Tagged

So I was officially “Tagged” by kcmarie waaaay back at the end of December. I figured I probably should finally get around to doing it. Apparently there has been some “rules” that have been posted since I initially got tagged, so I figured I would add it to my post as well.

The Rules:

  1. Link to the person that tagged you.
  2. Post the rules on your blog.
  3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
  4. Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
  5. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
  6. Let the fun begin!

Ummmm … Let’s see. Six non-important quirks about me.

  1. I brush my teeth with my left hand. Which would not be any big deal except that I’m right-handed in everything else. I’ve tried switching hands many times, but for some reason I always revert subconsciously to my left hand.
  2. I always have to sleep with one foot, preferably the right (told you I was a righty), outside of the blanket. Even if I’m lying on the side, I always have to have a foot out. It could be freezing cold in our bedroom to the point that my head is even under the covers, but I absolutely have to keep one foot on the outside. I’m not quite sure the reason why, but it’s just something I have always done. Sometimes I think that my mind is telling me that I must always be ready to move or get up at the spur of the moment.
  3. Back in high school, I was nicknamed the “Human Jukebox” because I would always know the words to any song. Friends would spit out two words to a song and I would literally know what song they were talking about. Unfortunately, that “talent” faded once I got into college because suddenly my mind had to be filled with the other “useful” knowledge it was supposed to contain in order for me to graduate with my Nursing degree. Apparently though, my “talent” has started to resurface because I’m suddenly being approached by co-workers who say I should be on that new TV show where I’m supposed to complete the lyrics. Yikes! I’d have too much stage fright!
  4. Speaking of high school, I was voted “Class New-Waver.” I mean, come ON! How 80’s could that get?! Personally, I would have thought that I would have been “Class Goth” if there was ever that category back then. But then again, we’re talking Catholic school here. I guess it was because even back then, I only wore black (Thank God no uniforms in high school at that time!) and supposedly listened to what was considered “alternative music” back then. Seriously though, I think God got back at me for wearing all that black in high school, because once I got into the Nursing program in college all I was allowed to wear was white. Grrr …
  5. I took piano lessons for close to ten years when I was young. I loved playing the piano, but I hated the lessons. Probably because I never was able to really “read” the notes as quickly as you would think someone taking lessons for that long would. Instead, I had a tendency to read the notes slowly, learn the “melody,” and then memorize it so I knew when something “sounded” wrong when I played it. It used to drive my piano teacher INSANE. What I wish I would have known then was that there was a specific method of teaching piano, called the Suzuki Method, that relied mostly on listening to a song over and over again in order to learn the tune. Then I might have found another instructor and might have continued taking lessons.
  6. I’m not a particularly active or “fit” person, but I love watching any type of sports. I think it comes from living in a city that has all the major pro-sports teams (hockey, baseball, basketball, football) and great universities with good sports programs. Hubby & I are BIG University of Michigan Football Fans and are actually pretty lucky to have season tickets every year. The funny thing is that Hubby actually is a U of M alumni, but do you think that we EVER went to any of the football games when he actually attended the university? Nope.  In fact, I never had any inkling that Hubby was a sports nut until after we were married. Which is when I really started getting into sports. Never thought I’d see the day when I actually knew what the referee’s hand signals actually meant …

So that’s it about me. Six quirky things you never wanted to know.

I guess this is where I’m supposed to tag other people. Oh geez, I don’t have THAT big a circle of friends, but I’ll tag hope548, courtney rose, and sheila. Good luck, gals!!

Is It Cold? Or Is It Just Me?

I picked up this nervous habit over the last year. At first I thought it may have been a side effect of one of the new medications I started, but then I realized that I would only do it when I was feeling anxious. I’ve actually learned to take that habit as a sign of when I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. When it does happen, I’ve learned to pause for a few seconds to take a deep breath and calm myself down. But since our first trip to Virginia Beach just before New Year’s Eve, I feel like my jaw has been “shivering” uncontrollably.

Yes, that’s right. We made two trips to Virginia Beach in the span of two weeks to visit my husband’s family. Unfortunately, the second trip was not a completely happy one, as my husband’s grandmother (Nanay) passed away. It was great to see all the family gather together, but it was rather difficult to get through those days.

