In September 2017, I was honored to be interviewed by Katie O’Connor of Shine: A Light on Fertility. It was a wonderful opportunity to share about my mission to provide more comprehensive support services for women and couples dealing with infertility and perinatal mood disorders, as well as, to break social barriers.  I talked about my love of chocolate and The Grateful Dead- and other fun facts about me. Enjoy!

Tell us a little about yourself and the mission of Michele Weiss, LMFT, Therapy.

I am a licensed marriage and family therapist with a private practice in Lakeview. While I have been seeing patients for 15 years, it was my personal experience with pregnancy loss and infertility treatment that lead me to specialize in working with infertility and perinatal mood disorders (ie: postpartum depression).

I found the infertility path to be one of isolation, overwhelm and often shame. Despite being poked, prodded and offered plenty of advice, the question, “how are you feeling about all of this?” rarely came up.  My husband was completely on the fringes of the experience, even though he was feeling the heaviness of the loss and trauma, as well. With approximately 10% of the population going through infertility challenges, I realized that we need more support navigating the pain and struggle inherent in family-building challenges.

My mission is to offer women and couples emotional support, practical guidance and a space for ongoing connection and communication as they create and define their families.  I want to help women feel more like themselves again, finding their “new normal”, when welcoming a new member into the family.  I also feel strongly the need to break the barriers of silence and shame that continue to surround infertility and postpartum challenges.  These struggles are too all-consuming and heartbreaking to suffer in silence or alone.

As part of my mission, I created a Women’s Health Professional Group for psychologists, advocates and educators in the field to connect and learn from each other. We meet quarterly with women’s reproductive health experts to be educated about the most cutting-edge research and support services (Thanks, Katie, for being a part of our great crew!).

What was the moment you knew you wanted to be a therapist?

I was working at Northwestern University with Parkinson’s Disease and Movement Disorders—on the road to becoming a doctor. I saw how these chronic conditions affected not only the patient, but also their partners and family members. I developed close relationships with some of the caregivers who shared with me about their deeper emotional struggles. I knew where my heart was landing. So, I went online (of course) and discovered a graduate program at Northwestern University in “Marriage and Family Therapy”. Who knew this was an actual field!? That was it for me.

What one post/project/moment are you the most proud of and why?

In 2016, I published an article on Kveller.com called “This is how I’m breaking my silence about my pregnancy loss.” I had never written a piece before. So, this was already a stretch for me. I had also never shared my story outside of my close family and friend network. But, I just had this niggling feeling that giving a voice to my loss might help others do the same.

The article spurred an outpouring of discussion about our pregnancy struggles, how to support each other, and a call for the stigma and shame around infertility to be lifted. I am still incredibly touched and honored to have been a part of this powerful moment and this strong band of women.

How would you describe a typical day? What’s your morning to evening routine?

I wish I could say that there was a “typical day”. But, my best days involve the ultimate self-care experience riding on a bike at SoulCycle; walking the streets of Lakeview with my yellow lab doggie; having meaningful and helpful sessions with patients; having a dance party with my kiddos; vegging out with my husband and enjoying a bowl of ice cream. Then, collapse. J

Describe yourself in 3 words?

Passionate. Curious. Sensitive.

What individuals, celebrities, entrepreneurs, public figures inspire you?

Michelle Obama, Helen Keller, Golda Meir.

The individuals who I meet in my office who display strength, depth, and heart that is nothing short of inspired.

If you weren’t in the therapy world…and could be anything else…what would it be?

That’s easy. You would find me on Southport or Armitage in my lovely “Make-Your-Own-Cookie” shop. Homemade dough, fresh cookies, espresso and lots of smiles.

You have a free hour, what do you do with your time?

I either rock out on a bike at SoulCycle or indulge in a chocolate chip scone at Bittersweet Café. Or both.

What’s on your music playlist? What inspires you?  

I am a huge Phish and Grateful Dead “Head”. Though I am a hippie at heart, you will also find me singing along to Sara Barrielles, Simon and Garfunkel, and Wilco. With the occasional Rent and Hamilton thrown into the mix. I am deeply inspired by music and dancing—anything with a beautiful and unpredictable melody.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I enjoy all things chocolate. And I don’t consider that pleasure, “guilty”.

Favorite local coffee shop?

Bittersweet Pastry Shop and Café is a little taste of heaven.

Food you can’t live without?

Chocolate. Peanut butter. Kale. In that order.

Wine, beer or cocktail?

There is nothing like clinking a glass of red wine with my husband and friends at the end of a full week.

Favorite motivational quote?

She made brave look beautiful & strong look invincible.

