Category: Asian-American

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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.

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Scrambled, Over-Easy, or Sunny-Side Up?

Is it strange that I find the whole “Eggs-In-One-Basket” idiom rather humorous, given the whole infertility situation? I mean, seriously. I think, and correct me if I’m wrong here, that most women going through infertility have this tendency to literally put all their eggs in a “basket”. We have to find a way to put our “trusty” (or not so trusty) eggs in front of the male counterpart in order to procreate. But we all know that’s not as easy as it seems. Hubby & I have been trying for ten-plus years and it’s pretty evident that I haven’t replaced the basket with a bassinet.

So where am I going with this post?

Hubby & I had an interesting conversation about personality traits a little over a month ago. We happened to be discussing international vs. domestic adoption and I happened to bring up some worries I had about domestic adoption. It was about how I was afraid that perhaps we wouldn’t be readily chosen by a birth mother as I couldn’t think of one instance where a couple who are both of Asian-descent were able to adopt domestically. (Okay, seriously. That’s a valid fear, isn’t it?! Help … I need some reassurance that I’m not being silly in thinking this.) Then I doubled back and said, “I know, I’m just being pessimistic again.”

Hubby responded saying that I wasn’t necessarily a pessimistic person. Rather I was a “put all your eggs in one basket“-type of person. In other words, when I have this idea in my mind … I go at it at full-force, no turning back.

And when I look back at my life, I can’t say that Hubby’s assessment of me is completely wrong. I used to think I was a pretty laid back person, who would exhibit a few Type-A personality traits given certain situations (school or work projects, etc). But I think that by getting on the infertility roller coaster, I became more of that person that Hubby described.

To tell you the truth, I don’t think I could have avoided becoming that type of person who places all my hopes and fears on a single idea or plan. In this case, it’s in starting our family and raising children. How could I not be this way, given the monthly reminder and disappointment of yet another failed cycle? Now, others not going through infertility issues might respond to that by saying, “Well then, don’t get your hopes up too high.”

In which I’d respond back to that by saying, “Would you tell a someone who has been diagnosed with cancer that?” It’s not that simple. That is, not getting my hopes up. Or in this case, not placing all my eggs in a basket for whatever my next plan of action is. It’s a way to pick myself up after each disappointment … a way to move on.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, placing all my fears in one single plan or idea can be debilitating. And I know that’s the part that my Hubby was getting at during that conversation. If I kept thinking that the idea of domestic adoption was not going to work, then I wasn’t going to even TRY to make it work.

What I need to do is somehow find a way to find a bit of balance in my thinking. Find a way to be optimistic, yet cautious. Find a way to be hopeful, yet guarded. Find a way to put some eggs in the basket, and leave some eggs to grow so that other plans or ideas might hatch at a later date.

Now, why am I suddenly craving Cracker Barrel breakfast?

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"Exit Game or Continue?"

The news of my SIL’s latest pregnancy had got me thinking about second chances. Not that becoming pregnant four months after Liam passed away is anything but a “second chance.” I mean, I know that no one or nothing is ever going to replace the love that she has for Liam. But I do have to say, she is very lucky to be able to have another child. And she is truly blessed to be given an opportunity to “reset” her course in life. I truly hope and pray that this pregnancy is much more smoother than her pregnancy with Liam.

I just wish that with infertility, there was also a way to have some sort of “second chance.” Sure, there is always the ability to go through more procedures and take more medications in order to assist with procreation. But that isn’t my point. I wish there was a way that I could clear out my tubes, fluff up my uterus, and pump up my ovaries … all at the touch of a button. Kinda like a reset button on any game system like the Nintendo Wii or Playstation.

But it doesn’t work like that, does it? It’s not that simple. With going through any ART (assisted reproductive therapy), it’s a matter of deliberation & discussion, finances and timing. What’s the best procedure out there for you? Can you afford to do any of these procedures (as many states still do not mandate insurance companies to pay for certain ART procedures)? Where are you at during this time in your life … in other words, can you afford to take the time off from work to follow the strict regimen and timing of your cycles?