During the 12-hour car rides to and from Virginia Beach, I managed to start on a crochet project for a coworker. She had asked me to make a hat and bootie set for a friend of hers who was expecting. And since I was on a roll with making all those premie caps at the time, I told her it would be no problem. And I do have to say that the finished product looked absolutely adorable.

Crocheted Hat & Bootie Set

I showed my husband my little creations the evening I finished them, proud of having tackled another pattern (the booties) that I’ve never done before. What I ended up seeing was this sad expression on his face. And the thing is, I knew exactly what he was thinking. That’s because earlier in the day I found out that the latest celebrity news included yet another celebrity pregnancy … this time it was that Matthew McConnaughy and his girlfriend were expecting and Matt was quoted as being “stoked.”

Of course the first thing I thought of when I heard that news was “Why-oh-why must I yet be tortured by another celebrity flaunting the fact that they can procreate while Hubby & I can’t?” But then I kinda delved deeper into that thought and was imagining what my hubby might think when he heard that “Naked-pot-smoking-bongo-playing” man was going to be a father. I knew what I was feeling – that it wasn’t fair and that I knew my husband would be an excellent father. I’ve known that ever since we first started dating because of how he was with his younger cousins, Mark & Mary. Watching him throughout the years interact with our nephew, Tyler, has been incredible. He has so much patience and love that it seems like such a damn waste that he can’t use those same qualities on our own child. And what about the whole biological aspect of it? How was it like for him to know that he wouldn’t be able to pass his genes on? Or even his name (he’s a “Junior”)? I imagined him going through all these different emotions, doubly intense now … especially since his grandmother had just passed on.

So as I saw my husband’s sad expression that evening, I did the best I could by curling up next to him on our couch, listening to what he had to say. While he played with the tiny booties I crocheted, he said how those little booties made him sad that we didn’t have our own child. And how strong he thought I was for making them, as he didn’t know if he would be able to do the same thing for someone else. And how he wished that I could make it for our own child.

Hubby & Our
Cousin’s Daughter, Eva

He went on to explain that he felt that he wasn’t getting any younger and that he wished that we were already parents. He also mentioned that with his health problems (along with mine) he was concerned over his own mortality. And that it was probably because of Nanay’s death that he was feeling so sad. Since hubby doesn’t readily talk about how he felt about our situation, at that moment I wished SO BADLY that I could make him feel better. And that we could change our situation immediately. If I could have snatched any baby off the street at that moment then I would have just to give my husband the ability to be a parent.

As it was, that same night we got a phone call from one of best friends who’s wedding we attended last July in Portland, OR. He’s an incredibly wonderful friend who has always been there for us whenever we just needed to vent and to talk. He’s the same guy who would bend over backwards to help us out if we were ever in a pinch. And he was calling to let us know that him and his wife were expecting.

How’s that for timing?

If those two events in our life weren’t unexpected enough, then the news that my SIL was pregnant was definitely a shocker. Although I do confess, I saw this one coming. It wasn’t like the subject of having more children didn’t come up after Liam passed away this past September. I guess I just didn’t think it would happen … I don’t know … so soon. But then again, my SIL has always been fertile.

All the tell-tale signs were there. One event, in particular got me thinking about her. It started out with a conversation I had with my SIL just after New Year’s Day. I told my SIL that I was a little worried about her; because during the holidays, she seemed really tired all the time and appeared withdrawn from the rest of the family. When we asked her to go with us to take our cousins from Toronto bowling, she kindly declined saying that she wasn’t feeling too well. What I initially thought was that she was down in the dumps; especially since this would be the first major holidays without Liam. And I knew how messed up my emotions were during the previous Christmas. I just wanted to let her know that I was there for her if she needed me. What I was told then was that she was okay, and that she would tell me what was going on in “due time.” I remember thinking at that exact moment, “She’s pregnant.” And in fact, later on that evening as I was relaying to Hubby our conversation I told him the same thing, that I thought his sister was pregnant. I just had THAT strong of a feeling.

