This is what you get for
making faces at the camera!
Hubby & I have been getting a little antsy lately. We’ve both been crazy busy at work lately and were looking for a little adventure. So we decided to take a little road trip this weekend.
The catalyst for our trip was to head back to the west side of the state to attend a surprise birthday celebration for one of our friends. The look on his face when he saw that we drove such a distance today just to celebrate with him was priceless.
Then we figured since we were already out that far, we’d keep heading west and visit my brother and his wife in Chi-town. Well really … I wanted to visit my two “nieces” (the kitties Mocha and Sophia) and “nephew” (the adorable Wrigley). That and meet the newest member of their family “Ryan,” who is another rescue greyhound and actual litter mate of Wrigley. This should be fun … let’s see how four adults, two cats and two big dogs can all comfortably move around in a not-so-big condo.
We have no idea what else we’re going to do during our trip to the Windy City. We’ve been there so many times that we’ve pretty much exhausted all the “tourist-y” attractions. Except maybe go up the top of the Sear.s tower, which I’ve never had any inclination to do anyway. I think we just wanted to take some time to get away from the every day grind. We all need those mini-vaca’s every once in awhile …
In the mean time, here’s a photo that my SIL sent to me of Ryan. Apparently he has quite the same demeanor as his brother Wrigley … so I’m sure that I’ll be falling in love with him as well. Too bad they couldn’t keep the whole baseball field theme with the names and call him “Bennett” (as in one of the original names for Tiger’s Stadium) or “Trumbull” (as in “The Corner” of Michigan Ave and Trumbull, where the old stadium used to be). But the names Wrigley and Ryan do sound pretty darn cool together … so I’ll let them keep it. 😛
I’m sure I’ll have more pics of the “nieces and nephews” when we get back … so be prepared for an onslaught of pet pics in a later post. But for now … we’re off to Chicago!
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.
So recently there was this really honest post that Duck put out in the blogiverse. It had to do about wanting to want to adopt. It’s one that apparently remained stuck in my mind, despite it being posted over two weeks ago.
I’m at the point in my life where I’ve really got to start figuring out what to do about adoption. I know it’s my next step, but yet every day there seems to be something that pops in my mind that puts me back another step or two. Especially these last four months.
And in between all these events, my good friend, Endometriosis decides to come back and nestle into my nice warm body. Oh, and shortly afterwards, Aunt Flo comes for the visit from H*LL. Nothing like emphasizing that I can’t get pregnant. It’s like an exclamation point (in this case, a “period”) at the end of me shouting “I am infertile.”
Not that I’m blaming any of these particular events for my recent train of thoughts. It’s more what I’ve somehow managed to have each separate event represent. (I over-analyze things, if you haven’t caught on by now.) SIL’s pregnancy? That’s easy … and obvious. Dad’s hospitalization? How precious and fragile life can be; and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Hubby’s grandma? How one’s life affects so many others … especially their kids and their grandkids, and so on and so on.
And all of this relates back to adoption and back to Duck‘s original post, how? Well, I honestly think that those going through IF need to fully resolve their issues of not being able to biologically produce their own child before they look to adoption.
At first, I thought I was there. I thought I could simply give up the notion of not being able to produce a biological child of mine. And when I talk about biological child … I’m strictly talking about a child that looks like a mixture of Hubby & me. One that might have certain features or personality traits or even habits similar to us. One who would know his or her family tree and complete health history.
But then there’s the other aspect of not being able to produce my own child. It’s the feeling of being pregnant. Of watching my belly grow. Of craving strange things or claiming that I need more ice cream or chocolate for “the baby.” Of experiencing the joy of a positive pregnancy test and sharing that moment with Hubby. Of seeing my baby’s heartbeat on an ultrasound. Of being the guest of honor at my very own baby shower. Of people rubbing my belly. Of strangers coming up to me and asking when I was due. Of touring the hospital’s birthing center. Of going through lamaze. Of hearing the cries of my baby after he or she was just delivered. Of holding him or her in my arms for the first time. Of breastfeeding. Of coming home from the hospital with my precious cargo and my Hubby standing right next to me.
All that and much much MUCH more. Probably more than anyone who has never experienced infertility could ever understand. Empathize, yes. Completely understand, no. But then if we’re also talking about walking in someone else’s shoe, I also wouldn’t understand what it was like to lose a child. Or worse, the love of my life.
