One Baby Step for Em … One Giant Leap for Em-kind

On our Caribbean cruise this past November Hubby & I couldn’t help but notice all the small children on board. I suppose it was only natural, given that it was the week of Thanksgiving and there were quite a few family reunions planned on this cruise. One particular child caught our eye. It was this adorable little Asian girl (I’ll call her “Gracie”), most likely only 2 or 3 years old, who was wandering around the ship’s library flipping through some picture books. I was particularly fascinated by her because this black-haired brown eyed child would have been the type of physicial attributes that Hubby & I, as Filipino Americans, would have produced. And of course, I started to feel those imaginary apron strings pulling again.


Our Nephew, Tyler

At first, we only saw the dad towards the back, looking around at different books to read. He looked a bit older in age than most of the parents with young children on the ship. And he was also Caucasian. No big deal, I remember thinking, “Gracie” could possibly be mestiza (Tagalog for “mixed ancestry”), like our nephew Tyler is. But then shortly afterwards, I saw “Gracie” run across the library towards her mom … who was clearly not Asian and who was also clearly a bit older. Wow, I remember thinking, here’s an actual family created by adoption right in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile and think how lucky they were.

Apparently “Gracie’s” dad saw my smile and smiled back at me. “She’s adorable,” I told him and both mom & dad smiled back and said their thanks. Their eyes were gleaming with pride as they walked out of the library together. I turned to Hubby and he, in turn, grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as if to say, “I know.”

When we returned home from this trip, I relayed this story to the Stephens Minister (SM) that I’ve been meeting with regularly and who know that adoption is our next step. She is an absolute wonderful person who has this incredible ability to see the good in every situation and give the encouragement and strength to keep the faith even when things go awry. Anyway … after telling this story to SM, she turned to me and said, “See! It’s a sign!” meaning that this little encounter was God’s way of “nudging” us to take the next step towards adoption.


Hubby's Little Cousins

In turn, I told her something that I didn’t even tell my husband back there on the ship. That I wanted to talk to the couple and ask them about the path they took to get here. And ask them if this was the best decision they ever made. And ask them how difficult it was to go through all the paperwork. And how long it took. And the list could go on and on and on.

But I didn’t ask those questions because I thought it would be intrusive and embarrassing. I mean, it’s one thing to go to adoption seminars and ask these questions in front of a crowd who is also at these seminars for the same reason. It’s another thing to ask these questions face-to-face with someone else on a personal level. I guess it’s the fear in me that I might say or ask something stupid or get too personal with my own IF issues that it might make the other person uncomfortable. My past experiences, even with support groups or even other non-IF related groups, has taught me to feel uncomfortable in doing this. Or hey, it may even be the Asian American in me (who is supposed to keep these issues private) that makes me feel uncomfortable in those type of situations. In any case, I truly did regret that I never got my chance to ask “Gracie’s” parents about their experiences.

A couple weeks ago, as I was in pursuit of doing some adoption research, I approached my one co-worker who’s son and DIL just adopted domestically, about which agency that they had used. In the past, she had shared with me their “Dear Birth Mom” letter and I remember not only being pretty impressed but pretty overwhelmed with what they had done. In any case, my coworker told her she wasn’t quite sure about those details but that she would ask her DIL about it and get back with me. “Better yet,” she said, “why don’t I have her call you?” I was a little hesitant at first, but then thought the chances of receiving that call were slim to none.


Every Asian Girl needs a Hello Kitty ... This is my "Filipino Hello Kitty"

Imagine my surprise this past week when K (co-worker’s DIL) called me. I just happened to be at work when the call came through my cell phone. Lucky for me, I was able to find a small conference room to duck into while K and I chatted. I won’t go into the details of our conversation, but I can tell you that I was able to ask her those questions that I wasn’t able to ask “Gracie’s” parents. And ultimately what I got out of it was a sense of relief. That we shared similar disappointments and heartaches (as many of us IF’ers do here online). That we internalized many of the same feelings of failures towards our body and of letting down our spouses and other family members. While it’s been very therapeutic to voice these same feelings on my blog or even reading and commenting on other IF’ers blogs, being able to say these things out loud and to a live person was simply incredible. Especially because in the ten-plus years of trying to start a family, I’ve never been able to completely let my guard down with someone regarding these feelings to any one else other than Hubby. (No, not even my SM. Okay, maybe with my incredible therapist …) And to be able to do that within a 30 minute conversation with K … during work hours, nonetheless … was so refreshing.