Anyway, my SIL and her husband sent a card to our house that arrived this past Friday which announced their news. It was a beautiful card that said that she wanted us to be the first to know as she knew how difficult the news of her last pregnancy affected me. I truly appreciate the effort that she put into the card and into the note that she had written inside of it, because it just showed me how much she truly cared about the sensitive nature of this topic.

Hubby & Our Godson, Jacob

Of course, that didn’t stop me from saying to Hubby (in true Catherine Z-Jones in “High Fidelity”-fashion), “I knew it” over and over again. Nor did it stop my jaw from shivering uncontrollably that evening. Nor did it stop the tears from flowing later on that night (damn … couldn’t deep-breathe enough to calm myself down). But that’s okay, because I know now what I didn’t know just over a year ago last November. And that is that I am allowed to feel sadness for myself and for my husband. And I’m going to allow myself to feel whatever I want (sadness, anger, guilt, etc) for as long as I want. But I’m NOT going to let it take over my entire emotional being.

So while Hubby & I are extremely happy for his sister and our “West-coast” friends (and even my HS friend who is also due this year), I think that the recent passing of Nanay has got us both thinking of our mortality … and even our legacy. What ARE we going to leave behind for others? Who will we be able to pass our legacies on to when we die? We’re both not getting any younger and I admit that I’m terrified that the life I have been given has been utterly futile. Especially since I’m infertile and all that I’ve ever wanted was to be a good role-model, a parent to a child who I would be able to pass my lifeline on to.

So … with that said, the time has come for Hubby & me to start moving forward. SMALL “baby” steps forward (why does that phrase strike me as rather funny, right now?), may I say. We’ve talked about adoption being our next step. We know it’s the only next step. We’ve done a little research in the past and, quite honestly I think I was too overwhelmed with everything to fully process. So now, I’ve got to start up that research again. And maybe look into other options such as domestic adoption. I’m downright terrified to move forward, but I know that for our sake … I must.

And maybe … just maybe … I can get this damn jaw to stop shivering.

Sideways Glance

Random Cool Picture

I’m sitting here reading some of my wonderful Infertility Friends’ blogs trying to post some responses. And as I sit here, my hubby is giving me sideways glances as he tries to play NBA Live on our PS2.

I know why he does this. And it’s one of those things that I’m both very grateful for and yet slightly bothered by.

You see the reason he’s doing that is to check on me. To make sure I’m okay after I was told some wonderful news tonite.

And while I am absolutely happy and excited that my longtime friend is pregnant with her third child, I can’t help be just a little sad for myself. Which, I’m wondering if I’m being just a little bit of a hypocrite by telling my friend not to be sad for me. (Because I know you still are, my dear friend!)

The thing is, I know Hubby is merely checking to see if I’m still emotionally intact. After all, in my previous blog post, I just happened to mention how my SIL’s news one year ago this Saturday sent me into a major tailspin. And how a couple days ago, I told him that every year I will now associate the Michigan/Ohio State game as the day I hit rock bottom. (Come to think of it, I just told my friend the same thing earlier this evening before finding out about her pregnancy … Woops. Insert foot in mouth.) And trust me, I am so very grateful (not to mention lucky) to know that Hubby cares about me THAT much to keep an eye on me.

Another Random Cool Picture

However, I do want to let him (as well as my dear friend) know that I’m okay. I do admit to being a little sad for myself; however, I will bounce back. After all, I am a much stronger person than I was a year ago.

So thank you, dear Hubby and my dear friend, for your absolute love and concern. I am forever grateful for both of you and of your support for me.

If it weren’t for either of you in my life, I wouldn’t be the stronger person I am today.

Baby Picture

Click the badge to read other 2007 Submissions

A couple weeks I stumbled onto a picture that I had tucked away inside my dresser. At the time I tucked it away, it was the intent that I would someday look back at it and think, “Wow. I can’t believe how far I’ve come since then.” As it happened, that day I was busy looking for something else and I pulled the picture out and put it on top of my dresser (actually, on my mirror) and then went about my business.It wasn’t until yesterday when I was talking to a newly acquired friend, about my recent find that it hit me as to what the picture actually was. The picture I found happened to be the picture of my “would-be babies,” the embryos that were implanted into my womb during my one attempt at in vitro fertilization (IVF). As I was telling my friend about the snapshot, I felt myself begin to cry yet once again.

