Infertility – Page 24 – Apron Strings for Emily

11 April 2009

The Inexplicable Feeling of Loss

I fully admit it. I’m addicted to watching certain tween shows. HSM? Loved it … have such a crush on Z.ac Ef.ron that just seem so …. wrong. (But then I think of D.emi and As.hton and go, “Hmmm ….”) Li.zzie McGu.ire (especially the movie)? Yep, like that too. So it was no surprise to Hubby when I told him I wanted to see Ha.nnah Mon.tana: The Movie. (Hey, what can I say? Being the music chick I was even at an early age, I always “wished” I could be a Rock Star!)

So today we headed off to the movie theatre and sat amongst many a grade school/middle school girls with their friends/parents and watched the movie. And even Hubby had to admit it …. that it was actually quite good. And “good” as in not a glorified Hollywood version of the TV show. That was most likely due to the fact that the movie was set primarily in Tennessee (now whether it was actually filmed there, I don’t know).

For those of you that don’t know the story behind Ha.nnah Mon.tana, the show is based on the life of Mi.ley Stewa.rt, a teenager (Mi.ley Cy.rus) from Crowley Corners, TN who moves with her father, Rob.by Ray (Bi.lly Ray Cy.rus) and older brother to Malibu, CA to follow her rising career in music. In order to to live a “normal” teenager’s life outside of the music business, Miley and her father develop her alter-ego, Ha.nnah Mon.tana, to be her Rock Star persona. Trying to keep a duel-life prompts hilarity, a-la-Disney Channel style.

The movie was definitely a change in pace from the TV series in that Mi.ley returns “home” to Tennessee for a father-ordered “Ha.nnah” rehab. And it is, in general, the story of a teenager trying to find her true self amongst the pressures of being pulled in fifty zillion directions. And yes … I’m totally a sucker for those kind of movies. (Hellooo … “Pretty In Pink” anyone? “Some Kind of Wonderful”?!) So if anyone loves those types of plots … I totally recommend it to you. Yes, it has its cheesy moment, but it’s at the very least … rental-worthy.

The point of this post really was not to do a film review of this movie. After all, even though I write about a variety of different topics here, this blog is still primarily about dealing with my inability to have children. It’s a blog about loss.

So what does “Ha.nnah Mon.tana” have to do about loss? Well first of all, let’s talk about the fact that we were surrounded by leagues of tweens and even more 6-9 year old girls. And let’s talk about the moms that they were with. As I looked around, I saw that many of the women taking their kids to see the movie were right around my age. Which would have probably made them anywhere between 22 to 30 years of age when they had their kids. And seeing their interactions with these girls … well, yeah … why shouldn’t it break my heart just a little? After all, this is what I would have done for my girl if I ever had one. I would have let them dress up in all their “Ha.nnah Mon.tana” clothes and let them “pretend” to be a Rock Star. I would have stood in line early at the theatre to try to get the best seats in the house (dead center of the theatre). I would have asked them to invite their best friend along. I would have done all that, if that was something that they really wanted. And if I ever had the daughter to do this for.

But alas, that isn’t the case. And therefore it’s Hubby and I that sat at the end of the row, discussing how that dad or Grandpa (along with Hubby, himself) was a wonderful man to endure sitting through a movie just for their daughter/granddaughter. And how we would totally do these things for our kids just because we loved them.

The second part that got to me were the various parts of the movie where Mi.ley talks about her mom (played in flashbacks in the TV show by Bro.oke Shi.elds). Su.san Stewa.rt apparently died three years before the series began. (Not in real life; just the show. Mi.ley Cy.rus’ mom is still alive.) And it’s those moments when she reflects as to whether or not her mom would be proud of her if she were still alive … those were the moments that had me unexpectedly bawling my eyes out.

At first I couldn’t understand why it was that I was dropping those crocodile-sized tears. To a Tweener Movie, nonetheless. But then I reflected on what happened to me yesterday at work when my manager (who was off that day) called me in regards to an email she wanted me to send. She apparently noticed something in my voice because she asked me what was wrong. That took me by surprise as I didn’t realize I sounded anything different than how I normally was. So when she asked, I told her about my Grandma Rose … and then I suddenly felt my eyes swelling up with tears. Totally unexpected because I thought my waterworks were otherwise under control; but apparently not. And that’s when she told me to go home; to take the time to mourn. To use my bereavement time that I was entitled for.

At first I resisted; saying that the funeral was in the Philippines. I mean, it’s not like I was going to actually be attending a funeral service/mass. Plus, I figured that as long as I kept myself busy I wouldn’t think about how sad I actually was. But apparently, that’s not what Grandma Rose wanted me to do. Because no sooner than I had told my manager I was going to stay until the end of the day … we received the news that the department would be closing early for the day. So I took that as a sign to use my bereavement time for this coming Monday.

In any case, this inexplicable feeling of loss … this sadness I have over the passing of Grandma Rose … is something I know I’m going to have a hard time getting over. Even now as I type this, I’m starting to well up in tears again. There are moments, like sitting at the local Borders and reading magazines, when I’m perfectly fine and happy. And then there are these moments when all I want to do is cry over the loss of my Grandma.

