Asian-American

I Remember

Hi! How was your Thanks­giv­ing week­end, read­ers? And for my neigh­bors to the north, hope you were able to cash in on some of the US’s “Black Fri­day” deals … or do you even have any sales like that for the day after the US’s Thanks­giv­ing hol­i­day? Yes, I’m just being curious.

My Thanks­giv­ing week­end was good: Got to spend time with Hubby’s fam­ily on Turkey Day. And on the week­end, man­aged to eek out a few great sav­ings from Black Fri­day; both locally and at the “big box” shops. But the point is, I man­aged to check off a few peo­ple off my Christ­mas list.

More impor­tantly, my favorite col­lege foot­ball team man­aged to win the all-​​important “Biggest Rivalry in Col­lege Foot­ball” game. AND we got to watch the game at a bar & grill, hang­ing out with my two cousins.

These two girls — the youngest of my Dad’s nieces (and close to 20 years younger than me!) — have seri­ously been the sup­port I’ve needed this past year while deal­ing with my Dad’s pass­ing. Maybe it’s because, like me, Dad had played an impor­tant part in their lives; many times being the father-​​figure that they’ve needed. And as we talked through­out that day, I some­how man­aged to remem­ber how much my Dad’s pass­ing has affected them as well.

I for­got how my Dad would stick up for them if their moth­ers (my Dad’s sis­ters) gave them prob­lems. I for­got how Dad would man­age to sneak them some cash when he thought no one was look­ing. I for­got how much he loved to play with them, and as they got older, joke around with them. I forgot.

So to my two cousins, who miss my Dad as much as I miss him … know that I remem­ber and that I’m for­ever grate­ful that you two always man­age to check up on me when I need it most.

******

And Rain? Don’t worry, my dar­ling kitty. I didn’t for­get about today either. I can never for­get the day that I lost my first and most favorite kitty in the world. Hope you’re up there keep­ing Dad company .…

 

Planning To Fall

My Niece, Emilia Grace on her Chris­ten­ing Day

It’s Labor Day. Where did the sum­mer go?

No … Seri­ously, peo­ple. Where did it go?

Tomor­row all the kid­dos in Detroit and its sur­round­ing sub­urbs will offi­cially all be back in school.  Which always prompts me to ques­tion … why didn’t I go into a career that allowed me to always have sum­mers off?

I’m not ready for autumn … which, if today’s weather in Metro-​​Detroit is any indi­ca­tion (high of 64 degrees), means that I’m def­i­nitely not ready for the cooler cli­mate. And, see­ing that autumn has always been my favorite sea­son is absolutely piti­ful.

Maybe I need to re-​​think this whole “favorite sea­son” deal.

Even the Lil Texan thought the MI weather was too hot last week!

After all, Hubby & I did sur­vive the swel­ter­ing high-​​90 degree weather with 100% humid­ity of Orlando. Like we did the pre­vi­ous two days here in Detroit, which were just as hot and humid. All I need is a beach nearby with some nice sooth­ing waves … and I’d be golden.

Okay, maybe not so much “golden” but more “bronze.” After all, I tan nice and brown … like most of us Fil­ipinos do. But you get the point.

Yet see­ing that Hubby & I live in the Mid­west with (unfor­tu­nately) no plans to move to a warmer cli­mate in the imme­di­ate future, I sup­pose I need to embrace what I’ve got in front of me.

So with that said, here’s my list of things I look for­ward to doing with Hubby this fall:

  1. Leaves chang­ing bril­liant hues of red and orange
  2. Freshly-​​made Apple Cider and warm doughnuts
  3. Haunted Houses and Hayrides
  4. A resur­gence in my need to knit and crochet
  5. Col­lege Foot­ball  – GO BLUE!

How about you, oh Inter­nets? What’s your plans for Fall?

A Song That’s a Guilty Pleasure

Day Thir­teen – A Song That’s a Guilty Pleasure:

I should blame it on Ace of Base. After all, if it hadn’t been for lis­ten­ing to them over and over (and over) again dur­ing the sum­mer of 1993 … I prob­a­bly wouldn’t have turned back to their Swedish coun­ter­parts and get into lis­ten­ing to ABBA again.

Not that I really knew many ABBA songs prior to my post-​​college years. At least I didn’t think so.

Or I should blame it on see­ing “Mamma Mia.” The Broad­way musi­cal. And not the Meryl Streep /​ Amand Seyfried movie spec­tac­u­lar. It’s because of that musi­cal that I real­ized I knew more ABBA songs than I ever thought.

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Forty Days of Night

Forty days ago, my Dad past away. Today, amongst our Filipino-​​Catholic fam­ily and friends, we will be cel­e­brat­ing the 40th day of remembrance.

For those of you that aren’t famil­iar (or haven’t read this pre­vi­ous post), the 40th day is believed to be the day that a loved one has “fin­ished” vis­it­ing his/​her loved ones on earth and is ready to ascend into the heavens.

I won’t lie … it has been an incred­i­bly emo­tional and phys­i­cally exhaust­ing cou­ple of months. Throw the hol­i­days into the mix and … well, yeah. Let’s just say the ham­ster on the wheel inside my head has been work­ing overtime.

As I had expected, there are those days where I’m so busy that I don’t have time to think about the loss of my Dad. And then there are those times … usu­ally dur­ing the most ran­dom moment … where it hits me square in the chest.

