Attempt No. 2

nablo1108120x240Okay, so I’m going out on a limb here. Seeing that I have now consistently written just about every day (sans a day here and there) for the past three weeks, I’ve decided to make another attempt at posting more consistently.

I may live to regret this, but I think I’m going to attempt NaBloPoMo. I personally blame Becky from Mommy Wants Vodka (just kidding, Becky … ) for inspiring me to do this. She’s doing it, so I decided to try it too. Of course, she’s also more a consistent poster than I am, so we’ll see how well I do.

So what to talk about today (which, I guess is technically Day 3)? Perhaps how I should have been wearing this t-shirt today at work? Hmm, for those of you that questioned who I was planning on voting for from this post … I guess you probably can figure it out now. Well, at least I still have tomorrow to wear that shirt. Wonder what the Exit-Poll people would do if they approached me.

Or I could talk about how I need to remember not to schedule my dental cleaning four days after Halloween again. What. Was. I. Thinking?! Seriously … I’m a little afraid for my poor hygienist, who might be finding some “Bit O’Honey” or bite-size “Snickers” bits in the back. Poor, poor girl.

Or I could talk about how this evening I watched “Duran Duran: Live from Wembley“on VH1 Classic Concerts. (And yes, Kara … was totally thinking of you.) It made me regret not going to see them in concert for that tour. Because, is it me? Or did Simon Le Bon’s voice get better and stronger with age? Or did technology advance that much since watching the “Arena” concert?

Oh, I know. I’ll talk about how easy it is to get suckered into taking stupid online quizzes. I must confess, that one time ( … at band camp … ) I must have spent an evening just taking quizzes. For me, it usually starts off by reading about someone else’s quiz.

In this case, it was another friend‘s blog who took a quiz on what she should be when she grows up. Of course then I wanted to find out for myself (because I still haven’t figured it out … ). And once I finished that quiz, I saw another one I wanted to take. And another one. And yet another one. I swear … I must have taken about 5 of them. But this one was the one that made me stop:

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You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

What Part of Fall Are You?
(Don’t click it … even though I know you want to!)

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I mean, seriously? “Pretty, but soon dead”?! Kinda a little freaky, don’t you think? And to think, that Fall is my absolute favorite season. Hmm … I might need to rethink that.

Okay, babbling enough. Guess I need to save some of this babble and spread it out over the next month …

On Being There …

I woke up about 4:30 this morning to the sound of my “puppy” needing a potty break. And because of that, I wasn’t able to get back to sleep right away. So instead, I fired up my laptop and started playing catch-up with blog-reading. It was at that early hour that I read this excellent post from Mrs. Spit.

Now, Mrs. Spit, I hope you don’t mind me saying … but that post had me desperately trying to hold back the tears. For it’s that silent communication that I’ve been searching for in my life. That feeling of knowing that someone … anyone … close by in proximity would (directly) acknowledge the hurt and that pain that I felt. And someone would realize how hard it was on some days to just get through certain moments, certain snippets in time.

Yesterday, being Halloween, was one of those snippets in time. Particularly made worse by the fact that it’s a very child-centric holiday. For obvious reasons, our yearly ritual of walking around trick-or-treating with our nephew was suspended. Understandably so, as the events of this past two months have put such a huge strain on the current relationship status with his family.

But that’s neither here nor there. And this is not another post about those issues. This is a post of what happens when someone finally made that connection with me. Today. This morning, in fact. And as I write about it now, the tears can’t help but spring back up again. Because this is what I get for trying to hold them back earlier this morning.

Simply said … there is nothing … nothing better than having your fears and your hurt and your pain directly acknowledged. Nothing better than having someone validate that what I’m feeling is real. Nothing better than having someone understand how hard it is to be and to act in my situation.

Nothing better than having someone physically say these things to you. And mean it.

And you know in your heart and your mind that she does. Because, although she will soon join the ranks of motherhood, she’s been there, too.

Me! Me! Pick Me!

Two posts in one day?! Oh. Em. Gee. (As my younger cousin would text, as an added emphasis on “OMG”). What the bloody heck is goin’ on?! Well, I finally have a Sunday of absolutely no plans to do a little catching up on bloggies.

And seeing as if I’ve recently been tagged for a meme, I figured I do it today. And actually, come to think of it. I’ve been tagged a few times with different meme’s … so might as well do them all!

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The first one was waaaaay back at the beginning of August from VA Blondie at Do Without Doing. Uhm … yeah. So sorry it’s taken me this long to do it! 

