Category: Infertility

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Flippin' Blog!

Map of the Philippines

Alright … I’ve postponed this long enough. If it’s one thing that Filipinos are good at and known worldwide for is procrastinating. I mean really … why else would we have our own “time zone”? (Okay, so Filipino Time is not exactly a zone, per se. Rather it’s a … I don’t know … a philosophy? Lifestyle? Cultural trait?)

Anyway … a fellow blogger I met in Blogger Town (you know, the place next door to Fac.ebook and Mysp.ace?), Joanne just tagged me about a week ago and it was about gosh-darn time I get to it. And because she’s also “Flip“, I figured she might forgive me for following the typical Filipino Time protocol. So here goes …

1. Why did you start your blog?

Well hmmm … I’ve always just loved writing. It’s a way for me to express some creativity and allow me to vent. Back about five years ago, when I was deep in the heart of my IF journey, my Mom had made a simple comment that I should start writing like I did back in high school and college, using the letters I wrote to my cousin as an example. My cousin and I wrote letters much like the two characters in “Beaches” did. She was, in essence, my “living journal” at one of the most confusing and hormonal times in life.

Now, I’ve been somewhat of an inconsistent journler all my life; always starting one but then losing interest in it after awhile … which is why I didn’t start this blog until just over a year ago. I had finally gotten to the point where stuffing my feelings to “Save Face” just got to be way too much. I had to let it out somewhere. And because I wasn’t able to share this confusing and hormonal time of my life with anyone close to me … well, it only seemed natural to put it up on a blog to see if anyone out there could even begin to understand the kind of emotions I was going through.

2. How did you come up with your blog name?

Well … I suppose it’s much easier to send you here to read about my name. Much easier than having to cut & paste. And you get the added benefit of not having to read it again if you’ve already read it.

"Living Journal" Cousin, Dr. Brother & Me, circa mid-1970's

3. Do your friends and family know about your blog and what do they think?

Amazingly, yes. Not all of them read it, but they know about it. The one thing that I’ve found really great about having my family read it, is that they can finally be able to realize just how much of my life has been about my infertility and how hard IF’s emotional toll has been on every aspect of my life. Filipinos tend to avoid talking about difficult issues such as drugs or divorce or … gasp … infertility. This goes back to the whole “saving face” thingy and the extreme loneliness that becomes part of it. By putting my blog out there … well, I’m still able “talk” about my infertility while still being able to show up at family dinners or other social functions without feeling as if I’m “broken” or “weak” or just plain “out of control.”

As far as what they think … well some of my IRL (in real life) friends have posted comments to show their support and agree (or disagree … I love getting perspective from other people) with what I’ve written. As for my immediate family … My Mom, as I’ve mentioned in passing before does read it … albeit inconsistently, as she confessed to me. My MIL (whom I truly love and respect) has admitted to reading my blog, which again, is a good thing. She has, in fact, told me many times that she never truly understood how and/or why I felt the way I did until reading my blog. I also know that my (currently) pregnant-SIL reads my blog … and I’m sure that what I write may have hit many-a-nerve with her. It isn’t meant intentionally or maliciously to hurt anyone’s feelings … it is simply my thoughts, my feelings, my way to vent. I don’t think Dr. Brother or Dr. SIL read this blog, but I could be sorely mistaken. And I know that Hubby reads it. If anything, he’s the one that will reach out and hug me when he sees the sadness in my writing. Or laugh with me about some of the silliness I write.


Mmm ... Yum!

4. How do you write posts?

I guess it varies on my mood from post to post. Mostly, it’s just me writing about me in the first-person perspective. Other times, when I’m trying to be vague, I’ll take on a third-person narrative … but if I start writing like The Rock talks … someone should just virtually slap me. “Can you SEEEEEEE … what the EM is writing?!” 😛

5. Have you ever had a troll or had to delete unkind comments?

Thankfully no trolls. And thankfully no unkind comments. I do get some unsolicited comments with some sort of “sales angle” that WordPress sometimes misses … and those I will delete. Otherwise, I’ve found that any person that has commented on my blog has been extremely nice and empathetic. I’ve “met” some really cool internet buddies this way. And I hope to continue to do so. So for those that might just be lurking … please please, pretty please … I’d just LOVE to “meet” you!

