Category: Infertile Me

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Soul Searcher

Hubby & Me on our Hawaiian Honeymoon in 1996

An unexpected trip to Chicago this past weekend had Hubby & me enjoying the nice warm weather mostly in the comforts of our car. But that was okay, since we had good tunes to listen to … and even better conversations.

Oh, and not to mention, a great dinner in Bucktown Saturday night followed by some delicious Dim Sum in Chinatown the next morning as we left the city.

The weekend wrapped up with a movie; a perfect way to keep cool on an unseasonably warm Spring Day. I had wanted to see something uplifting and inspirational, so Hubby & I decided to go see “Soul Surfer.”

Okay, so the inspirational part was more secondary to the fact that I just really wanted to see surfing. And Hawaii. I just love any movies with Hawaii as the backdrop. And it’s all because it brings back some incredible Honeymoon memories, oh so long ago. So yeah, a movie filmed in Hawaii would make a very happy Emily.

Bethany Hamilton still surfs

So yeah, uplifting and inspirational. And boy … did I get both.

For those that haven’t seen trailers or haven’t heard about this movie, it’s based on the true story of Bethany Hamilton. If the name doesn’t sound familiar, then this probably will: Bethany was the 13-year old girl who, in 2003 was bit by a shark while surfing in Hawaii. She had lost her arm to the shark, but had gone on to continue to surf even after that incident.

I won’t give much of the movie away here, but what I will say is that within 15-minutes of the movie I was crying. And I continued to cry (intermittently, that is) throughout the entire movie. It was that good.**

One particular part of the movie had seriously gotten under my skin. After sustaining her injury, Bethany obviously began to question herself; question what her bigger picture in life was. After all, surfing was her life … and what could she do now that she no longer could do it well enough to successfully compete? She had gone to her church’s youth group leader, Sarah Hill (played by Carrie Underwood, BTW) and asked her, “Why?” If she had been given this incredible gift, why would God do this to her?

In the midst of crying, Sarah told her exactly what I thought she would her: That there must be a bigger plan out there for her. And that only God knows what that plan is.

Yes, I can see all my IF friends rolling their eyes and saying, “Yep. Heard that one before.”

And I can tell you that, in the midst of tears, even *I* rolled my eyes. But it’s what Sarah said afterwards that had me crying even more:

First, she said “I don’t know what that plan is.” This always gets bonus points for me, since my experience with the “God must have a bigger plan” statement has always ended with just that one phrase.

If only one time, I could’ve heard the added phrase, “I don’t know what the plan is” from any well-intentioned family or friends … that would’ve lessened the burden in which I felt *I* had to carry this burden on my own. That one added piece would have given me the comfort of knowing that I wasn’t crazy for being so angry and so confused over something that no one (not even an IF Doctor) had control over.

Then Sarah goes on to say, “I don’t know why terrible things happen to us sometimes.  But I have to believe that something good is gonna come out of this.” And that’s the statement that had me weeping.

See … that’s the one thing that had been missing once Hubby and I stopped all treatments for Infertility: The belief that there’s something better waiting around the corner for me. That there was something else I could look forward to.

In the midst of deciding what Hubby & my next steps would be after stopping treatments, I was too close – too involved – with the smaller picture, that I couldn’t see what the bigger picture was for me and Hubby. At first I couldn’t see past the anger and pain of being barren to see what else was in my “bigger picture.”  But eventually, as the storm clouds pummeled through and the dust finally settled, we both took a step back and decided that living child-free was part of that bigger picture.

But now, almost two years later … I feel like I’m lost once again. If I can’t be a Mom, then what will I be? What can I do? How am I now going to be able to measure my “successes” in life … especially since other women and couples can measure there’s by the success of their children? ***

Honeymoon Sunset in Hawaii

It’s no mystery that I’ve been experiencing an ongoing identity crisis. And that Infertility has played the biggest part into questioning who I am … or who I could become. I know that, as this movie portrays, I should have faith that God knows what my bigger plan is for my life. I just wish I had the strength and conviction that Bethany – despite being so young – has that something … anything good will come out of something like infertility.

