Today I’m overwhelmed with baby and pregnancy news at work.
First thing I heard when I came in this morning is that one of my co-worker’s daughter had gone into labor last night. And just now, I overheard the conversation that another coworker had with her in which she was calling to tell us that her first grandbaby finally made her entrance into the world. Apparently they could hear the “new baby cries” in the background. To hear the excitement in this coworker’s voice describing her first grandchild was incredible enough as this particular gal is not readily excitable.
And then, as I’m doing clinical reviews for my assigned hospital I get one review that talks about a twenty two year old who finds herself unexpectedly pregnant and completely overwhelmed by how much “morning sickness” she’s been encountering. So overwhelmed where it’s to the point that she was considering ending her pregnancy. And well … I’m sure it’s because she’s young(er) and completely unaware of what her actions (meaning the comments that she made) might portray her as insensitive or callous … but still. It just made me very very angry.
And I’m sure these feelings are a direct result of my most recent doctor’s appointment. But still … can’t I catch a break?
The first draft of this post was actually quite upbeat and positive … how despite where I wanted to be in life by now, Mother Nature obviously decided to take a different path. And I was going to be okay with it. But then I had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today and well …
When I was little, I used to ask my mom for a sister. I desperately wanted to have someone to share a room with, not to mention sharing secrets and clothes and shoes (must have been all those after-school reruns of the Brady Bunch). What I knew little of back then was that my mom wasn’t able to have any more children after I was born. In fact, she was supposedly very lucky to even have any children at all, let alone my brother and me. She had such severe endometriosis that, back in the day, they didn’t think she would have much success with getting pregnant. Shortly after I was born, she had her hysterectomy to stop her endometriosis from getting any worse.
I was told the whole story when I was in high school, after having gone through yet another painful period. My mom asked me back then whether or not my cramps were bad enough that I’d want to go on birth control. Which, when I think of it now, was pretty progressive of her to do that … especially given the fact that we were Filipino (remember previous posts about how “private” we are?) and my mom was (and still is) deeply rooted in Catholicism (ahem … remember natural family planning?). Even back then, I had no inclination to be on the pill.
So my senior year in high school, a bunch of us were coming up with predictions for ourselves; kind of a “Magic 8 Ball” prediction in where we saw ourselves in ten years. Would we be successful in our careers? Would we be happily married? Would we have lots of kids? Some had said they’d be happily married with the 2.5 kids and the dog. Others said that they’d have a wildly successful career, yet single or divorced.
As for me … I can clearly remember saying that I would be happily married (“It is certain”) with a relatively successful job, but not one that I was completely passionate about (“Signs point to Yes”). And … having problems getting pregnant (“Outlook not so good”).
I’m sure it’s probably because by then I knew about my mom’s past medical history. But the other part of my prediction was that I would have at least one of my children before I was thirty. Thirty was the magic year because my mom and I were just about that many years apart and I absolutely HATED that there was not only the generational gap between us, but a cultural gap as well. I didn’t want to be so out of touch with my own children and therefore thought that by having them before thirty, I would be closer to their generation.
Well here I am, about to turn thirty-six this year and STILL childless.
And to top it off, I just had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today. The one to go over the results of my latest US, et al in regards to the increase in pain and bloating with each cycle. And well … as suspected, without doing any “looky-see” surgery, it appears that my endometriosis is back. So now it’s time to go back on Lupron. Back to being void from any emotion, except for the extreme highs or lows. Back to having no chance AT ALL at being pregnant. Basically, no ability to have any glimmer of hope. At least for the next three months. And then maybe another three months after that.
On an upswing … at least I won’t have any “oh geez … can you just kill me now because this must be what hell in a uterus feels like” pain for now.
I know I’m a bit behind, but … Happy Chinese New Year!!
Actually, I’m not exactly late as the celebration for the Chinese New Year traditionally lasts 15 days, but I missed posting on the first day which was this past Thursday.
So I’m sure that most people have been to some sort of Chinese restaurant where their placemats list the twelve animals in the Chinese Zodiac. Briefly (because believe me, it’s more complicated that this), each of the twelve animals is dedicated a “Lunar Year” which then reoccurs every twelve years. It’s believed that a person will have characteristics similar to the the animal that represents the year they were born in.
This year is the “Year of the Rat” and it’s particularly special to me as this is my “Lunar Year.” What makes it even more interesting is that the Rat is the first animal in the twelve-animal sequence. And according to traditional Chinese belief, the Year of the Rat represents the beginning of a new era.
Sketch that my dear Hubby
drew for me
So … I’m dearly wishing that this Lunar Year ushers in a new outlook and energy to Hubby & me as we enter into the realm of adoption. And for everyone else out there (whether you’re fellow IF’ers or not), I wish you the best in whichever new endeavor you head towards this Lunar Year.
I was driving home from work today when I heard this commercial on the local radio station.
It was about a husband and wife struggling to “create their family.” How they went to RinkyDink Hospital and tried so many unsuccessful rounds of IUI’s with no success. And then when they were “just about to give up hope,” they heard about the success that BigCity Hospital had with infertility. A year and one round of IVF later, they were ecstatically happy with their infant twins.
