there was a faint second line, which I discounted as being faulty and literally thought nothing of it beyond that.   Of course, that Monday the 10th of June, I came straight home and took another pregnancy test (with a close friend on the phone, who had been pregnant-by-surprise with all of her three children) who educated me that a faint line is still a line, and I was pregnant.

While my first pregnancy was completely by chance, this one will be completely planned and anticipated.  With breath that is bated, even.  At $450 per round; breath being bated isn't even really the only thing going on for me, either.  There's anxiousness, fear, apprehension, excitement.  More fear.

It's ridiculous to think this way; but most nights when I lay down to tuck Bear in, I think to myself "How could I possibly love another child as much as I love this one?  Will I just have to dive into this venture knowing that I'll always love Bear more?  Is that even possible?  HOW is that possible?  Is my heart able to contain that much love?"

Truly, I love my firstborn with a passion and fervor that I have never realized I was capable of.  Though my conception and pregnancy were entered without planning and there was admittedly a great deal of hesitation on my part (mostly because I was such a complete fuck up at that time in my life, and I was embarrassed that I didn't have more to give a baby at that time), by the time I heard his first little heartbeat, I was no longer finding myself caught in terror and sadness.  It became awe and interest.  When I first felt Bear's little flutter inside me at 4 months, I was already wrapping layers and layers upon my heart, and his, in love. 

As he grew, so did the connection to him and the adoration I felt.  I would lay on my side at night and wrap my forearm and hand around the lowest part of my belly - where I was sure he was lying, and I held him while he was still there.  I grew used to loving him from there so quickly.

There is so much love that is part of mothering, and childbirth and pregnancy.  I, of many of the people I've known, uncannily loved being pregnant.  I didn't mind my belly, swelling legs, losing sight of my crotch.  Weird hair that appeared, strange new bodily noises or processes.  I didn't care, and I laughed it all away.  I rarely complained and often remained beaming madly at the undertaking I was on.

So, here I am, another few weeks to wait.  To try not to fret, to take it easy and light.  A feat of it's own that is much harder for me to accomplish than one would imagine.  My often overly-active energy allows me to get the shit done that needs doing.  But, imposed relaxation is required and healthy.

But still I wait.  Hoping.  Still fearing.  But mostly, just hoping. 

First try

I've been using an ovulation/conception app to track my fertility. I've been dismissing its reminders every month telling me I'm fertile because getting pregnant has been such a dismal situation for me up until this point. 

I made a joke about this, and my husband came back with the unexpected:  an enthusiastic "let's do it".  So, I picked up ovulation tests, confirmed my peak fertility, picked up frozen sperm, and had my first IUI on Friday October 2, 2015.   I spent the remainder of the day with my stepdaughter for her birthday, as well as our littlest, and my husband.  It was a fantastic day for everyone, actually. 

So here is the two week wait, or "2WW" as it's called by those "TTC" (trying to conceive). My ObGyn says that this is a 25% chance of conception without fertility drugs and dud an internal sonogram on me before he defrosted and inserted the sperm in me.  My Fallopian tubes were all primed and ready to go, he was even concerned that I was "too perfectly" ready, and we should have injected the day before. 

I am obsessed with what's going to happen next, naturally.  I'm petrified as well, to say the least.  I've been yearning to have a baby for so very long now, and suddenly without any planning or discussion, we just jumped straight into baby.

One of the things that makes me really nervous is that I have the sneaking suspicion that my husband just isn't into this. His so very "go with the flow" attitude never lends to any excitement, unless it involves bike riding, lots of money, or going on a vacation.  It's a little heartbreaking to be honest.

We also decided not to tell anyone until we knew what was going on, so we're keeping our mouths shut for another 2 weeks, at least. 

Finding Cheer after the holidays

After all the joy of the holidays, when the presents are torn apart, the toys put away in cubbies, the Christmas tree/menorah/Holiday decorations are all stored back up, we find ourselves in a slump.  It's still cold out, winter doesn't magically pack itself away and we're left with a huge gap in the upcoming months where you shall see nary a shred of happiness, or paid vacation days.  With the exception perhaps of MLK day, or in my employers case, Cesar Chavez day.