I just wish I could, at the very least, get a glimpse of that big picture.

So with that said … go see “Soul Surfer.” Not only will you see beautiful shots of Hawaii (Kauai, in fact … my favorite of the islands we’ve visted) … but you will see an incredible story of a girl who overcame her fears to do something that was within her soul.

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 ** Okay, so the acting wasn’t exactly stellar, but the story was.

 *** And when I mean success, I mean those milestones in their kids’ lives. First word, first step, first day of school, first date … it can go on and on and on. Graduation, wedding, grandchildren … need I go on more?

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Knot Envious of IF

I’ve been having the worst knots on my neck and shoulder muscles lately.

Okay, so that isn’t really anything new. Truth be told, I’ve always been tense in shoulders and neck; that’s where my stressors manifest itself in a physical form.

I compare it much as to how all the unhealthy foods I eat physically manifest onto my butt. After all, a moment on the lips …

See, the thing is … no matter if Hubby does manage to find the knot on my back and attempts to massage it away (he’s good to me like that), the knot always manages to find its way back within a day or two. It’s not until we manage to go to a licensed massage therapist (or hey, you physical therapists are great for this, too!), who can get all the muscle knots out in a short 1-hr session, that all the tension is released from my neck and shoulders for a longer period of time.

As a Registered Nurse, I logically know that it’s because the pain I feel on one knot is likely related to another knot elsewhere on my neck or shoulders. And in order to get rid of one knot, I need to find the original source of the pain.

In the medical world, the type of pain I feel in this situation is called referred pain. It’s much like a person who is having a heart attack can have jaw/neck/left arm pain rather than actually feeling pain in the chest, where the source of the pain originates from.  In order to “fix” the pain in the arm or neck or jaw, the physician needs to treat the problems going on with the person’s heart.

As I sat in front of my laptop today, mentally complaining about a particularly painful knot in my shoulder, I thought about referred pain can relate not only to physical pain but emotional pain, as well. In my case, I thought about the emotional pain that I’ve endured throughout my Infertility journey; of which ultimately ended in our decision to live child-free.

Contrary to popular belief, Hubby and I did not just “give up“ on our quest to have children. In a way, the option to live child-free after infertility was much like one of those knots on my back. It was an area that needed to be (and, at time still needs to be) massaged over and over again.

Next to that “Child-Free Knot” was the “Adoption Knot” … Again, another knot that kept returning despite all efforts to release that muscle tension. In a way, the Adoption Knot was the one that frequently resurfaced time and time again; especially when well-meaning friends and family would elicit their advice on how Hubby & I should “just adopt” to “cure” us from infertility. Yes … that knot was a particularly stubborn knot.

On top of the Adoption Knot (because you know how knots can have knots as well?) was the “Medical Treatment Knot.” This particular knot … although not the “sharpest” pain (at least not in my situation**) … was the most chronic knot. It was the knot that had lasted with me for well over 8 years, until Hubby & I consciously decided to untie that knot. Or at least massage the h*ll out of it until the Adoption Knot bubbled to the surface.

Underneath all those knots was the original knot; the reason why I kept having “knots” to begin with. You see, those knots were just “symptoms” of the underlying problem; the reason for all that referred emotional pain. Deep inside of me, I knew I had to treat all the sadness and anger that came with my diagnosis of Infertility.

I knew I had to get to the root of the problem. But when you’re in the throes of pain, the last thing you want to think of is fixing the “cause” of the pain. You just want the pain to go away – whether it’s by jumping right into the next medical treatment … or even blindly heading into the adoption process before you’re emotionally ready to do so. OR you ask for pain medication to help treat the immediate problem and leave it at that – perhaps thinking that the immediate hurt is gone so you don’t have to deal with the real issues that are actually causing the pain.

I’m here to tell you that “fixing” the immediate problem without delving deeper into the root cause of your emotional pain does NOT work … at least in the long run.

This is why it took Hubby & I years to decide to live child-free.