6. Do you check your stats or care how many people read your blog. If you care how do you increase traffic?

Yeah, I admit it. I’m a sucker to see how much my blog gets viewed. I don’t know why. It’s not like this is some sort of “popularity contest.” Really, I just want to know whether or not some one finds some interest in what I’m writing. And I’m hoping that perhaps someone else might find comfort in knowing that they’re not alone in what they might be feeling.

I really don’t do anything to increase blog traffic. I hate the thought of placing ads on my blog. Because even if I do like my electronic “toys” and designer “duds,” I’m still a “respect mother earth” and “there’s gotta be a better way” liberal at heart who absolutely hates mass production and consumption.

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So that’s that. I might be a little “late” in responding to this meme, but if there’s yet another thing Filipinos are good at … it’s making sure that they follow through in any promises or obligations sent their way!

Now …. hmmm. Who do I tag? I think I’ll ask twoPINK! and kcmarie122 to be the next victims. But don’t feel like you absolutely have to do this just for me … ’cause i’d hate to think that I “guilt-tripped” you into doing this.

How very un-Filipino of me. 🙂 Continue reading “Flippin' Blog!”

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The Brown Paper Bag

Beneath my bathroom sink, there lives a brown paper bag. The contents of which were too large to fit in my mirrored medicine cabinet. It’s been residing there for the past four-plus years, maybe seeing the light of day once. Okay … twice, when I organized everything in that bathroom sink cabinet.

The only other time I took it out, was about two years ago. At that time I was debating what to do with all the syringes, needles and vials of medication that inhabited that brown paper bag. The first thought that came to mind was to donate its contents to the physician’s office of whom originally prescribed such medication to me. But then I thought of the last time I had been to his office, and memories came flooding back; quite like a tsunami hitting the coast of an otherwise tropically calm shore.

I thought of how many months I stuck myself in the thigh with those needles to deliver those extra doses of hormones. And I thought of those times I made sure I gave myself the injection at around the same time each night. I even thought about the small bag that contained my “supplies” that I carried on those nights when we knew we would be spending much time with family; for young cousin’s birthday party, or another relative’s baby shower, or a baptism where Hubby & I would be named as Godparents.

I thought of the multiple trips I took during a given week in my cycles to get poked for blood. And thought of how many times I had “dates” with the Ultrasound Technician and her “magical wand.”

And finally, I thought about the multiple trips I took to three separate specialists office at different times in my life. The first of which fed me month after month of Clomid for a year; which now I wish I would have questioned earlier. The second that thought by doing a laparotomy followed by six months of Lupron would jump-start my system. And then put me on more than 8 months of medicated cycles; and after each cycle told me that this month, with the changes of medications or dosages in these injectable meds, that “this would be the month.” And whenever I brought up the idea of doing an IUI or an IVF cycle, pooh-poohed my thoughts. And finally, the last specialist who actually listened to me. And ran just a few more tests on me to diagnose me as “insulin resistant;” not quite PCOS, as I was still cycling every month, but enough that I was finally put on metformin.

Things started to feel better after being with this third specialist. The metformin miraculously made me “feel” better, if that makes sense, and the low-carb diet did wonders for my weight. It was then, that Hubby & I decided to go for In Vitro Fertilization; or IVF. Or the big guns; as I call it. And we were told that our best bet was to have it done with ICSI; meaning that IUI (intra uterine insemination) wouldn’t work for us. So Hubby & I found creative ways to finance that IVF cycle, and well … we all know the end result.

