Before you dive in to the following note, I invite you to take a deep breath. I mean it. Literally. Pause. Put your hands on your knees. Breathe in as deeply as you can (even more deeply than you think you can), and then let it out (with an audible sigh if you're willing!).
 
How did that feel? Maybe try it again. We all need this (and other tools) in our kit right now. I've heard it from clients over and over. I've seen it in the agitation simmering under the surface in routine exchanges at the grocery store and coffee shop. I have felt it myself: angst and anxiety about the state of the world. It feels heavy. It seems overwhelming. It's both vast and deeply personal. It is hard to know how to go about "life as usual." 
 
So when the time came to board planes twice in as many weeks for weddings we had committed to attend, I struggled. After a season of heavy travel and on the heels of an unsettling tragedy just blocks from our home, I considered changing course and staying put. Though I wanted to be there for the brides and their families, the pull of home - of hibernation - was strong.

But as we considered the women we had the opportunity to celebrate, we decided to proceed as planned. And I couldn't be happier that we did: both occasions proved powerful (and greatly needed) medicine. For two weekends, we focused on incredible young women of character and integrity. We celebrated lives well lived and paths less traveled. We connected with family and friends. We met fascinating people. We explored a beautiful, historic Southern city and a rugged, rustic Midwestern retreat. We steeped ourselves in joy.

It felt like an escape from reality, but as the weekends unfolded it occurred to me that this, too, IS reality.
 
Because while turmoil, distress, and unease so often dominate our mindspace, they do not have an exclusive right to determine our experience of the world. Moment by moment, joy lingers patiently on the periphery waiting to be noticed. Ready to spring into action.
 
Sometimes it comes with great fanfare in the form of major milestones and grand events. But just as often - if not more so - it whispers through a sun-dappled day after weeks of rain, a chance to catch up with a dear friend, or an unexpected kindness from a stranger.
 
We cannot control our circumstances or environment, but we can choose where to focus our attention. As we head into a new month (with one more wedding celebration to go!), I am looking for more chances to smile. To surround myself with laughter. To breathe deeply. To anticipate - and share - joy. Won't you join me?

As we prepare for the official arrival of Fall, I find myself wistful about the season to which we are bidding farewell. The past few months have been magical. Our Summer was replete with travels to places near and far: training up to New York for a quick mother-daughter weekend to celebrate the end of the school year, taking in the College World Series with family and friends in the Midwest, relaxing in the mountains with dear friends, visiting others at their cozy lakeside retreat, and embarking on our first family trek across the pond. The brief interludes between these adventures were filled with time at the pool, playing at the park, and hours and hours of reading. It was a season of familiar joys and new discoveries. Exciting adventure and delicious boredom.

Upon our return from our final jaunt, however, I was ready for routine. I eagerly sat down with the calendar to map out our Fall. As I noted the events, engagements, and activities to which we have committed; sifted through the flurry of Fall wedding celebrations taking place from coast to coast (and points in between); and reviewed new professional opportunities that have presented themselves in recent months, my enthusiasm began to evaporate. The season had yet to begin and already I felt overextended and overwhelmed. Week by week I witnessed as all possible windows for a spontaneous coffee date with a friend or a lazy family weekend closed one by one. 

My craving for the security of structure battled with a desire to carry forward the delicious ease of Summer. As I sat in the tension between the two, it occurred to me that what I really need in this season is neither a rigid routine nor a free flowing spontaneity, but a rhythm that incorporates both - a stable but flexible underlying design that provides predictability AND space for improvisation.

So I started over. I considered questions: What activities and commitments truly nourish me? What commitments give - rather than drain - my energy? How can I serve and contribute in ways that bless our community without leaving me depleted?

With those answers in mind I began saying "no" and "not now." I passed along enticing, but impractical, professional opportunities to fellow teachers. I declined invitations to appealing, but inconvenient, events. I decreased the number of enriching, but exhausting activities for the kiddo. I crafted (what I THINK will be) a more sustainable rhythm. With windows to connect. With space to be still. And an acknowledgement that when the balance shifts too far in either direction, I can revisit and revise. 
 
Whether your Summer was full of delight or characterized by chaos and unease, Fall presents a wonderful opportunity to reset your rhythm - to pause and choose intentionally what elements will support you in living the life you desire. Join me in anticipating - and enjoying - the season to come...

