Category: Spirituality

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Political Non-Pundit

I am no political expert.

In fact, I’m probably furthest from that. However, I do like to keep myself pretty well informed. Especially because Election Day is now less than a week away. And seeing as this was one h*ll of a presidential campaign run, it’s hard not to want to be well-informed.

(Sidenote: It’s times like this, that I reaaallly miss Tim Russert. He just had an excellent way of explaining politics that made it fascinating. Election night coverage will not be the same without him …)

Anyways, I strongly believe in the right to vote. After all, democracy (and, a-hem … not free market) is what this country was founded on. And while I agree that campaigning is needed in order to promote a candidate’s platform, I don’t agree when someone tries to tell you how to vote. That, of course, does not mean that people aren’t allowed to debate with each other about who they support or don’t support a particular candidate.

Anybody notice how McCain & Palin are both in the same size font ...

Let me reiterate that one more time. I don’t agree when someone tries to tell you how to vote.

And why am I bringing this up now? Well of course, it’s because I have a story to tell.

Last Tuesday I dropped my parents off at the airport. They were on their way to Turkey and Greece to participate on a tour based on the travels of St. Paul. (Uh huh … you probably already know where this is going.) Because my car has been acting up, I suggested that we take their car to the airport. That way they could pack the car while waiting for me to drive over to their house.

So the drive to the airport was a smooth ride. So smooth that I considered “borrowing” their car for the two weeks they would be away. Never mind that she had a rosary (and a Franciscan Tau) hanging off her rear view mirror … I would have totally “borrowed” it for a couple weeks. The conversation was light. As we just got back from my cousin’s wedding, we talked about how great it was to be in the same room with everyone again.

It wasn’t until we got to the airport curb where the main part of my story takes place. As we were pulling out their luggage from the trunk, I glanced down at the bumper sticker that she’s had on her bumper forever (“Love a Franciscan: 2B1 Ask 1″) and chuckled like I always did when I spotted it. (As I’ve said in the past, my mom is very strong in her Catholic faith.) But then I glanced to the right of that sticker and saw a “Vote No on Proposal 2” bumper sticker. (More on Prop 2 in a bit.)

After helping them unload their luggage, I turned to give Dad a hug and kiss. And as I lean in to give my mom her hug, she pushes my hair off my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “Don’t forget to vote for McCain. And don’t forget to vote No on 2.” In which I promptly kissed her on her cheek and wished her a safe and fun trip. I briefly shook my head afterwards and thought, “Yup, should have seen that coming.”

For those of you that aren’t familiar, Michigan’s Prop 2 is a proposal to allow for embryonic stem cell research within the state. In the past, my mom and I have had conversations about stem cell research. My mom, of course being a devout Catholic does not support any type of stem cell research (and yes, of course she’s a “Right to Life” person as well).

And myself? Well the truth is, I’m still trying to determine how I feel about it; which is exactly what I told her. And that’s because of my own personal experience with our one and only IVF cycle and the one lone blastocyte that was left for us to freeze (to see what happened to that one embie … click here).

... While Obama is clearly larger (and in a more prominent color) than Biden?
... while Obama is clearly larger (and in a more prominent color) than Biden?

However, after that little bit at the airport … I felt myself fighting off every urge to vote Yes, just to cancel out her vote. But I won’t do that. I will make an informed, unbiased decision before November 4th. And I will make it based on my own opinions.

And I won’t let her (or anyone else, for that matter) know how I voted either.

Because while I support the need to campaign and to rally for whatever (or whomever) you’re voting on (or for) … and while I don’t hold anything against those that openly show how (or who) they’re voting … I personally believe that my vote is confidential.

The important thing is that everyone should go out and vote. For no other reason than BECAUSE YOU CAN.

As for whether or not I decided to “borrow” the car for a couple weeks … well, as you can guess, I decided against it. The icing on the cake was when I had no choice but to head straight to my doctor’s appointment after being stuck in the mid-morning rush hour traffic.

Which doctor and for which appointment, you might ask? Well, of all things … it was my first appointment with my new OB/Gyn.

Uh, so yeah. I hid the car at the back of the lot. I so didn’t feel like getting into it with any person who may be for or against Proposal 2.

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Oh, the Irony …

Day 3 of “Voiceless Emily.” I made the attempt to go to work today and promptly fell back into bed after taking a shower wiped me out. So today, I make the trip to my doctor’s office to hopefully get some “magic pills” to make me feel better.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I hate having to get antibiotics to get rid of a bug. I’d rather do it the old-fashioned way with lots of fluid and lots of rest. But this one … I don’t know, I just haven’t been able to “break” it just yet. And I’ve gotta be better by this weekend, as it’s my cousin’s wedding!

