Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Jan. 30, 2012
This year, I’ve set a significant objective for myself: to thoroughly declutter my home. This process transcends merely organizing toys, shredding outdated documents, and discarding clothes that no longer fit. It’s about the aspiration—and belief—that I can lead a more liberated, joyful, and meaningful life with less. It involves discerning what is truly necessary and mustering the strength to part with items that no longer serve a purpose. Objects that don’t impact the authenticity of the experiences they symbolize, such as a race T-shirt or a concert ticket. Regardless of their presence, I still completed that race and enjoyed that music.
As I navigate through my home, assessing the myriad items that populate my life and contemplating whether to keep or discard them, I’ve realized that our motivations for holding onto possessions—guilt (like my child’s stuffed animals), hope (my size four jeans), nostalgia (the wedding shoes), and sorrow (my late dog’s bumblebee costume)—often mirror the reasons we ultimately find the courage to let them go.
A Pottery Bowl and a Journey of Healing
Eight years ago, during a summer family vacation in Colorado, I crafted a bowl in a pottery class. My participation was born out of necessity; at five months pregnant, traditional activities such as horseback riding or climbing were off-limits. Even the simple trek to the spa for a prenatal massage left me breathless due to the elevation.
The bowl I created was both hideous and beautiful. It was flawed and uneven yet represented a moment of creativity during a blissful second trimester. When it arrived back home, I was surprised it made the journey intact. It endured multiple relocations until it found its final resting place on a small shelf above my bathroom toilet—because where else could I possibly display it?
Initially, I should have discarded it upon its arrival (it was quite unattractive), but I held onto it because it encapsulated the cherished summer I experienced while embracing the excitement of impending motherhood. The discomfort of early pregnancy had faded, and I found myself daydreaming about baby essentials. It was a time filled with magic.
Yet, that wasn’t the sole reason for my attachment. Although first pregnancies are often seen as magical, this was not technically my first. My initial pregnancy occurred a year and a half earlier during a family cruise in the Caribbean. After a home pregnancy test, I hurried to my physician, who cheerfully advised me to enjoy the trip but to avoid drinking the water in Mexico. My memories of that cruise are overshadowed by the night I miscarried, amidst a sea of beautifully decorated Christmas cookies that seemed to surround me.
Upon returning home, I found myself hospitalized. Despite the pain and unusual symptoms I experienced during the cruise, my medical tests indicated I was about eight weeks pregnant. However, the ultrasound revealed a different story. Heartbroken, I faced a surgical procedure filled with uncertainty—would I wake up with fewer reproductive organs or, worse, face further complications? I emerged intact, but the relief was fleeting; the fetal tissue discovered indicated a molar pregnancy—a mass of abnormal cells that would not develop into a baby.
Complications escalated as I was referred to a gynecological oncologist, where I learned that the abnormal cells could potentially develop into choriocarcinoma, or cancer in the uterus. Over the next two months, I underwent chemotherapy, followed by ongoing blood tests to track my hormone levels. Despite the treatability of the cancer, monitoring was crucial to prevent any chance of it spreading unnoticed.
In a way, my first pregnancy was an illusion of epic proportions—a vanishing act that transformed my longing for a child into a battle for health. The bowl I made during my subsequent vacation had become a symbol of my journey through pain and healing, resilience, and trust. However, upon reflection, I realized that it was merely a bowl—an unsightly one at that. I ultimately discarded it, understanding that the essence of that magical time resided within me, unencumbered by physical objects.
Resources for Family Planning
For those on their own journey of family planning, our other blog posts provide valuable insights, such as the fertility booster for men and the impregnator at home insemination kit, which can be beneficial resources. For a comprehensive understanding of the IVF process, I recommend checking out this excellent resource: what the IVF process is really like.
In summary, the process of decluttering is not merely about physical items; it is a profound journey of self-discovery. It invites us to reflect on our attachments and to recognize that the memories we cherish do not reside in objects but within our hearts.
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