Recharged

Last week went by in such a blur; not so much because it was a short work week from having Labor Day off. I think it had more to do with the emotional downfall I seemed to be experiencing since the days before Kairi’s birth.

Yes, I sucked at trying to stay off the not-so-amusement park ride, otherwise known as the roller coaster of infertility.

But today … this week … I am making an effort to pick myself up and move right along. As to where I might be moving along to on this IF journey still remains to be seen. I still have a lot of “issues” to work out before I can completely move on.

This relatively small turn in tides is due to a few things that have happened as of late. First of all, writing this post was certainly cathartic, despite the brief bit of guilt I felt for about three days after posting it.

Then there were those readers … those friends … who actually made the effort to comment on both of those posts. Your words do mean a lot to me and I do take what all you say very much to heart. It shows to me that, despite the ramblings of anger, sadness, guilt and confusion, I’m not alone in feeling or expressing them. To me, that makes me feel less of a silly, pathetic person who “obviously can’t let go” and more of a real person with justified thoughts for all those emotions. I cannot thank each and every one of you enough for all your kind words.

And not that I’m fishing for more comments about my posts … but for those IRL friends and even those that may just be “lurking” … trust me, a simple acknowledgement (whether by comment or quick email) to those bloggers that may be calling out for some love or support goes a LOOOONG way. And you never know, this may be the only way a blogger is able to let you in past the brick wall he or she may have inadvertently built around his- or herself.

The last thing that helped me get through this difficult time was a quick trip to London, Ontario to attend LJC‘s bridal shower this past weekend. The two-hour drive one-way would be the first time I’ve ever made that trip by my lone self. During my childhood, the trip was made with family. And in the later years, it would always be with Hubby.

Hubby was supposed to be with me on this road trip. However, a last minute decision (like less than 2 weeks) on his family’s part to throw a surprise birthday party for his mom on the same day as the shower threw off those plans.

Part of me was honestly kinda ticked at that. We had already made plans to make the trip to London to do a quick getaway from “things.” And when I mean “things,” I mean that we knew that the weekend before would be surrounded by “all things baby.” Not that we didn’t want to be there to meet Kairi and congratulate the proud parents, but we knew … at least I knew … that I would need to step back and recharge our emotional batteries.

Hubby & I as "Positive & Negative"
Hubby & I as "Positive" and "Negative

Because I knew that, even though we made the effort to physically visit SIL and Kairi twice while they were in the hospital, seeing that vision of “Mom and Baby” would stick with me (and to some extent, Hubby) emotionally long after we kissed and said goodbye to them.

But now it was just going to be me going to London. And poor Hubby was going to stay at home and help out with the surprise party. And the introduction of Kairi to the rest of the family. Hubby, unfortunately, would have to deal with the family & friends ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Kairi (rightly so, by the way … did you see how cute she is?!) and then turning to him to say, “Still no kids for you, huh?”

So yeah, that’s what ticked me off. And what also made me feel guilty for leaving Hubby there to fend for himself.

I also can’t deny that I was also excited to go to London by myself, either. This quick overnight jaunt to visit with the cousins I always felt were the “sisters I never had” … Well, this would be the first time in a long time that it would be “just the girls.” It would give us the opportunity to talk about “girl things” and other things that we haven’t been able to talk about in a very long time.

And although I didn’t get to spend as much time with LJC, as she already had other wedding-planning related plans, there was still a good time to be had. Also, the one “sister” from Calgary wasn’t able to make the shower either. But despite this, I was still able to spend lots of time with the youngest “sister” and her Mom (my Uncle’s wife) and her Mom’s two sisters. And while it may sound strange … for the longest time, I thought that my cousin’s aunts were also my aunts by blood as well.

So after all the guests had left and the dishes cleaned, it was no surprise that we all sat down in the kitchen to relax. After all, that’s where I can remember many long conversations and discussions taking place in my youth. Except this time I’m much older, as is my youngest “sister.” And we’re talking about American and Canadian politics. And infertility. And all of my “aunts” and my “sister” are asking me honest-to-God actual questions and actually looking at me and responding to me at the appropriate times.

Yup, that’s right. These family members that I haven’t had much contact outside of weddings (and more weddings) over the past ten years were genuinely interested to know how I was doing, and how I was dealing with things. Real people. Right in front of me. Showing empathy and compassion for me. What. A Breath. Of. Fresh. Air.

And at exactly the right time that I needed it, too.

It was precisely what I needed to energize my batteries so I could still keep going (and going and going) …

Dirty Laundry

First of all, thank you for all that have commented on my last post. Your words have made me feel as if I’m not a complete a**hole for writing what I wrote. Because for a while there I felt that I was completely off-base and horrible to have said some of those things “out loud.” And to some extent, I still do feel that way.

I’m sure that this guilt stems from not only my formative years in Catholic school, but from my cultural upbringing as well.

I’ve found out (from the years of working as an RN, alongside many other Filipinos) that most people perceive that Filipinos are hard workers and, no matter what gets thrown at them, they are always happy.