Thank you for those that responded yesterday to my post. Part of me knows that I’m just being stubborn and spiteful. And the other part of me knows that I’m doing this for self-preservation as well. Because if I continue to subject myself to “saving face” just to “keep the peace”, then I’d be back-pedaling in my progress towards happiness.

It’s just rather strange for me to be listening to that “other part of me,” because I feel as if that’s the selfish part of me. The one who only thinks about herself. The one who was told time and time again in her youth that it was bad to be thinking about my wants and my needs. My job … my duty, was always to think and care for others. (No wonder I became a nurse!) And I’m sure that lesson was reinforced over and over again by both the Filipino culture I was brought up in, as well as the twelve years of Catholic school.

And not that I mean to emphasize the point over and over again … but this is probably the biggest reason why it’s been so difficult for me to deal with my infertility. First … let’s not talk about my issues so as not to make you feel uncomfortable. Next, let’s take care of everyone else’s needs rather than take care of my own health. And finally, let’s just stifle all that unhappiness away and pretend that it doesn’t exist.

In any case, it took a long time for me to realize that I couldn’t continue to live this way. That my own body was telling me that I could no longer hold things in. Seriously, when your blood pressure continues to sky-rocket despite taking medications and you find yourself having a tremendously difficult time performing such simple tasks like taking a shower … and your mind is so muddled because you can’t even begin to determine what to “fix” first … well, then it’s time to seek some professional help.

So yes. I admit it (as it’s hard to do for most Asian-American’s), I broke down and called my former RE’s office and asked for a good therapist; one that had experience in dealing with infertility issues. And from that first meeting with her, I felt as if I struck gold. She has been that wonderful.

From our sessions, I’ve learned that one of the biggest things I needed to do was listen to my body. Which, of course, was hard for me to do … as throughout my IF journey, I’ve felt I’ve been betrayed by it month after month. But it’s those headaches that I frequently got that told me that my blood pressure was bordering at extreme highs. And it’s those days where my body refused to get out of bed that told me that I had stuffed waaay too many emotions inside that my body simply refused budge until I felt or expressed something.

And that’s why I began to blog. My outlet. My way to talk about the complex things and complex relationships I have going on in my life.

Duh, I can hear y’all saying … it’s not like I haven’t said this twenty zillion times before in previous posts.

But then part of me begins to wonder. Am I revealing too much? Am I expressing those feelings too intensely? Am I hurting others by writing exactly how I feel about the situations I’ve been in?

Is the proverbial pen mightier than the sword?

The reason I pose these questions is because I’ve been “asked” to refrain from blogging about certain people and certain situations I’m placed in, Which my gut instinct is to say, “F*ck you. This is MY blog. And you don’t have to read it, if you don’t like what I have to say.”

But then I began to think that maybe what I say in this blog may push things to the limits. That instead of making it easier for others to understand what I’m going through, I’m making them more uncomfortable. And hence making it more awkward for them to talk to me in real life (IRL). That I’m further isolating myself by “talking” about these things. (Of course, this pertains to IRL people and not you, my dear bloggy friends.)

Then there’s the Filipino-Catholic in me. The person who feels like she’s being self-centered and only thinking about herself in these situations … and not about how others might react to what I’ve said. That I’m hurting others by the words I write. And that I’m now sufficiently doomed to H*ll.

I have, in the past, PWP’d (password protected) a few blog entries, but have hated to do so, for reasons I’ve mentioned before in this post. I think it protects certain incidents and people involved in them; which could be good. And yet it also isolates a potential reader …. someone, who like me is looking for someone to relate to … from not feeling comfortable in asking me for a password. And while I might continue to do so in some instances, I don’t like it. It makes me feel, for lack of better words (ha!), “voiceless.”

And the irony of it all? I can’t even speak a word above a whisper right now.

What do you suppose my sick body is telling me? Is it just telling me to shut up and not “say” or blog about the emotions attached to those complex relationships and situations? Or is it telling me to ease up on myself; that I’m once again being too harsh on myself that my body, or rather my voice needs a rest?

All I know now, is that I’m seriously doubting myself … if what I do and say on my blog is helping me IRL or hurting me even more. And if I should permanently remain “voiceless.”

Help me, oh bloggy friends. What should I do?

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I Don't Hate You

Click the badge to read other 2008 submissions

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IRL BFF's & SIL's

Hubby & Tyler (at 3 yrs old)

I don’t hate you; because to hate you would mean writing you out of my life completely. And I simply will not do that.

However I am guilty of other sins. Envy. Guilt. Complacency. And for that, I am truly sorry for.