My cousin and I, dur­ing the ini­tial 9-​​day Novena period, started to refer to those moments as “Melt­downs.” Some­thing, typ­i­cally some off-​​the-​​wall mem­ory of my Dad, would trans­form me into a blub­ber­ing mess. And although these “melt­downs” don’t hap­pen as read­ily as they did in the first few weeks, I still won­der when I’ll start to feel a bit better.

I have many sto­ries to share … some of them involv­ing sto­ries of “vis­its” from my Dad over the past 40 days … yet I feel I’ve got lit­tle strength to write by the end of the day. This is obvi­ous, as I haven’t had the incli­na­tion to blog over the past few months.

So yeah … this is my sad attempt to start writ­ing again. And maybe when those every-​​day mem­o­ries of my Dad don’t hurt so much, I’ll be able to tell you some of those stories.

But for now, just know that I’m around. And I’m read­ing. And I’m hop­ing to get back into some sort of “nor­mal” again soon.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Related Posts:

Emily Prays for Nine Days

Emily Hits a Pre­vi­ous 40-​​Day Mark

The Whole Nine Yards

Nine days ago, at approx­i­mately 7:30 pm that night, a pretty sig­nif­i­cant hole had formed in my heart. What had been there for the past 38 years of my life was the phys­i­cal pres­ence of my Dad on this world. And even though (by this time) we had been expect­ing his “last breath” for a cou­ple of days, it still didn’t help the sud­den onset of empti­ness I felt in my chest.

I didn’t know what to expect … or how it would feel to lose some­one so sig­nif­i­cant in my life. I didn’t know  that my emo­tions could swing from one spec­trum to another in the blink of an eye. After all, how can I have gone from laugh­ing hys­ter­i­cally about a par­tic­u­larly funny inci­dent involv­ing my Dad … to cry­ing incon­solably about that hole in my heart.

Except now, after nine whole days of gath­er­ing with fam­ily and friends … of pray­ing the tra­di­tional Filipino-​​Catholic Novena fol­low­ing the depar­ture of a loved one … I can finally say that the hole in my heart has begun to fill. And it’s because of all those fam­ily mem­bers and friends that have come out in droves to cel­e­brate my Dad’s life.

Although not quite to back to capac­ity, the empti­ness that once occu­pied that hole is now filled with the mem­o­ries I have of my Dad … of all those spe­cial Daddy-​​Daughter moments. I know that I can look back at those moments and feel my Dad’s pres­ence envelop­ing me.

But more impor­tantly, that hole is now filled with all the sto­ries about my Dad that were shared with me these past two weeks. It’s been filled with the incred­i­ble sup­port I’ve felt from old friends and even older friends … whether it was dri­ving clear across the State just to spend 5 min­utes cry­ing with me min­utes before the Funeral Mass. Or mak­ing an extra trip to Mickey Dee’s to pick up a sweet iced tea and iced latte for me and Hubby. Or even just being there to hug me; know­ing that was exactly what I needed at that moment.

So thank you, all my fam­ily and friends … I hope you know how much every sin­gle kind word** you’ve said and every sin­gle kind ges­ture you’ve done has meant the world to me.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

** Spe­cial thanks to my cousins … from both sides of my fam­ily. You’ve been my my sav­ing grace dur­ing those dark, dark moments.

*** An extra-​​special thanks to my incred­i­bly awe­some hus­band. We joke about me hav­ing a thing for “The Rock” … but rest assured, you are my one and only Rock. You are my con­stant in the midst of chaos.

Unfor­get­table … That’s what you are to me.



Things I’ve Learned on My Alaskan Adventure

  • Alaska (at least South­east Alaska) is not a giant piece of land com­pletely made of ice, like we were taught in grade school. (You know, Seward’s Icebox?)

  • Not all Native Alaskans are called Eski­mos. In fact, the South­east­ern Alaskan Natives are the Tlingints.

  • Fish & Chips and Clam chow­der at a small lunch kiosk on the dock in Ketchi­can, Alaska is d*mn good!
  • There’s some­thing inher­ently beau­ti­ful about glac­i­ers and the waters sur­round­ing them. Oh, and it is pos­si­ble to sail a huge ship through some nar­row pas­sages and still be maneu­ver around glaciers.

  • And by the way, Tracy Arm Fjord is not, in fact, an arm. A fjord is long, nar­row inlet with steep sides, cre­ated in a val­ley carved by glacial activity.

  • Glac­i­ers have a blue tint to them because that’s the only color that glac­i­ers can’t absorb. And because of that, I think Cray­ola should come up with a “Glac­ier Blue” crayon …

  • I now know the five dif­fer­ent Salmon species just by look­ing at my hand.
    • Thumb = Chum Salmon
    • Index Fin­ger = Sock­eye … as in “Poke your eye out with your finger”
    • Mid­dle Fin­ger (or tallest fin­ger) = King Salmon, the biggest of the salmons
    • Ring Fin­ger = Sil­ver Salmon
    • Pinky = Pink Salmon.
  • And now you know them, too!

  • I can offi­cially say that I’ve seen a Black Bear with her three cubs and that bears can’t read.

  • We’ve also seen Amer­i­can Eagles and I think I finally under­stand the metaphor about the strength and beauty of a “Soar­ing Eagle.”

  • The Filipino-​​American pop­u­la­tion in Juneau, Alaska is so big that they have a whole “square” called “Manila Square” ded­i­cated to them.

  • This is prob­a­bly why the num­ber of Fil­ipinos work­ing on the cruise ships in Alaska greatly out­num­bers that of all other nation­al­i­ties (60% of the staff on our ship alone were Filipino).
  • This includes a Fil­ipino Exec­u­tive Mas­ter Chef and Exec­u­tive Sous Chef … who were kind enough to cre­ate off-​​menu Fil­ipino dishes. Like pancit. And Top­silog. And Adobo. Yummmm!