Well, let me let you in on a clue … That’s because Filipinos are expected to be  happy. Or at least appear to be happy.

In my experience, Filipinos are expected to hide any emotions that appear negative. So if we’re feeling sad, then the expectation is to hide that sadness. And (again) in my experience, the way that Filipinos hide that sadness is by focusing their energy on something that will “distract” them from feeling such sadness. And to me, that’s probably where the “Filipinos are hard-workers” perception probably comes from.

Because of that expectation to always appear happy, many Filipinos are not willing to talk about their sadness. It’s that whole “saving face” issue. Expressing any negative emotions out loud would “doom” us to a life of isolation. We’d lose that ability to be amongst the “norm” of society. We’d be different and therefore others cannot relate to us or talk to us because they don’t know what to say or how to act.

And because sadness and anger make others feel uncomfortable, saying these things out loud … or God forbid, even just looking or appearing despondent … is considered airing out your own dirty laundry.

Now, imagine having gone through 10+ years of not being “able to” express any of these emotions. Especially on how it relates to infertility.

It’s like having to sort through ten years of “dirty laundry” that’s been piling up just to find my favorite t-shirt or pair of jeans. It’s going to take awhile … maybe not as long as it took to pile up … but I’ve got to do a few loads and iron out a few details before I can once again wear those articles of clothing that made me look and feel my very best.

In addition, imagine writing a blog all about what’s bothering me. I’m absolutely positive that I’ve “lost face” within my Filipino circle of family & friends. Because believe me, I have felt the avoidance of engaging me in any conversation. And I’ve noticed the lack of effort on their part to find out how to appropriately discuss what Hubby & I are going through.

So to those Filipino family and friends (and any other readers out there … if I have any left … who might not understand my cultural considerations) who say that it’s been ten years and that I should just quit b*tching & complaining  and “just move on” … I hope they know exactly how hard it is to do so. Because there is TEN LONG YEARS of stifled emotions that need to be addressed before I can move on.

I need to peel back the layers of disappointment, fear, anger and pain in order to find that happiness that I know is somewhere inside of me.

And that is probably THE MAIN reason for writing this blog.

I Don't Hate You

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IRL BFF's & SIL's

Hubby & Tyler (at 3 yrs old)

I don’t hate you; because to hate you would mean writing you out of my life completely. And I simply will not do that.

However I am guilty of other sins. Envy. Guilt. Complacency. And for that, I am truly sorry for.

I am hurting. And the only way I have found comfort in this pain is to write exactly how I feel. As it is the same for you, I cannot speak of such pain. And to verbally tell someone of such emotions, truly makes me feel like I’m an idiot for feeling such things.

Because what right do I have to feel this way? Am I not blessed to have a relatively good (but stressful as of late) career? Do I not consider myself lucky to have found my soulmate so early in life? Am I not happy that I still have the love and support of a husband who I can turn to in such times of deep sorrow and pain?

For that, and so much more … it seems pitiful to “complain” about how I feel. So writing … yes writing … has been my only solace. It’s my only way to let others, who would otherwise not feel comfortable discussing such pain, know how I feel. My way of voicing those things I cannot say out loud. My only way to save face, so I don’t look like a complete sniveling doofus in the midst of everyone elses’ happiness. Because I don’t want to shove aside anyone else’s happiness. And yes, this includes yours.

My wish is that my writing allows for those friends … those family members … to understand what both Hubby & I are going through. It’s so that you and others can know what it’s like to walk in our shoes. Because infertility is not a topic that anybody wants or likes to discuss. It’s awkward. And quite frankly, it has been my experience that not many people make the effort to ask us directly how we’re dealing with it and (more importantly) what is appropriate and not-so-appropriate to say to us.

Hubby & Kairi
Hubby & Kairi

So yes, I admit it … I probably do set myself up for the fall. But I’d really like to have some words or action … some indication, if you must know … that there is a safety net below. That there will be someone there, other than my husband, to catch me. Because what I say in this blog is my way of letting you in.

I wish that everyone would understand that it is very difficult to just “let it go.” And to know that it isn’t so easy to “just adopt.” That to me, not being able to have my own kids is more than the ability to become pregnant. That not being able to form a life out of the love that my husband and I have for each other is THE ONE THING that hurts me beyond anything in this world.

It is incredibly painful to me that I won’t be able to pass on my Filipino nose or my larg(er) ba-dunk-a-dunk to my child. Or that my child won’t have the lifeline palm or the short big toe, signature to each and every one of Hubby’s family members. And most importantly, I’m tremendously heartbroken that I am not able give this gift of life and love to my husband, my parents, my brother … and yes, to you and my niece and nephew. And that I failed miserably in life because of that.

SIL & Kairi
SIL & Kairi

So please tell me, as I have obviously not been able to move on … how do I get over my hardships and heartache? How do I mourn not receiving the one gift in a woman’s life that I’m not obviously meant to experience?

Because I do want to take that next step forward. And I do want to stop feeling so miserable about the predicament I’m in. But … unlike you, who was able to ease your heartache with another pregnancy … (and please note that I said “ease” and not “forget”) there is no “Get out of Jail Free” card for me. There is simply NO EASY SOLUTION for me.

