Category: My Tribe

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Hearts A-Flutter

Well, I know I’ve been pretty down for the past few posts. But I decided that today I’d try to be a bit cheerier. Especially since it’s Valentine’s Day.

Never mind that it was my day off and I didn’t bother getting out of bed until well after noon. Or that I had little energy to do anything other than to run to the kitchen and bathroom for necessary activities.

Another Sketch by
My Talented Hubby

But the wonderful thing about that was I spent the morning snuggling with the kitties, reading some blogs, and watching some great TV (classic episodes of ER with Drs. Greene, Ross, Benton and Lewis along with Carol).

And tonite, Hubby is taking me out to dinner. That’s in addition to the roses he had delivered at work yesterday. (Woo-hoo! I trumped the “I’m a new Grandma” ooh’s & ahh’s … how bad am I?) I am truly very lucky and blessed to have married such a wonderful man.

So Hubby … if I don’t tell you enough, I love you and I’m so happy that you are in my life. You are my world and words aren’t enough to express exactly how much your love mean to me. Your strength and patience with me means more than you’ll ever know. You hold the key to my heart.

Happy Valentines Day!

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Our (Mutt of a) Family

My coworker’s dog (JJ) has cancer. She and her husband had been treating him holistically through supplements and a special diet. JJ was doing so well on it that during his last check-up, his cancer all but disappeared. Unfortunately, he recently went in to the vet for a random visit and it was found that his cancer is back.

This is our “baby,” Yami

Naturally, my coworker and her husband were very upset. This was their child, their first dog together. They, too, weren’t able to have any children of their own and therefore treated all their pets as if they were their kids. So they took JJ to a “doggie oncologist” to determine what their next course of action would be. The options this specialist presented to them were three-fold; give JJ chemotherapy, do surgery to remove the tumors, or do a combination of both. All those options would be expensive, as one would expect. While their final decision has yet to be made, (based on success rate and life expectancy) they are leaning towards solely doing surgery.

While my coworker and I were discussing the different options, it brought me back to a similar situation I had about four years ago. Hubby had called me at work one afternoon and sounded panicked. He told me that he thought something was wrong with our cat, Rain. She kept meowing and wouldn’t get off the couch. When he went to pick her up, she would howl whenever he touched her hind leg.

And this is our “teenager,” Rain

To give you an idea of how much Rain means to me … she, is the oldest of our three pets (two cats, one dog) that we currently have at home. If she was human, this November she would be able to vote in the presidential election (while she wasn’t eligible to vote in the MI primary this past January), that’s how old she is. She is older than my husband and I have been married. She is my first cat. Ever. She moved in with ME when I got my first apartment. And Hubby moved in with US in that apartment after we got married. And just like my co-worker, Rain is by all means, one of the three pets that Hubby & I call our “kids.”

So when I got that phone call, I rushed home to look at her and promptly called our vet who directed us to the “Pet ER.” As we sat in the waiting room, all I could think of how much pain my kitty was in. And how every time she looked at me, it was as if she was telling me to make it better. Eventually we were taken back and x-rays were taken. She had somehow shattered her femur. At that time we were given three options: have surgery to correct her fractures, amputate her leg (cheaper than fixing the fracture), or put her to sleep. Thank goodness the vet had enough sense to give Hubby & I a moment alone to discuss these options. I remember looking over at my husband at that time and just feeling completely overwhelmed. He smartly said at that moment, “We will do what needs to be done.” And that meant having the surgery.

Oh, did I fail to mention that during this exact time Hubby & I were in the midst of our one and only IVF treatment? Uh … yeah. So not only were we spending massive amounts of money in drugs and tests, etc (again, no insurance coverage in MI. Grr …) but we were going to drop another couple grand just to have our cat’s leg fixed.

And here’s is our 10 year old “puppy,” Kozzy

Were we nuts to do that? To spend that much more money on a cat that wasn’t “technically” our child? Especially since I was (at that time) by all means, pregnant with two embies inside of me?

While I still wonder to this day if the stress that I was under during that period of time was what caused me to lose our babies, I do NOT regret having made the decision to have the surgery to correct Rain’s leg. She is, by all means part of this (mutt of a) family and I wasn’t going to amputate her leg or put her to sleep over something that was easily correctable. And, honestly, if we had made any other decision, I think that even if our IVF attempt WAS successful I would have felt complete and utter sadness for Rain.

As it stands right now at this very moment … just like me coworker, our pets … our Yami, Kozzy & Rain … ARE our children. The miracles of life that we weren’t able to produce on our own.

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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!!

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"Exit Game or Continue?"

The news of my SIL’s latest pregnancy had got me thinking about second chances. Not that becoming pregnant four months after Liam passed away is anything but a “second chance.” I mean, I know that no one or nothing is ever going to replace the love that she has for Liam. But I do have to say, she is very lucky to be able to have another child. And she is truly blessed to be given an opportunity to “reset” her course in life. I truly hope and pray that this pregnancy is much more smoother than her pregnancy with Liam.

I just wish that with infertility, there was also a way to have some sort of “second chance.” Sure, there is always the ability to go through more procedures and take more medications in order to assist with procreation. But that isn’t my point. I wish there was a way that I could clear out my tubes, fluff up my uterus, and pump up my ovaries … all at the touch of a button. Kinda like a reset button on any game system like the Nintendo Wii or Playstation.

But it doesn’t work like that, does it? It’s not that simple. With going through any ART (assisted reproductive therapy), it’s a matter of deliberation & discussion, finances and timing. What’s the best procedure out there for you? Can you afford to do any of these procedures (as many states still do not mandate insurance companies to pay for certain ART procedures)? Where are you at during this time in your life … in other words, can you afford to take the time off from work to follow the strict regimen and timing of your cycles?

And let’s not even get into the discussion of adoption … okay, well yeah … I guess I will because that, too, requires a lot of deliberation, discussion and finances.

I can tell you from my current emotional status of taking baby steps towards adoption that it’s overwhelming. International vs. Domestic? Both of them are very different types of programs with different set of rules. International programs include so many different countries with so many different government regulations. Domestic adoptions have their own separate nuances: open vs. semi-open? Or basically, how involved do you want the birth family to be with your child? Then of course, there’s always the thought that maybe the birth parents might change their minds. Either way, it’s incredibly terrifying to me to think of how much scrutiny that Hubby & I will be under with whichever program we decide on.

Really, I guess with the whole adoption thing (since I know that this is my next step), I wish there was a way to NOT go through the whole Home Study portion of it. My cultural background as as Asian-American has always leaned towards being more of a private person. We’re not apt to open up so quickly in front of complete strangers. (Now, on line or blogging … different story, for me anyway.) I know the logical reason WHY this needs to be done; it’s obviously for the protection of the prospective child that we might adopt. But then the one thought that keeps running in my mind is that if I was pregnant with my OWN biological child, I wouldn’t be under such scrutiny. That’s when I REALLY wish I could hit that reset button.

So given all that’s involved and all that I have been through with ART, I have to say I am actually pretty amazed I chose to “Continue” on this crazy infertility game rather than choosing to “Exit” or quit. I just hope I continue to have the energy to keep moving forward.

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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.