I am hurting. And the only way I have found comfort in this pain is to write exactly how I feel. As it is the same for you, I cannot speak of such pain. And to verbally tell someone of such emotions, truly makes me feel like I’m an idiot for feeling such things.

Because what right do I have to feel this way? Am I not blessed to have a relatively good (but stressful as of late) career? Do I not consider myself lucky to have found my soulmate so early in life? Am I not happy that I still have the love and support of a husband who I can turn to in such times of deep sorrow and pain?

For that, and so much more … it seems pitiful to “complain” about how I feel. So writing … yes writing … has been my only solace. It’s my only way to let others, who would otherwise not feel comfortable discussing such pain, know how I feel. My way of voicing those things I cannot say out loud. My only way to save face, so I don’t look like a complete sniveling doofus in the midst of everyone elses’ happiness. Because I don’t want to shove aside anyone else’s happiness. And yes, this includes yours.

My wish is that my writing allows for those friends … those family members … to understand what both Hubby & I are going through. It’s so that you and others can know what it’s like to walk in our shoes. Because infertility is not a topic that anybody wants or likes to discuss. It’s awkward. And quite frankly, it has been my experience that not many people make the effort to ask us directly how we’re dealing with it and (more importantly) what is appropriate and not-so-appropriate to say to us.

Hubby & Kairi
Hubby & Kairi

So yes, I admit it … I probably do set myself up for the fall. But I’d really like to have some words or action … some indication, if you must know … that there is a safety net below. That there will be someone there, other than my husband, to catch me. Because what I say in this blog is my way of letting you in.

I wish that everyone would understand that it is very difficult to just “let it go.” And to know that it isn’t so easy to “just adopt.” That to me, not being able to have my own kids is more than the ability to become pregnant. That not being able to form a life out of the love that my husband and I have for each other is THE ONE THING that hurts me beyond anything in this world.

It is incredibly painful to me that I won’t be able to pass on my Filipino nose or my larg(er) ba-dunk-a-dunk to my child. Or that my child won’t have the lifeline palm or the short big toe, signature to each and every one of Hubby’s family members. And most importantly, I’m tremendously heartbroken that I am not able give this gift of life and love to my husband, my parents, my brother … and yes, to you and my niece and nephew. And that I failed miserably in life because of that.

SIL & Kairi
SIL & Kairi

So please tell me, as I have obviously not been able to move on … how do I get over my hardships and heartache? How do I mourn not receiving the one gift in a woman’s life that I’m not obviously meant to experience?

Because I do want to take that next step forward. And I do want to stop feeling so miserable about the predicament I’m in. But … unlike you, who was able to ease your heartache with another pregnancy … (and please note that I said “ease” and not “forget”) there is no “Get out of Jail Free” card for me. There is simply NO EASY SOLUTION for me.

Auntie Em & Liam
Auntie Em & Liam

I am honestly and truthfully happy for you. And I’m happy and proud that you have been strong enough to survive all of your struggles and heartaches you’ve experienced. And that you’ve been given multiple second chances in life.

But I … right now, I choose to keep the one chance I have in my life because I love my husband and I love all the other things that I have accomplished in this one life thus far. And I’m simply just not ready to let it go right now.

Auntie Em & Kairi
Auntie Em & Kairi

Because at this moment, moving forward to that next step of adoption … my second chance in life, if you will … would mean that I have to give up those certain dreams that I have wanted so desperately in my life. It means I have to, once again, lose control of my life when I just got some semblance of order.

It means I have to find the strength and courage, both of which I have very little of right now, to start a new dream.

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Penance Purls

In the years since my failed IVF attempt and the end of pursuing further infertility treatment, I learned to knit. A good friend of mine, who also happens to be a co-worker, taught me the basics of knitting during our lunch hours. And as I learned to knit, I found that it was a great way to distract me from the emptiness of infertility. Knitting gave me a purpose; it gave me something to work towards. Each knit and purl stitch I made got me closer to completing a project. And once finished, I felt as if I’ve put every effort I could into crafting something unique. I felt as if I’ve given birth, so to speak, to the sweater or hat or purse that I’ve made.

In the knit / crochet world, there is such a thing called a prayer shawl. The idea behind crafting this type of shawl is to give it to someone in need of prayer. Someone perhaps, who is going through a difficult time in life in which prayers are needed. That is because with every stitch that is knitted or purled (or crocheted), the person creating this artwork is literally saying a prayer for the receiver of such a gift.

