Category: Marriage

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Hips *DO* Lie

It’s been hot lately in Chicago. I mean, I’m not complaining. Considering how just a few months ago I was complaining how frickin’ cold it was outside.

Now that Hubby’s here with me permanently, I have to admit that I’ve been using him (and our car) as my primary means to get to work. Because sometimes getting to work in a sweltery mess (when I’m supposed to be lookin’ all professional and sh*t) is not always a pleasant thing. Yeah … like I’ve always said. I don’t “glisten” like most women do. I down and out sweat. Like a hog.

I’m spoiled, I know. In many counts. But in this scenario, the fact that I get  air-conditioned door-to-door “valet” service in the morning is wonderful. That, and the absolutely spectacular view I get of Lake Michigan every morning is downright overindulgence.

So yes, that’s how I find myself getting to listen to morning talk radio on the 7 mile/20 minute ride into work every morning. And truth be told, I have missed that part of my daily commute with my previous employment.

Morning talk radio is absolute smut. But seriously, that’s how I tend to get my latest celebrity gossip. (How do you think Hubby heard about the scheduled Johnny Depp appearance?) That, and my daily laughs of stupid conversation topics. Like the worst advice your parent may have given you. Or the worst back-handed compliment someone may have said to you.

That last one was spurred by the description Marlon Brando apparently made about Jackie Onassis in an unpublished passage of his biography. If you hadn’t heard the latest news, Brando and Jackie O. allegedly had an affair about a year after JFK was assassinated. He described her as having “boyish hips” and a “muscular frame.”

Now, as a non-girly girl, I don’t find anything offensive about that comment. But I suppose if I was seen as the fashion icon of the ’60’s … it would be considered a slap in the face.

And that’s how radio listeners began to call in with various back-handed compliments they had received in the past. One woman called in saying that a blind date told her over dinner that she was “stocky” and then made things worse by rescinding it back and calling her “healthy.”

Apron Strings on them "Child-bearing Hips"
Apron Strings on them "Child-bearing Hips"

Another woman called in about a shoe salesman who told her that her legs and ankles were “pretty thick.”

So of course I had to turn to Hubby and tell him the worse compliment that I can remember being told. And that was that I had excellent “child-bearing hips.”

For the life of me, I can’t remember who had told me that. But I do remember that it was prior to marrying Hubby. Which would mean that it would be before Hubby and I even started trying to “bear children.”

And even though I do have a large-ish ba-dunk-a-dunk, which is supported by them wide hips of mine … it still stings a bit when I remember that “compliment.” Especially after all the years of my hips failing to bear those children.

D*mnit. Shakira was wrong. Apparently, hips *do* lie.

Okay, so ‘fess up, blog world. What’s the worst compliment anyone has given to you?

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Emily Goes Stalkerazzi

293Oh yes. The day has come.

The day where Emily takes being a fan to another level. And becomes a fanatic.

But d*mn, was it worth it!

Let me paint the picture. As I’m busy at work earlier in the morning, preparing for a day chalk-ful of meetings and more meetings, I receive a phone call from Hubby.

“I know where you need to be later tonite,” Hubby tells me. And as I question him why, he tells me, “You need to be at the AMC River East tonite.”

“Because … ??”

“Because it’s the premiere of ‘Public Enemies‘ and Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are supposed to be there.”

“Really?!,” I just about screamed, as my cubicle neighbor looked up from shuffling songs on his iPod.

294“Really,” Hubby confirms.

And so that’s all I needed to hear. Hubby, the awesome husband that he is, met me after work and accompanied me to the downtown movie theatre off of Illinois Street in Chicago. And there, on the barricaded street, we waited along with the thousands of other fans.

Patience finally paid off as we started to see unmarked black SUV’s pull into the street. And a few moments later, we began to hear screams from the crowd. First Christian Bale came out to the crowd to sign some autographs. Then, after more screaming and a walk down the red carpet to the media tent … my man, Johnny Depp hit the street. And walked down to greet his fans.

Lucky me, happened to be towards the very end of the street where Johnny decided to begin his trip. And also lucky for me, I managed to be up against the barricade.

Oh yes, girls. I got face-to-face, up close and personal to the one celebrity my awesome husband once gave me permission to leave him for.

295As Johnny was about three fans away from me, I tried to help this tween-age girl move up to see Johnny and get his autograph. But then the crowd around us pushed us up against the barricade. Johnny happened to notice that and paused in front of us long enough to make sure she was okay before signing her book. Then as he looked at me through those blue-tinted sunglasses, he reached out and squeezed my arm.