Auntie Em & Liam
Auntie Em & Liam

I am honestly and truthfully happy for you. And I’m happy and proud that you have been strong enough to survive all of your struggles and heartaches you’ve experienced. And that you’ve been given multiple second chances in life.

But I … right now, I choose to keep the one chance I have in my life because I love my husband and I love all the other things that I have accomplished in this one life thus far. And I’m simply just not ready to let it go right now.

Auntie Em & Kairi
Auntie Em & Kairi

Because at this moment, moving forward to that next step of adoption … my second chance in life, if you will … would mean that I have to give up those certain dreams that I have wanted so desperately in my life. It means I have to, once again, lose control of my life when I just got some semblance of order.

It means I have to find the strength and courage, both of which I have very little of right now, to start a new dream.

"The Girl with a Thorn in Her Side"

Yup. There’s always something about “The Smiths” that I can always relate to whenever I’m in a sad or pissy or panicky mood. And right now, I’m pretty much feeling all of those things. So, it’s no wonder I’ve got one of my favorite albums of all time, “The Queen Is Dead” streaming from my ipod. And not in shuffle mode either … because there’s just something lyrical about the way the whole album plays out. Anyway …

As mentioned in my last post, my pregnant SIL is scheduled for her c-section later in the week. And I thought I was doing relatively well reeling back all of those waves of emotion. Really. I did. For a while there, I was actually excited for the end of the week to come. I mean, after all … I absolutely love everything about a newborn baby. And I’m always in such awe when seeing this little life eat and sleep and coo … So much that at times, it supercedes the feeling of sadness or jealousy.

I would have been absolutely content going on feeling excited about my niece’s impending birth, but then since when does anything ever stay the same? (Well, except for the fact that after ten-plus years I still can’t get pregnant).

“Behind the hatred there lies a plundering desire for love.”

Yesterday at work, a co-worker who is aware of all the trials and tribulations of my IF journey, randomly asked how my SIL was doing. This is the same co-worker who’s daughter at one time was also going through IF issues but with the magic of one f*cking round of Clomid managed to get knocked up. And now, four years and three kids later (the last two were completely “natural” as I’ve been told), this co-worker is just the proud little grandmother. But I digress …

Anyway, when this co-worker found out that my SIL was going to deliver in a matter of days, she was absolutely over-the-top excited about it. I mean really, she was literally jumping for joy.

Now, okay. I understand being excited and happy for someone you know. But being that animated over a pregnancy for someone that you’ve never met? I mean, really … don’t you think that’s a little too much? Alright … given the events that had happened with my SIL’s pregnancy with Liam, I’ll give my co-worker that much. However, all I wanted was just a little bit of sympathy for me. I mean seriously, people. A little loyalty concern for my well-being would be appreciated here.

“How can they see the love in our eyes, but still they don’t believe us?”

Ugh. As if that doesn’t make me feel sad and pissy and panicky (not to mention guilty) enough … today I had a follow-up doctor’s appointment after that first appointment back in June and the news wasn’t so good. Blood pressure is still high (but not as bad) and my cholesterol and triglycerides are not good. So my doc and I talked about diet and exercise again and what I can do to get those blood levels down. And naturally the topic led to decreasing the stress in my life. And when she asked me exactly whether or not any of my stressors would be ending any time soon … well yeah. I lost all composure. And that feeling emptiness … you know, the one where it feels like you don’t have a heart in your chest (or a uterus in my pelvis, in my case) overwhelmed me.

Because the reality is that this feeling of stress and anxiety is not going to be over any time soon. Okay, the work one hopefully should wrap up in a couple of weeks once we officially close out this work improvement group. But the fact that in a few days there will be yet another child in this world … in this family … that I did not give birth to? That one will sting for quite a while.

“And after all this time, they don’t want to believe us.”

I thought that maybe once the pregnancy was officially over, I might start to feel a little more happiness. That since my SIL will no longer be pregnant, I can start to mend my pain. And not to mention … mend the relationship I have with my SIL. Especially with this pregnancy, as it’s expected with relative certainty that my niece will be 100% healthy.

The truth is, I should know better. Sure I still felt lousy even after my SIL’s last pregnancy with Liam. I chalked it up to the fact that Liam was premature and was in the NICU. It would be only natural to feel upset and depressed over that. But today I realized that it wasn’t just the fact that Liam was experiencing so many health issues that had me so sad. Oh no … that sadness was just a branch stemming from my overall IF journey.

“And if they don’t believe us now, will they ever believe us?”

Because as I look back now… despite all the heartache and pain that came with my SIL’s pregnancy and Liam’s short life, I would do anything … go through anything just to be able to experience creating and sustaining a life that biologically belonged to my husband and me. Even if our child would only be physically with us for four months.

And now, knowing that my niece will be entering this world in a few short days, I will once again be witness to a biological life that won’t be mine.

“And when you want to live, how do you start? Where do you go?
W
ho do you need to know?”

“The Boy with a Thorn in His Side”
– The Smiths