The best way I can describe it (in my Catholic-school upbringing) is that it’s much like saying the rosary, but at the end of the prayers, you actually have something to show for all that you’ve done. And the best part of it is that you have the opportunity to give such a gift to the person you’ve made it for, knowing that you’ve sent good vibes / well-wishes (or whatever word you’d like to replace “prayer” with) to a person who is in most need of such sentiments.

I, myself, have never made such a shawl. Instead, I’ve made other thing like chemo caps for kids or premie hats for the babies in the NICU. What started out as a hobby for many of us at work, soon turned into a project last Christmas to make as many knitted or crocheted caps and hats for the children at a local hospital. For me, it was a way of honoring my nephew, Liam, who spent his whole 4 months of life in that particular hospital’s NICU.

When my SIL announced she was pregnant with Liam, the bottom dropped out beneath me. By then, I had spent ten years trying to get pregnant and had one (and only one) failed IVF attempt behind me. It had been two and a half years, at that time, since Hubby & I stopped actively trying. And as a first (or second, I can never get it right) generation Catholic Filipino-American girl, I worked very hard at stifling the sadness, hurt and anger so that I could save face. But the thought that my SIL (who, by the way, is the same age as I am) was able to get pregnant within five months of getting married completely and utterly devastated me. And when my SIL found out at 24 weeks that Liam would most likely be born with some congenital imperfections, well … I guess you could say that I felt guilty (darn Catholic in me!), as if my jealousy and thoughts of ill-will were the reason behind such a difficult pregnancy.

So what does all this have to do with knitting and the “prayer shawl” (besides the obvious reason for making caps and hats for the babies and kids in the hospital)? Well, during my SIL’s 2nd trimester with Liam, I knew that I had to come to terms with this pregnancy. While I knew my feelings of longing for my own pregnancy would never be fully resolved before Liam’s birth, I still felt as if I needed to do something to make sure that Liam (and subsequently, my SIL) knew that I would love him with every fiber of my being … despite the sadness I felt for myself.

And thus, the “Therapeutic Baby Blanket” project began. Much like the prayer shawl concept, I crafted this blanket with an image of Liam in my mind. With every knit stitch I made, I wished love and happiness for every single day of his life. And with every purl stitch I made, I wished for forgiveness from both Liam and his mom for any ill-will I ever thought. I put my heart and soul into this blanket and its matching hat and booties. And because Liam came much earlier (by 9 weeks) than expected, I can remember rushing to finish this massive blanket in time for the baby shower (the sucker measured 4 ft x 4 ft!) , which subsequently turned into a “Welcome Liam” party instead. What makes me a little heartbroken is that Liam was never able to come home from the hospital and actually use the blanket. Regardless though … I have to say that doing that blanket was simultaneously the hardest and simplest knit project I have ever done.

Now … in a little more than one week’s time, my SIL is scheduled to deliver (by c-section) a baby girl. For reasons that are hers and her husband’s alone, the two of them decided to start trying immediately after Liam passed away last September. By end of December, she was once again pregnant. And while their new still devastated me (I mean, really … how can she get to be pregnant twice in one year and I can’t even get a frackin’ positive pregnancy test?!), this time my feet managed to stay firmly planted on solid ground.

I can’t say that I handled this pregnancy any better or worse that I did with my SIL’s pregnancy with Liam. There are days where I still feel incredibly weary and downtrodden. And yes, there are days where I frankly don’t think things are fair. However, I do know that I’m not as heartbroken and devastated as I was the first time around. I’d like to think that knitting Liam’s baby blanket had a part in reeling back some of those emotions.

It was only natural for me to want to knit something for this pregnancy as well. Because yes, the good (?!) Catholic girl in me still felt horrible about feeling sorry for myself. And, at times, succumbing to jealousy. So with yarn purchased from both here in Ann Arbor and in San Diego, I started to knit my next project while on vacation in California.

I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project, officially known as the “Therapeutic Baby Sweater.” And just like the blanket, I’ve projected my love and happiness with each knit stitch. And with every purl stitch … well, it’s as if I’m trying to make amends for every bit of sorrow and jealousy I’ve felt in these past 9 months. A penance, if you will, for the sins I’ve committed.

My only hope is that whenever my SIL dresses her baby girl in this sweater that she knows, despite my actions (or lack thereof), that I love her baby girl with all my heart. That I am truly and honestly happy for her. And that despite the hardships endured over the past 18 months, she truly deserves this happiness.

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Na Com Leav … wha?!

Okay, for those of you that aren’t aware … Sunday the 25th was the start of “National Comment Leaving Month” or NaComLeavMo … and yes, that’s what that little graphic with the party hat to the right of this post is for.

For those of you who haven’t read Mel’s post, NaComLeavMo is the month where we are encouraged to step out of our “lurker” mode and actually comment on other people’s blogs. And in return, leave a comment on the blog of someone that commented on yours. The idea is to open up discussion amongst all of us in IF / MC blogland and beyond.