She walked with the universe on her shoulders & made it look like a pair of wings.

If you could go on vacation anywhere, where would you go?

Anywhere where there is sunshine, an ocean and people who I love.

What’s next for you?

There is only one reputable book that has been written about couple’s therapy and infertility. I dream of writing the second.

The “next, next” is my dream of creating an Institute in Lakeview, run by women, that is a collaborative effort in the infertility space. As more women and couples encounter these struggles, and as the science around infertility continues to evolve, this field is growing exponentially. My goal is to build a cohort of colleagues to address the growing needs of our community. I would feel extremely fortunate to be a part of creating an Institute that could shatter stigma, research and educate, and be a supportive network for individuals and couples. Stay tuned!

 

I think mani-pedis are delightful, but often times the long and tough road of infertility requires deeper self-care. Even the term “self-care” may make you roll your eyes. (Sorry!?) Whatever you call it, I am talking about the importance of PUTTING YOU BACK INTO THE EQUATION. In an equation that has pluses, minuses and all kinds of dividing lines, it is important to find moments that add up to the YOU that you know– and may be missing. Here’s how…

BE GOOD TO YOU

Kindess. It seems simple, and yet kindness can be surprisingly hard to give to ourselves. Play. Laugh. Put self-blame and criticism to the side. Be gentle.

TAKE A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Ask yourself these questions regularly– “How am I doing?” and “What am I needing?”. Take an emotional barometer reading and change course depending on what answers you discover along the way.

FIND YOUR KRYPTONITE

What makes you feel powerful? Brave? Strong? Though there may be times when you need to curl up in the fetal position, there are also times to draw upon your own personal power source. That fire within that makes you feel like the bad-ass you are.  Own your kryptonite and use it as needed.

SEEK JOY

Joy…what’s that?? Between the doctor’s appointments and the stress of infertility–the pursuit of joy can feel like a nuisance. Yet, part of connecting with YOU means finding your smile again. Ask yourself what makes you feel alive and connected to your heart. Even if you can’t do this activity to the fullest extent (ie; travel abroad), find a taste of joy (ie; staycation in a hotel while eating cupcakes in bed and watching a romantic comedy). Even a smile will do.

SEEK LOVE

Plan a date night. Cuddle with your dog. Tell your best friend that you need a girls’ night out. We promise…you will feel a whole lot better finding strength in connection right now.

SAY “NO”

Given that fertility challenges are wrought with uncertainty, take back control in ways that you can. Your time is valuable. And your well-being is even more valuable. Be mindful of how you are participating in life in ways that actually re-charge you.

ACTIVELY DISCOURAGE WELL-MEANING, BUT UNHELPFUL ADVICE

The last thing you need is unsolicited advice and horror stories. Give yourself permission to not let other people’s unresolved issues, or need to “solve the problem”, become your issues. You are already carrying a heavy load. Feel free to say, “Thank you so much, but I think I’ve got this.”

FEEL YOUR FEELINGS WITHOUT JUDGMENT

Piling on shame and judgment when you already feel emotionally overwhelmed or vulnerable has never helped, right? Remind yourself that it is ok to feel angry, sad, worried, scared–and everything in between. All of those complicated emotions are a part of the infertility landscape. You are already working so hard. Accept what you are feeling rather than adding more struggle to the mix.

TAKE A BREAK

Give yourself a break–a real break. Not the kind where you are in a spin class running through your “To Do” list. Maybe skip the gym. Take time alone. Chill out while watching a silly TV show. Read that book that’s been sitting on your dresser for a year. You may find it has never felt so good to do nothing for awhile.

EAT, SLEEP, STAY OFF THE INTERNET

Make sure you are maintaining the basics. Have a glass of water. Go to bed at 10:00 pm (or 8:00 pm). Tune out and turn off things that make you more worried. Make small choices that help you feel very good. You deserve it.

 

Michele Weiss, LMFT

3166 N. Lincoln Avenue, Suite 202 Chicago, IL 60657

312-213-4690            www.mweisstherapy.com                     mweiss.mft@gmail.com

 

“I feel so alone.” I hear this all the time—and it is understandable. Infertility is such a deeply personal experience. Often, though you are carrying immense stress and worry in your heart, these stresses go unseen and these worries go unspoken. It can be the last thing you want to talk about, but sometimes it just feels better to know you are not in it alone. Here’s how…

1. Sync up with your partner

Ask questions. Listen. Take the emotional barometer reading of how your partner is doing—really. Recognize that you each may have a different style of processing the up’s and down’s of infertility. Even if you are coping differently, remember that you are on the same team. Did I mention, “listen”?