In any case, I find myself suddenly back to where I was before January; knowing that adoption is our next step … but once again scared to move forward.
After all, to wantto want to adopt is a big thing. And to do that means I could possibly have utterly and completely given up on that dream to become pregnant. And that’s a pretty damn scary thing.
I’ve had people email me or post messages asking how my Dad’s been doing. Thank you ALL for your lovely thoughts and prayers.
Dad is doing much better. We’ve now had 3 of the 5 follow-up appointments with his doctors and they have all said they are pleased with his progress. Today, he has his appointment with the Cardiothoracic surgeon who will ultimately give him the “OK” to drive, if he’s up to it. I know, for a fact, that Dad is … as he’s been going stir crazy at home. And I’m pretty darn sure that in the next two weeks he’ll be starting outpatient Cardiac Rehab, so it will be good for him to get out of the house more.
Yesterday, my Mom had a meeting she needed to be at and my Dad wanted to go to his weekly Kiwanis meeting. This would be the first one he’s been to since having his surgery. Since I had to drop off some of his prescriptions that they filled at the hospital (which is literally blocks away from my house), my Dad asked me if I could drop him off at the local pizza place where the meetings were held. No problem, I said.
As I’m driving in my midsize SUV with my Dad sitting in the passenger seat, I was struck with this sudden feeling. Here I am driving my DAD to his “extracurricular activities.” Total opposite of what it used to be before I got my license.
So then I thought, “Hmm … perfect time for a lecture” and had this conversation with him:
ME: So, Dad. What are you going to say when someone offers you a cigarette? DAD: (chuckling) No thanks. ME: (role-playing) Come on, it’s just one cigarette! DAD: No thanks. I can’t smoke. ME: What if they ask you to just go outside and watch them as they smoke? DAD: (looks at me questioningly) I go outside with them? ME: No Dad … second hand smoke is bad for you, too! DAD: (proudly) Ah …. and then I’d probably show them my scars and tell them that they don’t wanna go what I went through. ME: (patting his hand as I continue to drive) That’s right!
Wow … so who’s the parent now?! Geesh, I crack myself up sometimes …
Just got back from the surgeon’s office and Dad has officially “graduated.” That means he is now cleared to drive and do some light work. And because he specifically asked, he’s also allowed to swing some light clubs. Just in time for golf season, too!
He’s told me he’s sworn off the cigarettes and promises to exercise more. He still has some work to do on his diet, but overall Dad’s got a second lease in life.
And because he’s done so good, I may … just may … let him have a nice big fat juicy lean steak for his birthday later this month!
Work has been incredibly grueling this past week, leaving me mentally drained each day. It’s not that I’ve been swamped with an extraordinarily large caseload. Actually, that’s more my team’s issue as they are currently covering my caseload right now. You see, the powers-that-be in my position have selected me to be part of a group of RN’s to establish a redesign for the current work flow. Uh … yeah. Like I said, grueling.
Not that I’m excited to be part of this group … it has certainly been an eye-opening experience, and the upper-level executives have thus far been very supportive of the ideas we’ve come up with … it just has left me very, very exhausted.
Today at work, a fellow RN Case Manager shared a video clip of Dr. Ran.dy Pa.usch on the Oprah show. Now apparently this clip (along with the original lecture he gave at Carnegie Mellon University) has been downloaded over a million times on you.tube. So, if you’ve already seen this clip or you’ve heard about Dr. Pausch’s “Last Lecture,” you’ll know exactly the emotions that this lecture evokes.
Let me set the scene. Ran.dy Pa.usch is a 47 year-old father of three and Professor of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University. He was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer which has since metastasized, which currently gives him no further course of treatment other than palliative care. He delivered his famous “Last Lecture” during an ongoing series of lectures where Professors at the University are given the opportunity to give a hypothetical last lecture in which to impart to their students. Obviously, this lecture, titled “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dream,” would be a little more realistic to him. So after watching this shortened version of this lecture on Oprah (the original is about 1+ hours long and visible on you.tube), it’s no wonder that all eleven of us in the room were just about in tears.