And let’s not even get into the discussion of adoption … okay, well yeah … I guess I will because that, too, requires a lot of deliberation, discussion and finances.

I can tell you from my current emotional status of taking baby steps towards adoption that it’s overwhelming. International vs. Domestic? Both of them are very different types of programs with different set of rules. International programs include so many different countries with so many different government regulations. Domestic adoptions have their own separate nuances: open vs. semi-open? Or basically, how involved do you want the birth family to be with your child? Then of course, there’s always the thought that maybe the birth parents might change their minds. Either way, it’s incredibly terrifying to me to think of how much scrutiny that Hubby & I will be under with whichever program we decide on.

Really, I guess with the whole adoption thing (since I know that this is my next step), I wish there was a way to NOT go through the whole Home Study portion of it. My cultural background as as Asian-American has always leaned towards being more of a private person. We’re not apt to open up so quickly in front of complete strangers. (Now, on line or blogging … different story, for me anyway.) I know the logical reason WHY this needs to be done; it’s obviously for the protection of the prospective child that we might adopt. But then the one thought that keeps running in my mind is that if I was pregnant with my OWN biological child, I wouldn’t be under such scrutiny. That’s when I REALLY wish I could hit that reset button.

So given all that’s involved and all that I have been through with ART, I have to say I am actually pretty amazed I chose to “Continue” on this crazy infertility game rather than choosing to “Exit” or quit. I just hope I continue to have the energy to keep moving forward.

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Jamaican Me Crazy

Well, I’m back from sailing the Caribbean Sea … albeit, reluctantly. If I didn’t have to return to work to make up for all the money we spent on this trip, I would still be out there in the wide open waters.

I blame the Cancerian in me. Having been born under a water sign, I find myself being attracted to oceans and lakes. And I also blame the Filipino in me. After all, the Philippines is a country formed by a multitude of islands (over a thousand, in fact) in the Pacific Ocean. That definitely makes me think I should be a permanent “Island Girl.”

Anyway, back to our Royal Caribbean Cruise. The reason we booked this vacation was mainly to celebrate my parents’ retirement. This was going to be the first family vacation in over 15 years and was to include my brother & his wife along with Hubby & me. Unfortunately it was only to be Hubby & me with my parents. (Ha … that only meant more chocolate and dessert for me! Tee-hee!) Regardless, we all had TONS of fun and enjoyed an absolutely relaxing vacation.

We sailed out of Port Canaveral on Sunday the 18th on our ship, the Mariner of the Seas and spent the entire first day of the cruise at sea. The ship is literally a city on water. Not only did they have the typical amnemities of your usual cruise ship (theatre, beautiful dining rooms, many lounges and bars, huge pools), but they also had an ice rink, a basketball court, and a 9-hole mini-golf course. I swear, we lived in this “city” for 7 whole days, and I STILL feel like I haven’t explored it all.

The first port we docked at (on Tuesday) was Labadee, Haiti. Now I know what you’re thinking … why would ANY cruise ship include a stop in Haiti. However, I am here to tell you that of all the ports we docked at, Haiti was both Hubby & my favorite. But that’s because where we were staying was a private beach owned by Royal Caribbean. There was honestly not a whole lot of activities to do at that destination … but we didn’t care. The beach was beautiful and the water was refreshingly cool. We checked out some local tourist attractions and learned a little history. (For instance … Did you know that Haiti was the first completely run slave country to gain it’s independence? Or that a buccaneer is a “retired pirate” who was now supporting piracy on land by mostly running trading posts?) But mostly we just hung out at the beach enjoying the slight breeze and napping on lounge chairs while listening to the waves. It was THE BEST place to start off our vacation.

The next day (Wednesday), our ship docked at Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I was looking forward to our tour excursion at this location because this was the day that was going to be able to encounter dolphins. We headed out to Dolphin Cove in the morning where we were first told to explore the whole park. This place not only had dolphin, but they apparently had a shark show (which we didn’t see). They also had areas throughout the park where you could encounter other animals. I actually got to handle one of the beautiful parrots and Hubby & I also got to hold a giant iguana … it was definitely a unique experience. But the main attraction of the day was being able to touch and feel and KISS Misty, our dolphin. She was an absolute cutie! We were able to witness her do some awesome tricks in front of us, too. Although I wish we could have done a little swimming with her (that package was mucho expensive!), I’m glad we didn’t … as we didn’t see those groups witness any more than we did, nor did they actually get to hold onto their fins and swim with them.