Today being day three of this month, I’m finding it hard to just “stumble” onto a fellow blogger on Mel’s list without having to do a lot of back-reading before I feel I can … a-hem … “intelligently” respond. (Oh, who am I kidding … right?!) And then I stumbled on Rachel‘s latest blog post, who thought it might be a great idea to do a quick recap of ourselves and our story so that other’s might not have to be “clicking around” so much.

So Rachel … I’m taking your lead and doing the same thing. (By the way, my favorite ice cream flavor is Jamocha Almond Fudge from BR … or Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz from B & J!!)
Told you I was an Island Girl at Heart

Hmm … where to begin …

Three things are a big part of who I am in life. I’m Asian, I’m Catholic (although of questionable degree), and I’m Infertile. Yep … that’s right Infertile with a capital “I”. But let’s start off with the Asian bit first.

I’m a second-generation Filipino American; meaning my parents were born in the Philippines while my brother (aka “Dr. Bro”) and I were born here. While I know many other people can relate to having parents that were born in another country … being of Asian descent, it’s a little harder to “blend” in, if you catch my drift. I’m always going to look different than most people in a room. Or I’m always going to be lumped in or mistaken for another “nationality” (whether it be any pick of Asian countries or Native American or even Guatemalan … Not. Kidding. You.) But the biggest part of being Filipino American is that you are literally torn between a very traditional culture where authority is never questioned and the American culture where everything and anything can be challenged and questioned … and it’s encouraged. How does a strong-willed, stubborn female learn to live with these clashes in culture and belief? Well … peruse through my older entries and you might find a few.

As for the Catholic part of me … I don’t want you to think that I’m super-spiritual or anything. Because, in reality … I’m not. But, having been through 12 years of Catholic School … how can religion not play a part in my every day life? Even though it’s mostly about feeling guilty. You know … the “I’m not a Mom yet because I must have not prayed enough” or “I must have done something horribly wrong for God to punish me by not gracing me with child.” That kind of guilt. And no … I’m not (as) angry at God for where I am in life. Truth be told … I know that I’ve been “given” certain gifts from up above (my Hubby being the biggest gift of all); I just honestly have to have faith … not only in God, but in myself as to know when I am strong enough to do the right things in my life. And that’s the part of my Catholicism and spirituality that I can most relate to. Trust me … it’s taken me being 18 years of being out of high school to figure that one out.

I’m Infertile. Oh yeah … this is the main reason I started this blog. There had to be a way for this Catholic Filipino-American to let out all the repressed emotions I’ve let build up over the past ten years. Yep. That’s right. Ten. Long. Years. In brief, I married my high school/college sweetheart two years after graduating from college. We started TTC just over a year after that with (obviously) no success. After another year of “giving it more time,” I finally approached my OB-Gyn who put me on almost a year of Clomid. Yeah … the nurse in me should have questioned that … but the Filipino in me respected authority (see what I mean?). After that didn’t work, it was on to a laparotomy to clear out some nasty endometriosis followed by six months of evil pharmaceutical devil incarnate Lupron therapy. Then followed about 7 months of medicated cycles and the first episode of deep depression along with a 4 month “break” from treatment. And then the big guns … IVF. A one-time cycle that failed and brought about another episode of deep depression, followed closely by repression. Until one fateful day in November 2006 when my SIL (who just remarried 5 months prior and already has a middle-school age child from her first marriage) announced she was pregnant. As if that didn’t devastate me enough, Liam was born prematurely and with some “imperfections” which just made me feel like my feelings of jealousy and anger caused ill-will to this innocent child. And so … in the midst of my SIL’s pregnancy with Liam and his unfortunate passing 4 months later, I started this blog. And it has helped me deal with these emotions in ways that I didn’t think possible. And the fact that I’ve found such wonderful support out here in blogland … it just means the world to me. I just wish I would have found it sooner!

So those are the biggest things I can share with you in this one lengthy post. Hope you decide to stick around and read on. And then you can follow along with what happens in the next stage of my Mommyhood dream. I’m hoping to gather that source of faith and strength to fumble through the adoption process … as one failed IVF was enough for me emotionally and financially. Oh and you can see what other evil and emotionally ridden things I do as I finish up another six months of Lupron therapy for that bitch of a friend I call endometriosis. Oh … and did I mention my SIL is pregnant again … and due in early September?

Goodness … if you’ve stuck around reading this entry to the end … you might as well just add me to your Google Reader! 🙂

(Oh and hey … while you’re at it, check out my other blog!)