: In 1973, Grandma was awarded a plaque for 43 years of service with the Bureau of Public Schools (another pic “borrowed” from yet another cousin!)

The irony of this all is that this feeling of loss … well, it’s the same loss I felt (or rather, still feel) over the many months of negative pregnancy tests, the failed IVF attempt … and even the loss of my one frozen embryo that we “let go” one year after that IVF cycle. It’s this sadness that’s so difficult to explain … to write down into words. Whether it’s the loss of the ability to create or sustain life, or the loss of a well-lived life … it’s still the loss of life.

And as evidenced by today’s reaction to seeing mom’s around the same age as I am taking their kids to the movies … I still have those days (five years after IVF) where that feeling of loss surrounding my infertility are still very potent and strong. But there are also those days where I can take it in stride.

The same thing, I know, will happen with my feelings over the loss of my Grandma. There will be those days where all I think are the happy moments I had with her and how incredibly full her life was. But there will also be those days … like today … where all I can feel is that inexplicable feeling of loss.

And this … this is yet another lesson I’ve learned from my experienced with infertility. And yet another lesson that my Grandma (who remained a schoolteacher up until her 80’s ) has taught me in life.

Thank you for that one last lesson, Grandma Rose.

09 April 2009

Clean Feat

Today is considered a “Holy Day” in the Catholic faith. It’s the Thursday before Easter; the day before Good Friday. For those that are not familiar with it’s significance, Holy Thursday is more or less the day that Catholics celebrate “The Last Supper.” It’s the day in which Jesus breaks bread with the 12 Apostles for the very last time. It’s the day in which Jesus prays to God in the Garden of Gesthemane to provide him with the strength he will very much need the next day. It is also the day where one of his own Apostles, Judas, betrays him.

Yes, I know I’ve said it time and time again … I am NOT a very “good” Catholic. I believe in God and Jesus. I believe that the death of Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. I am just not much of a “practicer” in the Catholic faith. No, I don’t go to mass weekly. No, I don’t participate in the sacraments religiously (no pun intended). But what I get out of my belief in God and Jesus (and yes, the Holy Spirit, too) is the sense of spirituality. The sense that there are certain things that are well beyond my control. That there is a higher being watching over me.

Wow … I think that’s the most I’ve really “talked” about religion in a very long time. But seriously, there is a point to this all.

The other thing that is both the backbone and the bane of Catholicism’s existence is its traditions. The “bane” of it being that it takes waaaaaaay too long for change to come to Catholicism … which tends to drive those that are otherwise “believers” away once a situation (like, let’s say IVF for infertility) butts up against an individual’s personal beliefs. I’ve had many many many friends from my Catholic-school childhood fall victim to this. Me included.

But it’s those traditions that sometimes keep a person tied to their faith as well. Personally, there are certain things … like Advent and Lent that I enjoy about my religion. These “seasons” are richly filled with tradition and purpose; but they are also filled with symbolism as well. Advent … a time to prepare for the birth of Jesus which could also symbolize the birth of a “new year” or “new life.” And Lent … a time of self-reflection, of forgiveness of one’s self and others; a time to “give up” something of importance in order to understand what it is like to sacrifice something for others. Yes … it’s those symbolisms in Catholicism that I truly enjoy.

One such tradition that occurs today, on Holy Thursday, is the washing of feet. Yes … you read it right; the washing of feet. During Holy Thursday mass, the priest will literally wash the feet of 12 people in the congregation.

What, may you ask, is the symbolism behind this act? Well first of all, this is literally an act that Jesus performed on all of his Apostles shortly after the Last Supper. It seemed like a strange thing to do because really, why would the “Son of God” perform such a menial task on those that were brought together to serve him?

Now I can’t be certain without doing a major google search, but I have always taken this part of the service to mean two things. First of all, it’s a symbolism of purifying one’s soul/sole in order for this person to fully comprehend the assignment of which he/she has been given in life. A way of cleansing any self doubt. And second of all, I believe that this tradition is a practice in humility. If the “Son of God” should perform such a menial task to others … then we, as Catholics, should be able to participate in our share of menial tasks in order to understand humility.

Yes yes …. I’m finally getting to the point of this rambling. So here goes.

The reason I’m bringing this all up today is not just because today is literally “Holy Thursday.” The reason I’m giving you such a lesson is because today I received my lessons in purity and humility.

That’s because today … I finally got to talk directly to my Mom in the Philippines. And I’ve finally heard the news about how my Grandma is doing … straight from the horse’s mouth. And that has got me feeling just a little less anxious because now I know for myself that my Grandma is actually doing okay.

And when I mean okay; I do mean that Grandma has been breathing on her own since last Friday. To top it off, she has been discharged home from the hospital in order to be surrounded by those she loves. Her IV’s have been discontinued, and she’s responsive to touch and pain. However, she’s still getting her feedings through a tube and well, she really cannot talk. But considering where she was two weeks ago … this is absolutely incredible that she has such strength inside of her. And that has taught me the lesson of humility. That we can prepare for the very worse and things could turn out better than we think. God (and Grandma, too) could have other things planned that we are still not aware of.

