Easter is this weekend. So yes, the Infertile in me has been mentally preparing myself for lots of cute kids dressed up in their Easter Sunday Best. And I’ve been bracing myself for all the shrieks and excitement that any kid would have on such a wondrously child-centric, “It’s Spring! And New Life (aka absolutely adorable newborn babes) is all around us!” holiday.
But this year, I have another reason to keep my emotions at bay. This year Easter happens to fall on my Dad’s birthday. He would have been 68 years old this Sunday.
When I was young, I absolutely hated my name. After all, no one in the late 70’s and early 80’s would ever give their daughter such an old-fashion name … unless, of course she was named after a well-known Catholic saint.
Nanay Emilia, Christmas 2007
Instead I wanted to be a Jenny. Or an Amy. Or … in my more “exotic” name choices (hey, I was 7 or 8 years old at the time!), I wanted to be called Rebecca or Genevieve; with a nickname like Becky or Ginny. I want to say that those two names came out of stories I had read from books I checked out of the library — yes, even then I was a bookworm!
At that time, I didn’t know anybody else with my name. Other than Emily Dickinson, I had never heard of another person — whether real or fiction — that shared my name. Of course now, there are waaay too many Emily’s in the world … but that’s beside the point.
It took until I was in high school until I truly began to love my name. It was different … and it stood out among the sea of other names in high school. Instead of being told I shared the same name as a friend’s grandmother or grand-aunt … I began to hear that I shared the name with their youngest sister or cousin.
But the real reason was because I was a namesake; I loved that I was named after both my grandmothers. My first name came from my paternal grandmother, Emilia (the same person which this little one was named after). And my middle name came from my maternal grandmother and my Mom; a story that was told in this previous post, when my maternal grandmother passed away.
I’ve probably told the story of my love/hate relationship with my name many times over; probably much to the detriment of Hubby, who gets to hear it every time I tell it. But today, there’s reason for me to repeat this story:
Today, the other half of my name; my Nanay Emilia passed away in the Philippines. While she hadn’t been acutely ill — didn’t have any immediately serious health issues — we had been expecting her departure for almost a year now. She’s just had way too many chronic illnesses for so many years.
There are two distinct memories I have of my Nanay Emilia; one of which I will save for another day — a special day. Instead, the memory I want to tell happened during my early grade school years. I can recall walking home from the bus stop after school and being bombarded by the scent of freshly deep-fried dough … you know, the kind that reminds you of elephant ears at a Midway carnival?
When I first got a whiff of that scent, I remember rushing home and throwing the front door open; all while tossing my book bag on the floor. That’s because I knew that Nanay Emilia was making Filipino buñuelos for my brother and me. I remember sitting at the kitchen counter, watching her make them. Then — as soon as they were sufficiently cooled — grabbing them from the plate, rolling them in sugar, and eating them as fast as she was making them. And I remember her smiling the entire time.
Ever since that day, I think of my Nanay whenever I encounter elephant ears at a Midway or freshly fried dough at a Chinese buffet. It reminds me of that day and how much fun we had making buñuelos in our kitchen.
Thanks for the memories, Nanay Emilia. Thanks for the love and the laughs we had together. I can’t imagine watching wrestling on a Saturday morning (back in the 80’s, of course) without you.
Oh and thanks for your nose. Because … Every. Single. One of your grandchildren (and great-grandchildren) have that trait in common with you.
I’ll miss you and love you forever. And I’m sure that Dad — your son — will be there to welcome you with open arms.
This was the last Christmas I spent with Nanay Emilia. She had gone home to live in the Philippines in the Fall of 2008.
I got a speeding ticket this past Saturday. In the past, speeding tickets always came at a time in my life when I literally needed to “slow down.” Except this time, there’s nothing going on in my life that requires me to slow down. So yeah … I’m a little confused. .
Hubby & I went to see 30 Seconds to Mars Saturday evening at one of the smaller venues in Detroit. Going to see them reminded me of how much I wanted to be a rock star back in high school. .
It also reminded me of how old I’m getting if I no longer want to be in the general admission area on the ground floor. You know, where all the crowd-surfing happens. And where you could possibly feel the sweat flying off any of the band members. .
Speaking of which, Jared Leto has — in my opinion — only gotten hotter since his Jordan Catalano days. And seeing that he’s actually MY age, I wonder how he still has all the energy to keep the crowd on their feet the whole night long. .
Met up with a couple of my HS BFF’s on Sunday morning. It was fun to catch up with them and talk about what we’ve been up to lately. .
Jordan Catalano all grown up
Also got to meet one of my HS besties’ 3-yr old son. He reminded me so much of my nephew, Tyler at that age; so precocious and full of energy. And I loved the fact that he wanted us to go home with him..
Still working on taxes, as I type. Well, okay … so Hubby’s working on the taxes while I help file things away. Gotta work on a better system so that we’re not always doing our taxes at the last possible minute. You’d think after 14 years of doing taxes together we’d get our act together. .