While still in Ocho Rios, our next stop was the Dunn’s River Falls. Our tour excursion included the ability to climb these falls and then relax in all it’s glory. So here I’m thinking of my trip to Oregon, where climbing the falls meant taking a wooded trail to the top. Oh no. In Jamaica, climbing Dunn’s Falls actually meant climbing the tiered rock-formation falls. Now, I think all would have been fine and dandy if we would have known exactly how these falls looked like before we decided NOT to take the 45-minute guided tour up to the top with the regular “tour group.” Instead, we were approached by a tour guide who offered to take us up the falls all by ourselves. Well. It was definitely an adventure for us and after about a half hour of climbing against strong currents and taking the “nontraditional” tour group route (not to mention acquiring a few war wounds along the way), we made it up to the top of the falls, out of breath but proud of ourselves for surviving the climb. Afterwards, we were planning on doing a little shopping but … 1) We were too annoyed by many of the locals at the Dunn’s River Falls market approaching us and trying to get us to buy something we didn’t want, and 2) We were too freakin’ exhausted after that climb. So instead, we headed back to our trusty Mariner and relaxed the rest of the day.

Our fifth day of our cruise (Thursday), we docked in George Town, Grand Cayman. Again, we booked a tour excursion that would take us around most of the island. Our first stop was to check out Cheeseburger Reef (aptly named for the fact that the reef sits directly in front of the local Burger King … at least that’s what we were told) to see all the exotic marine life via a semi-submersible boat. Along the way to the reef, we got to see a few shipwrecks underwater (the Cali and the Balboa) as well as a few stingrays.

Afterwards, we climbed aboard our “tour bus” and got the tour of the island including a stop at the famous “Seven Mile Beach” as well as the Tortuga Rum shop where we could sample both rum and delicious rum cakes. Eventually we ended up at a little town called Hell. Of course we had to take pictures of ourselves in Hell, go to the bathroom in Hell, and even send a postcard to a couple of our friends (those whose addresses we could remember!) from Hell. Way too many puns to come up with when you visit a town called Hell. Seriously though, the reason the town was named Hell was because of the interesting rock formations that were found in the area. Makes you wonder if this is what Hell really looks like.

And finally, our last stop was the Boatswain’s Beach / Cayman Turtle Farm where we got to see many a sea turtles in various stages of life (from little hatchlings all the way up to 20 to 30 year old sea turtles). The best part? We got to pick up the 2 year old sea turtles and feel their shells, fins, and soft heads. Way cool. The worst part? Well, knowing that we were actually visiting a “farm” where they breed turtles both for sustaining the species as well as for commercial reasons. In fact, after the tour was over, my Dad went over to the attached Botswain Resort’s restaurant and got himself a little cup of turtle soup where he proceeded to offer some to Hubby & me. All I could tell him was I could never bring myself to ever eat turtle soup again after meeting “Squirt” from “Finding Nemo.”

On Friday, the Mariner docked us on the last port of our cruise, the island of Cozumel in Mexico. After disembarking our ship, we were immediately directed onto this super-sleek looking ferry that would take us to Playa de Carmen. Oh, don’t let the mission statement of Mexico Waterjets fool you. They certainly got us to Playa de Carmen in a timely manner, but not without making the best of us (who, by the way have BEEN on a cruise ship now for over 5 days) absolutely sea-sick. It was not a pretty site, let me tell you.