I didn't even know that this was a holiday, and I am 1/5 Hispanic.  I failed my Hispanic roots right there.   (Note:  my dad won't admit this; he says we're Native American, and French.  His parents names were Manuel & Roma.  I got nothing here other than that).

So here we are, back into the numbing work of plodding along, the nights are just starting to back down a little bit from showing up at 4:30 in the afternoon which causes us to feel like you need to rush directly home, right after work, so as not to be caught out at night.  Because nighttime in winter is terrible, worse than anything in the world.  God forbid that you be caught out in it, and especially when you know your pajamas are waiting for you in the snug surroundings of your abode.   This could also just be me, and I am a lazy freak when it comes to the cold.

Something about this time of year is what causes us to hit a sort-of low point with some things.  Maybe it's that sudden ramp down from holiday cheer and frivolity, maybe it's the credit card bills we all know are coming imminently that we didn't want to deal with when we were buying 3 memberships to wine-of-the-month club for ourselves from "Santa", maybe it's because there's a freakish Arctic weather pattern that is fucking up all of our nice Colorado winter weather.  Whatever it is, we are now deep into the pocket of what's called "Seasonal Affected Disorder", or SAD.  Very apropos. 

Sadness doesn't really need to be for any reason.  It could be because all of your pants are magically 1/2" too short, and you didn't notice that you've looked like Harrison Ford in Witness with his Amish pants.  It came come for a spell and leave just as soon as it would like, and doesn't need to announce itself.  But while it's there, you find that even the nice things you usually enjoy make you feel disconnected, and uncaring.   You don't feel like working on your 1,000 piece puzzle, you don't want to snuggle your children as much when they go to bed, you don't care that the dogs just want your presence next to yours.

The sad thing about sad is that all of those things make you happy.  So many things many you happy, and because the chemistry in your mind is out of balance, none of it matters.    In these times I find it impossible to care about basically anything.  I go longer without shaving, showering, planning meals, planning what I'll wear tomorrow (more out of convenience than anything, I'm not so fashionable that I'm planning something interesting, we're talking shoes, pants, shirt; done).

For those of you, like me, who are in this funk?   Well.....  I'm with you.  We're all here together.  If it's a rough time at work, a crap time in your marriage, something with your kids that you neither understand or know what to do about.  Whatever it is;  I'm here too.

You're not alone.


In light of the fact that you might be feeling as down as I am, I've come up with a list of things that might help.  In no specific order:

• Google "funny memes" on your lunch break.  Or poop break.  Whatever.  Don't GAF at this point.
• Schedule yourself a 30-90 minute massage. 
• Take some time for yourself to relax.  Whatever is pushing this shittiness on you can't very well be fed when you're 100% relaxed.  Shit, maybe you'll burst into tears on the massage table, and while it will be embarrassing as hell, you'll need it.   Not that I've done that.  No, not me.
• Take a walk.
• This is not trivial.  Seriously. Take a walk and look around you.   Don't forget to observe the ice and slush around you; I don't want to be responsible for you falling on your ass when you were looking up.
• Pet your animal for a least 30 minutes.
• Scientifically, this mellows people out, and your animal will get some enjoyment out of it too.  Win, win!
• Get some.
• If you're alone, or if you're married/partnered/unioned; take some time to make this happen.  Orgasms = endorphins = you feel better/not like moose crap anymore.
• Get a small project together.
• Nothing huge, maybe it's just organizing a desk drawer, or a bathroom cabinet.  Give yourself some purpose and some body movement.  Even if it doesn't help, you'll still appreciate that you did something, even if it's in that same way that Eeyore would embrace good news, like "yeah, well, it didn't help, but at least it's done".
• Listen to some music.
• Not depressing shit either, like blues or jazz.  That shit will not help very much aside from lull you to sleep and make you not ever want to wake up.  Try something upbeat.
• Ask for a hug.
• Don't ask for hugs from strangers.  People are really weird lately, and you'll likely get maced anymore.   Try a hug from a friend, someone close to you, who cares about you.  Hugging for 20 seconds or more has been proven to raise serotonin levels. Hell, I will hug you, and not mace you.  I probably need a good hug, too.
• Do something nice for yourself.
• At the risk of encouraging someone to be frivolous, darn it, it might be time for you to buy something that makes you happy.  What my mom always called "a little pick me up".  A scarf that you loved that you spy at a store, a nail polish that you thing is lovely, a magazine that you wanted to read.  If you've got a job and a few bucks to blow, then the sky could be the limit!  
• Talk to someone.
• Maybe it's not as simple as just "cheering yourself up".  If you're down so low that even a stern puppy-swarming cannot bring you a laugh, a chuckle, or even draw the slightest smile (and might even make you cry), it really might be time to make an appointment to discuss what you might be going through.  No one but you needs to know about it too, that's what's beautiful.  If you're like me, I hate telling people when something is seriously wrong.  I hate sympathy for myself and I can't explain why; I just get very guarded when it comes to things like feelings.   And even if it's just a talk over the phone, or a series of appointments just remember that you're trying to help yourself maintain in a world that's very hard to maintain in.  Seriously; it's insanity out here.   

