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!
One of our really good friends went on an interview recently for a job that he really REALLY wanted. And the thing is, both Hubby & I thought he’d be absolutely perfect at it. Plus, it would give him the opportunity to have an actual 9 to 5 job with no weekends or holidays. Which, of course, would make planning Red Coat Tavern or D&B outings a lot easier.
Unfortunately, he did not get that job and was understandably disappointed. And as he blogged about his disappointment, I couldn’t help but think of some words to console him.
What I wanted to say was that I was the type of person who believes that timing is everything. And in my infertility experience, that truly is the case. I mean, really. How many mornings did I wake up and roll over to grab my digital thermometer to take that basal temp? How many mornings did I have to run to the RE to get poked for blood to determine where my hormone levels were? And let’s not forget those early morning dates with the US technician and her magic wand. And when we’re talking serious science experiments here (aka, IVF), you’re literally dependent on perfect precise timing.
But that’s a different type of timing. That’s a “controlled” timing situation. Making sure that all the I’s are dotted and the T’s are crossed. That’s a much different type of timing when you compare it to “waiting for all the stars to line up” type of timing.
That type of timing is what I can best compare to as “fate” or “destiny.” When Path A intersects with Path B at a fixed point. When you just barely miss / catch those “Sliding Doors“ on the subway. And that’s the type of timing that I was thinking about when I contemplated on what my comment would be on our friend’s blog.
What I wanted to say to our friend was that I was the type of person that believed in that type of timing. That right now just wasn’t the “time” him to get the job. And that in the future, I believed that an even better opportunity would come along at the right time in his life. I truly do believe that for him, as he is such a wonderful person. Instead I simply stated that I hoped one day he would get that dream job that he so deserved.
I decided against using the whole “not the right time” statement, not because I didn’t believe it for him. Rather, I left it off because I’m feeling a little unsure about my own “fate” right now. Where exactly does my “destiny” lie? Am I ever supposed to be a mother? Am I really supposed to be achieving my “childhood dream“?
I’ve always been a firm believer in karma; the whole “what goes around, comes around” theory. I always sought to do the right things in life because I always thought that eventually good things would come back to me in spades.
I’m still waiting. And it’s waaay past even the standards for typical Filipino Time (which is alway late).
Okay, so I know that I’ve been given other good things in life … Good, stable job. Roof over my head. Food in my belly. Family and friends. Wonderful husband. But I’m still waiting for children, waiting to become a mother.
Maybe I haven’t done enough good things in my life at this point.
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On a completely unrelated note … check out the latest post on my other blog for a good laugh.
Hubby & I spent the night on the west side of the state Saturday night. We were out that way specifically to catch the theater debut of one of our friends. (I’d tell you more about the play, but “I’d prefer not to.” But I do have to say, I do think our friend did a wonderful job.)
We’ve been to this town before (the most recent to see the Cowboy Junkies about five years ago), but never got a chance to really check the place out. But since our friend lives out there, we managed to get the “grand tour” of the area which included a trip to a local brewery that produces the only beer my alcohol-allergic / beer-loathing Hubby will drink. Seriously didn’t know that this brew was locally-produced.
Anyway, we ended up staying the night because the play didn’t even start until 11:00 pm. And then afterwards, well … of course we ended up going out and grabbing a drink afterwards. So we booked a room at one of the local hotels just to rest our heads for the night. After all, it’s a decent 3-hour ride back to Detroit and we weren’t about to make that drive after being out until 2 am. (Okay, maybe we would … if we were still college-age!)
The next morning, I turned on the TV in the room (while Hubby started to get ready) and started flipping through the channels. As I flipped, I stumbled onto the Dis.ney channel that happened to be showing the animated film, “Ta.rzan.” I don’t know what possessed me to keep the TV on that channel, but I suddenly found myself sucked into the movie.
There’s something about Dis.ney animated movies that I really enjoy. Especially the ones that were produced from “The Little Mermaid” onward. OK, so there were a few that I could care less about (hmmm … “Emperor’s New Groove”?), but overall I’ve liked their films.
In fact when planning our wedding, Hubby & I created a “Three Wishes” theme, including designing our own invitations (which, back in 1996, was definitely not a common thing to do) based on the movie “Aladdin.” It started with a porcelain figure of Jasmine & Aladdin that Hubby gave me when we were still dating which we thought would make a great cake topper. Then we chose “A Whole New World” from “Aladdin” as our first dance and then gave little ceramic genie lamps as our favors. Yes, I guess you can say we had our own version of our “Dis.ney Fairy Tale” wedding.
But I digress … What struck me about watching “Ta.rzan” was the whole “Boy being raised by a gorilla” thing. Specifically the part where Ta.rzan found out how he came to live with and grow up with a pack of gorillas. Now, I’m assuming that most people have seen this movie or are familiar with the story. However, if you haven’t and you have the urge to read the book / watch the movie … then I suggest you skip the next two paragraphs.
