Category: Catholicism

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Find out what it means to me …

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me

— Aretha Franklin, “Respect“

There are many different definitions for “Respect.” In linguistics, “Respect” belongs to three different classes of words; noun, adjective and verb.

For this post’s purpose, I’ve chosen the verb form of this word.

re·spect [ri-spekt]

–verb (used with object)

  1. to hold in esteem or honor: I cannot respect a cheat
  2. to show regard or consideration for: to respect someone’s rights.
  3. to refrain from intruding upon or interfering with: to respect a person’s privacy.
  4. to relate or have reference to.

A subject of “heated” debate occurred recently within our family. I’m sure a lot of this had to do with the fact that we are all physically and emotionally exhausted from the past three weeks of nonstop activity. Basically what it boiled down to is that apparently I was not showing respect for this particular family member.

I feel I need to preface this by, once again, stating that I am Filipino-American. My parents were both born in the Philippines and my brother & I were born here in the U.S. The reason I felt I needed to bring this up again is because many times I feel like I’ve been brought up in two different worlds. And in these two different worlds, the word “Respect” can differ.

In my “Filipino world,” definition # 1 would be the best use of the word “Respect.” My culture places high emphasis on family hierarchy. The older you are, the more respect you are given. There are many Filipino customs that are specifically meant to show respect to your elders from using a title in front of your older sibling (“Kuya” for a brother, or “Ate” for a sister), to the physical act of greeting elder relatives when they enter a room (a term called “Mano po”). In fact, when speaking to an elder in Tagalog (the Filipino language), it is expected that you add the suffix “po” to most phrases to show respect to them.

In short, “Respect” in the Filipino culture is something that is given to you by right. It’s something that is expected to be given to your parents, your grandparents, your godparents, your older siblings. And because the Filipino “family” is extended to include all relatives and even in-laws … somehow, some where down the line (even if you’re the youngest in your immediate family), you will be shown respect.

In my “American world,” I primarily think that respecting someone (or something like the environment, for example) pertains to definition # 2 above. I feel that respect is something that is earned by showing respect to others … to consider other’s positions, to show empathy for other’s situations. By being successful in doing these (not-so) simple acts, I feel that not only have I earned a person’s trust but I’ve earned their respect as well. Because now, I would hope that in turn, they would show some concern or empathy for whatever situation I might be in … they would respect me.

In short, I think “Respect” goes hand-in-hand with Christianity’s Golden Rule: “… do to others what you would have them do to you.” (Yes, the Catholic School Girl in me is coming out again.) To me, this also means “Respect” goes both ways.

So why the “heated debate”? Well, how am I to blend both these definitions of “Respect” into a bi-cultural household? One way is given by right. The other one is earned. Then … because of 12 years of Catholic school … throw in the whole “Ten Commandments“, specifically the fifth one as it was pointed out to me, and things can get (just a little) sticky.

The Filipino-Catholic in me strongly believes that those older than I am do deserve respect, as they have more life experiences (but not necessarily more wisdom) than I do. Giving them the opportunity to talk and dispense advice (whether it’s good or not), is a way for me to show respect. Although I might not participate in the typical Filipino customs of showing respect (can’t speak the language, and hey … my brother and older cousins HATED be called “Kuya” or “Ate”), I feel that by being polite and showing sincerity to any of my elders is the way I can show that entitled respect.

The American in me, however, has a hard time showing respect to others that don’t reciprocate that respect. How can you show respect to someone who constantly ignores your opinions or suggestions? Or how can you be respectful to someone who won’t stop their angry tirade long enough to hear you speak? They might be your Filipino elders, but wouldn’t you be just as angry and hurt if it was, for example, your boss or a fellow co-worker who was treating you like this? Would you give that person any respect?

What would you do if you lived in my bi-cultural world? What does “Respect” mean to YOU? And who do you think deserves respect in your world?

Sing it, Aretha …

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Caring for the Heart

So it’s a go. Cardiac cath is scheduled at noon for my Dad today. I’m just hoping that everything will go smoothly and all the docs and nurses and anyone that takes care of him today do the best job that they can.

