Category: Marriage

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Little Black Spot on the Sun

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.

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Love & Coffee (sans Cigarettes)

The other day, Hubby & I hung out at one of the local coffee houses that we frequent. We’re there so much that the baristas definitely know us by now. In fact, the minute we walked into this particular cafe, the barista asked to see the scarf I had been crocheting (well over two months ago, by the way … before Dad was in the hospital) for Hubby. Wow. I guess we’re that recognizable.

While placing our drink orders, this particular barista asked me how long Hubby & I had been married. She chuckled as I turned to Hubby and said, “How long has it been?” (Yeah … I actually had to stop and think about it.) She was suprised to find out that it would be twelve years this coming August, especially because we looked so “young!” (Ah … the “curse” of being Asian American … hated it in college, but loving it now!)

She then went on to share with me that she had been married for 12 years and just recently got divorced just over a year ago. While some days she gets sad that she spent so much time of her life with him, she knows that it was for the best. But the thing that gets her down is that she seems to think that maybe marriage wasn’t in the cards for her.

Of course I disagreed. Because if there’s one thing that I am, I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe that there is definitely someone out there for everyone … it’s just a matter of when it happens. And sometimes it happens later rather than sooner.

I shared with her that Hubby was my first date ever! Of course, it was strictly “as friends” that we went to Homecoming together during my Junior year in high school. And it wasn’t until after high school that we finally started dating officially. What I told this barista, though, was that I knew even back then during Homecoming, that I was supposed to be with Hubby. I was just too freaked out at sixteen to think that this was supposed to be the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. And I fought tooth and nail to keep us as “just friends.” But thank goodness I came to my senses and, well … we know what happened in the end.

I feel so lucky and blessed that I was able to find the love of my life at such an early age. I know that if anything (God forbid) should happen where I would find myself single again, I would be absolutely devastated. That, and since I never knew how to work the “singles scene,” I’m sure I’d find myself very very lonely. So for those out there that have struggled or are even still struggling to find the love of their lives, I can honestly empathize with you. And I sincerely mean that.

Because to want something SO badly and not have it within your reach … well I can certainly understand that.

This is the reason why some days I feel like infertility is the “cross” I’ve been given to bear. Here I’ve been fortunate to be given my soul mate at such an early age; someone to spend the rest of my life with. In exchange, the struggle I’ve been given is the difficulty to produce my own biological child.

It’s not much, but that reasoning is something that I use to help me get through each day … each cycle … each year that Hubby & I remain childless

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A Taxing Kind of Day

Well, I have to admit, this year Hubby & I once again cut it close to the tax deadline. At least this year, we got done a whole day beforehand. Last year, we e-filed for the first time and were literally hitting the “send” button within half an hour before midnight. And while we kept getting “server error” on the other end, Hubby & I were literally freaking out that our taxes would be filed too late. But alas … things worked out. So this year … we aimed to complete our taxes a whole day before it was due. Oh yeaaah … we’re total overachievers! 😛

I do have to admit though, I hate doing our taxes. No. Really. I do. It’s not so much that it’s a pain in the rear to do (because it is). It’s more because it’s like a refresher of all the activities that had happened in the past year. We itemize every year, so we’re constantly referring back to everything we’ve done, purchased, sold etc over the year. “Ah … we flew to Portland for a wedding that month … that’s why there were so many purchases!” OR “Oohhh … that’s the month I received a bonus check from work!” It’s like re-living each purchase that you bought over the year. Or realizing how much was spent on gas and car repairs over the year. (Hubby commutes and hour and a half each way every day. Can you imagine that expense?!) And once again, Hubby & I realize that we spend A LOT of money at the local Border’s Bookstore. I’d say that we should try to break that habit … but it’s actually a habit that I quite enjoy.

Really, the major reason I hate doing taxes is because of the whole “no kids” thing. No person to claim as dependents. No children to get that little extra “tax break.” And because we’re “relatively” successful in our line of work but still are not that successful that we can buy another house or invest any “extra money” elsewhere, we always end up having to owe money rather than get a federal refund. Geesh … nothing like hitting us below the belt TWICE. Once for reminding us that we’re childless. And the other for making us PAY more taxes because we’re childless.

Yep. No tax breaks for us “DINKs.” (That’s yuppie-speak for “Dual Income, No Kids.”)

Remember Shrinky Dinks?

Oh sure there are tax breaks for adoption. But then this goes back to the whole being successful, but not that successful at our jobs. In other words we’re not CEO’s at our jobs. Nor are we any type of “upper management” type persons at our place of employment. And no … we don’t have any “spare cash” lying around to finance an adoption. Yeah … that aspect and the one where I’m still not emotionally strong enough to go through the adoption process is THE BIG reasons why we haven’t been rushing head-first into adoption.