I relived that period of my life yesterday afternoon as I told her my story and my struggle. She’s heard bits and pieces about it before, but never to the extent as I did yesterday. She had previously heard about the treatment I went through, all leading up to the IVF cycle. And she certainly heard about all the wonderful medications I had to inject into myself each month and especially during the IVF cycle month. But what she never heard (nor anyone else for that matter) was how emotionally spent I was after each monthly disappointment… especially after the failed IVF cycle.

What I had told my friend is that when I looked at that picture, it reminded me of how different a person I was since that period of time. And even how much more different a person I was since starting my infertility journey ten years prior.

Ten years ago, I saw myself as a pretty optimistic person. A “glass is half-full” type of person. If pregnancy didn’t happen, then it just wasn’t meant to be just yet. Almost a year later, I began to become cautiously optimistic. And by the time I had my first hysteroscope, my mindset was of “let’s just get the task done.” At my lowest “pre-IVF” point, I was definitely very pessimistic about any chance of ever getting pregnant. By that time I had already had done enough ovulation charting, had more than enough Clomid cycles followed by even stronger injectable medication cycles, and had enough surgeries to last me a lifetime. It was at that time I became a”glass is half-empty” person.

So when Hubby and I finally decided to try the IVF route, I knew I had to change my attitude. And although I knew that IVF was never a guarantee that I’d be able to get pregnant, I had to think positive. In fact, I couldn’t just think positive, I had to put every effort into making sure that I was going to be successful at becoming pregnant. It was actually not as hard as I thought, especially with all the hormones I was pumping into me. I knew then that if I had even a shred of doubt, I would fall deep into the abyss of pessimism.

So imagine how far I fell once I found out my IVF cycle was unsuccessful. I certainly did plunge deep into that deep pit of despair. There was the initial shock and disappointment, followed closely by hysterics for the next couple weeks. Anything at that time set me off into waves of sadness and tears. A year after the failed IVF attempt, when we made the decision to let our one frozen blastocyte “go,” it was like reliving all the emotions of the year prior.* And in that moment, I knew I would never be able to go through another IVF attempt. It was just too emotionally and physically painful for me to ever have to go through again.

After a period of time, I just became “numb.” Crying seemed to be useless, and to tell you the truth, very humiliating. After all, in my culture, crying is only appropriate for a set amount of time. After that, crying is just considered a sign of weakness as we are taught to quickly “get over” our loss and “move on” right away. So after awhile, I learned to stifle my pain and pretend as if nothing was wrong. I pretended to be “over” the failed IVF attempt and let people believe that I was just content with my current situation. I also let others believe that eventually my Hubby & I would be working towards adoption. And truthfully, I tried to convince myself of that for the next three years.

However, as the past three years went by, I unconsciously knew that something was missing. By all standards, I looked like I was okay, but inside I felt miserable. I probably would have continued to go on feeling like this if it wasn’t for the news that we received a year ago next month. That news was of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy. And well, if you’ve read my previous posts (not to mention the most recent posts of Liam’s life), you’d know that I didn’t handle the news very well. As of recently, I’d like to think I managed the most recent events rather decently, but it’s only after I spent this last year talking (and subsequently blogging) about the gamut of emotions I’ve been through.

So where am I at now? Well, obviously I’ve been crying a lot lately (cultural behavior be damned!). In fact, I think I’ve cried more this past year than I did over the last ten years, since I started this crazy infertility journey. I know for a fact that all the events that have transpired over the past year is responsible for the river of tears (not to mention the trails of tissue paper) that follow behind me. And while it’s been a terribly difficult year, I do have to admit I feel I’ve grown a little more emotionally stronger from it. I would think that just by being able to post my “baby picture” shows that I am. (At least I hope so).

Wow. I can’t believe how far I’ve come since then.

* For a quick overview of our IVF history, we had 13 eggs retrieved, 8 of which were fertilized using ICSI, 3 of which “matured” enough, 2 of which were implanted in me. The lonely one that was left was frozen for the possibility of later doing a “frozen cycle.” What we didn’t expect was that we’d only have one blastocyte mature out of the 13 eggs that were originally retrieved. As there isn’t much success rate in doing a “frozen cycle,” let alone with only one blastocyte, Hubby & I elected not to proceed with that next step.