At home later that evening, I was reflecting on my conversation with K and I finally felt a sense of … not peace, per se. Not even relief, because that’s what I was feeling earlier in the day. I think it was a feeling of content. Meaning that I’m finally at a place where I know Hubby & I are making the right decision by not giving up our dream to be parents. And that by taking the adoption route, our dreams will come true.

Grr …

I never did get a call from my co-worker about finding a way to turn off the heat and electricity in our office building …

But we did get the snow (even though it wasn’t the whole 6-12 inches they predicted). And I still had to get by crabby “ga-dunk-a-dunk” out of bed to get to work.

Apparently my “Snow Dance” didn’t work last night. Perhaps I should have done it without my pajamas on?! Na …

Snow Day

Apparently the southeastern portion of Michigan is supposed to be slammed with a major winter storm tonight. It’s supposed to start around midnight and last until 7 pm tomorrow night. It’s about 7:30 pm and as I look outside the window, there’s not a snowflake to be seen.

What gets me is that I wish this storm could have happened on Sunday night for Monday. This year, it seems like Mother Nature gets her kicks in sending a wintery blast our way just before or right on the weekend. I just wish for once that a storm would happen during the first half of the week so that I could have a work “snow day.”

Remember snow days in school? It was so exciting to stay up the night before hoping and praying that it would snow enough so that they would cancel school. I do recall doing the “Snow Dance” with my brother in the middle of our living room to help bring on a storm. And then we’d wake up earlier than normal just so we could turn on the TV to see if our school was listed on the morning newscast as being closed. There was only a handful of times we were disappointed to see that the surrounding school districts were closed except for us … but the majority of the time we were rewarded with the day off.

I miss those days. I miss that feeling of elation when you are rewarded an unexpected day off. And as a child, it wasn’t your responsibility to figure out how to “make the time up.” We just relied on our teachers to rearrange their lesson plans in order to fit everything that was needed.

But now, we’re the ones that have to be responsible. We have to find a way to adjust our schedules so that we can take time off from work, whether it’s planned or unplanned. We have to be ADULTS (gasp!) …

So as I left work for the day, the child in me turned and whispered to my co-worker, “If anyone finds a way to shut down the power and heat to this building, let me know. I’m all for a snow day!”

Alright, I am off now to climb into my jammies and do the “Snow Dance” …

Chances in H-E-double-hockey-sticks

Today I am feeling … sad.

I shouldn’t be. It’s my day off from work and I’ve only got two more days until another weekend. It’s my Mom’s birthday, and although she & Dad are in Aruba for a week of fun, I’m wishing that she’s having a wonderful sand n’ sun kinda day. And it’s bright as bright can be here in Suburban Detroit.

But it’s cold … really cold right now. And maybe that’s what I’m missing today. Is warmth. I want to be back in bed in my cozy pajamas snuggling with both my cats on either side of me. I want a steaming hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows to sip on. I want to flip randomly through the television and finally settle on turning it off and reading a good happy book.

Instead I’m sitting here at a local cafe, which normally I like to do, and freezing my tush off. And contemplating my life.

I just got back from my OB/Gyn office and I guess I’m feeling a little oversensitive. The reason I went today was to have an ultrasound. I had made an appointment to see my doc last week, in the midst of yet another painful period, which have been increasing in intensity over the past year. The ultrasound scheduled today was to see whether or not my endometriosis was back. And truthfully, even without having my doc review the images, I pretty much know that it is.

I know I haven’t gone into detail about my infertility past. I do that purposefully, because quite frankly I hate reliving that point of my life. But the basic jist is that I’ve had multiple scopes and even a laparotomy to clear out some pretty bad endo … only to find out that in the midst of my IVF work-up that I also had PCOS. So not only am I in pain pretty much with every cycle, but my hormones are seriously whacked-up. (Why do I have the urge to cross my arms like Rev. Run from Run DMC and say “Word!”?) And after the failed IVF and subsequent decision NOT to go through a frozen cycle with only one embie, I just drifted into a haze until that fateful day in November of 2006.

I know I’m a much better person emotionally now, especially since starting to blog about these issues. And I know that I’ve taken that small baby step forward towards the adoption front.

But yet …

Is it normal to still feel like a failure? That after ten years my body is still refusing to do what it’s told? I cycle every month now … every 27 days like clockwork. And every month it’s a constant reminder that this body refuses to become pregnant. And to top it off, it’s not just a physical reminder … it’s very much a painful “Geez, I can’t even think straight, let alone stand up straight or lie down without feeling the cramps”- kinda reminder.

I find out the actual results two weeks from now. And from there, it’s a decision of whether or not I’ll be treated medically or surgically. My doc does not want to start out surgically to clear out the endo, as there is always the risk of creating adhesions (or scarring).