The Rules

  • Link to the person who tagged you
  • Post the rules on your blog
  • Let the tagger know when your entry is posted.
  • Let each person you have tagged know by leaving a comment on their blog
  • Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them

Okay, six random thingies …

  1. I’m such a procrastinator. Oh yeah, right … like you didn’t already know!
  2. I’m a coffee snob. Hate the nasty stuff at work and have to pick up “the good stuff” or brew my own before heading to the office.
  3. I’m a sucker for word games. Throw a Scrabble board or a NYT Crossword in front of me, and I’m game. Not good at them, but I love doing them!
  4. I have trust issues with my hair. Not that I do anything extraordinary to it (like cut/dye/style it a special way), I just don’t like anyone I don’t know or trust playing with it.
  5. I’m not as daring or brave or as impulsive as most people (IRL) think. I’m actually quite a deliberative person who has to be excessively prepared before heading into a situation. (Okay, maybe I should have just said I was “anal-retentive”!)
  6. Sunday mornings are probably my most favorite time of the week. I love sleeping in, but the utter quietness of Sunday mornings makes me feel at peace … even for just a minute

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The next one is from Kara at Becoming Parents. (Okay, wow … this one was from back in June! Talk about procrastination!) This meme was prompted by the book written by Larry Smith & Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous & Obscure. Apparently, Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were, “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.” The book is a compilation of similar 6 word stories. This meme challenges us to do the same:


Instructions:

  • Write your own six word memoir.
  • Post it to your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
  • Link to the person who tagged you
  • Tag 5 more bloggers
  • Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play

Here’s my Six (okay, really seven) Word Memoir and visual illustration:

(A) non-fictional account of triumph over tragedy

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And finally, Kate over at Bee in the Bonnet tagged me for this one word meme. Apparently I’m supposed to stick to a one word answer … which, just like Kate, will be torture for someone who loves to just babble on and on and on …

So here’s my attempt

  1. Where is your cell phone? Purse
  2. Where is your significant other? Table
  3. Your hair color? Black
  4. Your mother? Religious
  5. Your father? Traveling
  6. Your favorite thing? Reading
  7. Your dream last night? Scary
  8. Your dream/goal? Far
  9. The room you’re in? Cafe
  10. Your hobby? Writing
  11. Your fear? Failure
  12. Where do you want to be in six years? Happy
  13. Where were you last night? Football
  14. What you’re not? Ignorant
  15. One of your wish list items? Travel
  16. Where you grew up? Suburbia
  17. The last thing you did? Type
  18. What are you wearing? Underwear
  19. Your T.V.? Off
  20. Your pet? Family
  21. Your computer? MacBook
  22. Your mood? Content
  23. Missing someone? Cousins
  24. Your car? Orange
  25. Something you’re not wearing? Socks
  26. Favorite store? Target
  27. Your Summer? Gone
  28. Love someone? Hubby
  29. Your favorite color? Blue
  30. When is the last time you laughed? Today
  31. Last time you cried? Friday

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And if you’ve noticed, I’ve already broken the rules / failed to follow instructions. I’ve decided that I’m not going to tag anyone. So ptooey!

Boy, this was fun!

 

Oh, the Irony …

Day 3 of “Voiceless Emily.” I made the attempt to go to work today and promptly fell back into bed after taking a shower wiped me out. So today, I make the trip to my doctor’s office to hopefully get some “magic pills” to make me feel better.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I hate having to get antibiotics to get rid of a bug. I’d rather do it the old-fashioned way with lots of fluid and lots of rest. But this one … I don’t know, I just haven’t been able to “break” it just yet. And I’ve gotta be better by this weekend, as it’s my cousin’s wedding!

Thank you for those that responded yesterday to my post. Part of me knows that I’m just being stubborn and spiteful. And the other part of me knows that I’m doing this for self-preservation as well. Because if I continue to subject myself to “saving face” just to “keep the peace”, then I’d be back-pedaling in my progress towards happiness.

It’s just rather strange for me to be listening to that “other part of me,” because I feel as if that’s the selfish part of me. The one who only thinks about herself. The one who was told time and time again in her youth that it was bad to be thinking about my wants and my needs. My job … my duty, was always to think and care for others. (No wonder I became a nurse!) And I’m sure that lesson was reinforced over and over again by both the Filipino culture I was brought up in, as well as the twelve years of Catholic school.

And not that I mean to emphasize the point over and over again … but this is probably the biggest reason why it’s been so difficult for me to deal with my infertility. First … let’s not talk about my issues so as not to make you feel uncomfortable. Next, let’s take care of everyone else’s needs rather than take care of my own health. And finally, let’s just stifle all that unhappiness away and pretend that it doesn’t exist.