Because, quite frankly … I wouldn’t be writing this kind of blog if the results were any different.

About two years ago when I initially took out that brown paper bag and briefly thought about donating it back to my RE’s office … well, I got angry. And then I thought about how much money Hubby & I actually spent for those supplies and still didn’t end up with the results we wanted. And I ceremoniously shoved the bag right back under the bathroom sink.

Today I stumbled back on that bag, which had found its way to the very back corner of the bathroom sink cabinet. Without thinking twice, I opened it up once again and looked at its contents. And in the two years since I’ve seen it, I realize that it looks the same. Again I thought about donating it back to my RE’s office; whom now I haven’t seen in over four years. But as I glanced at the two boxes full of vials, I realize that the medication had officially expired over the past year.

So what did I do this time? Well, I took out the vials of expired medication and threw them away. And I closed the brown paper bag once again, this time with just the needles and syringes, and stuffed it back underneath the sink.

Well … at least I made a little progress in moving past my one (and only) failed IVF attempt. At least I think I did.

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Can't. Hide. Forever.

Couldn't I take her to work instead?

For those of you that didn’t know, today happened to be “Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work” Day. Yet again, nothing says “Hey! Look at me!! I’m Childless!!!” whenever someone asked me why I didn’t bring my child with me today.

Uh. Perhaps because the ones I do have are the four-legged variety? And somehow, I can’t see them allowing me to bring my fur-babies in.

Lucky (or unlucky, depends how you look at it) for me, I’ve been extremely swamped at work. I’ve been doing 10-hr days / 4 days a week for well over 3 years now … and I must say that this is the first time I’ve ever wanted to work five 10-hr days in a row. That’s how much crap I have to do.

But don’t you worry (as if!), because I’m not that stupid dumb dimwitted brain dead to realize that I could work an extra day … but since I wouldn’t get paid (or otherwise compensated) for working above and beyond what I am paid to do … I say, “The hell with that! I’m gonna enjoy my three-day weekend!”

So really, the whole “kids at work” thingy didn’t bother me so much today. Seeing as I was either: a) attending my ba-zillionth meeting this week, b) chained to my corner of the world that my company designates as “my desk,” or c) hiding in my manager’s office (or under my desk) trying to sneak a few moments of blissful ignorance as to what was piling up on top of my desk.

In any case, I know that I can’t just hide forever. After all, even though infertility and being childless is currently a big part of my life … for the rest of the world (or at least the other 92% of the population), having children and raising them is always going to be a big part of their lives.

And as Monty Python would say … “And now for something completely different …”

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Happy Birthday to you, Dad!!

I am so very grateful for having you as my father.
Not a day goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars that you’re still with us today.
It’s been a rough few months, but I have every faith in you
that you will continue to get stronger.

Love and Forever,
Your L’il Punkin

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Little Black Spot on the Sun

I admit that I wrote yesterday’s post probably about two weeks ago but have been putting off posting it until now. Mostly it’s because rather than feeling relatively upbeat, like that post was supposed to be … I’ve been rather morose, which has obviously been reflected in the previous two entries I’ve published before then.

Today, I decided to expand a little more on my last post’s musings. And it’s really because of Mel’s latest and greatest post that she published yesterday on the parallels of Infertility and Dating. Mel writes that there’s a similarity between the two in that both situations possess a need that is unfulfilled. And there is certainly a resemblance in trying to find the love of your life and longing for a child love and raise.

As I’ve said before, I’ve been extremely lucky to have found my soul mate earlier in life. I have seen what it was like for my SIL who had struggled to find her true love. She endured so much heartache at a relatively early age, raising her son who was only two at the time of her divorce.

Yes, I saw how hard it was on her and how debilitating it was for her self esteem. And how much she doubted herself. I saw how very lonely and hurt she was, especially as her brother (my Hubby) and I thrived in our relationship as a married couple. But then she slowly started to date again, venturing out to test the waters. Finally, when she was least expecting it, she found her soul mate. After a rough first couple of years of marriage, which included the loss of their son at 4 months of age, they are now expecting their second child in August. And honestly, I couldn’t be happier for them.