  • Skag­way is actu­ally spelled Skaguay … but only because the postal office didn’t like the way it was spelled.

  • Skag­way was known as the gate­way to the Klondike because this was the first stop for most peo­ple seek­ing gold in the Klondike. And from some of the sto­ries I heard (“Soapy” Smith, the thou­sands of horses killed in stam­pedes) there were quite a few things peo­ple would do for a Klondike Bar … of gold, that is.

  • Accord­ing to our tour guide, Skag­way is a one-​​horse town. And it appar­ently likes to hang out in front of the Bonanza Bar & Grill.

  • It’s pos­si­ble for the U.S. Coast Guard to air­lift a crit­i­cally ill pas­sen­ger onto their heli­copter (on our “Day at Sea”) with­out offi­cially land­ing on a cruise ship. It may take more than 30-​​minutes of prac­tice (and cir­cling the ship) before actu­ally air­lift­ing the per­son, but it’s doable. (The pas­sen­ger, thank G*D is now sta­ble in a hos­pi­tal in Alaska … at least as of Sat­ur­day afternoon.)

  • Using the Med­ical Clinic on the cruise ship (for a pretty big bug bite that caused major swelling and ery­thema to the sur­round­ing tis­sue) is much cheaper than see­ing your doc­tor at home; espe­cially for those of us that lack health insurance.
  • There’s not much you can do in Vic­to­ria, British Colum­bia when you only have four hour to spend there between 7:30 and 11:30 pm on a Sat­ur­day night.

  • It’s a good thing we didn’t dis­cover the 24-​​hr Buf­fet until the last night. Oth­er­wise I would have gained even more weight than I already did …

  • Some­times all-​​inclusive vaca­tions (like cruises or other spe­cialty resorts) bring out the worst in peo­ple. I think I’ve seen and encoun­tered more rude pas­sen­gers with an odd sense of “enti­tle­ment” on this trip than I’ve had in other vaca­tions past.

    Just because pretty much every­thing is included on the ship doesn’t mean that you need to take all of the cook­ies or sweets. Or that you have to be incred­i­bly rude to the crew mem­bers who are there to serve you. Don’t think that just because you worked hard for this vaca­tion, you should be waited hand and foot … these staff mem­bers are work­ing just as hard for a vaca­tion of their own as well!

  • But over­all, we’ve meet some really nice folk … both crew mem­bers and pas­sen­gers alike. If I could, I’d def­i­nitely do another cruise to Alaska again. Maybe this time we’d head fur­ther north towards Anchor­age … and spend a few more days inland, dis­cov­er­ing more of this beau­ti­ful State instead!

Secrets of an Infertile

The first time I ever took a home preg­nancy test (HPT) was on the morn­ing of first wed­ding anniver­sary. Hubby & I had only recently decided that we were ready to start the next phase in our lives together. Plus, Aunt Flo had been miss­ing for over a week by then, so I fig­ured it was time.

I won’t lie … I also thought that the prospect of pre­sent­ing pos­i­tive “pee stick” as an anniver­sary gift would have made our first wed­ding anniver­sary together all that more memorable.

But when the test came back neg­a­tive, I threw the stick away and climbed back into bed to cud­dle with Hubby who was still sound asleep. And yes, I was dis­ap­pointed … but at that time in our lives, Infer­til­ity was just a dis­tant diag­no­sis, which was … in no way, related to me.

I’ve never told any­one this story before because until today, it wasn’t some­thing that I con­sid­ered very rel­e­vant to my life as an “Infertile.”

Hubby had been privy to this story, because later that day he hap­pened upon the open HPT pack­age in the trash and won­dered why I took one. But oth­er­wise, no one else in our lives had a clue that we were even “actively try­ing” at the time.

It was some­thing that Hubby & I, as a young mar­ried cou­ple, wanted to keep to ourselves.

*****

It’s only nat­ural that most cou­ples wish to keep their deci­sions on family-​​planning a secret. Okay … maybe not so much a secret, but more of a dis­cus­sion that hap­pens strictly between the couple.

After all, it really should be no one’s busi­ness to know what’s going on in a couple’s sex life. Right?

But what hap­pens when love and mar­riage don’t auto­mat­i­cally lead to the prover­bial baby car­riage? And what if months — nay, years go by with­out hav­ing any­thing to show but a garbage full of neg­a­tive preg­nancy test?

What if you had spent thou­sands of dol­lars for an infer­til­ity diag­no­sis and work-​​up? And then turned around and spent even more money on try­ing to “fix” the med­ical prob­lems so that you could pro­duce a bio­log­i­cal child of your own?

Should a cou­ple still keep their family-​​building plans and the infer­til­ity diag­no­sis a secret?

What if you and your spouse had to con­tin­u­ously be poked by var­i­ous nee­dles and prod­ded by var­i­ous health pro­fes­sion­als, month after month, just to deter­mine when the opti­mal time was to repro­duce? To go home and have a romp in the bed­room (stress-​​free, of course)? To col­lect a man spec­i­men in the com­fort of a ster­ile clinic? To have to sit nice and pretty in those G*d-awful stir­rups? Only to be dis­ap­pointed month after month …

Would it still be inap­pro­pri­ate for a cou­ple to talk about how infer­til­ity has affected their lives?