The commercial made infertility seem so easy.
It’s just too bad that the years of heartache and heartbreak that come with infertility can’t be packaged neatly into 30-second radio spot.
On our Caribbean cruise this past November Hubby & I couldn’t help but notice all the small children on board. I suppose it was only natural, given that it was the week of Thanksgiving and there were quite a few family reunions planned on this cruise. One particular child caught our eye. It was this adorable little Asian girl (I’ll call her “Gracie”), most likely only 2 or 3 years old, who was wandering around the ship’s library flipping through some picture books. I was particularly fascinated by her because this black-haired brown eyed child would have been the type of physicial attributes that Hubby & I, as Filipino Americans, would have produced. And of course, I started to feel those imaginary apron strings pulling again.
Our Nephew, Tyler
At first, we only saw the dad towards the back, looking around at different books to read. He looked a bit older in age than most of the parents with young children on the ship. And he was also Caucasian. No big deal, I remember thinking, “Gracie” could possibly be mestiza (Tagalog for “mixed ancestry”), like our nephew Tyler is. But then shortly afterwards, I saw “Gracie” run across the library towards her mom … who was clearly not Asian and who was also clearly a bit older. Wow, I remember thinking, here’s an actual family created by adoption right in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile and think how lucky they were.
Apparently “Gracie’s” dad saw my smile and smiled back at me. “She’s adorable,” I told him and both mom & dad smiled back and said their thanks. Their eyes were gleaming with pride as they walked out of the library together. I turned to Hubby and he, in turn, grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as if to say, “I know.”
When we returned home from this trip, I relayed this story to the Stephens Minister (SM) that I’ve been meeting with regularly and who know that adoption is our next step. She is an absolute wonderful person who has this incredible ability to see the good in every situation and give the encouragement and strength to keep the faith even when things go awry. Anyway … after telling this story to SM, she turned to me and said, “See! It’s a sign!” meaning that this little encounter was God’s way of “nudging” us to take the next step towards adoption.
Hubby's Little Cousins
In turn, I told her something that I didn’t even tell my husband back there on the ship. That I wanted to talk to the couple and ask them about the path they took to get here. And ask them if this was the best decision they ever made. And ask them how difficult it was to go through all the paperwork. And how long it took. And the list could go on and on and on.
But I didn’t ask those questions because I thought it would be intrusive and embarrassing. I mean, it’s one thing to go to adoption seminars and ask these questions in front of a crowd who is also at these seminars for the same reason. It’s another thing to ask these questions face-to-face with someone else on a personal level. I guess it’s the fear in me that I might say or ask something stupid or get too personal with my own IF issues that it might make the other person uncomfortable. My past experiences, even with support groups or even other non-IF related groups, has taught me to feel uncomfortable in doing this. Or hey, it may even be the Asian American in me (who is supposed to keep these issues private) that makes me feel uncomfortable in those type of situations. In any case, I truly did regret that I never got my chance to ask “Gracie’s” parents about their experiences.
A couple weeks ago, as I was in pursuit of doing some adoption research, I approached my one co-worker who’s son and DIL just adopted domestically, about which agency that they had used. In the past, she had shared with me their “Dear Birth Mom” letter and I remember not only being pretty impressed but pretty overwhelmed with what they had done. In any case, my coworker told her she wasn’t quite sure about those details but that she would ask her DIL about it and get back with me. “Better yet,” she said, “why don’t I have her call you?” I was a little hesitant at first, but then thought the chances of receiving that call were slim to none.
Every Asian Girl needs a Hello Kitty ... This is my "Filipino Hello Kitty"
Imagine my surprise this past week when K (co-worker’s DIL) called me. I just happened to be at work when the call came through my cell phone. Lucky for me, I was able to find a small conference room to duck into while K and I chatted. I won’t go into the details of our conversation, but I can tell you that I was able to ask her those questions that I wasn’t able to ask “Gracie’s” parents. And ultimately what I got out of it was a sense of relief. That we shared similar disappointments and heartaches (as many of us IF’ers do here online). That we internalized many of the same feelings of failures towards our body and of letting down our spouses and other family members. While it’s been very therapeutic to voice these same feelings on my blog or even reading and commenting on other IF’ers blogs, being able to say these things out loud and to a live person was simply incredible. Especially because in the ten-plus years of trying to start a family, I’ve never been able to completely let my guard down with someone regarding these feelings to any one else other than Hubby. (No, not even my SM. Okay, maybe with my incredible therapist …) And to be able to do that within a 30 minute conversation with K … during work hours, nonetheless … was so refreshing.
At home later that evening, I was reflecting on my conversation with K and I finally felt a sense of … not peace, per se. Not even relief, because that’s what I was feeling earlier in the day. I think it was a feeling of content. Meaning that I’m finally at a place where I know Hubby & I are making the right decision by not giving up our dream to be parents. And that by taking the adoption route, our dreams will come true.