Wherever you are, both emotionally/mentally or physically, I really hope something on this list helps you.  Maybe you'll read it and say "man, she missed this one important thing on her list "___insert action or item____" that would totally work for me", and that's the thing that gives you just a smidge of pep in your step.  I might not have thought of it, but hopefully I put enough inspiration in front of you to find it on your own.


Many hugs, and don't worry;  Seriously, it will all be ok. 

Everything good

Today I exchanged a cup of coffee for a cup of tea.  On the end of the string of by bag, the tag reads "patience pays". 

Amid the hurrying to get one place, or another, and planning one thing or another, this helped me so tremendously today. 

I am grateful for subtle reminders.  I feel very lucky to have everything that I do. 

There is no way but forward

In the face of losing something we love and care about we find ourselves desperate to make amends and plead for more chances to make the wrongs right again, and smoothe over everything that's become broken. 

We hold within ourselves an immense capacity to love and radiate warmth and joyousness.  I feel that every time I think about where my life will go from here, and how beautiful it will be again.   

Yet I digress that I am so very fearful right now, knowing that this joy and love is waiting for me again.  The crossing into the unknown abyss to where I've never ventured scares me in a way I cannot explain.  A great deal of hurt is going to come, for all of us, and I question how I will withstand it, and protect the ones I love in any way I can.   Yet knowing that this certainty looms before me, I cannot bear to stay where I am.  I am lost in uncertainty about whom I have chosen to spend my life, and I cannot answer the questions of whether or not I want to stay with him. 

Sensing this, he's changed the game and announced that he wants a vasectomy reversal, so we can have a child together. No more donors and doctors and ovulation schedules.  In the corners of my mind where there is the tiniest cleft of love remaining, the shreds I tucked away that will stay with me and haven't been mired in the years of unhappiness and neverending fights and harms, it feels the ache of joy I so badly wanted those few years ago.  Every time he postponed and reasoned how we should wait another 6 months, another year, another few months again, just this little bit longer.  Always pushing it farther away from me and never wanting to talk about what would happen, how we would get through it.  Never making it a reality for me, only a desire just out of reach. 

It's been so long since I've dared to hope that this would be a REAL decision, or a real conversation, I've had to quiet my heart and keep from bubbling up with tears and sobs.  I've had to force myself to keep from feeling attachment to this, almost to the point where, when I think about a baby,  I don't feel happy anymore.  I feel a cavernous sadness inside me where the dark is waiting for me to venture to it, so it can take me and never let me go. 

The sharp pain of longing no longer exists, I just have to accept that in this moment, in this life, this is what I will have, and the yearning must be quelled in order for me to survive.  It pulled at me so hard and for so long, that it feels like I've lost something so important that I can barely take time to really mourn its loss. 