In any case, it took a long time for me to realize that I couldn’t continue to live this way. That my own body was telling me that I could no longer hold things in. Seriously, when your blood pressure continues to sky-rocket despite taking medications and you find yourself having a tremendously difficult time performing such simple tasks like taking a shower … and your mind is so muddled because you can’t even begin to determine what to “fix” first … well, then it’s time to seek some professional help.

So yes. I admit it (as it’s hard to do for most Asian-American’s), I broke down and called my former RE’s office and asked for a good therapist; one that had experience in dealing with infertility issues. And from that first meeting with her, I felt as if I struck gold. She has been that wonderful.

From our sessions, I’ve learned that one of the biggest things I needed to do was listen to my body. Which, of course, was hard for me to do … as throughout my IF journey, I’ve felt I’ve been betrayed by it month after month. But it’s those headaches that I frequently got that told me that my blood pressure was bordering at extreme highs. And it’s those days where my body refused to get out of bed that told me that I had stuffed waaay too many emotions inside that my body simply refused budge until I felt or expressed something.

And that’s why I began to blog. My outlet. My way to talk about the complex things and complex relationships I have going on in my life.

Duh, I can hear y’all saying … it’s not like I haven’t said this twenty zillion times before in previous posts.

But then part of me begins to wonder. Am I revealing too much? Am I expressing those feelings too intensely? Am I hurting others by writing exactly how I feel about the situations I’ve been in?

Is the proverbial pen mightier than the sword?

The reason I pose these questions is because I’ve been “asked” to refrain from blogging about certain people and certain situations I’m placed in, Which my gut instinct is to say, “F*ck you. This is MY blog. And you don’t have to read it, if you don’t like what I have to say.”

But then I began to think that maybe what I say in this blog may push things to the limits. That instead of making it easier for others to understand what I’m going through, I’m making them more uncomfortable. And hence making it more awkward for them to talk to me in real life (IRL). That I’m further isolating myself by “talking” about these things. (Of course, this pertains to IRL people and not you, my dear bloggy friends.)

Then there’s the Filipino-Catholic in me. The person who feels like she’s being self-centered and only thinking about herself in these situations … and not about how others might react to what I’ve said. That I’m hurting others by the words I write. And that I’m now sufficiently doomed to H*ll.

I have, in the past, PWP’d (password protected) a few blog entries, but have hated to do so, for reasons I’ve mentioned before in this post. I think it protects certain incidents and people involved in them; which could be good. And yet it also isolates a potential reader …. someone, who like me is looking for someone to relate to … from not feeling comfortable in asking me for a password. And while I might continue to do so in some instances, I don’t like it. It makes me feel, for lack of better words (ha!), “voiceless.”

And the irony of it all? I can’t even speak a word above a whisper right now.

What do you suppose my sick body is telling me? Is it just telling me to shut up and not “say” or blog about the emotions attached to those complex relationships and situations? Or is it telling me to ease up on myself; that I’m once again being too harsh on myself that my body, or rather my voice needs a rest?

All I know now, is that I’m seriously doubting myself … if what I do and say on my blog is helping me IRL or hurting me even more. And if I should permanently remain “voiceless.”

Help me, oh bloggy friends. What should I do?

Placing Stock in Bonds

Today is my day off this week. I planned on working on special project for most of the day (details still forthcoming in a future post), but first I had to head over to my parents’ house to pick up more stuff for said project.

I forget what it’s like to be out driving around 10:30-ish on a week day. Mostly because 10-hour work days are spent indoors working furiously at my desk. So yes, I forget about the old folk out driving about 20-zillion miles below the speed limit. Or the multitude of service cars and trucks that zoom around you as if there was no one else on the road.

Or in my case today, watching at least three different groups of women walking around pushing baby strollers.

Okay, so not all of them were pushing strollers. Some of them were holding their pre-preschool kids’ hands as they walked. And others, well … they were pregnant. It was that image of pushing the baby stroller and/or being pregnant that reminded me of what I don’t have. Or rather … not necessarily what I don’t have, more than what I haven’t been able to experience.

In this case, it’s not about being pregnant or having a child. It’s more about the ability to form friendships with other women who are at the same stage of life that you are. A tribe of women, as a good friend once mentioned in her blog, that I can bond with and share.

I’ve always said that not having a sister to grow up with has limited me in my ability to form female bonds. There’s something to be said about having another female (about the same age) around to learn how to act and react to different social situations. Whether a woman is close to her sister or not, this relationship still teaches that woman about the female mind in ways that another “sister-less” woman cannot experience or understand.