And purity? Well … it’s a stretch, but the fact that I was able to talk to my Grandma on the phone … well, that was pure joy. As my Mom held the phone up to my Grandma, I told her how much I loved her and missed her deeply. I told her that I wish she could stay strong and get better, but that if she couldn’t do so … I would understand. I told her that I just wanted for her to be peaceful and happy. And while I knew I wouldn’t get to hear her beautiful voice respond to me, I just knew that she understood what I said. That purity of heart and soul inside my Grandma … that is something I’ve always seen in my every interactions in the past with her. And that is what I felt today.

I miss my Mom. And I miss my Grandma, my Lola. And if I could be there to “wash” their feet … to show them some humility and purity (well, as pure as I can get) … I totally would.

Grandma, you continue to surprise every single one of us with your strength. I love you and I just want you to be in peace. I’m praying for you and for all of our family members … that we will pull through with the amazing grace that you’ve always shown us. Thank you for your strength in heart and humility.

25 March 2009

Joy and Pain

I have this incredibly horrible habit of pulling myself away … of freezing up with this indescribable fear … when good news surrounds those I love.

It’s not that I’m bitter about their happiness, or jealous of such good news. If anything, I am typically very excited for my friends and family. I’m absolutely overjoyed with their wonderful news.

But the thing is, it never seems … at least in my humble opinion … that I come off as sounding genuinely happy whenever I congratulate the receiver of such good news.

To me, it’s an awkwardness that I can only compare to expressing sympathy for the passing of a good friend’s aunt or uncle … I realize how important this family member was to my friend, however because I may have never physically met this family member … never really knew this person … I just can’t quite understand how much this death will have affected my good buddy.

Nevertheless, that clumsiness is socially acceptable. That feeling of ineptness is considered “normal” in most circles.

Whereas the ineptness I feel whenever whenever I attempt to express my happiness for my loved ones … Well, it’s as if I lack grace. Or elegance. It feels, although not purposefully, as if my smile never quite reach my eyes … as if the light bulb in my brain is permanently set on dim. It may appear to others that I am only “blithely” expressing my happiness for my loved ones, my friends. But that, I can tell you, is not the case.

In full disclosure, I do feel a bit of sadness. But this sadness is not directed at my loved ones. It is truly a sadness just for me … and is directed for myself alone.

I know I’m rambling incoherently here. And I know that despite the utter happiness I feel for my friends and my loved ones … I continue to have this emptiness in my chest (or in my uterus, as it may be).

I know, as Dr. SIL so eloquently stated, that another person’s biggest joy could very well coincide with my biggest grief. And I know this is the reason I find myself pulling away from those that I love during the happier moments in their lives.

I know all this. And logically, I also know that I’m allowed to feel such sadness for myself … to pull away during those snippets in time … all in order to move forward and away from my grief, and so I can remain strong in the face of my own personal demons.

Sunshine after the Rain (notice how dark the clouds are in the side mirror)

But … it doesn’t stop me from continuing to feel the guilt. And this logic doesn’t stop me from feeling as if I’m such a horrible person for feeling the things that I do. Or that I’m downright being plain selfish by having such thoughts of sadness for myself, any myself alone.

And it certainly doesn’t help that society follows that same train of thought … that sadness in the midst of other people’s joy is neither polite nor socially acceptable.

That … that “social nonacceptance” is the basis for my irrational fear whenever good news is sprung in my direction. This is why I freeze.

Because quite frankly, I’m not sure if I should be honest with myself and allow myself to feel the way I do. Or if I should just “shut up” in order to remain socially acceptable.

Either way, it’s happiness mixed with a little angst. A bit of joy mixed with pain. A little sunshine with the rain.

And a whole lot of frustration and isolation (self-inflicted, of course) to boot.

22 March 2009

Yummy Yummy Dim Summy

Yay! Today Hubby and I actually made it to Chinatown for some of their delish dim sum. Perfect for a sunny Sunday mid-morning meal.

Sign on Shop Door in Chinatown ... *LOVE IT!*

Dim sum, in some variation of the Chinese language (not exactly which Chinese dialect it comes from …), literally translates to “Touch of the heart.” I totally love that term, as I’ve always associated going to dim sum with family on the weekends. Sometimes it would be to celebrate a special event like birthdays.* Other times it was just to gather together while visiting family & friends in another city (like Toronto) or while having those same family & friends visit our neck of the woods. Many times, for Hubby & I, it would simply just be a “craving” we’d have. In any case, going for dim sum brings back memories of happy times and of family traditions.

So going for dim sum today … by ourselves … was special. Especially after putting it off for months since moving to Chicago. And it’s because today marks the beginning of Hubby & I beginning of our new “family tradition.”

And that touches my heart …

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

* Here’s another Asian tradition for y’all. It’s customary for the birthday celebrant to have noodles on their actual birthday. It symbolizes long life and good health. Hence, if you’re ever at a Filipino birthday party … you will always always ALWAYS see pancit as one of the main dishes on the buffet table!

17 March 2009

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.

2yr I 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.

gobaug THE 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 for … thanks 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.

goal But 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.

voice And 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