I have this habit of making lists. Maybe it’s the John-Cusack-character-from-“High Fidelity” in me, but I just like trying to mentally put things in order.
Now, these types of lists aren’t your typical “grocery” or “To Do” lists … these are the type of lists where I can grab information from various sources and disseminate them into some sort of order.
For instance, I can take all the concerts I’ve been to in my life (too many to count) and come up with the top 5 concerts I’ve been to thus far. (INXS 1986, Depeche Mode 1988, Sisters of Mercy 1991, Underworld, and the Pixies 2004).
Or I can take a project I’m working on and come up with a fact-driven list of pros and cons to making a change to a particular work process. Either way, making these lists helps me organize my thoughts into some functioning and working order.
Yeah. I’m that much of an uber-geek.
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Dr. Bro & Me in the early 80's with Muffin
Last night, I received some incredible news. One that I’m – without a doubt – very excited about.
Last night I received the news that Dr. Bro and Dr. SIL are expecting.
I’ve honestly been anticipating this news for quite some time now; as Dr. SIL and I have had conversations about this same topic in the recent past. And, genuinely couldn’t be more than ecstatic for the two of them.
As I spoke with Dr. Bro on the phone last night, he oh-so-gently asked me if I was okay with this. Especially since he has been known to read my blog, and may have some idea of the subsequent reactions I’ve had with previous pregnancy announcements and birth.
Dr. Bro & Me on my Wedding Day, 1996
Without hesitation, I answered that I was perfectly okay with the news. But I also cautioned him that there may be days where I might be more snarky than usual. And if I was … then he should know that it is in no way directed at either him or Dr. SIL. I also told him that if I got too much, both of them had every right to smack me upside my head.
After hanging up with Dr. Bro, I sat quietly and let the news sink in … which, as any infertile should know, is never a good thing. As all these thoughts and emotions came at me fast and furiously, I found myself writing them down.
When I was done, I discovered that I unconsciously wrote down one of my “fact-based” lists. Except it wasn’t a “Top 5” list; nor was it a “Pro/Con” list. No … this list had me separating my negative emotions/thoughts about Dr. Bro’s recent announcement from the positive ones. And afterward, I put this list away hoping to revisit it again this morning with a clear head.
So this morning, I re-read my list. And what I found from my list was that I had more “positive” emotions than “negative.” I had more reasons to be “happy” and “excited” about this pregnancy than I had reasons to be sad.
Dr. Bro & Me on his Wedding Day, 2006
While this might not seem much to someone who has never experienced infertility … this was a major breakthrough for me. Because for once in my infertile life, I somehow know I’ll be able to survive this pregnancy (and hopefully with my dignity still intact afterward). Seeing my fact-based list will help me through this time.
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So … what did my list look like? What thoughts ran through my head after finding out about Dr. Bro and Dr. SIL pregnancy? Well, in case you were interested …
Negative:
Yet another pregnancy that I’ll never experience.
When my Dad goes to the Philippines, he’ll be “rightfully” bragging about it. Which will inevitably bring up the question about whether Hubby & I have any children.
There will be moments where I’ll unexpectedly feel blue. Or empty.
This will be a gift to my parents that I’ll never be able to give.
I've never seen my brother SO happy than on his Wedding Day
Positive:
I’m actually going to be related by blood to this child.
Although I’ve been “Auntie Em” to Hubby’s nephews and niece … I’m officially going to be “Auntie Em” to this child.
Part of my genetic makeup, even though it’s not my DNA, will be passed on to this child.
I’ll finally get to see some of that “Nature vs. Nurture” from my side of the family.
I’m in a much better frame of mind (not to mention acceptance) in where I’m at in my Infertility Journey than I was back at the end of 2008.
Although I feel “close” to Dr. SIL, we’re not as close – nor do we have years and years of history – as Hubby’s sister and I do.
After all is said and done, the fact of the matter is that Hubby & I have our own future to look forward to.
My parents will finally get to be grandparents.
So, Dr. Bro and Dr. SIL – if you’re reading this – just know that I cannot wait to be this child’s “Favorite Aunt” … well, at least from Dr. Bro’s side of the family!
In years past, Mother’s Day would have been a difficult day. Yesterday was less difficult than the previous years; less traumatic.
I contribute it to the fact that Hubby & I weren’t physically “in town” to celebrate Mother’s Day with our respective Moms and his sister. Not that I didn’t like going out, typically for brunch, every second Sunday in May … it’s just that the day has always been a painful reminder of what I’ve never achieved in life.