Then there’s the infertility end of the spectrum. Finding love early and then not being able to create a life out of that love that Hubby & I have for one another. What kind of cruel joke is that? How painful it is … to know that you have all this love to give each other, but you can’t physically share that love with your own flesh and blood? Every day I struggle with this; knowing that I can provide all this love to a child … any child, in fact. And yet in the same breath, I doubt that I will ever be a good parent. Because if I can’t even create life, how am I supposed to appropriately support and encourage life in a child?

Infertility wreaks habit on anybody’s self-esteem. Much like not being able to find the love of your life. Infertility, for me, is an utterly debilitating pain … and one, on certain days, that I can’t seem to stop. But then I look at Hubby. And I remember the struggles my SIL has gone through. And I realize that I am, once again, fortunate that I have found love.

Do I admit to being jealous that my SIL is now pregnant for the third time? Well … yes. And trust me, I hate that I feel this way. Because I know of all the pain and self-esteem issues she’s suffered to get where she’s at today.

So to go back to Mel’s post about the analogy of infertility and dating … I do think that there are many similarities. Hurt. Doubt. Pain. None of which, when comparing dating with infertility is any more or less than the other.

Because pain is still pain, no matter how big or small the punch in the gut is.

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Love & Coffee (sans Cigarettes)

The other day, Hubby & I hung out at one of the local coffee houses that we frequent. We’re there so much that the baristas definitely know us by now. In fact, the minute we walked into this particular cafe, the barista asked to see the scarf I had been crocheting (well over two months ago, by the way … before Dad was in the hospital) for Hubby. Wow. I guess we’re that recognizable.

While placing our drink orders, this particular barista asked me how long Hubby & I had been married. She chuckled as I turned to Hubby and said, “How long has it been?” (Yeah … I actually had to stop and think about it.) She was suprised to find out that it would be twelve years this coming August, especially because we looked so “young!” (Ah … the “curse” of being Asian American … hated it in college, but loving it now!)

She then went on to share with me that she had been married for 12 years and just recently got divorced just over a year ago. While some days she gets sad that she spent so much time of her life with him, she knows that it was for the best. But the thing that gets her down is that she seems to think that maybe marriage wasn’t in the cards for her.

Of course I disagreed. Because if there’s one thing that I am, I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe that there is definitely someone out there for everyone … it’s just a matter of when it happens. And sometimes it happens later rather than sooner.

I shared with her that Hubby was my first date ever! Of course, it was strictly “as friends” that we went to Homecoming together during my Junior year in high school. And it wasn’t until after high school that we finally started dating officially. What I told this barista, though, was that I knew even back then during Homecoming, that I was supposed to be with Hubby. I was just too freaked out at sixteen to think that this was supposed to be the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. And I fought tooth and nail to keep us as “just friends.” But thank goodness I came to my senses and, well … we know what happened in the end.

I feel so lucky and blessed that I was able to find the love of my life at such an early age. I know that if anything (God forbid) should happen where I would find myself single again, I would be absolutely devastated. That, and since I never knew how to work the “singles scene,” I’m sure I’d find myself very very lonely. So for those out there that have struggled or are even still struggling to find the love of their lives, I can honestly empathize with you. And I sincerely mean that.

Because to want something SO badly and not have it within your reach … well I can certainly understand that.

This is the reason why some days I feel like infertility is the “cross” I’ve been given to bear. Here I’ve been fortunate to be given my soul mate at such an early age; someone to spend the rest of my life with. In exchange, the struggle I’ve been given is the difficulty to produce my own biological child.

It’s not much, but that reasoning is something that I use to help me get through each day … each cycle … each year that Hubby & I remain childless