Remembering Our Angel, Liam

The following was read yesterday at my nephew Liam‘s funeral service. Thank you for everyone that came to visit with our family. And thank you for all the emails and phone calls to show your love and support. Your words and hugs mean more than you’ll ever know.

Hello and on behalf of D and J, Tyler, and the rest of our family, I would like to sincerely thank each and every one of you for being here tonight.

The loss of a loved one is always a difficult thing to understand. The loss of an infant, a son … a grandson … a nephew is just about incomprehensible. This evening, we are here to try to make sense of such a thing.

When J asked me to say a few words tonight, I admit I was a little hesitant. However, I knew right away in my heart that this was something I had to do; not only for her and D, but for myself as well.

Liam was born on May 19th, 2007. He was born prematurely at 31 weeks and weighed 5lbs and 14oz. But despite the unexpected early arrival, Liam came out ready to live life. In fact, I told Janet that Liam was the perfect name for him. It was a strong Irish name, a fighting name. And that’s what Liam was … a fighter from day one.

Liam born with some imperfections such as a cleft lip and omphalocele, a birth defect in which a portion of the abdominal organs formed outside of the stomach. Nevertheless, to me (and to his mom and dad) he was the most beautiful baby in the NICU. Liam had the first of many procedures, only four days after his birth, to correct the omphalocele. It was one of the biggest that the hospital had ever seen and surgery was a success. He would return to the NICU and unknowingly be loved by all he touched. In fact, I remember one of the male respiratory therapists telling us that Liam was “the miracle baby,” as no one could believe how well he did during and after surgery.

Although he was making small gains here and there, Liam still was having difficulty breathing on his own. Every time they would wean him off the respirator, he would eventually need to be put back on it. After three months of this, J and D made the tough decision to have surgery to place a tracheostomy in the hopes that Liam would eventually grow out of it and be able to breathe on his own. It was to be the procedure that would eventually allow Liam to go home.

For a while afterwards, Liam was doing really well. We were all excited that he was becoming more and more active. He was able to sit up in a bouncy chair. He even started to take his feedings by bottle. On the days I would visit, I would even observe him “flirting” with the nurses and therapists.

And finally after three months of impatiently waiting, I was actually able to hold my nephew for the very first time.

Although I knew I loved him from the day he was born, the moment Liam looked up at me while in my arms with those beautiful brown eyes, I absolutely fell head-over-heels in love with Liam. Just by holding Liam, I could feel the strength that he had within him. I wanted so badly to bottle up this strength and use it for myself.

How could I not fall in love with him? How could anyone who ever came in contact with Liam not fall in love with him? The times I’ve been to the NICU, it was obvious that Liam was quite a popular baby. I jokingly told J and D that even at such a young age, Liam was quite the “Ladies Man.” All the nurses and therapists that I came in contact with just absolutely fawned and fussed over him. They would tell stories of how Liam was such a curious baby, staring at any activity or at any one who was around him with those big bright eyes. He was absolutely well loved and well taken care of by his nurses and therapists and doctors in the NICU.

Sadly, in the end Liam’s little body couldn’t withstand all the curveballs that was thrown his way. As I saw him in his crib this past Thursday, it was pretty visible that he was declining. His color was much paler than usual and he was definitely less active than I was used to seeing him. But despite that, I could still see him fighting to stay with us. His heart continued to beat strongly and his oxygen levels continued to fool us until he took his very last breath.

“Why?,” J asked me many times that day. “Why now? Why after all this time?” That is the incomprehensible thing that we are all still trying to understand.

Now I can’t answer this question for everyone. However, tonight I will give you my answer to that question:

God gave us Liam for this short period of time for a reason. He sent Liam here for four months so we could get to know him and love him. So we could experience his love and witness his excitement for life. But most of all, Liam was sent here to teach us strength… specifically the strength to go on despite adversity.

Tonight and tomorrow … and even during any milestone in life, we will all mourn the loss of Liam and what his life could have been. However, I do think that we should all take comfort knowing that, despite his short life, Liam lived life to the fullest and with all the strength that he had. And we should follow Liam’s lead and do the same.