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If you recall that in the movie (because the movie actually does vary a bit from the book by Edward Burroughs), Ta.rzan was brought up by a pack of gorillas and was always regarded by the other gorillas as different. This, however, didn’t matter to his “Mom,” Kala, who brought him up as her own, after losing her own baby gorilla by the same leopard who killed Ta.rzan’s parents. When Ta.rzan stumbles upon Jane and is surprised that there is a person who looks similar to him, he tries to learn from Jane (and her father) as much as he can about his “kind.” Ultimately, Jane is supposed to be leaving back for “merry olde England.” As Ta.rzan had ultimately fallen in love with her, he has to make the decision to either remain behind or go with Jane.
Before Ta.rzan’s decision is made, Kala tells him the truth about his parents and how, after her own son died, she raised him as if he was her own child. After he makes his decision to follow Jane, he turns to Kala and tells her that she will always be his mom.
*
Uh, yeah … and that’s where the tears started flowing. (Thank God Hubby was in the shower at that point!) I kept thinking that if I was Kala, I would would be absolutely heartbroken. Proud of him, but utterly heartbroken for myself.
First of all, it’s the whole “mother who loses her own biological child” thing. How can that not relate to how I’m feeling? Okay, so I never was able to get pregnant on my own and have never physically lost a pregnancy. Or worse, a baby. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have the right to grieve about not being able to have my own biological baby. And how about those that have experienced failed IVF’s alongside with me? Or those that have experienced ectopic pregnancies or miscarriages? Those are all losses.
And then there’s the whole “being raised by someone that didn’t give birth to you” issue. Uh … that would totally relate to adoption. I know that my journey through infertility has taken me down the adoption path. And I know that every day I am one step closer to becoming just as strong as Kala wanting to raise a child that isn’t biologically part of me.
I know that adoption is my fate and once I have my child, I will be so totally, utterly and unconditionally in love with him/her. BUT … I can’t help but think that somehow, somewhere down the adoption path I will truly start to freak out about the possibility that this child might not love me or feel that the love he/she has for me is not as strong as it would be if I were his/her biological mother.
Huhm … I just realized that perhaps my child would probably think the same of the love that I would have for him/her. He/She could be thinking … “Does she love me as if I were born from her womb?” Well, the answer to that is yes. As I’ve never been able to experience pregnancy, I guess I wouldn’t know the difference between loving a child that is biologically mine or loving one that was brought into our family through adoption. So my future son or daughter … I want to let you know this right now: I will love you, because … to me, you are my own child.
Damn Dis.ney … why must you always produce movies about orphaned heroes or heroines that overcome adversity. Do you purposely peer into my heart and see which one of those heart-strings (or better yet, my apron strings) to pull?!
Lately I’ve been (what my husband has said “obsessively”) reading many other IF blogs. I completely blame Google Reader for it. And as Mel and Io have pointed out, it’s So. Damn. Addicting.
I find myself attracted to the fellow bloggers who, like me, are still childless. Specifically, those that have had “years” of experience in TTC and have either (recently) been successful in becoming pregnant, or have decided to forego any further IF treatment and chose to adopt or remain childless. I’m sure it’s because these are the fellow IF’ers that I can relate to the most, given my own experiences. But truly, I think it’s because these are the people that have seem to write about the same fears and hopes that I am feeling at this exact moment.
Not that any of the other IF blogs I’ve read don’t express the same fears and hopes as well. I guess it’s more because of where a person is at in their IF journey. For those that are “newer” to the IF roller coaster, there is still fear expressed in their writings … but, maybe it’s just me, but these posts seem to have more of a positive or hopeful outlook. I guess I’m just way too jaded and disappointed after all these years.
And for those IF’ers that have been successful in conceiving AND delivering a live healthy (or even not so healthy) baby … well, for lack of other words, they were able to do something that I haven’t been able to do. Ever. Not that a fellow IF’er can’t relate to or empathize with exactly what I’ve been through, it’s just that their posts will inevitably (and justifiably) become more about their child. And I should add here that yes, I am happy for them and I will continue to read their updates. However, I hope they might understand that it does become more difficult to relate to the change in their “no longer child-free” lifestyle.
I realize I’m beginning to sound horribly petty here. Especially since less than a year ago, I was complaining about how I couldn’t find anyone that might be going through something similar to what I was going through. I didn’t think that anyone could feel as “stuck” as I was in my IF journey, like I couldn’t take a step forward towards making my “Mommy Dreams” come true (whether through more ART procedures or through adoption). I’ve learned since then that, while they might not be going through the same exact thing that I was going through, there are other IF bloggers out there that share many of the same hopes and fears and habits (read: hiding underwear) as I do.