What if you or your spouse were done pur­su­ing the med­ical route of infer­til­ity and decided to adopt? What if you spent an addi­tional thou­sands of dol­lars in order to be scru­ti­nized by adop­tion agen­cies, local and fed­eral gov­ern­ment offi­cials? Just so these agen­cies can deter­mine if you were “wor­thy” enough to be parents?

What if the Birth Mom/​Family decided to change their minds at the last minute? Or what if the coun­try you decided to pur­sue an inter­na­tional adop­tion decided to close their doors on all adoptions?

Would now be a good time to talk to loved ones about infertility?

And finally, what if you and your spouse thought­fully and thor­oughly con­sid­ered all your other options to build your fam­ily … and after years of dis­ap­point­ment and heartache, decided that liv­ing child-​​free was your best path in life?

Would it be okay for the cou­ple to com­fort­ably dis­cuss this deci­sion with any ran­dom stranger who asks if the cou­ple has any kids?

These are dif­fi­cult ques­tions to answer. I know; as I’ve had to dis­sect each indi­vid­ual ques­tion with a fine-​​tooth comb. I’ve had to deter­mine how each answer would affect the rest of my life and my rela­tion­ships with those I’ve felt close to at one time or another.

The truth is, each per­son … each cou­ple and/​or the fam­ily & friends that are affected by this couple’s infer­til­ity … will have dif­fer­ent answers. That’s because each person’s jour­ney through infer­til­ity can be dif­fer­ent than the per­son stand­ing next to him or her. Even if they were sit­ting next to each other at an Infer­til­ity Specialist’s office.

*****

I find it sad that soci­ety deems “family-​​building” dis­cus­sions as a pri­vate issue amongst infer­tile couples.

Huh?! WTF …

Okay, let me reword that last state­ment: I find it dis­ap­point­ing that soci­ety deems “fam­ily build­ing” dis­cus­sions as inap­pro­pri­ate when it comes to Infertility.

While I do think that there are cer­tain dis­cus­sions and deci­sions that should be left pri­vate amongst the infer­tile cou­ple, I do think that other con­ver­sa­tions should be okay to dis­cuss with other peo­ple … other fam­ily mem­bers and friends and other infer­tile couples.

Because if any­thing, Infer­tiles can be the worse when it comes to openly talk­ing about their expe­ri­ences and emo­tions when it comes to build­ing their family.

There’s an arti­cle in SELF Magazine’s August issue that out­lines this exact issue.

This arti­cle (aptly titled “This Woman Has A Secret”) found that a recent sur­vey indi­cates that 61% of infer­til­ity patients hide their strug­gle to get preg­nant from friends and family.

And see­ing that 1 in 8 Amer­i­can cou­ples expe­ri­ence infer­til­ity … well, yeah. That’s a lot of peo­ple that aren’t talk­ing about the heady emo­tions that can be asso­ci­ated with the inabil­ity to reproduce.

Along with those ques­tions I pre­vi­ously posed, other com­mon con­cerns that an infer­tile cou­ple can expe­ri­ence include the fear that their life will be eter­nally empty. Or the sense that the cou­ple is dam­aged or broken.

Both amplify the shame already incurred by the cou­ple; as they likely feel dif­fer­ent from being dif­fer­ent than other “nor­mally repro­duc­ing” fam­ily and friends.

Both make the cou­ple more embar­rassed to talk about these strug­gles and asso­ci­ated emo­tions with their loved ones.

*****

It’s a dif­fi­cult thing … want­ing to talk about a person’s (or couple’s) indi­vid­ual jour­ney through infer­til­ity. It’s ten-​​times more dif­fi­cult, given the shame that’s asso­ci­ated with infertility.

As the SELF arti­cle points out, it gets even more exhaust­ing when an infer­tile couple:

… become slaves of their monthly cycle; often unable to leave town even for a week­end get­away due to daily mon­i­tor­ing for hor­mone lev­els and egg counts. When month after month a cou­ple fails to get preg­nant, their lives stall and the ques­tion of whether or not their fam­ily will expand looms over deci­sions about the car they buy, the house they live in, the clothes they purchase.

And this, along with many other rea­sons, is why many infer­tile cou­ples choose to keep their “family-​​building” strug­gles a secret. Why they con­tinue with the façade that “family-​​building” dis­cus­sions should remain per­sonal, as soci­ety dictates.

*****

After years of keep­ing my strug­gle a secret … of bury­ing the emo­tions I’ve felt for so long … I believe that it is extremely impor­tant to talk about these issues. And I think it’s impor­tant for an indi­vid­ual to find their own out­let or sup­port systems.

Hubby & I became “shad­ows” of our for­mer self …

But first and fore­most, I think it’s very impor­tant to keep an open com­mu­ni­ca­tion with your Spouse/​SO. Because if there is any­one else who should know what you’re going through, it should be the per­son who is trav­el­ing down the infer­til­ity jour­ney with you.

For Hubby & I, it’s a path that we took together, hand-​​in-​​hand. We made it a point to talk about each of our con­cerns openly and hon­estly (yes, even the scary parts) so that we knew where we both were at emo­tion­ally. And if one per­son was even slightly ahead of the other per­son, we’d make an effort to “wait” until both of us were both “on board” before mak­ing any major deci­sions. There was no push­ing or prod­ding; there was patience and under­stand­ing that both of us dealt with our issues in very unique manners.

If any­thing … that was my sav­ing grace in our jour­ney together. Hubby was my rock — my torch, so to speak, light­ing my way through the dark­ness. And I hope that he can say the same thing for me as well.