I mean seriously; even at Mass. Any Catholic Church I had ever gone to on Mother’s Day always always always have all the mothers and pregnant woman stand up before the closing prayer to pray over them. And every year, I would glance around the church to see which women remained seated like me.
Don’t get me wrong … such a prayer is much deserved for all the under-appreciated hard work and unconditional love that a Mom provides to their children. But for every year that I was not “included” in these prayers, the less I felt “connected” to those women who would stand proudly as they received these blessing. The less I felt as if I were a part of that “sisterhood.”
Hubby, the "Cat Burglar"
The less I felt blessed amongst other women.
This year, Hubby & I spent Mother’s Day in Chicago; opting to call both sets of Moms and wish them the Happiest of Mother’s Days. And afterward, settled down on our couch to watch a marathon of movies on TV, starting with “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”** and ending with “Sweet Home Alabama.”
And this year, instead of getting all weepy over the twenty zillion Mother’s Day commercials that ran during the TV breaks, Hubby & I would have fun poking at the sometimes fake sentiment that these ads would portray.
This year, as Hubby & I sat on our couch, feeling completely unmotivated to do much but cook meals and take our puppy-girl on an extended walk to the beach, I felt completely blessed.
Because although I remain separated from the ever-elusive “Mommy” Sisterhood … I know I’m blessed with an incredible Husband and parents/siblings, as well as 3 four-legged creatures that look to me as their Mom.
So yeah … that’s my small victory for the day. I turned my Mother’s Day Frown upside down. (Pretty positive for a currently unemployed person, eh?)
Me, surrounded with two of my three furbabies
** LOVE that film. And check out what star, Nia Vardalos, says about her experiences as an infertile on Mother’s Day.
Hubby with Rain (Yami's on the window sill and Kozzy's on her rug next to Hubby)
If. Two letters that could be used to express hope or promise. “If only …” Or better yet, “If I could, I would …”
And then there’s IF; both letters in caps. The medical “Alphabet soup”-version of the word “infertility.”
Please click on image to learn more about this week
Somehow, the meaning between these two simple “words” seem worlds apart. Yet they can also go hand in hand with one another. When I think of the word “if”, I think of possibilities; even though it can also mean “a supposition” or “an uncertain outcome.” When I think of IF (as in infertility), I certainly don’t consider infertility in terms of possibilities or futures. No … I immediately think of that “uncertain outcome.”
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For NIAW, Mel over at Stirrup Queens has partnered with RESOLVE to increase the awareness of how Infertility affects everyone. The project, aptly called “Project IF” is something that has become more powerful than even I, an infertile for well over 10 years, could imagine. The first part of this project set out to unite all Infertility Bloggers under one common thread by simply writing a question addressing the biggest “What IF” in regards to an individual’s infertility. The emotion behind it is weighted in more than just gold or platinum. And if you haven’t already gone to visit … please go now.
The second part of Project IF expands on Part 1 by asking the blogger to choose from one of the recurring themes that came from the over 500 “What If’s” and explore that theme on our personal blog. And since I’m a firm believer in the power of words, I felt the need to participate.
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“What if, after years of struggling with the roller coaster of infertility and FINALLY accepting the decision to live child-free, I get pregnant?”
This was the “What IF” I submitted for Part 1 of “Project IF.” I chose to write about how infertility impacted my future. And based on that statement, it would appear that infertility continues to weigh heavily on my future decisions.
In the Filipino culture (like most other cultures), family has always been held in the highest regard. And despite being a well-educated Filipina with a successful career, being a mother is considered the noblest profession for a woman.
As a first generation Filipino-American, there have been many things within my culture that clashed with the very “American” environment I grew up in. But being part of a family, let alone being the matriarch of my ownfamily, was something that I constantly carried with me throughout my childhood and for many years after that. I had dreams of having a large family (larger than two, because *I* always wanted more than one sibling), and of having my parents there to help raise them with some knowledge of our Filipino culture. After all, that was another Filipino consideration; to have grandparents there to pass on the traditions of our culture.
Although I somehow found myself marrying withinmy culture, it’s no surprise that my Hubby would also share that same love of family; the same dream of wanting to have a brood of children of our own. And along with this dream, we had dreamt of moving out-of-state (Chicago, to be precise); but not before our first-born would be old enough to start school. After all, we wanted both of our parents to enjoy the early childhood stage of their grandchildren; and yet also didn’t want to uproot our children from a school that they were already attending. We had all these plans for our lives that revolved around raising our children.