I won’t go into detail about how I got rid of those knots … well, at least the most intense pain that’s associated with the knots. I think you’ve all heard my story before (and if not, click here). However, know this:

It’s up to you to decide how you’ll deal with that referred pain – those knots, if you may … BUT in order to completely deal with the pain, you will have to address the underlying reason for that pain. Otherwise those d*mn knots will resurface whether you like it or not.

…..

Oh, and one more thing. Those knots won’t ever completely go away. There are those days when some “surface knots” can appear; for example: birthdays, anniversaries, other pregnancies, etc. But just so you know … the pain won’t be nearly as sharp as they were before.

You’ll just need to get one H*LL of a massage therapist to get rid of them on an ongoing basis.

As if I need another reason to go for a full-body massage …

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** I know many IF friends who went through multiple and varied medical treatments, whose “knot” may have been the sharpest pain they’ve ever felt.

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Blog O’Versary

Four years. That’s how long I’ve been blogging.

It doesn’t seem like it’s been that many years. In that span of time, I’ve come to terms with my inability to have children. And Hubby & I have come to the decision to live child-free after infertility.

Wow, writing that last paragraph appears as if I’ve reduced the past four years into two simple sentences. Except I have 423 posts that say otherwise.

So either I’m too wordy … or I have a lot of issues.

I’m betting on the latter.

Anyway, I figured the best way for me to celebrate my 4th Blog O’Versary (my little ode to St. Patty’s Day) is to do that (in)famous “Meme of Four.”

Of course there are variations of this particular meme, so since it’s my blogoversary … I decided to pick the ones I wanted to answer. So without further ado …

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Four Jobs I’ve Had

  • Whopper-Maker for “The King” (and I’m not talking about Elvis, either)
  • Broke Music Store Employee, who spent most of her paycheck on things called “tapes” and “records.”
  • Rockin’ Teacher’s Assistant at my University
  • Registered Nurse working for the “dreaded” HMO (actually, it was a rewarding job … )

.

Four places I’ve lived
(Yeah, this one was easy)

  • Metro Detroit
  • Metro Detroit
  • Chicago
  • Metro Detroit

.

Four shows I like to watch
(I have many, but these are my current faves)

  • Glee
  • The Good Wife
  • Criminal Minds
  • Fringe

.

Four movies I can watch over and over

  • 10 Things I Hate About You
  • Love, Actually
  • Notting Hill
  • Goonies

.

Four things I get cross about

  • Texting while driving
  • Selfish, self-centered people
  • Uninformed and ignorant statements
  • The lack of problem-solving skills in the world today

.

Four words/phrases I use a lot

  • Seriously?
  • Y’all (I blame it on all the time I’ve spent in the South for work lately)
  • Naughty!
  • Sorry …

.

Four websites I visit daily

  • Facebook (admittedly addicted)
  • New York Times
  • Amazon (I like to “window” shop)
  • Multiple Blogs

.

Four things I am looking forward to

  • Our 15th Wedding Anniversary (in August)
  • Traveling the world with Hubby (someday)
  • Retirement (maybe someday)
  • Growing old with Hubby (definitely … )

.

Four things I’ve learned from the past

  • There are things in this world that are waaay beyond our control …
    no matter what science or medicine can provide
  • It really does take a huge leap of faith in order to move forward from loss
  • As Mick says, “You can’t always get what you want”
  • FAMILY:
    • can include every single aunt, uncle, and cousin you’ve become close to
    • It can also include those people that have touched your life in some way or another
    • AND most importantly, it can also mean just Hubby and me

.

Four things I want to do before I die

  • Spend a month traveling Europe
  • Write a novel and publish it
  • Move to the Pacific Northwest
  • Spend an entire week somewhere on any tropical beach, reading and soaking up the sun

.

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Thank you to all who’ve still kept me on your blog reader. Even though I haven’t been the best of bloggers lately. Your words and your support (both here on my blog and on Facebook) mean the world to me … and have certainly been my light during those times of darkness. You guys rock!

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Home = Heart

In the midst of traveling between Chicago and Detroit, I wrote a quick Twitter/Facebook status update:

Anybody else ever feel “homesick” even though you’re technically “home”? Because that’s how I’m feeling right about now.