*****

As for other sup­port sys­tems out­side of the cou­ple … It’s dif­fi­cult to find sup­port out there. I know; I’ve tried.

I’ve sought sup­port amongst my loved ones; my friends. But it’s hon­estly hard for them to com­pletely under­stand what it’s like, unless they’re walk­ing in your shoes, your path.

But after years (and years) of deal­ing with Infer­til­ity, I’ve finally learned to turn this expe­ri­ence around by edu­cat­ing oth­ers about my jour­ney. And I did this by debunk­ing state­ments (like “just relax”) and myths (like “just adopt and you’ll get preg­nant”) when­ever they would sur­face in those inevitable conversations.

This is because I believe that the more an Infer­tile per­son openly dis­cusses their expe­ri­ences, the more that the gen­eral pop­u­la­tion will under­stand and learn to empathize with the Infer­til­ity community.

I hope that this is a les­son that other Infer­tile cou­ples can learn from my own expe­ri­ence: Talk openly about it now, so that oth­ers can be more empa­thetic to the Infer­til­ity path.

*****

I’ve also tried to find sup­port in an Infer­til­ity Sup­port Group.

For me, that was not my cup of tea. My expe­ri­ence mim­ic­ked how another per­son in the SELF arti­cle so aptly stated, “Every­one gets up and tells their suc­cess sto­ries. Infer­til­ity treat­ment isn’t always about success.”

But … that may not be the case for every sup­port group. So please … you should still seek out an Infer­til­ity sup­port group before pass­ing any judg­ment. It just may just be the per­fect out­let for you.

*****

Finally, (and only after a major cat­a­strophic life event) I tried some indi­vid­ual coun­sel­ing. And that planted the seed that allowed me to talk about my Infer­til­ity and the emo­tions that came with those struggles.

My advice for an Infer­tile per­son try­ing to find the right ther­a­pist? Talk to your Infer­til­ity Spe­cial­ist and ask for a rec­om­men­da­tion. If you’re not cur­rently see­ing a spe­cial­ist; call one in your area and ask. Chances are, the Front Desk staff or the RN in the office will be more than will­ing to give you a rec­om­men­da­tion. If not, check out RESOLVE’s web­site for a list of pro­fes­sion­als in the area.

*****

Again, huh?!

There’s one more out­let for sup­port that I want to point out. And this out­let, I must say, has been the most ther­a­peu­tic for me.

After much encour­age­ment from my ther­a­pist, I sought out sup­port from online com­mu­ni­ties. I started out by read­ing mes­sage boards and even­tu­ally sought out per­sonal blogs. From there, I stum­bled onto Mel’s list and found an entire blo­gos­phere of peo­ple that I sud­denly felt I could relate to.

Sud­denly I wanted to share my story. I wanted oth­ers to know what *I* had gone through in my jour­ney. And, because there wasn’t enough rep­re­sen­ta­tion from the Asian-​​American/​Filipino-​​American com­mu­nity, I wanted to let those Infer­tile individuals/​couples know that they weren’t alone.

And, as the Asian-​​American cul­ture typ­i­cally simul­ta­ne­ously praises Moth­er­hood and yet frowns upon dis­cus­sions lead­ing up to Moth­er­hood, *I* wanted to have an out­let for where I can point other fam­ily mem­bers and friends to read when the inevitable, “What? You don’t want kids?” ques­tions came up.

The sup­port I’ve received from the three years I’ve now been writ­ing on this blog have been over­whelm­ing. Not only have I met the most incred­i­ble peo­ple who get me (and under­stand my wacky sense of humor), but I’ve found sup­port in old friends and fam­ily that I might never have found any other way.

So yes … if any­thing, I encour­age writ­ing a blog as an out­let for your Infer­til­ity issues. I encour­age you to write about your strug­gles, your emo­tions … your biggest fears and worst night­mares and post it for the world to see. I encour­age you to be hon­est, as well.

But most impor­tantly, I encour­age adver­tis­ing it to your friends and fam­ily. Because we all know that keep­ing secrets from your loved ones (whether big or small) can ulti­mately be frus­trat­ing and tir­ing for all involved.

So why not let the secret out?

*****

I write this to let other Infer­tile cou­ples know that they do not have to suf­fer through these strug­gles alone.

I write this to encour­age other Infer­tiles to talk about their expe­ri­ences to others.

And I write this to ensure that those now-​​parents – those who suf­fered through Infer­til­ity on their way to par­ent­hood – con­tinue to share their strug­gles of Infer­til­ity … regard­less of how busy their lives may be, now that they have children.**

I write this to make sure that Infer­til­ity no longer remains a secret.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Related Posts:

A brief his­tory of Emily’s Infer­til­ity Journey

When Emily decided enough was enough

Why Emily blogs for Infer­tile Asian/​Filipino-​​Americans

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** This was the only beef I had about the SELF arti­cle. For all that it said about the impor­tance of “let­ting the secret out,” the last sen­tence in the arti­cle is what soured me the most:

Work­ing behind the scenes [of sup­port­ing the Infer­til­ity com­mu­nity] is one option, but [Lisa] says, ‘I’m sure my vol­un­teer efforts will be for schools or parks. Once I have twins, I’ll have a lot less free time.”

Hind­sight is always 20/​20 …

Feelin’ Lucky

The Happy Newlyweds

Hubby & I have spent the past week in Canada. While the main rea­son was to cel­e­brate his cousin’s wed­ding in Toronto last Fri­day, we spent the past week tour­ing East­ern Ontario and Québec. And actu­ally, as I type this … we’re on a three-​​hour tour bus drive from Kingston back to Toronto, where we first started this bus tour.