So it came as a big surprise to us that we weren’t able to conceive. What was worse was the painstakingly long process it took determine why we couldn’t conceive; only to end up with a diagnosis of “Unexplained Infertility.” And because of this struggle, we ended up putting all of our dreams on hold. We put off advances in our careers; we put off moving out-of-state.
Instead, we spent years going to various OB-Gyn and Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) offices in our hometown of Suburban Detroit; spent many lunch hours with various Ultrasound Technicians that I got to know on an “intimate” basis. We spent many hours in line waiting for various prescription drugs to be filled; used many needles poking myself in my belly or thigh, or — worse — rear end. We spent enough of our “retirement” money financing an In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) cycle that gave us three perfect embryos; two which were implanted in me, and one that we “let go” a year later after we knew our chances of defrosting one frozen embryo andfinancing another IVF cycle were slim to none.
We spent six years of our married lives leading up to our one failed IVF cycle. By that time, I was emotionally and financially spent; I was at my absolute breaking point. That was the first time Hubby & I decided to step away from actively trying to conceive (TTC). Not that I didn’t hope for a miracle every month (only to be let down every month), we just decided to take a break from the IF roller coaster.
Looking back now, that would probably have been the best time for Hubby & I to move on with our other dreams; perhaps look at moving out of Michigan and some place else. But hindsight is always 20/20; and truth be told, I just wasn’t ready to give up my biggest dream of being a mother; the one in which I felt I would finally have a reason to exist … at least that’s what I believed.
So instead Hubby & I continued with our daily lives; me secretly hoping for that “immaculate conception.” And in the fall of 2006 … in the midst of status quo … my emotional foundation was shaken to the core. I received the news that my husband’s sister, who just remarried four months prior, was expecting.
Never mind that before all this TTC-business started, my SIL and I were the best of friends. Never mind that my SIL already had a 10-year old child from her first marriage, who was born the same year that Hubby & I got married. Never mind that I always believed that my oldest child and her son, following in the Filipino tradition of extended family, would be the closest of friends. And certainly, never mindthat I had always harbored resentment towards my SIL because I felt she was never there for me, as I felta best friend should, after the failed IVF cycle. The fact of the matter was that my SIL was pregnant … and I wasn’t.
I’ll be honest and say that I had a complete emotional breakdown with that pregnancy announcement … and it’s not just because my SIL was pregnant. It was because like any “good” Filipina, I had spent the entire “trying to start my own family”-time pushing all those emotions aside. I never gave myself the chance to cry; never gave myself the chance to fully grievethe loss of my babies … even if they werejust embryos. Instead I spent the time shoving all these emotions under the rug just so I can, as Asian-Americans call it, “Save Face.”
It was at that time, I finally sought counseling; and it was with this therapist’s encouragement that I decided I would have a heart-to-heart conversation with my SIL. And we did talk rather openly about my feelings. I told her how hard it would be for me to be as excited about her pregnancy as she and the rest of the family was. I even told her that I may not always be up for a conversation about her pregnancy. In fact, I told her that unless I brought up the subject, it meant that I wasn’t ready for baby talk. I came away from that “powwow” with a renewed sense of hope towards our friendship. And I also came away with a sense that I could start healing those emotional wounds that stifled me from moving forward on my Infertility path.
But then less than a week later, the proverbial sh*thit the fan.
At 20 weeks, my SIL found out that her baby would be born with some congenital anomalies. Despite our recent chat … there was no other recourse but to be available for my SIL during this difficult time. And even though I was pretty uncomfortable about discussing the issues surrounding her pregnancy, I just knew that my SIL needed someoneto talk to about herfears and her emotions.
I tried to be there for her as much as I possibly could. And when Liam was born prematurely and passed away four months later, I tried even more. Perhaps it may have not been as much as she wanted me to be. But I can honestly say I tried to give her all my support … as much I emotionally could, anyway.
Two months after Liam’s passing, Hubby & I received a card in the mail. It was a beautiful card expressing how much Hubby & I meant to both my SIL and her husband; especially during the past year. It was also a card to tell us some news that no one else had yet known … that she and Mr. SIL were expecting again. And while I trulyappreciated the manner in which she told us, I can’t say that I was emotionally strong enough to be exuberant about another pregnancy.