2. Tell people what you want

Friends and family may immediately go into problem-solving mode when you tell them about your family-building challenges. Though well-meaning, you may just want an ear to listen. Give yourself permission to tell them if you want empathy or answers.

3. 50 Shades

Sex on a schedule=no fun. Time to get creative. Find ways within the restrictions of infertility treatment timelines to get close. There are many more ways to feel close to your partner than just sex. I suggest cuddling while watching re-runs of your favorite TV show, holding hands while walking down the street, and experimenting sexually without an agenda.

4. #thisisus

Couples can lose track of that je ne sais quoi that made them feel like, well, them. Make date night (or date “20 minutes”) a priority. Write him a love note. Take her to that dive you used to love. Bust out your wedding video. Remember you are in this together and tap into what makes you feel connected.

5. A little help from your friends

When you want to talk about it, call your friend. When you don’t want to talk about it, go out with your friend and don’t talk about it. Whatever mood you are in, your friends don’t care. They just want to BE with you. You may find a laugh, a bit of strength, or a cry you didn’t even know you needed.

6. Community Calls

Sorry for the soapbox here, but this is important. The social stigma that still exists–in which infertility is only talked about in hushed tones–is outdated and unhelpful. It is each person’s choice if she wants to talk about her struggles, or not. Either choice is valid. The point is that you should have that choice. If you are someone who wants to share about your family-building challenges, be bold. Break barriers and share your experience with your community members. You will help yourself and you never know who you will be inspiring to do the same.

7. Ode to the Blog

People can find great support through online communities, blogs and Facebook groups with stories like theirs. Take the good from these cyber communities–tips, tricks, and validation that you are not the only one.

8. Not before my coffee

How is it that the topic of frozen embryos comes up over Fro Yo? Or the question of “what now?” comes up as you are turning off the lights for the night? It can be helpful to set very clear limits with your family or friends as to when you want to talk infertility, and when you don’t. For example, some couples don’t allow infertility talk in the bedroom. Others set certain times of day that are off-limits (I wouldn’t recommend serious talks of any kind, really, before your morning coffee). Just make sure to designate times when are you are well-caffeinated and in the mood to get to these important discussions.

9. And this is me!

There are therapists who have specialized training in working with the pregnancy-related challenges. It just helps to see a therapist who understands what you are going through. If you find yourself feeling stuck or if you just need a little extra support, it might be time to call a trained therapist.

10. All of this said…

There are some times when it is best to be alone. To stay home. To skip the baby shower. To bow out of your nephew’s birthday party. Check in with yourself when the best choice to take care of yourself is to be by yourself. And enjoy your own company!

Michele L. Weiss, LMFT

3166 N. Lincoln Avenue, Suite 202 Chicago, IL 60657

312-213-4690          www.mweisstherapy.com     mweiss.mft@gmail.com

 

 

 

My Nonny used to say in her lilting Jewish accent, “Michele-y, you’ll find a nice Jewish husband. You’ll have many beautiful kinderlach (children). You’ll be happy.” It was some kind of Jewish pronouncement from her all-knowing mouth on behalf of God, I guess. With her two front teeth permanently schmeared in bright red lipstick, I internalized her words as emet (truth). The path to becoming the Jewish woman I always wanted to be meant marriage and having a big family. Fill in the blanks with Passover seders, bar mitzvahs, and a regular helping of her homemade mandelbrodt. “L’Chaim,“ she would say.

When I received the fateful phonecall that marked the rest of my life, my Nonny’s voice haunted me. I was twelve weeks pregnant with my second child, bouncing around a local play space with my then two-year-old daughter, when I learned that the fetus growing inside of me had a rare and severe Jewish genetic disorder. The words on the other end of the phone kept going, but I did not hear anything beyond “positive test results”.

It is a strange moment when nothing actually changes, but everything is different. The little bundle of cells inside of me was still who he was. I still had the fantasy of my parents bringing my daughter to the hospital to meet her new baby brother, proudly parading around in her “I’m a Big Sister” t-shirt and stuffing herself full of celebratory candy. I still had my running list of “M” names- Max, Mordechai, Moses- to name our baby after my husband’s deceased father. I still mused about how we would possibly juggle two kids, a dog, work, marriage–and life.

Yet, hanging onto the Frozen costume that my daughter hurriedly discarded into my arms, my idyllic fantasies were flooded with feelings of dread, hopelessness and panic. There were choices that needed to be made.  There were consultations with specialists, tearful phone calls with genetic counselors and pages of research to interpret. I was forced to consider questions of gigantic magnitude with implications that could barely be uttered. And hinging on these choices were all of the things that mattered most in life like family, God, and my “happy”.