The main pur­pose of doing these tours is because Hubby’s Uncle and Aunt have flown in from the Philip­pines to attend the wed­ding. Since they’ve flown halfway around the world, Hubby’s par­ents as well as the other fam­ily mem­bers liv­ing in North Amer­ica have decided to have a “mini”-reunion to show Hubby’s Uncle a small chunk of Canada.

And when I say “mini” … I mean that it’s a smaller por­tion of Hubby’s entire fam­ily. Dur­ing the actual wed­ding week­end, the total num­ber of fam­ily mem­bers (includ­ing aunts/​uncles, cousins, chil­dren of cousins, and all sig­nif­i­cant oth­ers) equaled 37. When we went to Nia­gara Falls on Mon­day, about 25 of those fam­ily mem­bers were still around for an overnight stay. And when we started the three-​​day bus tour on Wednes­day, we whit­tled down to 17. Regard­less, it has been an incred­i­ble week with the fam­ily … some­thing that we haven’t done since Jan­u­ary 2008. And unfor­tu­nately, that hap­pened to be in Vir­ginia Beach when Hubby’s grand­mother passed away.

Only a hand­ful of the “young” cousins with Hubby

In that two-​​year time period, four new chil­dren were added to the fam­ily. One was our niece, Kairi and the sub­se­quent three babies were girls born between 2009 and early 2010. In addi­tion, Hubby has much-​​younger cousins between the ages of thir­teen and eight. The other young kids are chil­dren from his sis­ter (Tyler) and his first cousins. This puts the total of “young kids” four­teen years old and younger at twelve.

That’s twelve kids being watched over by par­ents; twelve kids being beck­oned by the var­i­ous par­ents and their “Tita” or “Tito”** or “Até” or “Kuya.”*** Twelve kids all call­ing out “Mom” or “Dad” and approx­i­mately seven sets of par­ents respond­ing to that title.

That’s about eleven of Hubby’s Aunts /​ Uncles /​ First Cousins out of the 37 fam­ily mem­bers that have young kids under the age of eigh­teen.  If my math is right, this also means that about twelve of those 37 fam­ily mem­bers are either par­ents of older kids (eigh­teen or older).

Par­tial Group shot in Old Quebec

Then there’s Hubby & me; the child­less cou­ple. We’re not counted amongst those who have chil­dren at any age. We’re only counted as chil­dren of Hubby’s par­ents. And we only get the title of “Tita/​Tito” or “Até/​Kuya.”

But we’re def­i­nitely not called “Mom” or “Pa” (which is what Hubby’s fam­ily calls their Dads).

Now, I know what you’re think­ing … here goes Emily, once again, com­plain­ing about not being a Mother; of not being able to expe­ri­ence what its’ like to be called “Mom” or “Mommy.” And yes, I do admit that it has been bit­ter­sweet this past week when see­ing all the babies dressed up for the wed­ding; when see­ing all the other Aunts and Uncles and Cousins pass­ing the new addi­tions to the fam­ily around the group, oohing and ahhing and fuss­ing over them. (Although, I do fully admit I took part in such activity … )

But you know what? I actu­ally found the sil­ver lin­ing in all the hul­la­baloo of the “World of Babies/​Children.” And that sil­ver lin­ing is this:

Hubby being silly with our nephew & cousin

I was actu­ally ecsta­tic that I didn’t have to respond to being called “Mom” … espe­cially when it was in regards to the con­stant ques­tions from the kids older than four years old about what was going on next.  Or why we had to leave now to go to our next des­ti­na­tion. And I cer­tainly didn’t mind that I wasn’t respon­si­ble with hav­ing to deal with atti­tudes or behav­iors that the kids doled out once they got grumpy.

While I dealt with each instance that came my way or hap­pened dur­ing our “watch” over them****, I have to say that I finally appre­ci­ate the fact that I’m “just the Aun­tie” or “just Até Emily” to all the kids.

In fact, I can hon­estly say with­out a doubt that Hubby and I are lucky. And I don’t mean “lucky” in the sense that, as a Child-​​Free cou­ple, we don’t have to deal with the day to day issues of being a par­ent … because, I still wouldn’t trade the oppor­tu­nity to raise a child for any­thing else in the world.

Great “can­did” photo of the older kids

No, I mean “lucky” in the sense that we get to be the “Cool Aun­tie and Uncle” to the chil­dren. We get to take the kids around to do fun things (while hope­fully giv­ing the par­ents a bit of a reprieve) when we want to and/​or are able to. And we get to “play” with them and joke around with them as much as we want.

But most impor­tantly, we also get to be the ones who they can talk openly to;  feel com­fort­able around to ask some dif­fi­cult or sen­si­tive ques­tions. And we’re the ones whose words, at this point in their lives, can make some sort of impact on them; put a dif­fer­ent per­spec­tive in mind for them … even if they’ve been told the same things twenty times over by their par­ents. And it feels great.

I can hon­estly say that the time we spent with Hubby’s youngest fam­ily mem­bers has been won­der­ful and truly sat­is­fy­ing. And I hope that dur­ing the week we’ve spent with them, we’ve been able to con­tribute to last­ing mem­o­ries and life lessons that they can take back with them to their own homes.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Related Posts

Fam­ily Fun in Nia­gara Falls

The Mr. Apron Strings Fam­ily Bubble

Wel­com­ing Kairi to the world

Preg­nancy New(s) Edi­tion (PWP)

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** Means Aunt or Uncle in Taga­log (the native lan­guage of the Philippines)

*** In Taga­log, Até (ah-​​teh; fem­i­nine) or Kuya (koo-​​yah; mas­cu­line) is a title given to show respect to your elder sib­lings or cousins.