Really though … it doesn’t matter whether others are at the same point in their IF journey as I am … I just truly do enjoy reading about others’ experiences, hopes and fears. And I absolutely LOVE reading about other IF’ers thoughts and quirks about every day things. It honestly just makes me feel less of a truly crazed infertile “freak.”
So what’s the purpose of this post? Well … really, I guess there is none. Other than to wish that I might have found this type of support (and outlet for my IF frustrations) years ago … because maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so lonely for so long.
Thanks AGAIN for everyone’s well wishes for my Dad’s speedy recovery. I am so incredibly grateful for all the blove (blog love) I’ve received. I will update you on my Dad’s condition in another post, but today I figured I’d blog about something else.
I just got done reading BabyBound‘s latest post, and it reminded me that a year ago this month is when I started blogging. Okay, so officially it’s not until March 17th but … whatever.
Anyhoo … the reason BabyBound’s post reminded me of my blogiversary was because she was talking about the reason why she started her blog. And what has transpired (or hasn’t transpired) since taking a break from fertility treatments.
For me, the reason I started this blog was to find an outlet to express how frustrated I was with my infertility. At this time last year, I was going through quite a bit of angst and frustration. Shall we recap? Yeah, why not.
Mid-March would be the 3rd anniversary of my one (and only) failed attempt at IVF. Since then, I had not done anything active to pursue further infertility treatments. Nor was I moving forward in any direction towards adoption. It terrified me to move forward (and in some ways, it still does today).
My SIL, who had just gotten remarried less than a year ago at that time, was already 5 months pregnant. And, of course, after trying for well-over 10 years to start our own family, I fell into a deep dark abyss of feeling like shit.
Same SIL found out just two weeks prior that her baby was showing signs of abnormalities (US was indicative of a cleft lip and omphalocele) and of course, I was feeling guilty that I probably caused it by all my horrible feelings of jealousy and anger.
The slimmest of slim possibilities of a quick and painless Philippine adoption was quickly and ceremoniously stripped away. (Come to think of it, I don’t think I even blogged about that. Hmmm … maybe a post for another time.)
So yeah … I think I had enough to vent about and just had to find an outlet for it all. And hence, Apron Strings for Emily was born.
A year later, I’m still writing. And I’ve enjoyed writing. It’s given me an opportunity to share and exchange information and emotions with people that I’ve never met IRL (in real life). And even those IRL people that do read my blog, it’s an opportunity for them to read exactly what I’m going through. Because in my real life, I’m not good at showing my real emotions.
And a year later, this is what’s going on in relation to the above-mentioned recaps:
Yep; it will be the 4th anniversary of our IVF attempt. I’m still saddened by it, but the grief has lessened considerably since last year. I still have no desire to pursue any further IF treatments, but instead am now dealing with the return of some unfriendly and unwanted GYN issues.
My SIL remained pregnant and in May (at 31 weeks), prematurely delivered Liam. In his short life (he lived only 4 months), he touched all of our lives with his beautiful eyes and incredible strength.
Same SIL announced this past January that she is once again pregnant (and due in August). Yes, it still hurts. No I didn’t fall into that abyss again. I’m dealing with it the best I can , which is to accept it for what it is. I do have to add that this time around, SIL has been wonderfully conscious about how her pregnancy affects me … and for that I am grateful.
Adoption. Yes, this is our next step and I’m actively taking baby steps to get there. I’m still quite overwhelmed, but taking even just these little steps is more than I have taken in the four years since our failed IVF.
So, if you’ve kept reading to the end of this post … I applaud you. And I thank you. Thanks for being the ears (or in this case, the eyes) that I’ve needed to get past the most difficult times in my life this past year. I’ve learned that I am not alone in feeling the way I do. I’ve learned that others also share the same warmth, compassion and empathy that I have. I’ve learned that I am a much stronger person that I give myself credit for. I’ve learned that my husband continues to be and will always be my best friend in the world. And I’ve learned that blogging is therapeutic for my soul.
Huhm … I just realized that perhaps my child would probably think the same of the love that I would have for him/her. He/She could be thinking … “Does she love me as if I were born from her womb?” Well, the answer to that is yes. As I’ve never been able to experience pregnancy, I guess I wouldn’t know the difference between loving a child that is biologically mine or loving one that was brought into our family through adoption. So my future son or daughter … I want to let you know this right now: I will love you, because … to me, you are my own child.
Lately I’ve been (what my husband has said “obsessively”) reading many other IF blogs. I completely blame Google Reader for it. And as 
fears. And I absolutely LOVE reading about other IF’ers thoughts and quirks about every day things. It honestly just makes me feel less of a truly crazed infertile “freak.”
I just got done reading