NIAW 2009, Pt II

(This is the second part of a six-day series to celebrate NIAW. I’d say it’s because I “planned” it that way … but the truth is, the series started out as one extremely looong post. To start at the beginning, click here)

273And then there’s the biggest loss of all. Let me preface this by saying that not everyone experiencing infertility will end up in this category of loss. Because some will be successful with their pursuit in creating a child from within themselves. For some, it may be the creation of a biological child of their own. For others, it could be a successful pregnancy created from either donor egg, donor sperm, donor embryo, and even donor uterus. In any case, these are couples who have spent more than enough months in disappointment … and not to mention more than enough money on various medications and/or procedures.

In any case … for those others, like myself, that were not successful in their pursuit, they must deal with the ultimate loss — the inability to create a life out of one’s own being. For some couples, it could be the loss of a pregnancy; a miscarriage after having been able to create a life but unable to carry their baby to term. For every couple unable to achieve and/or maintain a pregnancy, it’s the loss of the ability to pass on a piece of yourself or your partner’s self onto another living and breathing person. To see your facial features on a child you created. To see your partner’s mannerisms in another living being. To know that you have continued on your lineage; contributed to the “Circle of Life.” Those things … and much much more are tremendously huge losses that will take more than the span of your own lifetime to mourn.

Some women feel the loss of the ability to experience a life grow inside of herself; to carry a child in her womb until that baby is ready to enter the world. For other women, it’s knowing that they will finally be able to nurture this child and bring him/her up in the manner that they’ve always dreamed about. And for others still (like myself), a combination of the two …

(More ramblings … tomorrow.)

Two Dolla' No Holla'

8bt“Two Dollars! I want my two dollars!”

I love that movie. “Better Off Dead” is one of those classic John Cusa.ck films from the ‘80’s that remind me of many-a-slumber parties. (You know, back when the other girls were fixing their hair and putting on make-up while I sat in my sleeping bag clearly just watching rental video after rental video …) I loved the Asian guys that pretended to be that sportscaster from Wide World O’Sports (hey, it’s St. Paddy’s Day … gotta get my O’ on. 🙂 ). And I love how Lane’s mom tried to cook her “Fraunch” dinner for the cute little exchange student that Lane should have noticed much sooner. Oh, and I loved the fact that they used a little Howa.rd Jo.nes on their soundtrack as well.

In any case, my mind sometimes (oh, who am I kidding … always) works in strange “tangential thinking” ways. I started off by thinking, “Two Years, Wow!” and obviously ended up thinking of a newspaper boy on a bike trying to collect his money.

G*d … does anyone else remember the days of neighborhood kids being the newspaper deliverer and collector of payments?! Now it’s always an adult that pulls up in a car … chucks the paper out their car window where one hopes it lands on the doorstep … and then it’s the newspaper that actually hounds you by phone for their twenty dollars or more.

Oh geez … see what I mean? Tangential thinking.

See the whole point of this post was to reflect how it’s been two years today since I started this blog. And what started out as wanting to express something in a journal entry somehow ended up here in the blogiverse.

2yrI remember clearly sitting in a café in A2 while Hubby and his BIL (my SIL’s Hubby of less than a year at the time) went off to do their comic/gaming thing. I was still struggling with the news of my SIL’s pregnancy and found myself slowly losing grip on my sanity. I knew, after a few months of counseling, that I had to find a way to deal with all these repressed emotions. Except besides this counselor and my husband, I didn’t know anyone else I could talk to about these feelings of anger and jealousy … and the subsequent guilt that always seemed to follow those emotions.

I felt that somehow no one else could understand what I was going through. I believed that everyone I had previously talked to about these things thought I was nuts to be “obsessing” about how unfair it was that I couldn’t produce a child. And I remember thinking how it seemed as if everyone was moving forward in their lives; starting their families, achieving new milestones, etc … all while Hubby & I remained left behind, unable to move forward.

It didn’t help that March was an anniversary month for Hubby and me. It would be the month that so many years ago, we received the news of our one and only failed IVF attempt. And for the life of me, today I can’t even recall the number of years it’s been since then. (What does that say about where I’m at today?!) But two years ago, those emotions … that feeling of lost was still as deep and painful as it was when we first received that devastating news.

In a single sentence … two years ago today, I was a wreck. And writing about how I felt seemed to be the only way to articulate such complicated emotions. And so hence, Apron Strings for Emily was born.

So where am I at today? Well … writing about my journey has certainly had some impact on my life. Both good and bad … and sometimes just downright ugly.

gobaugTHE UGLY: My relationship, though better since moving, is still a bit strained with my SIL. The distance has definitely proved to be a good thing though. But this, of course, is at the sacrifice of not being able to see my nephew and my 6 month old niece as often as I’d like. Despite all this, my instincts (which tend to be spot on quite often) tell me that all this heartbreak will eventually pass in time. Perhaps one day our lives will once again be back “in sync” with one another like it was so many eons ago. And perhaps it won’t. But either way, only time will help mend all the broken layers of skin that this deep deep wound (as in “Stage IV Decubitus Ulcer”) has caused.