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Seattle 2010; our last trip with Dad

I made that statement mainly because I had been sorely missing my Dad at that moment. Hubby & I were back in Detroit with the intention of being available for my Mom as she began packing for a three-week trip back to the Philippines. I intended to drive her to the airport the day of the trip, but, as it turned out, I had to be out of town for work. So instead, my Hubby — the awesome man that he is — took her to the airport.

The Monday before I left for my out-of-town business, Mom and I had a chance to spend the day together. We had lunch at one of our favorite restaurants, followed by a mani/pedi at a local salon.

I should add that, while I know most women are “close” to their mothers, my Mom & and I have never really had that type of “girly-girl” relationship. My Mom was my mother;. She was the authority figure of my childhood. And even though I’m a grown up now and can make my own decisions, I do take into consideration her opinion — even though I may not always follow it.

After the funeral (and after the rest of the world returned to “normal”) I found myself wanting to be closer to Mom. Partly because I wanted to share my grief with her: I wanted to be with someone who could understand the loss of a person I loved dearly.

The other part was because I just didn’t want my Mom to feel so alone. After all, Dr. Bro had Dr. SIL and Emilia Grace. And me? I had my wonderful Hubby; the sole person that has been able to hold me up and keep me together. But my Mom now had no one. And if — God forbid — I had been the one to lose my spouse, I know that I’d be utterly devastated; completely undone.

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Photo of the 'rents, using the QuadCamera App on my iPhone

~*~*~

So yes, that is the reason why the day before I flew out of town (and three days before my Mom left for the Philippines), we found ourselves at the salon getting our nails done. Afterwards, I helped her with some other mundane tasks around the house, all the while dreading our good bye. I knew that when I hugged and kissed her for the night, it would be the last time I’d be able to do so for the next three weeks.

Alas, the time had come and I couldn’t put it off any longer. After all, I myself still had to pack for my business trip the next day. So as I kissed and hugged her, I told her to be safe and have fun. This trip was planned months before my Dad’s passing … and it was meant to be a trip full of reunions with her high school and university classmates. And I encouraged her, as always, to call me if she needed anything.

As she hugged me back, she said, “I wish you were coming with me.” And in that instance, I really wish I was. But before either of us could get teary-eyed in front of each other, I stepped out the garage door and waved at her once more as the door began to close.

My car wasn’t even at the end of the street when I called her on my cell phone. “I’m just a phone call away,” I told her once again. And, in between her tears I could barely hear her say, “I know.”

I cried the whole 15-minute car ride back to my Detroit home.

~*~*~*~

Later that evening, I thought about what it was like to be back in Detroit: back “home”, where I met and married Hubby. The same place where we bought our first home; where we suffered through more than 10 years of infertility.

And I thought about where I had been earlier today: my childhood home. The backyard where I learned to climb trees. The driveway where I learned to ride a bike. And I thought about my childhood bedroom (which is now my Mom’s “computer room”) and the countless memories I had growing up in that house.

And I felt absolutely homesick.

Picture of our 1st Home with Dad and Kozzy as a pup

I wanted to be that child again. I wanted to be at that home, babysitting my younger cousins; playing hide and seek in our 70’s-decorated, finished basement. I wanted to break out my old turn-table and blast out some ’80’s 12-inch vinyl remixes and just dance to my heart’s content. I wanted to play the piano again and pretend I could still be a member of some world-famous rock band. I wanted to be under a blanket on the couch reading a silly book I had checked out of the library.

Most of all, what I wanted was to be under the same roof as my Mom. And my Dad.

I know that’s no longer possible. My Mom … well, despite being worse for wear (what, with the loss of her spouse and all) truly needs her own space to grieve. She no longer needs to “take care” of her adult kids.

And my Dad … well, he’s simply no longer here on this earth.

But my Husband is here; and he’s been here for me through everything that I’ve been through for (close to) 15 years. And in reality, I know that — regardless of whether we’re in Chicago or Detroit — Hubby is my home.

And I couldn’t be more grateful.

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Pitch Black

I’ve been MIA for close to six weeks now.