And yes, I am very well aware about the tax break one gets for medical expenses if I should choose to back down the ART (Assistive Reproductive Technology; in vitro fertilization, for example) route. We did, in fact, utilize this tax break when filing for the year that we did our one IVF round. However, this goes back to the whole “reliving the last year of your life” thing.

Let me explain. Hubby & I did our IVF cycle in Feb/March of 2004. When that cycle failed, I was naturally devastated and extremely sad. As we worked on our taxes for 2003 later that March, we knew that we were going to owe federal taxes once again. So after spending all this money on a failed IVF endeavor AND still having to pay taxes … well it was a killer. I can clearly remember that day, because as we worked on our taxes … what should come in the mail? Yep, one of the last major bills we still had to pay for that IVF cycle. It was also the same day and at the same exact time that I finally broke down in hysterical sobs over the phone with my Mom. Because before then, the only person that bothered to know exactly how miserable I felt about the failed IVF cycle was Hubby.

So flash forward a year later in 2005, when once again we’re preparing our taxes. That year we knew we’re going to get a refund based on all the medical expenses for the IVF cycle we had in 2004. But each bill we found and each receipt for prescriptions we tallied, the more and more I started to feel sad. Not because of the amount we paid for everything … it’s more because each item brought back a specific memory of that one cycle. And ultimately when all was tallied … to know that we spent THAT much for a failed cycle, well … it just plainly SUCKED.

So there you go. The reason I hate taxes. Makes me want to throw some dough (no, not the money variety) on the wall and scream (a-la-Maggie Gyll.enhall in “Stranger Than Fiction”), “GET BENT, TAXMAN!”

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Okay, so I just reread my post, and I feel compelled to add one more thing (and then I’m done ranting … I swear!!): Although the outcome of the IVF wasn’t what we wanted … I still have no regrets for at least trying this medical route. I know I needed to try this step in making our family before I went on to the next. Ironically, I’ve since then become stuck between this step and the next.

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Me, Bartleby and Ta.rzan

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.

*
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?!

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Un-Veiled

First of all, I just wanted to say “Thank You!!” for all the bloggy-love as I officially celebrated my first blogiversary yesterday. I am truly lucky to have such great blog friends!! Reading your blogs and especially your comments to my posts have definitely got me through this past year …. -)

Moving on …

To shake things up at work, our bosses decided to do something different. Today was “Hat Day,” where we could all wear a silly hat, a nice spring hat, or even a “Cat in the Hat” hat. What did I decide to wear? Well … check it out!

 

Yikes! Check out the luggage under my eyes!

Okay, so it wasn’t silly or spring-y … but I figured, “Hey! When am I ever going to have the occasion to wear my wedding veil again?” What I really wanted to do was wear a simple white dress and white patent leather shoes with white tights and be a “First Communion” gal. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?

Over the weekend while at my parents’ house, I went into their cedar closet and dug my veil out of the plastic bag it was in. (Yes, the wedding dress is still hanging in there, too. You think after 11-plus years I might actually get it preserved …) So rather than post our wedding picture once again … and as an homage to my Dad, I figure I’d post this picture of our Father-Daughter dance. (Plus, I think it shows off the details of my dress and veil a little more than our wedding pic … okay, maybe not!)


Dad & I danced to "Unforgettable"

But seriously … at work when I brought out my veil, many of my co-workers thought I was nuts to do so. “What about keeping it nice and preserved?” or “Don’t you want to keep it safe for when your daughter gets married?” Even when I correct them and say, “I don’t have any children” or “There isn’t a daughter to pass it down to” they always say smugly all-knowingly, “You never know …”

“Duh,” methinks to myself, “You’re right. I’ll never know. And damnit, you don’t know either.”

Do people honestly think that it’s easy for me to think in those terms?! “You never know…” Is this supposed to give me some sort of hope that maybe in the future, I will be able to pass on my bridal veil and/or my bridal gown to my future daughter?

Do they know that this is one of the things that I fear I’ll never be able to experience? To be able to be a “mother of the bride” or to see my husband have his moment in walking his daughter down the aisle? To possibly even have grandchildren?


Yes, this is me ...

Sheesh, I’m still trying to get over my fear of not ever being able to dress a nursery, let alone buy baby clothes for a baby that may never come. Or seeing our child go through his or her First Communion. Trying to imagine anything past those moments just seems (and no pun intended) inconceivable.

Okay. Enough of my ranting. Really, I was actually just trying to post a funny post and it turned into this.

Hmmm … must be the damn Lupron that’s got me hot under the collar, literally and figuratively (damn hot flashes)!