But I digress. This particular shore excursion was the one reason that my parents picked this exact cruise itinerary. It was the ability to spend the afternoon at a well-known Mayan Ruin, Tulum. We had an awesome tour guide, Saul, who is half-Mayan and half-European. (That was the first of many things that I learned that day … that the Mayan people are quite alive and continuing to practice their traditions. Kinda made me feel silly, thinking that the Mayans were an extinct civilization). Once we got to the ruins, he took us on a rather quick walking tour of the site and gave us a brief history of what the ruins were used for (mostly a spiritual site with sacred temples). Afterwards, we were told to walk the ruins at our own leisure. I would have loved to spend the time walking around and reading all the different signs which would explain what each building was meant for … however, the minute Saul was finished with his part, the skies apparently decided to open up and let the flood gates open. Of all days, this was the day Hubby & I decided not to bring a change of clothes or towels, as we weren’t expecting to go swimming. But hey … we also weren’t expecting that there would be a beautiful beach at the Tulum Ruins either.

So since we were already soaked to the bone, we decided to head down to the shore and stick our feet in the sea. Let me tell you, not only was the beach and the sea absolutely breathtaking during the storm, but the water was incredibly warm and inviting! So after we “swam,” we figured we needed to find something to help us dry off. And that’s why we are now proud owners of a hand-made Mexican blanket. (I’m pretty darn sure we would have never bought one if we didn’t find it necessary.) We then headed back onto the ferry (dreading every moment of it) and was shuttled back to our ship. We would have loved to do some shopping back in Cozumel, but unfortunately we didn’t have enough time before our ship was to leave port.

The last day of our cruise was spent at sea, taking us back to Port Canaveral. I liked the itinerary of this cruise mainly because it sandwiched 4 days at different ports between 2 days at sea. That way you had time to get into “vacation mode” before spending 4 hectic days on each stop. And then you have the last day to unwind and relax before heading back home.

A few more notes before I finally end this long blog post.

• Hubby & I cracked up when we saw the day of the week placed on the carpet of the elevator on the ship. I mean really … why would they spend the time to change the day on the carpet every day? Well, we found out midway through our cruise that we DID start losing track of the days. (Now THAT’s a vacation!!)

• The food on the cruise was absolutely fantastic! The only “complaint” I had was that the chefs MUST put something in our food to make us hungry all the time. I mean, seriously. Two hours after eating this incredibly HUGE Thanksgiving meal, I was once again starved and ended up trying get my hands on as many chocolate-covered strawberries during the midnight buffet. (BTW, best Thanksgiving EVER … didn’t have to cook OR clean!)

• Our waiter, Francis and his assistant, Chouzyu (sp?), were wonderful. After a couple days, they both just seemed to know exactly what and when we needed certain things. Oh … and the fact that they supplied us with endless desserts always made my dinner all that much better. (One night, I swear, I couldn’t decide which one of the three desserts I really wanted … and then next thing I knew, Francis was bringing me ALL THREE of them. I swear, it was my wildest “dessert-lover’s dream” come true!)

• And Dad … I love you to death. But next time, ask us before you go out and buy FOUR cartons of duty-free cigarettes to bring back home … especially since you’re only allowed one carton … and ask us to claim the other two cartons. Next time, I really WON’T hesitate to flush them down the toilet.

Okay. I guess I best be wrapping up this post. I think I’ve made it long enough. But hey … I can’t help it. I’m seriously still on “vacation mode.” In fact, I REALLY want this feeling to last as long as I can.

Yeah, yeah … I can just hear you all saying “Quit it. Stop now. Jamaican me crazy!!”

If you’re interested in seeing more pics of our trip, click on the album below.

Caribbean Cruise 2007
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Baby Picture

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A couple weeks I stumbled onto a picture that I had tucked away inside my dresser. At the time I tucked it away, it was the intent that I would someday look back at it and think, “Wow. I can’t believe how far I’ve come since then.” As it happened, that day I was busy looking for something else and I pulled the picture out and put it on top of my dresser (actually, on my mirror) and then went about my business.It wasn’t until yesterday when I was talking to a newly acquired friend, about my recent find that it hit me as to what the picture actually was. The picture I found happened to be the picture of my “would-be babies,” the embryos that were implanted into my womb during my one attempt at in vitro fertilization (IVF). As I was telling my friend about the snapshot, I felt myself begin to cry yet once again.