And that’s about all the bullet points I can come up with for now. Perhaps I’ll write a more proper post before Easter. Until then, this is all I’ve got.
An unexpected trip to Chicago this past weekend had Hubby & me enjoying the nice warm weather mostly in the comforts of our car. But that was okay, since we had good tunes to listen to … and even better conversations.
Oh, and not to mention, a great dinner in Bucktown Saturday night followed by some delicious Dim Sum in Chinatown the next morning as we left the city.
The weekend wrapped up with a movie; a perfect way to keep cool on an unseasonably warm Spring Day. I had wanted to see something uplifting and inspirational, so Hubby & I decided to go see “Soul Surfer.”
Okay, so the inspirational part was more secondary to the fact that I just really wanted to see surfing. And Hawaii. I just love any movies with Hawaii as the backdrop. And it’s all because it brings back some incredible Honeymoon memories, oh so long ago. So yeah, a movie filmed in Hawaii would make a very happy Emily.
Bethany Hamilton still surfs
So yeah, uplifting and inspirational. And boy … did I get both.
For those that haven’t seen trailers or haven’t heard about this movie, it’s based on the true story of Bethany Hamilton. If the name doesn’t sound familiar, then this probably will: Bethany was the 13-year old girl who, in 2003 was bit by a shark while surfing in Hawaii. She had lost her arm to the shark, but had gone on to continue to surf even after that incident.
I won’t give much of the movie away here, but what I will say is that within 15-minutes of the movie I was crying. And I continued to cry (intermittently, that is) throughout the entire movie. It was that good.**
One particular part of the movie had seriously gotten under my skin. After sustaining her injury, Bethany obviously began to question herself; question what her bigger picture in life was. After all, surfing was her life … and what could she do now that she no longer could do it well enough to successfully compete? She had gone to her church’s youth group leader, Sarah Hill (played by Carrie Underwood, BTW) and asked her, “Why?” If she had been given this incredible gift, why would God do this to her?
In the midst of crying, Sarah told her exactly what I thought she would her: That there must be a bigger plan out there for her. And that only God knows what that plan is.
Yes, I can see all my IF friends rolling their eyes and saying, “Yep. Heard that one before.”
And I can tell you that, in the midst of tears, even *I* rolled my eyes. But it’s what Sarah said afterwards that had me crying even more:
First, she said “I don’t know what that plan is.” This always gets bonus points for me, since my experience with the “God must have a bigger plan” statement has always ended with just that one phrase.
If only one time, I could’ve heard the added phrase, “I don’t know what the plan is” from any well-intentioned family or friends … that would’ve lessened the burden in which I felt *I* had to carry this burden on my own. That one added piece would have given me the comfort of knowing that I wasn’t crazy for being so angry and so confused over something that no one (not even an IF Doctor) had control over.
Then Sarah goes on to say, “I don’t know why terrible things happen to us sometimes. But I have to believe that something good is gonna come out of this.” And that’s the statement that had me weeping.
See … that’s the one thing that had been missing once Hubby and I stopped all treatments for Infertility: The belief that there’s something better waiting around the corner for me. That there was something else I could look forward to.
In the midst of deciding what Hubby & my next steps would be after stopping treatments, I was too close – too involved – with the smaller picture, that I couldn’t see what the bigger picture was for me and Hubby. At first I couldn’t see past the anger and pain of being barren to see what else was in my “bigger picture.” But eventually, as the storm clouds pummeled through and the dust finally settled, we both took a step back and decided that living child-free was part of that bigger picture.
But now, almost two years later … I feel like I’m lost once again. If I can’t be a Mom, then what will I be? What can I do? How am I now going to be able to measure my “successes” in life … especially since other women and couples can measure there’s by the success of their children? ***
Honeymoon Sunset in Hawaii
It’s no mystery that I’ve been experiencing an ongoing identity crisis. And that Infertility has played the biggest part into questioning who I am … or who I could become. I know that, as this movie portrays, I should have faith that God knows what my bigger plan is for my life. I just wish I had the strength and conviction that Bethany – despite being so young – has that something … anything good will come out of something like infertility.
I just wish I could, at the very least, get a glimpse of that big picture.
So with that said … go see “Soul Surfer.” Not only will you see beautiful shots of Hawaii (Kauai, in fact … my favorite of the islands we’ve visted) … but you will see an incredible story of a girl who overcame her fears to do something that was within her soul.
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** Okay, so the acting wasn’t exactly stellar, but the story was.
*** And when I mean success, I mean those milestones in their kids’ lives. First word, first step, first day of school, first date … it can go on and on and on. Graduation, wedding, grandchildren … need I go on more?
Hubby & I went to see 
If only one time, I could’ve heard the added phrase, “I don’t know what the plan is” from any well-intentioned family or friends … that would’ve lessened the burden in which I felt *I* had to carry this burden on my own. That one added piece would have given me the comfort of knowing that I wasn’t crazy for being so angry and so confused over something that no one (not even an IF Doctor) had control over.