If I was honest enough, I would have to admit that I felt as if I just barely survived a “Tour of Duty” in Babyland and was then suddenly and unexpectedly deployed for another “Tour.” And while I was incredibly happy that SIL was able get a “second chance” (if one could call it that) at having another child with her new husband, I was still trying to survive the Post-Traumatic Stress caused from her first pregnancy and subsequent birth. In a word, during this pregnancy, I was apathetic.
My apathy came across as trying to go back to the “status quo” I was prior to my SIL’s pregnancy with Liam. I was desperately trying to get back to whateversense of normalcy there was before my world got so turned around. Quite literally, I was frozen and at a dead stop on the road through the Land of Infertility. And because I was still in a state of post-trauma, I didn’t know how to move forward … I didn’t know what to feel.
A week before Kairi was born, I finally felt something stir inside me. And, okay … perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to feel, but at least it was something. What came out was was a volatile anger; one that had been brimming at the surface for months … probably since the events after that heart-to-heart with my SIL during her pregnancy with Liam.
I can now say, without hesitation, that my SIL’s reaction to my post was certainly justified. However, what resulted from that reaction was a powerful blog post that forced me to take stock of everything that had lead me to that point in my life.
And today, I can now say with 100% certainty that it was thatpost that pushed me just a smidge forward towards finding a resolution to that dream (the one that involved a large family with me as the center) that I was obviously meant to let go. It was that post which forced me to quit putting my life on hold … to look towards a different future.
Since September of 2008, I have started to dream my new future; I’ve began to live that new life. But first, I managed to fulfill one olddream … Hubby & I actually didmake it to Chicago and have now been living here for the past 18 months. We moved here for the career opportunities we bothput on hold for so long. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say we moved here to put our “past dreams” to rest.
Our new dream? Our new future? Well it’s a future that, after much soul-searching, involves living child-free. It’s a future that also involves refocusing our lives around our relationship as “just husband and wife” … and not as “Mr. & Mrs. Genetic Dead End.”
It also involves the freedom of being able to plan futuredecisions without the constant need to determine whether it’s the optimal time during the month to conceive; without worrying where our dossier or “Dear Birthparent” profile is in the adoption process.
It allows us to travel together; explore a life together without the constant worry of not knowing if we’ll ever have a child to look out for us when we get older.
It allows us to dream again.
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There was one last piece to Project IF: Part II. Mel had asked us to end our post with a positive “What IF” statement.
The thing is, I could only come up with the samestatement I used at the very beginning of this post. And I’d like you to take the time to re-read it again below.
Because despite the apprehensions I would have about rearranging the life I had finally accepted I would live … I would happily rearrange it again, if it meant that I’d be able to bring a life (made out of the love my Hubby & I have for one another) into this world.
“What if, after years of struggling with the roller coaster of infertility and FINALLY accepting the decision to live child-free, I get pregnant?”
As I briefly mentioned in my previous entry, yesterday marked the beginning of National Infertility Awareness Week. And if you haven’t already, I hope you clicked over to the six long posts (starting here) I wrote during last year’s NIAW.
Not that you have to, but I thought that those blog entries still are quite relevant to where I am at today … even if Hubby & I hadn’t made our decision to live child-free until November of 2009.
In any case, I did want to spend some time today to focus on RESOLVE. I first stumbled upon this organization after finally seeing the first of my two infertility specialists. There in the lobby were newsletters and pamphlets about RESOLVE … something I would never have seen at my sterile, yet happy, normal OB-GYN office. And after spending quite a few appointments sitting in the waiting room reading these newsletters, I finally went home and visited the RESOLVE website.
Back in 2001, RESOLVE’s website was pretty basic. Although there was more detailed information about the science and treatment of infertility consolidated in one area than I had ever seen before, it was lacking something. It lacked the ability for an infertile individual (or couple) to relate to one another. It lacked the sentiment of “common ground” amongst those traveling the lonely journey of infertility.
As Hubby & I remained the Infertile Path over the next several years, I continued to go to the RESOLVE website. And each time I returned, I’d notice the enhancements they had made; more online support opportunities, more local events for each chapter listed.
But most important (at least to me … ) there were articles about how to cope with the stressors (whether emotional or financial) associated with Infertility. And even better, there were articles to point family & friends to … when there was no way to voice aloud how difficult the stigma of infertility was to deal with.