In any case, we’ll be seeing them next month for sure though … as they make the trip to visit us in our new digs. And I seriously can’t wait!!

THE BAD: Uhm … the obvious one is that Hubby and I are still without kids of our own. This also means that I haven’t been able to provide grandchildren to our parents, nieces or nephews to our siblings, or cousins to our nephew and niece. It still eats at me … at least once a month, during those incredible waves of emotions I get (Thank you, wacky hormones!) …but at least it isn’t every day like it was for years and years (and years and years).

THE GOOD: I’ve found out that, contrary to my psychotic (as opposed to psychic) beliefs, I am not necessarily alone in this infertility journey. I’ve found the incredibly wonderful and much needed support I’ve been looking forthanks to all of you readers and commenters.

Also, I’ve finally decided (just recently within the past 6 months) that my life no longer has to revolve around my inability to have children of my own and have decided to focus on other parts of my life. This means I can finally move onto deciding whether adoption should be our next step. OR if accepting child-free living is the path to take.

goalBut the best part of this point in my life is this: After years and years of holding all my anger and sadness inside, I’ve finally found my voice … and the medium in which to express this voice. For someone who has been used to (and quite frankly brought up to) stifling any bad feelings aside, well that’s … Just. Simply. Incredible.

And just like a yearly “work performance” eval … not only do I have to summarize all that has happened in the past year … I should also be thinking towards the coming year. SO … what exactly are my goals for the next year?

  • Work on above relationship with SIL. I’m still thinking time and distance for now is a good thing. Perhaps my thoughts will change over the course of the year.
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  • Continue to more forward. I need to remember to take steps by putting one foot in front of the other, and make an effort not to take any steps back. I need to build a momentum to keep me moving in a positive direction … whatever direction that might be. (Adoption? Child-free living? Focus on career and ultimate dream of moving out to the west coast?) But I do need to remember to keep moving, otherwise I could find myself stuck in the present (or the past) and in another “rut.”
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  • Leave the past in the past. This specifically means that I need to focus on not looking back at the negative. And if I do look back, it’s only to realize how much stronger I am because of what I’ve been through.
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  • In that same sense, I need to not concentrate on any negative thoughts. Focusing on any negativity is going to get me into those “What if?” situations that will also keep me in that same “rut.”
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  • Continue to blog. This … this is my (free) therapy. It’s one of the few ways I can openly and honestly talk about how I’m feeling. And it’s a way for me to work through these complicated emotions of anger and loss. Otherwise, I’d be back to where I started. And as I look back on my very first post and realize how much I talked almost all in “riddles” and metaphors … and how I couldn’t even write the word “Infertility” in that first post … It’s then that I realize just how far I’ve come.

voiceAnd finally, before I wrap up this extremely long post, I want to thank all of you for allowing me to work (and continue to work) through all of my concerns. And thank you for faithfully reading all about them.

Because, really? What’s the point of finding my voice if I didn’t have you … my readers, my friends and my family … to listen to (or in this case, read about) it?

Oh, and because today is St. Patty’s Day … I also wish all of you the Luck O’ The Irish!!

luckee

Handprint On My Heart

I’ve been spending a lot of time in my manager’s office. Not surprising, considering I spend a lot of my time in shared meetings with her over the phone with various vendors. And because my manager’s the one with a door to her office …

Anyway, I truly respect and like my manager. I’ve learned in my past experiences that it’s good to have a leader that fits in with your personality. In other words, we don’t want to be so much alike that we can’t see or think outside of our own respective boxes. But you also don’t want to be so different in personalities that we’d clash over anything and everything.

29180c2198a7b813ae2da6ecb62aa19bLucky for me; I think I might have struck a nice balance with my current manager. Of course I thought the same thing with my last manager, and we all know how that turned out. But in my defense, when I was a supervisor working directly under my ex-manager … we did have a little more of a rapport with each other. It’s only after I stepped down as supervisor to become a worker bee (all for the sake of “reducing stress” as I headed into the wonderful world of IVF, BTW …) that the issues came about. And even then, it was years in the making (including major changes in the overall department and/or personal issues for the both of us) before things took a turn for the worse.

New manager (NM) pushes me in directions I had never gone before and she’s tested my strength as a leader for my team. But in a totally good way. She’s the go-getter; the snap decision maker. I’m also a go-getter; but tend to be more deliberative and analytical. I slow her down enough to think things through; she speeds me up to get me where I need to be. I just hope that this relationship continues to grow and flourish through the years.

heart_handprint_craft_impressionBut this wasn’t the main reason I’m writing today. (Although now is a good time, if ever.) Today as I sat in yet another telephone meeting, I sat there and played with some of the toys she leaves on her desk for us to fiddle around with whenever we talk.*

Next to the mini Zen garden (that her husband gave her to help “relax” … LOL!) is a ceramic piece that her daughter made for her when she was 5 years old. It’s this tiny glazed hand that has little hearts and butterflies on its fingers and her name written on the palm. And every time I sit in that office, I can’t help but put my hand over the little glazed hand. Because: 1) It is. Simply. Adorable. And 2) the texture of the glaze just has this soothing quality to it.