Ugh. I’m feeling so frustrated right now. Mostly because there is only so much I can do for my Dad at this moment other than just be there for him. The nurse in me wants to do more to help him but yet I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. Because believe me, when working the floors I absolutely HATED when visiting family members pulled out the “I’m a doctor”- or “I’m a nurse”- card, thinking that was going to scare me into making “triple”-sure I was doing the absolute correct thing.

But other than unrealistically flying Dad out to the best cardiology center in the US, I do have faith and confidence that he is getting the best treatment possible at this hospital at this exact time. The best I can do as a nurse is be there to explain to my Dad and Mom exactly what is going on and what to expect … basically be there to translate medical jargon into plain old-fashion English. That, and advocate for them exactly what their fears and concerns and needs are as a patient and his wife.

At the same time, poor Hubby has also been sick with a nasty cold. Which, if there was only more hours in the day, I would be babying him like he does for me when I’m sick. Unfortunately with yesterday being spent at the hospital, I’ve had no time to make him soup or hot tea and just generally be there for him. And I feel like such a horrible wife for that.

I bet y’all are saying … “WTF, Em? You advocate and care for your parents and Hubby, but you don’t advocate for yourself.” The past week (and previous posts) being prime example of not thinking of what’s the best thing for my own health.

Well, I have to tell you … and if you don’t know this by now … Nurses are notorious for not taking care of their own health. I think it’s in any person who chooses Nursing as a profession to care for others before caring for themselves. For me it’s not meant to be a self-sacrifice type of thing; it’s more that I feel that others needs appear to be more important and more urgent than my own. Then throw in the whole Catholic and Asian-American thing and it’s a golden opportunity for feeling the guilt.

Yes, I know it’s not always healthy. And I know that I do need to take care for myself before I can take care of anyone else. Every nurse gives that same schpiel to any of their co-workers (how’s that for the pot calling the kettle black?). But we’re a stubborn lot. We’re definitely a “Do as I say, not as I do” group.

I’m working on it though. This past year has been an exercise of learning to take care of myself. And think of my needs as a priority to others. I’m learning to say NO when I can’t take on anymore than I physically or emotional can. And I’m trying my darndest NOT to feel so damn guilty for doing so.

Right now? All my energy is focused on taking care of my Dad. Because that takes priority. Thanks for all your warm thoughts and prayers.

And if you can, say a quick one for Hubby, too. Because, he too, deserves the best.

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Magic 8 Ball Predictions

The first draft of this post was actually quite upbeat and positive … how despite where I wanted to be in life by now, Mother Nature obviously decided to take a different path. And I was going to be okay with it. But then I had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today and well …

When I was little, I used to ask my mom for a sister. I desperately wanted to have someone to share a room with, not to mention sharing secrets and clothes and shoes (must have been all those after-school reruns of the Brady Bunch). What I knew little of back then was that my mom wasn’t able to have any more children after I was born. In fact, she was supposedly very lucky to even have any children at all, let alone my brother and me. She had such severe endometriosis that, back in the day, they didn’t think she would have much success with getting pregnant. Shortly after I was born, she had her hysterectomy to stop her endometriosis from getting any worse.

I was told the whole story when I was in high school, after having gone through yet another painful period. My mom asked me back then whether or not my cramps were bad enough that I’d want to go on birth control. Which, when I think of it now, was pretty progressive of her to do that … especially given the fact that we were Filipino (remember previous posts about how “private” we are?) and my mom was (and still is) deeply rooted in Catholicism (ahem … remember natural family planning?). Even back then, I had no inclination to be on the pill.

So my senior year in high school, a bunch of us were coming up with predictions for ourselves; kind of a “Magic 8 Ball” prediction in where we saw ourselves in ten years. Would we be successful in our careers? Would we be happily married? Would we have lots of kids? Some had said they’d be happily married with the 2.5 kids and the dog. Others said that they’d have a wildly successful career, yet single or divorced.

As for me … I can clearly remember saying that I would be happily married (“It is certain”) with a relatively successful job, but not one that I was completely passionate about (“Signs point to Yes”). And … having problems getting pregnant (“Outlook not so good”).

