Category: Infertility

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Stick-er

Hubby & I bought our 2002 Subaru Legacy Outback with the idea that we’d have this “wagon” for our future children.

Never mind that we had already been on the infertility roller coaster for more than three years by then. And that I was heading into my first laparotomy to clear out some of that nasty endo stuff. Nevermind that we pretty much knew by then that IVF was in our near future.

We just wanted to have a nice reliable “family” type car to own so we’d be able to share memories of road trips with the kids like both of us remembered growing up.

And as we all know, that dream never came into fruition. Well, at least the “kids” part.

Anyway, around the time Hubby & I got our Outback, these car stickers began to pop up on minvans and SUV’s everywhere. They were the kind of clear car stickers that you could place on the rear window and peel off, if you ever needed to. And on these stickers were “stick figures” of all the family members that lived in the particular car-owner’s household. You know, Dad followed by Mom plus how-ever-many kids they had … and even whatever pet they had.

They still have those stickers today; except now you can customize it to whatever you’d like. You can have Dad be a “golfer” while Mom is a “nurse” (or worse … at least for me, pregnant!); and you can have kids be “dressed” in whatever activities they’re involved with (sports, scouts, etc.).

And as much as I began to despise those car stickers (especially in the later years of our IF journey), I must admit that I’ve always wanted to have one.

Of course, our sticker wouldn’t have any children on there; it would only have Hubby & I in our “custom” outfits. And of course we’d have to add our fur-children. So I looked online to see what they had available and was pleasantly surprised to see just how much we could customize them.

Hubby's the "Comic Book" guy and I'm just a fashionista ...

I haven’t ordered one; nor do I think I ever will … because geesh! They seem ridiculously expensive for stick figures … but, it was fun imagining what our rear window would have looked like.

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Facebook Me!

Anybody that knows me or has followed me knows that Emily loves her Facebook.

It’s a great way for me to keep in touch with those family and friends that live elsewhere in the world and it’s a great way to remain informed with everyone’s daily life.

I’ve also discovered that it’s a great way to disseminate information readily to those interested masses.

While I primarily use this blog to write about my life and all the surprising twists and turns that life has provided for me, I’ve started to use Facebook to provide other useful information regarding all aspects of infertility.

As most infertiles know, it’s often difficult to discuss the heartache and pain of infertility aloud to others; even to those that you may be extremely close to. That’s because infertility has historically been a taboo subject.

Which brings me to the reason I started my Facebook Page.

My belief is that the more a person is informed about infertility, the more comfortable that this person will be about talking and educating others about infertility.

My Facebook Page has been a way for me to post valuable information and other interesting blog posts about infertility in the hopes that everyone remains informed.

Please … if you’re on Facebook (and even if you’re not), I’d love you to come visit my page. And I encourage you to start discussions.

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Identity Labels

Anybody remember the old-school Dymo label-makers? I’m not talking about the fancy electric ones where you can type in whatever you want before printing it up. I’m talking about the ones where you turn the dial to choose the letter and squeeze the handle (as hard as possible) to imprint it on the red or black vinyl tape. And G*d forbid if you misspelled a word and have to start from the beginning.

For some reason I was thinking about that label-maker this past weekend. And really, it started last week when I received a wonderful email from an old High School Friend (HSF) that I hadn’t heard from in years. She had responded via Facebook in regards to the post in which I admittedly found myself questioning my purpose in life.

HSF talked about how, as women, we are always questioning ourselves about what we truly want in life. That we’re always finding a way to label ourselves while simultaneously trying to achieve more than what we can physically and emotionally handle. And that, in the process, we tend to lose perspective of who we really are in the grand scheme of things.

For HSF, it’s a matter of juggling multiple identities. She’s a wife, a daughter, a mother of three (beautiful) children. She’s also a free-lancer, a founding president of one of her alma mater’s alumni groups. Yet as beautiful as her life appears (especially from perusing through Facebook), she admits that she’s still coming to terms with the “Successful Career Woman” label; especially as she’s currently staying at home to with her three young kids.

The point of HSF’s email was not to point out how much different her life was to mine; rather it was simply to point out that regardless of how we view our lives, we only limit ourselves by placing labels on who we are or what we do. And furthermore, why can’t we just enjoy the path that we’re currently on and embrace who we are while traveling down this path?

I must admit, I’m still struggling to deal with the valid points that HSF has brought up. I’m sure it has to do a lot with the many years of believing that “Motherhood” was the end-all be-all for a woman’s livelihood. (I contribute this, as always, to the strong Filipino cultural influence that I identify with.) And, even though I’ve accepted the fact that I can’t have biological children of my own, I still long for something to fill that void that Infertility has robbed me.

Furthermore, with my recent unemployment situation, I feel as though I’ve been stripped yet another label that I’ve identified myself with. That “successful career woman” identity flew out the window the day I found myself surreptitiously without a job.

And really … that’s what this post was trying to explain.