My journey will continue, and I will have to mourn when I'm ready.  Life must continue and I must find happiness within it.  Life is suffering and yet there's no other way to overcome what's needed.

"The Greatness of Forgiveness"

I can't take and credit for this; it showed up in my daily emails subscribed from Dr Andrew Weil.  Nevertheless, it was worth sharing as a way to remind myself of why forgiveness is important.  Even if it is only forgiving yourself........


Forgiveness is beneficial not only mentally but physically as well. People who forgive tend to be less angry, depressed, stressed-out and anxious, and have lower blood pressure and heart rates than those who hold grudges. If you tend to have a hard time letting go of a grievance, consider that forgiveness does not mean you have to forget an incident, but rather that you can place a limit on how it affects you and your relationships.

You will benefit from the process of forgiveness as much, and perhaps more, as the person with whom you have the disagreement. This holiday season, take a step back and think about who you would like to forgive, and let it happen.

Much love to everyone. 

Options and waiting.

I think the concept in my mind of how a man might feel when faced with the notion of using another man's sperm to get his wife pregnant might not strike a fellow too well. Generally that primal urge to fornicate and seed anything and everything in sight is still a relevant mind set in most of the male populace, whether discussed or not. The entire psychology aside, this was the beginning of a totally new conversation between us: Using a chosen donor. Someone we know.

This, like every option, carry’s a lot of weight to be considered. First and foremost; locating someone who would be affable to being hit up for semen maybe 1 or 2 times a month. Usually on the fly, too, when I have a surge in temperature and my ovulation predictor is giving us a figurative green light. This is also not going down the list of other aspects such as general weirdness. Not necessarily in the way you might think, but imagine running into this person in say, the grocery? The movies?  Campus? I imagine it would go down with a very fleeting, penetrative stare in which everyone involved would be thinking "yeah, those swimmers were totally in my wife/your wife/me", followed by a seemingly stammering quick glance away. It it completely insane for me to have that scenario?

So for a week or so, hubby verbally strategized how he was going to ask, and who he was going to ask, and how it was all going to go down. During this, the part of me that wanted to pick apart the whole situation to examine all the flaws, and plan out the attack was really questioning whether this was the best plan. I'd been studying how to get one’s self pregnant using sterile syringes and sterile collection cups and the method to position yourself when performing a home insemination. All this DIY process was mapped out in my mind.

Not long after the notion came about, it was quashed when my husband came to the stark realization that the men he would be asking, are ones he sees on a daily basis, and the utter discomfort of the whole act overall was not what he wanted to endure.

So next came the next idea: Ask hubby's brother. Brother enjoys children and lives with his girlfriend, but doesn't want any children of his own. This possibility was nifty on the front that, at the more basic level, it would be a child from the 2 of our gene pools, and not from a complete stranger.

Hubby asked his brother, and since that point, hasn't brought up the scenario again. I'm postulating that this was around 3 months ago. The ensuing silence on the issue leaves me the conclusion that the answer was a "no".

I can't lie; the idea of a known donor scared the shit out of me. Parading a child around who didn't fully look like your husband, but more like his brother just seemed like a bad episode of Maury where at the end there's a shocking DNA test reveal, followed by a lot of face-slapping. Of all these options, the part of it where get got to look over the donors history and physical background was probably the most assuring.

I'd like to step outside of this tirade to explain why the medical history is so important to me. My only child is almost 5 years old, and was conceived with a man, whom for all practical purposes deposited this infant in me purely by the stroke of divine luck. I say this because my child’s biological father had suffered for years prior to me meeting him from a few non-communicable ailments that inevitably lead him to a pulmonary embolism at the age of 36. Our son was not yet 2 years old, and the two had never even met. At 18 months of age, my son developed mild persistent asthma, and has several moderate severe allergies that keep me in just enough paranoia that I have to be at a heightened level of caution that a normal mother would.