I’m sure it’s probably because by then I knew about my mom’s past medical history. But the other part of my prediction was that I would have at least one of my children before I was thirty. Thirty was the magic year because my mom and I were just about that many years apart and I absolutely HATED that there was not only the generational gap between us, but a cultural gap as well. I didn’t want to be so out of touch with my own children and therefore thought that by having them before thirty, I would be closer to their generation.

Well here I am, about to turn thirty-six this year and STILL childless.

And to top it off, I just had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today. The one to go over the results of my latest US, et al in regards to the increase in pain and bloating with each cycle. And well … as suspected, without doing any “looky-see” surgery, it appears that my endometriosis is back. So now it’s time to go back on Lupron. Back to being void from any emotion, except for the extreme highs or lows. Back to having no chance AT ALL at being pregnant. Basically, no ability to have any glimmer of hope. At least for the next three months. And then maybe another three months after that.

On an upswing … at least I won’t have any “oh geez … can you just kill me now because this must be what hell in a uterus feels like” pain for now.

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It's the Most _____ Time of the Year

Hubby at a local bookstore wearing
an Emily knitted creation

Fill in the blank:

A) Wonderful
B) Stressful
C) Overwhelming
D) Heart-breaking

Trick question. Actually it’s all of the above.

Don’t get me wrong. I do love the holiday season. There is definitely something magical in the air this time of the year. But then there’s the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by what needs to be done before Christmas Eve. There’s putting up the decorations (still not done), sending out Christmas cards (uh, yeah … also not done), shopping for gifts (not even a third done), and then wrapping all the gifts (not even close).

If that’s not overwhelming enough, then the thought of heading out to the local mall to do some shopping is enough to send me over the edge in the stress department. Ugh. Just trying to find a parking spot gets my (already high) blood pressure rising. And then some people are just absolutely rude when you’re in the stores. I’m not talking about the salespeople either, if you catch my drift.

However outside of any type of shopping area, people are actually very friendly, very giving and very much in the holiday spirit. In fact, I actually enjoy going into work during this time of the year for multiple reasons (one of which I will explain a little later), especially because all the Christmas decorations are all up and there’s always Christmas music playing in our main foyer. Our department tends to do little holiday things, like “Secret Santa’s,” and ornament exchanges and even cube-decorating contests. Not to mention the constant stream of goodies that come in from different vendors each day.

And if going to work doesn’t get me in the mood, then certainly my husband does. He absolutely loves Christmas time. I think it’s mainly because it’s the time of the year that very much reflects his personality. He is so absolutely a giving person. He loves to give gifts to people and doesn’t expect anything in return. The reason he likes to do this is mostly to see what their reactions would be to each present that’s opened; especially because he puts a lot of thought into each gift. I know. I’ve been the receiver of such gifts for many many years … he’s always been an awesome shopper when it comes to me. And because he has such a wonderful outlook on the holiday season, you can’t help but be affected by his attitude.

Strange Guy (holding a Santa) on a
Suburban Detroit Street Corner

But then there’s me. Always Mrs. Pessimistic. Seriously, I don’t think I was always like this. But as I’ve alluded to in past posts, I believe that experiences in my life have taught me to be this way. Up until last holiday season, I would remember feeling very tentative and anxious as Christmas would approach. It’s because Christmas, like any other major event or holiday throughout the year would remind me exactly what I was missing in my life. Every birthday would remind me that I was yet another year older and that another year had past where I didn’t reach my goal of becoming a mom. My wedding anniversary was a reminder that I still didn’t have that family that I dreamt about on the day I got married. And let’s not even get into the whole “Hallmark Holidays,” like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.

Christmas has always been especially difficult. I believe it’s because this holiday is all about children and family. (Yes Mom, my good Catholic school girl background DOES know that “Jesus is the reason for the Season.” But this is different … ) It’s the time of year where children’s faces brighten with the thought of Santa and of presents. And the time of year when plans are made to reunite with both immediate and/or distant family members to celebrate. I have fond memories of Christmas Eve as a child, excited to be with cousins and exchanging presents with loved ones.

