As much as I love sunny days, especially in the midst of Winter or during the last days of Autumn, there is something about overcast days that I love. Particularly when it’s a warm day outside.
It reminds me of our honeymoon to Hawaii in early September. It was still quite warm outside, but there tends to be more chance of a tropical rain. And me lovey my warm summer rain falls.
Lookee here, Kozzy!
During that honeymoon trip, a local taught us one of the best weather-telling tips ever. We were told that once the wind starts to pick up, that it’s a tell-tale sign that rain is on its way. And to this day, this tip has proven to be accurate.
Overcast weather is good for another thing … and that’s taking pictures. It’s as if the clouds act as a natural “filter” to enhance the colors around nature. Not that I’m much of a photographer, but I love to take pictures outside during these moments.
In any case … today was one of those days in Detroit. Sunny in the morning; but increasingly overcast as the afternoon rolled on. It hasn’t quite started to rain yet, but that wind is kicking up. So it’s a good thing I picked up our Kozzy-girl from her day at the Spa before it begins to rain.
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I got an email today from the recruiter of one of the two jobs I was interested in. The one in which I’d have a similar role to the one I recently had, with the ability to do it from home. And unfortunately, I did not make the cut to interview with the department.
I can’t tell you how disappointed I am; as I thought I might have had a fighting chance. I mean, any other time I’ve applied and interviewed for a job, I’ve been relatively successful in being able to present myself. I may have not gotten the job, but I felt good about the interview anyway. And this time, I didn’t even get to the interview in order to “sell” myself and my talents.
Take Two ... Kozzy finally looks up!
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m being forced to find a new job, but right now I feel as if the world is out to get me; to kick me down when the going gets rough.
Realistically, I should know not to let one rejection affect me so much. And realistically I know that I shouldn’t let one person‘s feelings or vindictiveness get the best of me. Yet, it does … despite how much I try not to.
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While running errands this afternoon, Hubby and I stumbled upon a bumper sticker that said “Wag More, Bark Less.” And the mere thought of the meaning behind such a saying made me smile, despite feeling so down.
When I picked up Kozzy this evening, I couldn’t help but witness her lovable demeanor (at least to us); all full of boundless energy and happiness, especially the minute she spotted me. It’s as if she wanted to tell me everything that happened to her during her “Spa Day,” all with the simple wag of her tail and nudge of her head up against my thigh.
Kozzy shows off her "new" look ... For those that asked, she's half-shepherd and (we think) half-beagle or half-labrador
The best I can describe it to someone who might not know what I mean … it would be like an excited 18-month old toddler who can barely speak, run up to his/her “Mommy” or “Daddy” and clutch his/her parent’s thigh tightly while babbling upwards at them incoherently.**
The best part of that moment? Seeing Kozzy’s new “look.” And even though she has never been a frou-frou dog, Kozzy proudly displayed her new fashionista style to me. And once back home, she promptly decided to drop down in the grass and roll on her back to her heart’s content. All without uttering a single bark. All while proudly wagging her tail.
It’s a lesson to be learned; that bumper sticker and my Kozzy moment. I suppose despite the circumstances of what has happened to us over the past month … I should take a page out of Kozzy’s book.
I should wag more. And I should definitely bark less.
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** Not that I have first hand experience in that, but I’ve been witness to many moments like that; especially recently.
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)
There’s no other way to put this than saying that I’ve suddenly found myself unemployed. Without going into details, my whole world has … as the title of this post suggests … as been turned upside down. Once again.
But I’m trying my hardest not to feel weighted down, as if I’m falling down that rabbit hole of darkness.
Oh, who am I kidding? A week ago today, I fell. And I fell hard. But now I’m trying to climb out of that hole and not let all those negative thoughts pile up on me; like they did for years and years.
It’s funny how one big “fall” can trigger certain negative thoughts to resurface. And when I mean all … I mean all; especially those illogical and irrational ones. For lack of better explanation, let me give you an example of my train of thoughts lately:
“I’ve lost my job because I wasn’t <insert negative adjective> enough.”
… quickly turns into …
“I’m just not a good person.”
… Then that turns into …
“And because I’m not a good person, I don’t deserve good things in life.”
… which then turns into …
“I don’t deserve to be a mother.”
Yep. When I alluded to all negative emotions … I meant all. Even those ones that I thought I might have resolved over the past year.
As Hubby pointed out to me this past week, when things get bad I tend to pile everything up into one big ball of negativity. And instead of thinking about what “good” I’ve done in my life, I pile on — no, I shovel on — all the “bad” dirt on top of the hole that I already fell down into. So for the past week, I’ve been trying desperately to unravel that tangled ball of yarn … dig out of that hole I’ve started to fill up … that has totally messed up my mind.
I’m much better today. Obviously, since I’m finding myself able to write about it now. But catch me three or four days ago, and I didn’t even have the energy to read my emails or screw around on Facebook. And we all know how much Emily loves her Facebook.
Having Hubby’s support, as well as both sets of parents and siblings, has been my saving grace. If it hadn’t been for them, I think I might have begun to believe those irrational thoughts about me being “bad.” And it’s because of an idea that Hubby came up with last night that I’ve decided to pick up my pen — er, laptop — and write (type?) again.
That idea? It came from a blog that Hubby, in his “design world”, stumbled on. This site, as the writer explains, is all about the small victories in life. And as Hubby has told me time and time again, I need to remember those achievements that I’ve made … especially when things get down and, well … dirty.
If I HAD to be hung out to dry ... let it be on a beach
So this will be my goal. In the course of the day, I will try to find a small victory I’ve conquered. And I’ll continue to do this every day until I find a new job. (At least that’s the plan … )
Because right now, I think I need to wrap my own set of “Apron Strings” around myself. I need to find some of my own happiness in any little victory I can.
Oh, and my small victory for today? I turned on my laptop and started blogging again.
If you’re interested in reading the “whole” story, feel free to email me or comment below and I’ll send you the password for the following PWP-post. It’s not the same one that I’ve used before. **
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** For obvious reasons, you’ll also find that any previously un-PWP posts related to work also share this same password.
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?”
In years past, Mother’s Day would have been a difficult day. Yesterday was less difficult than the previous years; less traumatic.