If I was given the opportunity to pick and choose when it came to my boy; without any question I wouldn't change whom he was conceived with, and how it all happened. I love him unconditionally, completely and consuming. And more every day.  Period.

That being said; if I can give a child a chance to be born with the ability to remove certain health challenges out of the equation, I would like to do that for them.  No person hoping to have children would ever ask for less than a health child.  If we give our children nothing else in life, I hope it begins with good health, because while I have not experienced what a mother has to go through physically, emotionally and psychologically with a severely ailing child, I have still felt the panic of all-night episodes where my child and I are up every 30 minutes to few hours performing breathing treatments, and standing in hot showers together to get his airways to open up.  Feeling the panic inside while trying to keep an unending ocean of calm around you so your baby won’t feel that same grip of terror. 

Like I said; not even close to the horrors that some mothers have endured, and will in the future.  But for the two of us, we’ve seen hard nights together. 

There is the occastional insane notion, usually somewhere around the day or two before I am ovulating, that some insane and primal part of my brain that is hungry for a baby that takes a hold of my mind and fills me with crazy ideas of how I could bypass all of this bullshit and just go get someone to knock me up.   I'd like to tell you that I often laugh off these passing insanities, but the arguements I seem to concoct are so surprisingly convincing, that sometimes a veil of non-reality seems to go over my eyes where the notion isn't so completely terrible anymore. 

I quickly learned to A) keep it completely quiet that you're having this thought and B) Wait out your hormones for a day or so and you'll be back to your frustrated fertility-challeneged self.  Safe from irreprable relationship damage and 20 years of ongoing drama. 

So I close this today with this little tidbit:  There's always a short cut.  Mistakes aren't always regrets, but it will not mean they won't be frought with pain during the journey you're on.

 

Letting Go

There are many things I need to catch up here about our ongoing journey, but instead I'd like to write a little something contextual.  It's something we need in everyday life, and to be near us on our journeys, and it's been a topic which, as fertility-challeneged/differently abled will know, can cause more hurdles to overcome than just that of the fertility. 

You hear this phrase “letting go” a lot in meditation circles. It’s easy to say, and pretty easy to explain as well: don’t cling to the past, don’t get absorbed in plans for the future, don’t let fear, worry or anger get a hold of you in the present.

But try telling someone who is fearful or angry – in this present moment – to “let go” and you may get your ears boxed. And it won’t do anything to help them to let go either.

Actually letting go doesn’t come about by doing anything. Letting go isn’t something you do – it’s more like something that happens, almost by itself.

The conditions have to be right, of course. You must be able to let go – often you must have the courage and openness to accept whatever life has to offer – to not resist what might be unpleasant. And meditative exercises help too, of course: focusing your attention on the here and now creates the discipline of mind to not be carried away by anticipations of the future or memories of the past.
But being fully at ease with whatever is present in your experience is hard. It requires an attitude of welcoming to whatever this moment has to offer – an act of faith in the unknown of the future. But such an attitude cannot be brought about by doing anything. It’s more in the act of non-doing and just witnessing.

This is what meditation is about, really. Stopping. Not doing and just being and being aware. Dwelling in awareness is how this total relaxation can happen. And when you are totally relaxed – at ease with everything – there is no clinging and no grasping. ”Letting go” has happened.

My daily Buddhism

"It is very good for children to see their parents sit still and be calm. That gives them the idea that maybe they too can do the same. If Mom and Dad are always busy, running around, talking on the phone, stressed out, or collapsed in front of the TV, the kids will also be like this."

I read this today, and am reminded of HOW much our daily lives are like this.  We run around crazily to accomplish everything we need and desire before coming home and sinking into our comfort-place.  What impressions are we giving our children?  What lessons? 

What I've taken from the excerpt is the unspoken levels in which children absorb from their parents, and what actions, emotions and attitudes this will teach them to have themselves. 

Today I've been shown a reflection of myself I've never bothered to look at before, and it is astounding that I see a person who does this very thing.  Not bothering to realize HOW I am teaching my child by example.