Last month we enjoyed our annual escape to the mountains with dear family friends. In the weeks leading up to the trip each year both families create and execute a detailed plan to ensure we have everything we could possibly need to eat, wear, and play for the week. With cars packed to their limits, we set out for the nearly four hour drive with logistical details and mental lists still swirling in our heads. But within an hour of arriving, our lungs are full of mountain air and our hearts are light. Before long, we lose sight of any agenda we had for our time together and experience a powerful shift into a more restful, peaceful state.

It was in this blissful mindset that my husband and I set out early one morning for a family "nature walk" with our budding explorer. Having become familiar with the wildlife in the area over the past five years, we prepared her for sightings of bears, deer, unique birds, and unfamiliar plant life. Less than five minutes into our walk, however, she spied a small worm making its way s...l...o...w...l...y... across the road. My husband and I acknowledged it and proceeded with our mission, but she was transfixed. "I think it's a baby worm! Where do you think its mama is? Can we follow it?"

My initial inclination was to push back. There are so many far more interesting things to see! We have worms in D.C. We haven't even reached the beginning of the trail. Let's go! I tried (calmly) to impart this sentiment, but she was having none of it. So we stopped. And followed a worm.

I would love to tell you I was able to tap into her sweet and sincere fascination with the simple creature. I tried to be fully present with her in that moment, but it was to little avail. I fell immediately back into planning-executing-checking-boxes mode and impatiently scanned the horizon for something more "special." I wanted her to see the beauty of nature I knew lay just steps ahead of where we stood. 

It wasn't until we returned to the house and she regaled our friends with an elaborate account of our worm sighting that I was seized by a pang of regret. With the benefit of hindsight, I wanted to rewind time, abandon my agenda, and share her wonder. While a worm isn’t MY idea of unique wildlife, it was special in her eyes. And that should have been sufficient.

How often does our (often misplaced) focus on a particular vision of how things "should" be cause us to miss a beautiful moment? How many times have we failed to fully experience something special with someone we love because of our unwillingness to appreciate the simple pleasures in life?

As we enter the final month of Summer, I encourage you to pause, set aside your agenda, and open your eyes - and minds - to the simple joys around you. I am committing to let go of what I think is “best” and allowing the day/journey to unfold in surprising ways. Won’t you join me? 

I recently had the good fortune of reconnecting with a dear friend from my youth. I remembered her fondly as a remarkably talented and accomplished young lady, and her path has continued along the same trajectory for the 15 years since we were last together. 

We made plans to meet for tea while she was passing through our nation's capitol. I had a general knowledge of her aims and accomplishments, and as the date approached, I engaged in some social media sleuthing to fill in the blanks.

My initial enthusiasm began to wane as I envisioned our conversation. Here is a woman who not only pursued her passions but also excelled in the execution. From her prestigious academic pedigree as a student and professor at the most elite institutions of higher education in our country to her ambitious efforts to change the way music is experienced, I found myself feeling inadequate. We shared many interests in our youth and started our journeys at an academy focused on empowering young women to pursue - and achieve - their dreams while contributing to the greater good. She was doing just that. And I was doing...what exactly?? 
 
I entered our date with trepidation. She looked marvelous - more confident and composed than in our youth - and as I learned more of the details of her current station in life, I was in awe. Dividing her time between my beloved Big Apple and the idyllic climes of Northern California. A heady romance with a leading intellectual. A thriving career in the arts and academia. Achievements. Acclaim. Accolades.
 
But as we spoke, something within me shifted. It was wonderful to celebrate her success. It was captivating to consider an alternative present that more closely mirrored hers. But my desire to make excuses and justify my current path disappeared. I began to relax into an increasing certainty that where - and who - I am today is where - and who - I should be. I found myself at peace.
 
Each of us has a different path to follow, but we all share the same journey. Your life may be exactly as you imagined it - or even better than you dreamed, but no one is immune to comparisons. Next time you find yourself seized by the temptation to measure yourself against someone or something external, can you instead embrace and celebrate who and where you are today? Can you free yourself to experience peace? 