While I’d love to “give up” those labels that I’ve placed on myself, I also must admit that it’s these labels that I’ve come to rely on to “ground” myself, so to speak, when I’ve otherwise felt lost. It’s these labels that help remind me of who *I* am in the face of uncertainty:

  • I’m a Wife.
  • I’m an only Daughter.
  • I’m a Sister to my Brother.
  • I’m a friend.
  • I’m Filipino-American (1st generation).
  • I’m Catholic.
  • I’m a nurse.
  • I’m a writer.
  • I’m infertile.
  • I’m child-free after infertility.

When looking at who I am; what I believe is the center of my core … it’s pretty obvious that there are those identities that I have no control over. These are the identities that have been imprinted on my soul; the ones that I cannot change. The ones that I’ve grown to accept as part of who I am in this life.

Then there are the labels I’ve chosen for myself (Catholic, nurse, writer, friend). Those are the identities that, despite the years of time and investment I put into them, I can readily let go. But do I really want to do that?

The problem, as I see it, is when one of these identities has been lost; especially at a time where I wasn’t ready to a) let go of that identity, or b) accept that identity for what it is.

Take for instance, the part of myself that identifies with being infertile. This was one label I never expected to own. But the fact of the matter is that after one year of trying to conceive (waaaay back when, it seems), we were unable to get pregnant. By definition, infertility is the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive. That’s a fact. There’s no way I can change that pat of me; there’s no way I have control over that situation.

But take the part of me that identifies with being child-free after infertility. We tried everything that we could possibly do (within our own capabilities both financially and emotionally) to give ourselves a biological child, but that just never happened. And because we thought long and hard about our other options, Hubby & I chose to accept that living child-free was what was best for me. And believe me … it was not an easy choice to make.

And because, she nails it right on the head … here’s how Pam from Silent Sorority recently described the reason why she and her husband chose the child-free path:

“It got to the point where the potential heartbreak was actually more overwhelming than the glimmer of very small hope.”

In any case, my point is that with our decision to live child-free, I dealt with having to let go of one chosen identity and accept a new chosen identity. I had to let go of that identity of motherhood that I held on for so long. and I had to accept that living without children, despite the incredible longing to have a biological child of our own, was my new identity.

As I said before, the decision to live child-free wasn’t a choice that we wanted to make. It’s not that we didn’t discuss opening our hearts to adoption. Or opening our wallets to more infertility treatments. Simply put, identifying ourselves as living child-free was a choice that we had to make. Hubby & I needed to weigh our options to decide if that the small glimmer of hope was worth the insurmountable heartbreak we’d already been through. Hubby & I needed to make this decision so we (or rather *I*) could maintain my sanity.

Because if I didn’t put that label on me, I’d still be struggling to determine who I was … if I couldn’t be the mother I had always dreamed about.

And of course now … my new identity crisis is to determine what to do with my career. But I will take a page out of HSF’s book and learn to enjoy the journey while I discover what’s next.

How about you, Blog World? What parts of yourself keep you grounded? What labels do you place on yourself? How do you identify yourself?

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Cherry-Coloured Funk *

It’s after midnight and I’m finding myself in some sort of funk.

Which is sad, because my last posts were all about trying to enjoy the simple things in life; like the unconditional love that a pet can give you.

I am truly and utterly in a funk.

And I hate it.

I’ve (obviously) been trying my best to be optimistic about everything, but lately it seems as if I can’t catch a break. And it’s ridiculous, because it hasn’t even been more than a month since my life turned topsy-turvy.

Maybe it’s because the loss of my job reminds me too much of another loss that I’ve finally came to closure on. Well, as “closed” as it could get anyway.

I’ve always alluded to the fact that my inability to have children of my own, to be a mother has made me feel less of a person. It’s made me that Filipina, who was brought up to think of bringing up her husband’s children is the only purpose in life, feel like I’ve lost any reason to exist in this lifetime.

And once I  “resolved” myself to a life withouth children, I naturally gravitated to my career as the next “logical” reason to get out of bed every day.

Which, when you look at the time line of my blog, you’d notice it. Starting back in Autumn of 2008, up to the point where Hubby & I decided to “cut the strings.” Plain as night and day; written in black and white. (Figuratively speaking, that is). And when you see how much I put into this job since moving to Chicago; all the effort I made to making my career … it’s obvious that I found something to fill the void of Motherlessness.

Then suddenly and unexpectedly, I find myself without a job. I find myself without yet another purpose in life.

I find myself struggling with the loss of yet another reason for my existence.

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Earlier today, I asked my husband what my purpose in life was.

This was all before I came to the conclusion I did up above; before connecting the dots as to why I’m feeling the same kind of loss for my job as I did for the loss of Motherhood.

Before I realized that I wasn’t quite that crazy for having these negative thoughts; however irrational it may have seemed at the time.

And Hubby’s answer was, “It’s whatever we want it to be.”

In my mind I know that Hubby’s right. And my heart tells me that he’s right for me to think of this as a time of opportunity.

But the empty feeling I have in my gut keeps digging away at my core; struggling to find something out of nothing. And I wish I could make it stop.

Damn … but I was doing so well.

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* In case you’re wondering where the title of this post came from, it’s the name of a Cocteau Twins song that completely reflects the mood I’m in. Take a listen to it here … isn’t it hauntingly beautiful?

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Wag More, Bark Less

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.