I think it’s only natural to want to continue to do the same thing the older you get. You want to experience making those memories with your own children. You want to see the faces of wonder and joy in their eyes as they see the Christmas tree brimming with presents and their stockings stuffed with goodies. The problem with being infertile is that you don’t have those kids. And when spending time with your family (as well as your husband’s), you can’t help but associate the holidays with some bittersweet emotions.

Last Christmas was incredibly difficult. Truth be told, I totally dreaded the whole season to the point where I didn’t even want to put up our tree. I purposely did not take time off from work during the holidays and volunteered to cover the assignments for those that did take time off just so I could keep myself busy. I threw myself into knitting presents for family members to distract me from the fact that I would be facing all of my husband’s family who would be so excited about his sister’s pregnancy. It wasn’t until December 23rd that my patient and wonderful husband convinced me to decorate our tree in order to get me in the holiday spirit (which, of course, worked like a charm. Smart hubby … ).

Our Kitty Cat, Rain. Doesn’t she
look thrilled to be wearing a Santa Hat?

So this holiday season, especially with all that happened this past year, I’m trying to change my outlook on things. Rather than be pessimistic, I’m trying to be cautiously optimistic. I’m taking what I’ve learned over the last year and trying to think positive. And although I’m still stressed (still have shopping to do) and overwhelmed (maybe those cards aren’t getting mailed this year) with what still needs to be done, I am going to remember that Christmas IS supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.

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Happy Pomegranate Week

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. And as I suspected, I am not aware of anything that the Archdiocese of Detroit is doing to “celebrate” this week. (Although, is there really anything to celebrate about infertility?) Ironically though, if one was interested in sending their children to Catholic schools in the area, the Archdiocese has designated today as “Open House” day for all the Catholic schools. Hmmm… if I HAD any children, I would probably be taking part of this event. But alas …

So knowing that my faith wasn’t doing anything to promote this week, I went online to see if there was anything locally going on this week. What did my search yield? That there was absolutely NOTHING happening in and around the great city of Detroit. Actually, I didn’t find anything within the whole state of Michigan. And I EVEN checked the Resolve website. Pretty darn sad, if you ask me. So it’s no wonder why infertility as a chronic disease is just not something that many people are willing to discuss. (And I DO mean a chronic disease, like diabetes or cancer. In my humble opinion, infertility is a disease that requires a lifestyle adjustment.)

That’s why I decided to rename this week “Pomegranate Week” instead.

Why Pomegranate? In a movement started via blogging, the idea of having a symbol for those who have experienced or currently experiencing infertility evolved. This led to a lengthy discussion about a symbol that would identify other “infertiles” from one another as well as perhaps a catalyst to discussing infertility to those who might question what the symbol was about. Eventually what this group came up with was a simple thread, the color of pomegranate. This thread, which was to be tied along the right wrist as a bracelet, could be as simple or as ornate as the wearer wanted it to be. And thus this movement became known as “Infertility’s Common Thread.”

I could go on and on about the history of how this came about and all the symbolism to it. However, I think the original statement that was written by a fellow “infertile” says it best:

Pomegranates, a longstanding symbol of fertility, serve as a strong analogy to those suffering through infertility. Though each pomegranate skin is unique in colour and texture, the seeds inside are remarkably similar from fruit to fruit. Though our diagnosis is unique — endometriosis, low sperm count, luteal phase defect, or causes unknown — the emotions, those seeds on the inside, are the same from person to person. Infertility creates frustration, anger, depression, guilt, and loneliness. Compounding these emotions is the shame that drives people suffering from infertility to retreat into silence.

In addition, the seeds represent the multitude of ways one can build their family: natural conception, treatments, adoption, third-party reproduction, or even choosing to live child-free.

The pomegranate thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through A.R.T., families created through adoption, or couples trying to conceive during infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility. Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware.

NOT a Kabbalah Bracelet

So a few weeks ago, I went out and bought my pomegranate colored thread (DMC embroidery floss # 814). And yesterday, I finally made my bracelet. Today, I wear it proudly and if anyone should ask, I would gladly share a discussion with them.

For my fellow Infertility Friends, Happy Pomegranate Week!