I tend to think that this is one of my biggest flaws within my personality. This social ineptness, when it comes to forming relationships with other women. Up until Hubby & I started trying to start our family (and failing miserably), I would say that I had a fair amount of female friends. Ones that I would call up and make plans to go shopping or out to eat just so we can hang. Being in a profession dominated by women also helped form these friendships. But the longer Hubby & I went without having children, the more isolated we became. And that’s because these female friends went on to start their families and began to relate more with other women and couples that also had children. More and more, I began to have less in common with these friends.

Oh, I know not to place all the blame (if any blame at all) on these friends, who are now more like acquaintances. I know that friendship goes both ways. And I know that there are the times that I just didn’t make the effort to continue the friendship. But I also know that there are the times that I just couldn’t be the friend that they needed … my own pain, in my opinion, would have caused more of a rift in that friendship.

There’s another part of me that I believe has limited my ability to form long and lasting female friendships. And that is being a first-generation Asian/Filipino-American. (And for clarity’s sake, this means that my brother and I were born here in the US, while my parents were both born in the Philippines.) Growing up in my household always meant you had one foot in the traditional Asian mindset, while your other foot was learning to survive in the American culture and way of life. The traditional Filipino way meant that family and God (followed closely by education) always came first and anything else, such as friendships and after-school activities came in a distant last. And although the “American” part of me always wanted to make tons of friends and be involved in lots of activities, the “Asian” part of me held back considerably. Mainly because when I looked outward at myself and my family … I always knew that I was “different.”

So how about forming friendships with other first generation Asian- or Filipino-American women? Believe me, I do have those few friendships. And quite honestly, they’re probably the ones that have lasted the longest. I strongly believe that this is the case, mainly because we’ve stepped outside of our “Filipino-American” selves and truly know one another, outside of our personal issues (read: Emily’s infertility). That is simply because we’ve known each other for years. And we’ve bonded. And if they’re not family, then they are certainly the closest thing I have to family (without, of course, all the dysfunction).

The rest of the Asian/Filipino-Americans … definitely different story. Especially as it relates to infertility. Loribeth recently shared an article from Newsweek on her blog. While this article’s primary subject is about infertility and the lack of treatment in developing countries , there is a small focus about the ostracism of infertile women in these countries. Here’s a little taste of it:

The stigma that infertile women face can infiltrate every aspect of life. They may not even be invited to weddings or other important gatherings. “People see them as having a ‘bad eye’ that could make you infertile, too,” says Inhorn. “Infertile women are considered inauspicious.”

Other people simply “don’t want to have them around at joyous occasions,” says Frank van Balen, coauthor (with Inhorn) of “Infertility Around the Globe” and a professor in the department of social and behavioral sciences at the University of Amsterdam. Their reasoning: “they could spoil it,” he says.

The thing is … this article doesn’t just pertain to these women living in that particular country. This article reflects just about everything that I’ve, as an infertile, encountered here. In the US. Amongst family and friends. Within my culture.

That article basically summed up the reason why I started this blog in the first place. Because what I write here is everything I feel about myself and everything I could never say out loud.

This blog was meant to help me work my way through my infertility issues. It was a way for those family members and friends who would always ask us why we still didn’t have children know why without me or Hubby having to spill all the details out loud in which I would inevitably cry. It was a way for me to feel comfortable telling my story, without having the other person feel uncomfortable.

But apparently even by just writing these things, I still make certain people very uncomfortable and therefore ostracizing myself even moreso amongst my family and Filipino/Asian friends. Certain actions have made it quite evident over these past few weeks. Certain things have forced me to evaluate exactly whom I want to be closest to me at my most difficult times.

It’s because of those actions, I have debated about taking down this blog. Or making it strictly password-protected for those who would be genuinely interested in following my rants.

But then I thought … how many other Asian-American / Filipino-American women or couples are out there that are going through similar things that I’ve experienced? How many are out there longing for some sort of bond with others going through something just as painful? How many more of us are out there that feel ostracized and alone?

I know what it was like to meet all of my infertility friends through blogging. And even though we might not share the same cultural considerations … I do know that they are going through the same (or similar) hurt and anger and pain that I’ve gone through while traveling on my IF journey.

And it’s because of you girls I’ve felt less lonely … less ostracized. I’ve felt as if I could go out to meet you for a “virtual walk” at around, oh … let’s say 9 pm … (when most of us are known to read/blog the most) and bond.

So I decided to keep my blog “password-free” (except maybe for the occasional post). My hope is that this blog is still a way to communicate with those people who want to continue with me along my IF journey. But it is also my hope that it be available for those Asian- and Filipino-Americans (as well as those that are not … Asian, that is) traveling down the infertility road alone and looking for some company.