For the better part of the past month, our nation's capital has been on the receiving end of record rainfalls. It started with SEVEN STRAIGHT DAYS of precipitation - much of it in the form of thunderstorms. After a brief two day reprieve, we were plunged back into gloom, where we have remained, wet and crabby (with no end in sight...). 

Spring rain is to be expected, but awakening day after day to yet another grey sky - another day of cancelled outdoor activities - another flowering plant surrendering under its own waterlogged weight - begins to take a toll on even the most ardent all-weather-is-good-weather enthusiasts.

Despite my own well-documented disdain for all things rain-related, I tried to make the best of it. I donned my rubber boots, grabbed an umbrella, and charged out into the gale. I took the babe for a puddle-splashing stroll, patted myself on the back for commuting by foot despite the downpours, and force-marched my family to the farmer's market on Mother's Day. But on each and every occasion, rather than returning refreshed, I ended up soggy and frustrated.

While commiserating with a client, she pivoted, "Oh well - there's no point in complaining about something we can't change." The simplicity and veracity of her statement silenced me. She was right, of course: grumbling is no more effective in changing the weather than in transforming other inevitabilities in our lives. Your baby will eventually grow up and leave home. Someone you love will hurt you. You will hurt someone you love.

Whether we are inconvenienced by something as trivial as the weather or devastated by a significant loss, sometimes we simply need to abide in our discomfort and acknowledge our lack of ability to change circumstances. Yes - there are times to fight and refuse to accept no for an answer. There are occasions for pep-talks from your “better” self. But we too often waste precious time and energy battling something over which we have no power.

We all encounter circumstances beyond our control. Next time you find yourself up against something inevitable and unpleasant, how will you respond? Can you release your resistance? Can you preserve your precious time and energy for what matters most?

The first few months of this year have been marked by loss. Between the two of us, my husband and I said goodbye to a beloved Grandfather, a Great Aunt, a friend, and a business partner. Some of the passings were expected - the end of long lives filled with love and devotion to family and dear friends. Others were untimely - a man in the prime of his life who left behind a wife and two young children, a successful business woman with much left to give. 

While the lives of these men and women couldn't have been more different, the remembrances held to commemorate them shared a common thread. At each gathering, people huddled around collections of photographs capturing the moments - big and small - that comprised their lives. These snapshots provided comfort to those who grieved. They sparked joy among those who spied themselves in the scenes and celebrations depicted. They elicited laughs at the styles of years past. They offered closure for those who wanted to say goodbye.

In each instance, the images that most moved those gathered weren't the stylish, staged family portraits or the postcard-quality scenes from epic travels, but rather the spontaneous shot of children at play in the backyard, hands held while strolling down the street, a little girl smiling on her Great Grandfather's lap while riding his scooter on a sunny afternoon. Full of silly faces, messy hair, and unflattering angles - these were the pictures that caused onlookers to linger.

We all have in our minds an idea of how we want to present ourselves and what memories we want to leave behind. We take great pains to project our best selves and fill our lives - and the lives of those we love - with meaningful experiences, travels, and activities. But our most foundational memories and enduring connections are forged in the seemingly uneventful days that lie between - tucking in for a reading marathon on a rainy day, spending a lazy afternoon around a jigsaw puzzle, lingering at the family dinner table - the easy, unforced rhythms that make up our lives.

As we approach the expanse of Summer and all its potential for memory making, many of us seek to fill our calendars with great experiences and grand adventures - and why not?! But as you map out your agenda, I encourage you to give equal attention to the everyday. Allow space for the unexpected - impromptu park visits, spontaneous dance parties, a glass of wine with a girlfriend that turns into dinner - and give them your full focus. Capture these images in your mind and heart (and maybe even a camera). Create joy in the present that leads to fond memories in the future. 

It can be hard to admit you are struggling - let alone ask for help, but when you decide you are ready to flip the script of your infertility journey, a wealth of resources await! I am particularly excited about two offerings taking place in D.C. next month:

On Monday, May 7, I am thrilled to launch the FIRST weekly fertility yoga class in Washington D.C. These weekly offerings will bring together women who are sharing the infertility journey - from those who are beginning to explore their options to those who have been struggling for years. Sessions will combine a therapeutic asana practice, time for meditation and reflection, and an opportunity to create community. Registration for these small group classes is available online.