**** And believe me, this week there were lots of times where we vol­un­tar­ily offered to take respon­si­bil­ity for the kids.

Prob­a­bly my most fave pic from this trip. We’d go back to Que­bec City if we could!

Everything Is Kung Fu

When Dr. Bro was about 12 years old, he took up Tae Kwon Do. Part of it was to learn self-​​defense; another rea­son was to gain con­fi­dence. I’d watch his classes from time to time; fas­ci­nated by the dis­ci­pline needed to prac­tice this mar­tial art.

Of course, a year after he started prac­tic­ing Tae Kwon Do, the orig­i­nal “Karate Kid” movie came out. It was def­i­nitely a movie that both of us had wanted to see. Dr. Bro, because of the ref­er­ence to learn­ing mar­tial arts. And me, because I wanted to see Ralph Mac­chio again after see­ing him in “The Out­siders”. Of course, both of us just loved the film; as did every 10 – 14 year old that saw the film with us. It was quite evi­dent, espe­cially dur­ing the scenes dur­ing the tour­na­ment, when every kid cheered for Daniel Larusso to win.

This past Fri­day, Hubby & I went to an early evening show at the movies; some­thing we haven’t done in awhile since find­ing myself unem­ployed. And of course we went to see the new ver­sion the “Karate Kid” … not only because we wanted to see how Jackie Chan could fill the role of Pat Morita, but because we were wanted to see how the story would trans­late now that it was set in China. We were not disappointed.

I must warn you, if you’re look­ing for a com­pletely dif­fer­ent spin on the orig­i­nal movie, you won’t find it here. The story line, from the cute class­mate to the bully, down to the some of the say­ings “Strike first! Strike hard! No mercy!” are the same. Except with this ver­sion, there seems to be some sort of twist to each ele­ment we see in the orig­i­nal film.

The first (and obvi­ous) twist to the story is that instead of being taught Karate, Jaden Smith’s char­ac­ter (Dre) is taught Kung Fu. So, as a good friend pointed out … why not call it “The Kung Fu Kid” instead? Well, after a lit­tle research I did man­age to find out that the film is, indeed called “The Kung Fu Kid” internationally.**

Another twist is in how Mr. Han (Jackie Chan) teaches mar­tial arts to Dre. In the orig­i­nal movie, Mr. Miyagi’s method of teach­ing Karate ranges from from wax­ing a car to paint­ing a fence.  This ver­sion does not have Dre being Mr. Han’s chore boy. Nope … instead, Mr Han teaches Kung Fu by hav­ing Dre take his jacket on and off.

I admit that when ini­tially see­ing the whole “Jacket On/​Jacket Off” tech­nique (as opposed “Wax On/​Wax Off”),  it appeared pretty lame, for lack of bet­ter words. But when put into con­text with the rest of the film, this method of teach­ing not only taught Dre Kung Fu, but it end up teach­ing him about respect.

Being a first gen­er­a­tion Asian-​​American, that is the aspect of the film that spoke to me most. It was watch­ing a kid from the new “West­ern World” try to inte­grate his life in the old “East­ern World.” There are many moments where we see Dre  act like a typ­i­cal Amer­i­can teenager; brash and arro­gant, unaware of his sur­round­ings. This atti­tude obvi­ously would not be accept­able in China where tra­di­tion and elders (as evi­dent by the mul­ti­ple scenes  of senior cit­i­zens exer­cis­ing) are revered.

Mr. Han does an excel­lent job, albeit reluc­tantly, teach­ing Dre about the impor­tance of respect in the East­ern World. He does it in the method in which he trains Dre in Kung Fu; because as Mr. Han says:

Kung Fu is in every­thing we do. It’s in the way we put on a jacket. It’s in how we treat peo­ple. Every­thing is Kung Fu.

In other words (or at least what I get out of it), if you respect every­body … every­thing in your sur­round­ings … you, too could be a mas­ter of Kung Fu. You, too would be able to find bal­ance between mind and body.

What I hope that most kids (and let’s face it, adults as well) get out of this movie is that there needs to be respect for every­thing; that we must treat peo­ple with the same respect that we would want in return. Whether it has to do with other cul­tures or reli­gions … or with Mother Nature and our own planet … we should find that bal­ance within ourselves.

When reach­ing the last few min­utes in the movie, I couldn’t help but cheer Dre on as he moved through the tour­na­ment. And that last scene … oth­er­wise known as “the crane kick” in the orig­i­nal movie? Well, lis­ten­ing to those 10 – 14 year old kids around us clap and cheer … it reminded me of that day, some 26 years ago, when Dr. Bro and I watched the original.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

** And while I was at it, I man­aged to find that there was actu­ally a Philip­pine TV show called “Kung Fu Kids”. Hmm … talk about com­ing around full circle!

2">Infertility Bets On Hold, Part 2

(If you missed Part 1, click here … )

While I’ve pretty much begun to resolve those par­tic­u­lar grief issues, there’s still that lack of strength that I feel I need in order to go through the entire adop­tion process.  Because it takes some­one who really has enough strength to climb over the prover­bial brick wall get­ting in the way of hav­ing a child. And specif­i­cally, I’m talk­ing about all the rules and reg­u­la­tions and inves­ti­ga­tions into your pri­vate lives just to raise a child that is not bio­log­i­cally your own. Quite frankly, I know that I don’t have what it takes to go through that.