To date, RESOLVE is the most well-known non-profit organization that is dedicated to the promotion of reproductive health with a mission to increase infertility issues and awareness.
While my journey through infertility has ended with the decision to live child-free, I still head over to the RESOLVE website to remain informed with the latest reproductive health news. And just recently, they have totally redone their website to include even moresupport for the Infertility Community; including adding podcasts, webinars, and an online support community.
And sometime this week, during National Infertility Week, I urge you to visit RESOLVE’s website and learn more about this condition and what you can do to support a family member or a friend … a loved one, perhaps … who may be going through the trauma of infertility.
Today, an article appeared on the New York Times regarding Russia’s decision to suspend adoptions to the U.S.
More Pics from Kairi's visit
The reason that Russia called for a halt on all adoptions of Russian children by Americans, in my opinion, was justified. I do believe that there needs to be further investigation from both sides of the ocean (or Bering Strait, I suppose).
As one half of an infertile couple, who at one time seriously considered adoption as a method to start our family, what this adoptive mother did was simply outrageous. And furthermore, her actions have now affected any other potential adoptive parent who have invested much time, money and emotions in adopting a Russian child. This woman effectively shattered many dreams of many people.
Simply put, this breaks my heart.
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Speaking of dreams … During our engagement, Hubby & I had multiple discussions about how our future would be. We dreamed of owning a house big enough for at least 4 kids with a yard big enough for the dog we would own. We dreamed about how great our careers would be and how we would somehow manage to balance work life and home life.
And we dreamed about how incredible it would be to raise our children; how we would help our children find that balance between being American and being Filipino. We would make sure that they could be proud about their heritage and still be able to embrace the environment in which they lived.
Tyler at the Lego Store in Downtown Chicago
After all, Hubby and I were half- and first-generation** Filipino-Americans. We knew, first hand, the struggles of growing up with half our feet steeped in Filipino traditions and the other half finding a way to assimilate into the Western culture. This was especially evident when we were teenagers growing up in the ’80’s.
I mean seriously … Hubby & I have joked around about how we learned about typical American Teenager behavior from watching John Hughes (RIP … ) movies. In reality, that’s actually not that far from the truth.
But I digress.
Another one of our dreams as an engaged couple looking towards our bright future had always been about adoption. Yes … adoption.
We had always dreamed about opening our hearts and home to other children who might not have been given the same love and opportunities and life that we had. Specifically we looked into adopting internationally, because we wanted to help a child with transitioning into the American culture much like we had while growing up. We wanted these children to embrace their new environment while being proud of where they were born. Much like we were.*** Err … rather are.
However, in that foggy crystal ball version of our future, adoption was something that Hubby & I planned to do after we had children of our own. After we were able to produce offspring that contained both of our DNA.
Kairi loves her big brother ...
Call us selfish, but we just really wanted to see our genetic traits in a biological child and then be able to raise a child through adoption. This child might not share the same genes as us, but would share the same love and warmth and upbringing as our biological children. And for me personally, it was a chance for me to see Nature vs. Nurture at its best.
Unfortunately we never did get to see that nature part. At all. And if I was a strong enough person, I might have been able to see the nurture part. At least with raising a child.
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I applaud anyone who has sought to adopt as a means to start or add to their family.
It takes an incredibly strong and capable person to be able to put themselves through all the rules and regulations and investigations into your private lives just to raise a child that is not biologically your own. I know this from reading other IFer’s blogs about adoption and from talking to adoptive parents about their own experiences. From going to adoption agencies to gather information on our own.
... And Tyler loves his baby sister
Reading about Russia today also reminds me about other countries such as China and Guatemala that have also placed restrictions on potential adoptive parents from the U.S. And it’s because I know how long most of these individuals have been waiting for their chance to raise an internationally adopted child. For those who have faced infertility, it’s the chance to raise any child.
And if I had enough strength, adopting internationally would have been my chance in passing a little bit of myself … that bit about being proud of my heritage while embracing the uncharted territories of being a first-generation immigrant … to my adoptive child.
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** Hubby was born in the Philippines and migrated to the U.S. at the age of five; effectively making him a “half-generation” immigrant. Of course, depending on what version of immigrant generations you go with, Hubby & I can be seen as 1.5- and second-generation immigrants. At least that’s what Wiki says … )
*** Well … okay, so I was born in the U.S. … but hopefully you understand what I mean.
In years past, Mother’s Day would have been a difficult day. Yesterday was less difficult than the previous years; less traumatic.