What he would like to do is either put me on Lupron for a period of time, or place me on birth control pills. And I’m hesitant to do either. If you can believe this, during my whole “reproductive life,” I have never been on the pill. And quite honestly, I don’t feel like starting on it now … some 25 years after having my first period. As for Lupron, I hate what it did to me the first time around. While I don’t think I was a raving lunatic during those six months, I do think I was emotionally detached from everything and everyone (including Hubby) around me.

There’s a part of me that thinks, “Just take the damn things out already!” I mean, they’re not doing the job they’re supposed to be doing anyway. I’m just about at the point where I don’t want to have to deal with the pain anymore, both physically and emotionally. I don’t want to have to be reminded every month that I can’t get pregnant. I want to say that I’ve been able to close that chapter in my life – and by having my reproductive organs removed, it would certainly make that final. I would never be able to get pregnant and I would never have to think “what if …”

But then …

I guess it boils down to the fact that I know I probably don’t have a chance in H-E-double-hockey-sticks, but I still want to know I have the option to become pregnant. After all, my Aunt who tried for many years to get pregnant finally had her dream come true naturally some 20 years after getting married. And by that timeline, I’m more than half-way there.

Tagged

So I was officially “Tagged” by kcmarie waaaay back at the end of December. I figured I probably should finally get around to doing it. Apparently there has been some “rules” that have been posted since I initially got tagged, so I figured I would add it to my post as well.

The Rules:

  1. Link to the person that tagged you.
  2. Post the rules on your blog.
  3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
  4. Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
  5. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
  6. Let the fun begin!

Ummmm … Let’s see. Six non-important quirks about me.

  1. I brush my teeth with my left hand. Which would not be any big deal except that I’m right-handed in everything else. I’ve tried switching hands many times, but for some reason I always revert subconsciously to my left hand.
  2. I always have to sleep with one foot, preferably the right (told you I was a righty), outside of the blanket. Even if I’m lying on the side, I always have to have a foot out. It could be freezing cold in our bedroom to the point that my head is even under the covers, but I absolutely have to keep one foot on the outside. I’m not quite sure the reason why, but it’s just something I have always done. Sometimes I think that my mind is telling me that I must always be ready to move or get up at the spur of the moment.
  3. Back in high school, I was nicknamed the “Human Jukebox” because I would always know the words to any song. Friends would spit out two words to a song and I would literally know what song they were talking about. Unfortunately, that “talent” faded once I got into college because suddenly my mind had to be filled with the other “useful” knowledge it was supposed to contain in order for me to graduate with my Nursing degree. Apparently though, my “talent” has started to resurface because I’m suddenly being approached by co-workers who say I should be on that new TV show where I’m supposed to complete the lyrics. Yikes! I’d have too much stage fright!
  4. Speaking of high school, I was voted “Class New-Waver.” I mean, come ON! How 80’s could that get?! Personally, I would have thought that I would have been “Class Goth” if there was ever that category back then. But then again, we’re talking Catholic school here. I guess it was because even back then, I only wore black (Thank God no uniforms in high school at that time!) and supposedly listened to what was considered “alternative music” back then. Seriously though, I think God got back at me for wearing all that black in high school, because once I got into the Nursing program in college all I was allowed to wear was white. Grrr …
  5. I took piano lessons for close to ten years when I was young. I loved playing the piano, but I hated the lessons. Probably because I never was able to really “read” the notes as quickly as you would think someone taking lessons for that long would. Instead, I had a tendency to read the notes slowly, learn the “melody,” and then memorize it so I knew when something “sounded” wrong when I played it. It used to drive my piano teacher INSANE. What I wish I would have known then was that there was a specific method of teaching piano, called the Suzuki Method, that relied mostly on listening to a song over and over again in order to learn the tune. Then I might have found another instructor and might have continued taking lessons.
  6. I’m not a particularly active or “fit” person, but I love watching any type of sports. I think it comes from living in a city that has all the major pro-sports teams (hockey, baseball, basketball, football) and great universities with good sports programs. Hubby & I are BIG University of Michigan Football Fans and are actually pretty lucky to have season tickets every year. The funny thing is that Hubby actually is a U of M alumni, but do you think that we EVER went to any of the football games when he actually attended the university? Nope.  In fact, I never had any inkling that Hubby was a sports nut until after we were married. Which is when I really started getting into sports. Never thought I’d see the day when I actually knew what the referee’s hand signals actually meant …

So that’s it about me. Six quirky things you never wanted to know.

I guess this is where I’m supposed to tag other people. Oh geez, I don’t have THAT big a circle of friends, but I’ll tag hope548, courtney rose, and sheila. Good luck, gals!!