Watching this video had certainly got me pondering what my childhood dream was. The earliest memory I have about trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grow up is two-fold. One is of going to the library as early as 5-years old and picking out simple children’s books, particularly a series of books about a young girl deciding what she wanted to be when she grew up. One book was about becoming a teacher, while another was learning to be a “stewardess,” and yet another one about being … da da dadum … a nurse. (Hey, it was the late 70’s and these books were probably written in the late 60’s!) The other memory is of lining up all my stuffed animals (I was more of a plush toy kid than a doll kid) in front of our chalk board and pretending to “teach” them … all to the delight of my Grandmother (who, by the way is 97 this year) who was a primary school teacher in the Philippines.
Unfortunately, I never actually owned one ...
But by the time I got to high school, I fancied myself wanting to go into journalism or writing of some kind. I kept journals back then and wrote constantly to my cousin in London, Ontario, whom I considered my “living diary” during that time period. I even had a book of “poems” (more like silly rants, now that I look back at it) that I thought I could turn into song lyrics of some sort. Because back then, I also fancied myself being part of a really cool alternative band. Never mind that I was only a mediocre piano player … I still wanted to be able to tour the world (probably playing my “ke.ytar” a-la Howard Jones).
Alas, those dreams faded once it came time to choose which college I wanted to go to after graduation. Because then it became a matter of “How am I going to make a living?” rather than “What do I wanna do to make my life worthwhile?” The reason it turned eventually to “making money” rather than “dreaming big” is due to the typical Asian-American way of thinking. And that’s having job security and stability.
Eventually I succumbed to pressure and chose a profession that many Filipinos choose … Nursing. That’s because it’s a career that can, not only yield a decent yearly income, but it could provide you with the ability to choose different paths within the profession (-ie- hospital setting vs. doctor’s office vs. university teaching). Looking back now, I think Nursing appealed to me mostly because of the diversity in settings and also the ability to flex my schedule when I eventually had kids.
So getting back to Ran.dy Pa.usch’s video. One of the key things he mentions is having parents that supported him with the dreams he wanted. They, in fact, were the key to allowing him to dream big and to be what he really wanted to be. And while my parents provided me with the desire to always keep learning and the discipline to work and study hard, I can’t say that I was encouraged to dream big … or to even dream “outside the box” of the typical Filipino/Asian American professions.
I’m not writing this to place any “blame” on my parents or to find an excuse for not pursue my “big dreams.” I know that my parents encouraged me to be smart, strong and independent. And they did so because their experience in starting all over in a new country taught them that security and stability in life was important.
I want to be clear here (because Mom, I know you’re reading this) … This “choosing stability over dreams” isn’t the reason for this post. Nope, really it’s going back to that video. And Randy’s parents. And his relationship with them. It’s those things that made it crystal clear to me what my childhood dream was … and that dream wasn’t necessarily to have a career that I was successful AND happy with. Rather, that dream was to grow up to be a warm, caring person who was sensitive to others’ needs … yet still be strong and independent-minded to nurture, not only herself, but others.
I think I managed to take care of the warm, caring person (at least I hope so) through my profession in Nursing. I also think I managed to remain strong and independent. The thing I’m missing is that nurturing part … particularly the nurturing as it pertains to children.
And that’s the dream that I’m still missing … to be that parent, that mother, who, not only nurtures and cares for her child, but also encourages her child to dream … and to dream big.
Okay, so that’s nothing all too revealing. Especially given what the basis of my blog is about. But watching this video … and particularly the real reason Ran.dy Pa.usch wrote this lecture, really really REALLY affected me. It was certainly something that once again pulled on my imaginary apron strings.
I encourage you all to watch the ten-minute video below and tell me what you think. What are were your childhood dreams? And are you living them now?
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If you’d like to read a follow up on this post, click here!
I’m at the point in my life where I’ve really got to start figuring out what to do about adoption. I know it’s my next step, but yet every day there seems to be something that pops in my mind that puts me back another step or two. Especially these last four months.
And all of this relates back to adoption and back to 
Yesterday, my Mom had a meeting she needed to be at and my Dad wanted to go to his weekly Kiwanis meeting. This would be the first one he’s been to since having his surgery. Since I had to drop off some of his prescriptions that they filled at the hospital (which is literally blocks away from my house), my Dad asked me if I could drop him off at the local pizza place where the meetings were held. No problem, I said.
He’s told me he’s sworn off the cigarettes and promises to exercise more. He still has some work to do on his diet, but overall Dad’s got a second lease in life.
Let me set the scene. 