And if it weren’t for the fact that my domain name was up for renewal, I probably would have stayed MIA for even longer. So thank you to Hubby (and to a few other folk out there who inquired about how I was doing) for pushing me to update this piece of cyberspace.

See, the thing is … I’m not quite sure to write about these days. Lately, nothing seems to inspire any urge to write. I’m sure I do have things to say, but it seems so trivial compared to what else is going on in the world. Or what else is going on in my life.

Between traveling for my job and spending a lot of our time in Detroit, I’ve hardly had enough time to catch up on all the TV shows we’ve had DVR’d since before Thanksgiving. So yeah … being in Chicago these past few days, I’ve spent my downtime watching my shows.

Now … is it me? Or does it always seem that when you’re going through something personal that the news or even certain TV shows seem to center around those personal issues? For instance, I’m sure a few of my IF friends can relate to the storyline surrounding Audrey & Jeff in “Rules of Engagement.” For me, it happens to be Marshall’s latest storyline in “How I Met Your Mother.”

As it happens, one of the first few episodes I “caught up” with following my Dad’s funeral was the episode where Marshall and Lily, who have been trying for the past few seasons to get pregnant, finally go to see an Infertility Specialist. Watching their trials to start their family have, at one time or another, touched that part of me that still mourns the fact that I’ve never been able to get pregnant.

But this episode … well, the ending definitely surprised me. That was when we find out that Marshall’s Dad had suddenly died from a heart attack.

Talk about art imitating life. Nothing could hit closer to home at that moment than the look that Marshall had on his face when he was told of the news. And as if I hadn’t cried enough over the past few weeks by that time, I found myself with big crocodile tears as the credits rolled by.

And since then, the episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” have somehow managed to make me cry in some way or another. Like the one where the gang tries to cheer Marshall up during his Dad’s funeral.  Or the one where Marshall was too preoccupied with trying to be the environmental lawyer that he had always told his Dad he’d be.

Then there’s the “Desperation Day” episode. Lily decides to fly out to Minnesota to be with Marshall on Valentine’s Day.  Marshall  had been back at his childhood home since the funeral  to “help” his mother adjust to life without his father. What Lily finds when she arrives is that Marshall’s way of “helping” included him experiencing a bit of “Revertigo.” In other words, he reverted back to the high school version of Marshall; he began to ask his Mom to do everything for him: make his lunch, do his laundry, etc.

During a conversation Marshall had with Ted (in the midst of playing old video games in his childhood bedroom), Marshall randomly turned to Ted and said, “I miss my father.” And Ted answered, “I know.”

Then Marshall relayed the story of a memory he had of taking long road trips with the entire family. And how many times he’d find himself the only one awake to keep his Dad company while he drove through the darkness of night. Marshall told him how he could never see anything in front of the headlights during those pitch black nights, but he always felt safe because his Dad was driving. And he was a superhero that could see way out into the darkness. But now that his Dad was gone, things are just pitch black … and he could no longer see anything in front of him. And he couldn’t see where he was going.

And that’s really what it is; I miss my father. I miss the simplicity that life was when I was back in high school … even if I didn’t think life was anything but simple at the ripe old age of 15. I wish I could go back to when I could sit in front of the TV and watch old reruns with my Dad asleep on the couch. I wish I could have him make his famous “Daddy’s Chicken Noodle Soup” on the days I was feeling sick.

I especially miss the car trips we’d make to London, Ontario (or even to the East Coast) to visit family … where I found myself the one who’d stay up with my Dad to keep him company. To sing songs on the radio just to keep him awake.

And now, I feel lost. Like Marshall, I can no longer see what’s in front of me; no longer feel the urge to do the things I normally like to do. Like knit or crochet. Or write.

But I know that this is normal; that I’ll eventually be able to put one foot in front of the other and move on. And I guess that’s why I’m making the effort to do those activities I’ve enjoyed in the past. The same ones that helped me work through the loss I’ve felt about Infertility.

For now though, I’m going to continue with my grief for just a little longer. Well … truly, I’ll grieve for as long as it takes me to grieve. But the point is, I know what I need to get back to in order to return to some sense of normalcy.

And I know that’s what my Dad would have wanted.