Seriously, people. If Johnny asked me to run off with him to a faraway island at that very moment, I wouldn’t have given a second thought. (Sorry, Hubby. But you did give me permission … )

But of course, we all know Johnny wouldn’t have done that. And in reality, I could never leave the incredible man that is my husband. Because even though he doesn’t own a Caribbean island and make millions of dollars like Johnny does … I am absolutely in love with my Hubby; the one man who allows me to go all Stalkerazzi and still loves me for who I am.

And now, for your enjoyment (and mine) …


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The Zen of Yin and Yang

Anybody that has ever met me knows that I have two left feet.

Okay … so the Filipina in me can, at the very least, dance to a beat. But put me in a pair of heels (or heck, even flat shoes give me problems), and I can’t even walk a straight line without tripping.

I can even fall down while laying in bed. Seriously. Okay, so that part was really caused by Hubby turning over and taking all the blankets that I was lying on top of … but nonetheless, it was ME that fell on the floor.

290The other day, as Hubby and I strolled the streets of the Magnificent Mile, I contemplated how throughout my life I’ve always been at one extreme or the other. I’ve thought about how I’ve either been extremely happy or in the throws of despair. Or I’ve either totally loved my job or completely hated it to the point of quitting. Or I’ve felt completely optimistic about IVF to being downright pessimistic about my infertility.

And then I tripped. (D*mn Crocs on uneven pavement …)

After being caught by Hubby and subsequently asked how my “trip” was … I thought about the irony of my last “fall.” Tripping when contemplating how unbalanced my life is.

So after I regained my footing, I began to contemplate whether my life has always been unbalanced. Much like I’ve always had two left feet. Had I always seen things so black and white? Did I always approach life in a yin and yang type of manner?

291Hubby seems to think I do not. That I tend to see things in this manner only when there is some sort of major disruption in my life. Whether it’s IVF / Infertility or work-related issues … or even any “fun” situations like moving to Chicago or traveling to different places … it seems that I try to garner control of things by seeing them as “relative” yes or no situations. Right. Or wrong.

And looking back at any “interesting” moments in life, I realize that Hubby is absolutely right. The times in my life where I’ve had no control over any situation are the times that I felt most “unbalanced. Unfortunately, it’s also those type of situations that I always tend to focus on rather than the “uneventful” peaceful times in my life.

Why think about those lazy Sunday afternoons where Hubby and I sit at the local cafe and read, drink coffee and otherwise relax? Not when I can spend the time obsessing over whether or not I’m doing a good enough job in my new boss’s eyes. Why get excited over our recent move to the Windy City and all the new places we get to explore this summer when I can worry about whether I made the right decision to move? Why think about how d*mn unfair it is that other women can get pregnant at the drop of a hat when I can think about how much of an impact I may (or may not) have made on my nephew’s life?

292So after that last literal trip, I decided that I should focus on the wonderful aspect of every day life. And that I shouldn’t take for granted something as simple as Hubby catching my arm as I trip over my two left feet. Because it’s those little things … those every day wonderful thoughtful things that provide the balance that I need in those otherwise chaotic, uncontrollable moments in life.

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Time Warp

There’s a radio show on the Detroit airwaves that I love listening to on any given Sunday morning. It’s a show on a station that, back in the late 80’s/early 90’s, was the first major station to play alternative music. (And when I talk about alternative music … I’m not referring to the mainstream alterna-sh*t that gets played over and over again. I’m referring to music that was only played on college radio stations or late late night on local public radio.)

Unfortunately, since a certain company took over management of commercial airwaves, we’ve been relegated to a snippet of time on Sunday Mornings where this particular station can play that kind of classic alternative music. This show, of all things, is called Time Warp.

Sunday mornings have got to be one of my most favorite times during the week. It’s the time where I can either sleep in or wake up early and relish the absolute peace and quiet of the day. It’s the moment during the week where Hubby & I can go out for an early breakfast or a leisurely brunch. And well, having the ability to listen to “my kind” of alternative music during that moment in time? Well, it caps off what I could consider a perfect morning.

Why am I bringing this all up late on a Thursday night? Well, it’s because I’m resurrecting an old post from my other blog. And I’m doing that  … well, quite frankly because I haven’t had time to sit down and write a proper post since last week.

But I promise … a new one sometime this weekend.

Without further ado … here is my “Time Warp”:

***

As You Wish …

Also known as the “Not-So-Funny Thought of the Day“

Okay, so on one of the blogs I read there was discussion of favorite movies to watch. One of them mentioned that “The Princess Bride” was one of their favorite movies.