On Wednesday, May 16, I am honored to again be part of the Pathways to Parenthood event at the DCJCC. This community-wide event will bring together experts in fertility, adoption, mental health, and more for a discussion of the different pathways to becoming a parent. It will also provide an opportunity to connect with others who are in similar circumstances. 

If you live in the D.C. area, I would love to see you at either - or both - of these events. If you are live outside DC or are otherwise unable to attend, send me a note. I would be happy to help you identify resources in your area and/or tap into a virtual community to support you along the way. 

Together we can flip the script!

We all have regrets. And most of us spend a fair amount of time wondering what life would be like if we hadn't made that big mistake...said that hurtful thing...missed that great opportunity. Or we dwell on the other side of the equation - assuming things would be better if only we had taken that job...accepted that date...went on that trip.

When working with infertility clients, I often ask them to write down the facts of their journey so far. Some make lists of procedures, results, and disappointments. Others produce poignant reflections on the pain they have experienced. Most often, each person concludes their work with a sigh. We spend time processing the emotions that surfaced as well as any new discoveries or ideas. And then I remind them that what HAS happened in the past does not define what WILL happen in the future.

Yes - most of us could have made better decisions at different points in our lives, but the only decisions that matter moving forward are those that lie ahead of us. Today is the only day we can begin taking better care of ourselves and our loved ones. Right now is our only chance to tell our family and friends how much we appreciate them. This moment is our best and only opportunity to do things differently.

There is benefit in reflection and learning from the past, but our time and energy is better spent looking at what lies right in front of us and responding in the most kind and loving way we know how. Next time you catch yourself looking backward, pause and reset your focus. Shift your gaze and your attention to what lies ahead.

Sarah Hummer didn't let her experience with infertility define her. Instead, she drew from what she learned and flipped the script of her entire life. Read on to learn how Sarah turned adversity into an opportunity to encourage others and create a life she loves. 

About this time two years ago, I spent many mornings at the fertility clinic as I underwent IVF treatment--my last hope for getting pregnant after nearly four years trying other unsuccessful avenues. The waiting rooms were filled with anxious-looking women (me included) and some men. I always left thinking how isolating infertility and the treatment process felt, but also confused by this, considering so many others were in the same boat.
 
Infertility is a tricky thing. While millions of women experience infertility—6.1 million says the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC))—it is a private issue that generally is not talked about openly. It is mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting, compounded by uncertainty and pumping hormones into your body multiple times a day during treatment. This is a journey that requires a support system, preferably with those who’ve been there before or who are going through it, too.
 
At the time, I was a healthcare consultant and taught yoga in the evenings and on weekends. Yoga was my refuge. It helped me stay healthy, strong, calm, and connected with myself through the stresses of infertility, work, and life in general. While I also received support from my family, friends, and acupuncturist, I didn’t have anyone to talk to who was in or had been in my shoes, which would have been incredibly helpful.

Fast forward to today, we celebrated my daughter’s first birthday on March 25. Yoga is now my full-time job. Shortly after my daughter’s birth, I started Yoga with Sarah Hummer, specializing in fertility, prenatal, and postnatal yoga. I also continue to teach workplace yoga, one-on-one yoga, and hatha yoga classes at Yoga Del Sol in Georgetown. Practicing and teaching yoga has been critical in helping me through my journey to and into motherhood and I feel empowered and obligated to share my experience with other women. I have candid conversations regularly with women who are trying to get pregnant, undergoing fertility treatment, or pregnant through fertility treatment, helping to provide that support system I was seeking.
 
Women’s bodies and minds go through the gauntlet from infertility treatment through the child’s first year. National Infertility Awareness Week is a great reminder that there is too much that is not talked about, maybe because it’s uncomfortable or personal, but this leaves women to feel isolated and suffer alone. This does not have to happen. We need to look out for and help each other when we can, simply by sharing our experiences.

One question I hear often from my clients who are struggling with infertility is what they should - and shouldn't - be eating while trying to conceive. I am SO excited to share the following advice from Kendra Tolbert, a registered dietitian nutritionist and all around beautiful soul! Her intuitive, commonsense approach to how we nourish ourselves offers wisdom whether or not you are trying to conceive. Read on to learn what she thinks is the most important ingredient you should be adding to your mealtime routine...