Why do I say that? (And Kelly … hope­fully, this will help answer the ques­tion you posed to me at one time … ) Well first of all, I just know what I’m capa­ble of han­dling emo­tion­ally, and I know that I wouldn’t be able to sur­vive any fur­ther dis­ap­point­ment or heartache. Or as my new favorite quote from Pam says:

It got to the point where the poten­tial for more heart­break was more over­whelm­ing than the glim­mer of very small hope.

The sec­ond rea­son I feel as if I have lit­tle strength is because I have lit­tle con­fi­dence that things will come rel­a­tively straight­for­ward and sim­ple to us.

Not that I expect adop­tion to be an easy path. If we did decide to adopt, I have this very strong sus­pi­cion that we’d have so many more walls to climb. Give me a chance to explain … and I’d absolutely love to hear what oth­ers have to say to con­tribute to this discussion.

Let’s start off with Domes­tic Adoption:

  • Hubby & I both Asian Amer­i­can; Fil­ipino Amer­i­can, to be specific.
  • How often do you sup­pose any Poten­tial Birth Moms (PBM) would look at our dossier and — just by looks alone — think that we’d make great par­ents when their child will (most likely) not look at all sim­i­lar to the adop­tive cou­ple that they’d hope to raise their child?
  • Or that the PBM might worry that their child would face more bar­ri­ers hav­ing Asian Amer­i­can parents?
  • How often are Asian Amer­i­can babies given up for adop­tion; espe­cially if the PBM is also Asian or Asian Amer­i­can? Cul­ture dic­tates that fam­ily is impor­tant. If the child is not wanted in the imme­di­ate fam­ily; chances are that there is another fam­ily mem­ber (aunt, cousin, third uncle twice removed) that is will­ing to raise the child. Unfor­tu­nately, that’s a sit­u­a­tion that’s likely never going to hap­pen to us.

Mov­ing onto Inter­na­tional Adoption:

  • There are stricter laws and reg­u­la­tions from var­i­ous coun­tries in effect.
  • Some spe­cific coun­tries, like Rus­sia and Guatemala, have either sus­pended or have placed holds on any adop­tions to the US.
  • Wait time. Even for Fil­ipino adop­tions there are cer­tain stip­u­la­tions on how and when a child can be adopted; when the child can come back to the US with the adopted par­ents. And quite frankly, I don’t think I can afford the three-​​year wait in order to adopt a child from my native country.

And finally other, all-​​encompassing barriers:

  • Age: Let’s face it. Hubby & I are cur­rently push­ing 40. And yes, I know that there are cou­ples out there that are rais­ing babies that are much older than us. But there was a rea­son why Hubby & I started try­ing to con­ceive within a year of mar­riage: I had always seen me as a younger mother; one that wanted to fin­ish hav­ing babies before the age of 30. There was a spe­cific rea­son behind that: my mother and I are exactly 3o years apart in age (sorry Mom!). Grow­ing up (par­tic­u­larly in high school), not only did I deal with a cul­tural bar­rier, but I also dealt with a huge gen­er­a­tional gap. Both my par­ents were pre–baby boomer, while I was most def­i­nitely a Gen-​​Xer. Even though after I turned 30, I knew that this was some­thing beyond my con­trol, adopt­ing now — espe­cially as the rules and regs of adop­tion have got­ten more strict — well, it no longer seems pru­dent for both Hubby & my sake.
  • Energy: Along with age, this is the sec­ond biggest con­cern that I have. And, if I was hon­est with myself, the flim­si­est bar­rier of all. Because, really this has to do with energy and sta­mina. It’s one thing to raise a child with the thought in mind that you’ll be young enough to (some­what) keep up with their needs. It’s quite another thing know­ing that I can no longer wake myself up in the morn­ing with­out hit­ting the snooze but­ton a dozen times. Would I be able to care for another life if I can barely care for my own? Like I said, flimsy … but I’m just being honest.

I don’t bring up these points to be neg­a­tive in any way, shape or form. I’m sim­ply stat­ing facts that appear to be the most obvi­ous bar­ri­ers for our indi­vid­ual case when it comes to adopt­ing a child. And that’s assum­ing that we would ever go down that route. And, as I said above, I’d love to hear your thoughts on what I per­ceive as barriers.

*****

As it is, I feel that we’ve already played our game of Infer­til­ity Roulette. We’ve already placed all the bets we wanted to at this time in our lives. And we lost that bet. With adop­tion (or h*ll, even if we ever decided to go through IVF again), I want some­thing I can be sure of … some­thing I can count on.

I hes­i­tate using the word “guar­an­tee” … since noth­ing in life is ever guar­an­teed, but after more than ten years of fight­ing the odds and now fac­ing even greater odds against us (age, finances, etc), Hubby & I opted to get out of the bet­ting pool.

And this is why, at least in my eyes, it’s never as sim­ple to “just adopt.” It’s never easy to go through another round of IVF.

This is why Hubby & I have decided to “cut our loss” … or in this case, “cut the strings” … and live child-​​free after infertility.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Related Links:

Cut­ting The Strings

Infer­til­ity Bets On Hold, Part 1

Thoughts on Adoption

Infor­ma­tion on Fil­ipino Adoptions

Wiki Info on the Pre-​​Baby Boom Generation

Wiki Info on Gen­er­a­tion X

Other Related Strings

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