I totally agree. That movie probably ranks as one of my top movies of all time. If it’s ever on TV and I’m randomly flipping through channels, I would always settle on watching it again.

But then I thought (again, always a bad thing) of one of the most famous lines in that movie. Yes, you know … the one that Vizzini always says when he is utterly shocked, suprised and dismayed …

INCONCEIVABLE!

Wow. In the infertile world that I live in, that’s a pretty appropriate saying …

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Letting Go …

This past Sunday morning at our Michigan home was a rough one.

I should preface this by saying that the raggedness of that morning had absolutely nothing to do with the baptism we attended later on that day. Because I was actually looking forward to spending time with these good friends; a couple that experienced the roller coaster of infertility first hand. I was looking forward to meeting their daughter for the first time.

Nor did it have to do with spending time with those other family friends’ kids who are waaay too adorable. Because, believe me … seeing how these kids grew so much over the past six months was just plain fun. (Personally, the story about our friend’s two year old son placing a Vic.toria’s Secret bag on his head and walking around calling himself Opti.mus Pri.me was my absolute favorite!)

Nope, what made the morning rough was what I stumbled upon while cleaning off the top of our dresser.

And the thing is … I should have known better because it was in the same exact place I left it when I last stumbled upon this item.

Hubby happened to be there this time when I found the picture of our two would-be babies. And he noticed the subtle flinch I made as I picked it up and set it aside … this time to pack it away so that it would be “filed” somewhere safe, so as not to be lost while in the midst of our “final” move to Chicago.

And when Hubby asked me if I was okay, I told him the truth. I was okay for the moment, but I was sure that it would affect me at a later date. It could be tonite … or it could be next week.

As it turned out, I would have to face my feelings about my failed IVF at that very moment. Because that was the moment that Hubby stood next to me, picked up the snapshot and said, “I’m going to throw it away.”

“No,” I immediately responded. “Don’t.” And when Hubby asked me why, I responded “Because that’s the only picture I have of them.”

Them, meaning my babies. My one instance at biological motherhood I would ever experience. The one time I could ever say that I had babies inside of me. So what if my babies didn’t “stick”? So what if I never got my second pink line? Or an HCG level that would ever equate to a positive pregnancy test? That picture was everything that could have been. That picture harvested all those unfulfilled possibilities.

And even though that one and only IVF cycle failed … that picture showed that Hubby & I were able to create something (or rather three * “somethings”… even though we didn’t have a snapshot of our third) from the two of us. It was a testament what lengths Hubby & I traveled in order to have children created from our own flesh and blood.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hubby said in response. “We’ll always know what they mean to us.”

And because I had no smart reply to that, Hubby continued. “It’s time to move on,” he told me. “We need to keep moving forward.”

“D*mn it,” I remember thinking to myself. “He’s right.” But rather than acknowledge it (after all, I am stubborn), I continued cleaning off the dresser.

That is, until Hubby snuck up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “It’s time,” he repeated.

“I know,” I finally said to him as he picked up the picture from where I last placed it on the dresser.

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Our Two Little "Somethings" ...

“So I can throw it away?,” Hubby asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But do it quickly before I change my mind.” And then as he took the picture and walked towards the trash can, I turned the other way.

“I can’t watch,” I told Hubby.

I listened to Hubby slowly walk away from me and pause by the bedroom door. Where the trash can was. And after a quick rustle of paper, the picture was gone.

*****

I blocked that moment out of my mind for the rest of the day; busy with two parties, the one baptism I mentioned above and the other a birthday party for my aunt. Both at buffet restaurants, may I add. (Still. So. Stuffed.) Then it was the long drive back to Chicago so I could work in the morning.

It wasn’t until Hubby & I dropped my cousin off (who bummed a ride with us to attend our Aunt’s party) that Hubby and I talked about our “babies” again. And how hard it still was for me to let them “go.”

That’s when Hubby turned to me and told me that it was hard for him too. Hard for him to throw away the picture. Harder for him to let go than he thought.

And as sad as that moment was for me, there was that little sliver of hope … that small glimmer of light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. Because even though our car was packed with stuff we were moving from our old house to our new “home” in Chicago … the weight in my heart felt just a smidge lighter.

I guess this means I’m actually letting go.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

* Our third “something” was a lone blastocyte that was frozen. Hubby and I had hoped that more blastocytes would have survived the initial IVF procedure so that we would have the ability to try a “frozen cycle.”