I’m not sure what it was about today. But the thought that I might never be able to hold the small hand of my own child hit me square in the chest. And just like that, I was back to longing for my imaginary child.

Which is crazy, in my mind. Because I know that right now just isn’t the right timing to “go forth and procreate.” Or in my case, move forward with adoption. H*ll, I’m not even sure if I want to pursue the adoption path. Because, quite frankly I’ve been so much more comfortable with the idea of child-free living lately.

mc_3lgAnd yes, I’m sure it’s because of the major changes I’ve made over the past six months. (Has it been that long since the last lowest** point in my IF journey?!) I simply don’t have the time. And I simply don’t have the energy to want to feel as miserable as I did back then. Nor do I have the energy to struggle to break the surface if I ever get that low again.

I’m happy where I’m at right now in my life (although, having Hubby here would make it tons better). I’m happy with my “second chance” to make a “life” out of my life.

It might not be the kind of “life” I dreamed of (creating a baby’s life, being a mother, for example) … but still, it’s my life. The life I chose to move forward with; the one that I have some control over.

So why do I still have these longings? Why does my dream of being a parent still cling to me?

This feeling … this longing, it evokes the same emotions I have whenever I hear this one song from the musical, Wicked:

It well may be that we will never meet again
In this lifetime, so let me say before we part
So much of me is made of what I learned from you
You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart

— “For Good”

And although the song is referring to the tragic ending of a friendship, I can’t help but substitute the “friend” for the child I may never have. And what I’ve learned from the heartache of my infertility is so much of who I am as a person today.

But despite all that I’ve learned and all that I’ve become … there is this part of me — will always be this part of me — that will have the handprint of my child, whether imaginary or real, on my heart.

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

* Studies have shown that people tend to be more creative and think clearer when keeping your hands busy. Thus, having simple toys such as koosh balls or even rubber bands in your office (in my case, cubicle) is a good thing.

** As always, if you’re curious … comment below and I’ll email you the password.

Dirty Laundry

First of all, thank you for all that have commented on my last post. Your words have made me feel as if I’m not a complete a**hole for writing what I wrote. Because for a while there I felt that I was completely off-base and horrible to have said some of those things “out loud.” And to some extent, I still do feel that way.

I’m sure that this guilt stems from not only my formative years in Catholic school, but from my cultural upbringing as well.

I’ve found out (from the years of working as an RN, alongside many other Filipinos) that most people perceive that Filipinos are hard workers and, no matter what gets thrown at them, they are always happy.

Well, let me let you in on a clue … That’s because Filipinos are expected to be  happy. Or at least appear to be happy.

In my experience, Filipinos are expected to hide any emotions that appear negative. So if we’re feeling sad, then the expectation is to hide that sadness. And (again) in my experience, the way that Filipinos hide that sadness is by focusing their energy on something that will “distract” them from feeling such sadness. And to me, that’s probably where the “Filipinos are hard-workers” perception probably comes from.

Because of that expectation to always appear happy, many Filipinos are not willing to talk about their sadness. It’s that whole “saving face” issue. Expressing any negative emotions out loud would “doom” us to a life of isolation. We’d lose that ability to be amongst the “norm” of society. We’d be different and therefore others cannot relate to us or talk to us because they don’t know what to say or how to act.

And because sadness and anger make others feel uncomfortable, saying these things out loud … or God forbid, even just looking or appearing despondent … is considered airing out your own dirty laundry.

Now, imagine having gone through 10+ years of not being “able to” express any of these emotions. Especially on how it relates to infertility.

It’s like having to sort through ten years of “dirty laundry” that’s been piling up just to find my favorite t-shirt or pair of jeans. It’s going to take awhile … maybe not as long as it took to pile up … but I’ve got to do a few loads and iron out a few details before I can once again wear those articles of clothing that made me look and feel my very best.

In addition, imagine writing a blog all about what’s bothering me. I’m absolutely positive that I’ve “lost face” within my Filipino circle of family & friends. Because believe me, I have felt the avoidance of engaging me in any conversation. And I’ve noticed the lack of effort on their part to find out how to appropriately discuss what Hubby & I are going through.

So to those Filipino family and friends (and any other readers out there … if I have any left … who might not understand my cultural considerations) who say that it’s been ten years and that I should just quit b*tching & complaining  and “just move on” … I hope they know exactly how hard it is to do so. Because there is TEN LONG YEARS of stifled emotions that need to be addressed before I can move on.

I need to peel back the layers of disappointment, fear, anger and pain in order to find that happiness that I know is somewhere inside of me.

And that is probably THE MAIN reason for writing this blog.