I relived that period of my life yesterday afternoon as I told her my story and my struggle. She’s heard bits and pieces about it before, but never to the extent as I did yesterday. She had previously heard about the treatment I went through, all leading up to the IVF cycle. And she certainly heard about all the wonderful medications I had to inject into myself each month and especially during the IVF cycle month. But what she never heard (nor anyone else for that matter) was how emotionally spent I was after each monthly disappointment… especially after the failed IVF cycle.

What I had told my friend is that when I looked at that picture, it reminded me of how different a person I was since that period of time. And even how much more different a person I was since starting my infertility journey ten years prior.

Ten years ago, I saw myself as a pretty optimistic person. A “glass is half-full” type of person. If pregnancy didn’t happen, then it just wasn’t meant to be just yet. Almost a year later, I began to become cautiously optimistic. And by the time I had my first hysteroscope, my mindset was of “let’s just get the task done.” At my lowest “pre-IVF” point, I was definitely very pessimistic about any chance of ever getting pregnant. By that time I had already had done enough ovulation charting, had more than enough Clomid cycles followed by even stronger injectable medication cycles, and had enough surgeries to last me a lifetime. It was at that time I became a”glass is half-empty” person.

So when Hubby and I finally decided to try the IVF route, I knew I had to change my attitude. And although I knew that IVF was never a guarantee that I’d be able to get pregnant, I had to think positive. In fact, I couldn’t just think positive, I had to put every effort into making sure that I was going to be successful at becoming pregnant. It was actually not as hard as I thought, especially with all the hormones I was pumping into me. I knew then that if I had even a shred of doubt, I would fall deep into the abyss of pessimism.

So imagine how far I fell once I found out my IVF cycle was unsuccessful. I certainly did plunge deep into that deep pit of despair. There was the initial shock and disappointment, followed closely by hysterics for the next couple weeks. Anything at that time set me off into waves of sadness and tears. A year after the failed IVF attempt, when we made the decision to let our one frozen blastocyte “go,” it was like reliving all the emotions of the year prior.* And in that moment, I knew I would never be able to go through another IVF attempt. It was just too emotionally and physically painful for me to ever have to go through again.

After a period of time, I just became “numb.” Crying seemed to be useless, and to tell you the truth, very humiliating. After all, in my culture, crying is only appropriate for a set amount of time. After that, crying is just considered a sign of weakness as we are taught to quickly “get over” our loss and “move on” right away. So after awhile, I learned to stifle my pain and pretend as if nothing was wrong. I pretended to be “over” the failed IVF attempt and let people believe that I was just content with my current situation. I also let others believe that eventually my Hubby & I would be working towards adoption. And truthfully, I tried to convince myself of that for the next three years.

However, as the past three years went by, I unconsciously knew that something was missing. By all standards, I looked like I was okay, but inside I felt miserable. I probably would have continued to go on feeling like this if it wasn’t for the news that we received a year ago next month. That news was of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy. And well, if you’ve read my previous posts (not to mention the most recent posts of Liam’s life), you’d know that I didn’t handle the news very well. As of recently, I’d like to think I managed the most recent events rather decently, but it’s only after I spent this last year talking (and subsequently blogging) about the gamut of emotions I’ve been through.

So where am I at now? Well, obviously I’ve been crying a lot lately (cultural behavior be damned!). In fact, I think I’ve cried more this past year than I did over the last ten years, since I started this crazy infertility journey. I know for a fact that all the events that have transpired over the past year is responsible for the river of tears (not to mention the trails of tissue paper) that follow behind me. And while it’s been a terribly difficult year, I do have to admit I feel I’ve grown a little more emotionally stronger from it. I would think that just by being able to post my “baby picture” shows that I am. (At least I hope so).

Wow. I can’t believe how far I’ve come since then.

* For a quick overview of our IVF history, we had 13 eggs retrieved, 8 of which were fertilized using ICSI, 3 of which “matured” enough, 2 of which were implanted in me. The lonely one that was left was frozen for the possibility of later doing a “frozen cycle.” What we didn’t expect was that we’d only have one blastocyte mature out of the 13 eggs that were originally retrieved. As there isn’t much success rate in doing a “frozen cycle,” let alone with only one blastocyte, Hubby & I elected not to proceed with that next step.