On December 25^th, when the holiday cheer was at its merriest, I went to the hospital to terminate my pregnancy.  I do not actually remember much of the event that shaped everything in my life that followed.  There were pleasantries exchanged with the only doctor and nurse available on Christmas to do the procedure. It turns out that they were also husband and wife. They spoke of their shared duties in preparing the Christmas meal that afternoon. She would make the brisket; he would make the stuffing. She would bake the apple pie; he would slice the ham. I imagined the swarm of guests partaking in what promised to be a lovely and lavish affair with all of the holiday trimmings. It was better to ponder the theory that I had crafted since I was a little girl as to how much more fun Christians have during this time of year than Jews. I was awake the entire procedure fantasizing about Santa Claus when I heard the needles, the sucking and the silence of the ultrasound.  I heard no heartbeat. I did not know silence could be so loud. Squinting my tears away, I muttered a prayer hoping that God was with me, and with him, even on Christmas.

“Be fruitful and multiply” is a basic tenant from the Torah that dictates in no uncertain terms my task as a Jewish woman. I must have done something immensely wrong to deserve a fate that my doctor insisted was only a statistically slim possibility.  Should I have prayed harder on Yom Kippur to wipe myself clean of my sins? In addition, and this I could only barely admit, I wondered if I failed the little soul whose name would have started with the letter “M”.  It was this guilt that kept me up at night, that could scarcely be whispered in the darkest crevices of my mind or in the tear-filled safety of my husband’s arms.

“Thou shalt not kill,” the Torah teaches.  I was sure that in the ancient times of Avraham and Moshe, God would have declared me as a sinner punishable by stoning or exile.  Even now, the mere mention of miscarriage makes people very squeamish. Throw in a termination for medical reasons (TFMR), and you get righteous judgments, averted looks and political posturing. Sometimes, I am even one of these people. After all, was I allowed to mourn a loss that I had a choice in losing? There are so many women who have undergone multiple rounds of in vitro fertilization (IVF) and have drained their savings to be in my position.  Was I allowed to feel anguish about a much wanted baby that I chose to give up? The taboo, avoidance and silence surrounding these issues made me question if I still counted as one of the women of valor praised in the Eishet Chayil prayer we sing over Shabbat dinner every Friday night.

Shame is a sticky one. It gloms onto you with its strong grip and makes you do all kinds of odd things.  Like make up excuses as to why you look twelve weeks pregnant, but are not. Like avoid social functions that once brought you joy such as your little nephew’s birthday party or Kiddush at synagogue. Shame shoves your heartbreak into a corner where it can lie untouched and alone. So many of us going through infertility and pregnancy loss silently wear shame like an invisible Scarlett Letter branded onto our heavy hearts.

Mishpacha: the Hebrew name for “family” that begins with the letter “M”.  While defined by our Nonnies and Bubbies in a seemingly straightforward manner, a new definition of mishpacha is emerging.  For me to come to terms with my pregnancy loss…I just need to say it out loud…my pregnancy termination, I needed to cast off my Scarlet Letter as women burned their bras before me and re-define what being a Jewish woman of valor meant to me. I broke the shroud of silence and began sharing about our grief with friends, family and my Jewish community. It was painful and at times awkward, but it also felt good to cut through judgments, averted looks and politics and connect around what truly mattered. My family suffered a traumatic loss and lost something deeply precious. We did what we thought was best for our family and for the treasure whom I carried. Though I may never feel completely at peace with our decision, I am hopeful that I can honor the soul whom I never met by stepping out of the shadows of shame and sharing our story of heartbreak. Maybe others will do the same.

In broad terms, the new misphacha means that at Kiddush, in the halls of our synagogues and over Shabbat meals, we openly support each other through family-building challenges with the chessed (loving kindness) that our Jewish communities are built upon.  Whether that means bringing a meal to a couple who suffered a miscarriage; or asking your friend how she is feeling while she is undergoing infertility treatments; or helping your community member prepare for her adopted baby to come home.Through our choices and our challenges, I think that we can do better.

A research study came out which discovered that cells from a developing fetus actually cross the placenta barrier and become permanently part of the mother’s body, even if the baby is never born. I often think about the cells of my much wanted baby “M” floating around inside of me.I feel a connection to him, as his mother, through his baby helixes that are forever within me. It is not what my Nonny proclaimed, but I have re-branded our family with our own complicated, painful, joyful, and connected version of mishpacha.  And it is my emet.

Published in Jewish United Federation News, December 2016