Whew. What a day. What a work week! And the sad thing is that my work week ain’t even over.
Yes. That’s right. I gots myself more work to do. And not just the normal “sign into our system from my laptop at home” -type of work. Nope … Tomorrow I get to schlep my butt back downtown and work at my wonderful cubicle. And that’s because the rest of my team is coming in for a little overtime work as well.
Sigh … Why does it always seem like the beginning of a business year is less about “new beginnings” and “fresh starts” and more like “leftovers” and “pilot projects”? Not like I already have a pretty full plate …
And it’s only February! Can’t *wait* to see what’s in store for the rest of the year.
So yes, work has been insanely busy. What I had thought would be a break from insanity after the big audit in November has only brought more insanity. Which has been slowly building since … well, November.
Okay, so maybe I’m just going into panic / anxiety mode right now. Maybe I need to go back to my happy place (which always seems to involve sand, beach, water and palm trees) and just relax. Yeah … that’s what I should do.
Alrighty … enough complaining. Let’s talk about other things. Funthings. Like … the conversation I had with a fellow supervisor today about sports. Yes, sports … one of many things I love, like music and movies and books.
It’s been fun talking to this co-worker about sports; especially because of our love of our home teams; mine being Detroit and hers, Chicago. Her Bears and my hapless Lions. My “Bad Boys” Pistons to her “Michael Jordan” Bulls. My “Justin Verlander” Tigers and her “Mark Buehrle” White Sox.
But today’s discussion happened to be one of our all-time favorite sports: Hockey. And specifically Red Wings and Blackhawks Hockey. We had talked about how both our teams were doing (hers *really* good, ours … not so good) and the connection that our hockey teams shared.
Yep, that's the slap shot that Chelios taught me!
One of them is obviously Chris Chelios; who had grown up in Chicago and played for the Blackhawks for many MANY years. Except … as I chided with my co-worker … Chelios never won a Stanley Cup Championship until he played for the Red Wings.
This, of course, led to me sharing a dream I had of Chris Chelios a few years ago. One where I supposedly won a contest to participate in a Red Wings pre-game practice. And in that dream, I vividly recall having Chelios teach me how to set up a slap shot. Yeah … only *I* would have these types of dreams; but at least my co-worker appreciated it!
Anyway, the other connection that both the Red Wings and the Blackhawks shared were that they were part of “The Original Six” hockey teams of the NHL.
From there, the conversation went on to the whole “expansion” of the NHL over the years, and how some of these “new” teams were difficult to remember. (Woulda thunk Columbus, OH or Nashville TN would ever have an NHL team?!) Or what we’d do if we ever moved out of a non-Hockey city.
Specifically, we had talked about what Hubby & I would do if (when?) we move out west. Portland doesn’t have a hockey team; and neither does Seattle. Would we go for the Ducks? Or would it be the Cannucks (out of Vancouver)?
As it turns out, we both decided that we could never “give up” our home team; her Blackhawks and my Red Wings. That despite a move to a different city, we would always root for our home teams … we’d still hold on to our TIES to our hometown sports.
And I obviously do … as it’s been over a year since moving to Chicago and I stillcheer … not only my Red Wings … but for all the other Detroit home teams as well.
I always loved that Cameron Frye wore a Red Wings Jersey on "Ferris Bueller's Day Off"
So I was sitting here watching the State of the Union speech, and I’m found myself entranced in watching this speech unfold.
Oh don’t worry … after yesterday’s long rambling political soapbox I was on, I am not going to debate about how *I* feel the State of the Union is.
No; really I’m more entranced on how Obama delivered his speech; the way he appeared open, warm and humble … the way he infused some humor into the seriousness of each issue he discussed. While I’m sure it’s because he has a team of speech writers that come up with the most appropriate phrases to elicit the most appropriate responses … I also think that part of speech delivery is about personality.
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I was telling Hubby today that there are some days that I don’t feel like I belong in the high profile supervisor position I’m in here in Chicago. And I say that because, anybody that really knows me, knows that I like to inject humor into any situation. The thought is that if I have to do something that I might think is “unpleasant,” I might as well make light of a difficult situation and find humor in it.
The thing is, I don’t think there are many people I work with that share my same view. And while I know that working for a Health Insurance company in the midst of Health Care Reform isn’t exactly a walk in the park, I still believe that there’s a need to break out of such seriousness and have a little fun.
Maybe it’s just the office I’m in, because at the very least … I’ve managed to get the employer group I work closely with to laugh at some of my off-beat humor. That should count for something, right?!
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After writing yesterday’s post … I realized that there are quite a few of my Facebook friends that I knew only from grade school / junior high. With that said, these friends probably have this image in their mind of the sweet little “Oriental” girl in their class. The one that always tried her best not to rock the waves. (Even then, I was conscious about trying to keep the peace …)
These same friends probably don’t know the “Emily” who began to shape her beliefs and values in high school. And who further developed them in college and post-college. The same “Emily” who began to voice her opinions and ideals without holding back. But they also probably haven’t met the “Adult Emily.” The one who recognizes that respect for others opinions and ideals is just as important as being able to be heard about my own beliefs.
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I wonder how strange it is/was for these friends to see how much I’ve changed? Or how strange it must be for the people in my department to see that I’m very much like a “mullet” ( … you know, business in the front and party in the back … )**?
The more I reflect on these two very different situations, the more I realize that I’m really writing about who *I* am as a person … who I’ve grown up to be. And as this fellow blogger (who I’ve just discovered is traveling down a similar path) responded on this older post, I’m discovering that I kinda like who I am.
** Talk about humor … a HS friend said that her son described skorts as a “mullet for your butt … skirt in front and shorts in back”!! I could not stop laughing after I heard that one!
There’s this song by the Velvet Underground that seems to always unleash this feeling of nostalgia within me. Perhaps it’s because I “discovered” this song during my freshman year in high school (thanks to my BFF at that time who was also fellow music afficianado). Or perhaps it’s because the song has this uniquely haunting music box melody to it. Regardless, “Sunday Morning” was one of those songs I recall rewinding and replaying over and over again on my Walkman.
Woulda made for a cool album cover, eh? 😛
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it before on my blog, but my high school BFF and I had aspirations of becoming incredibly large rock stars. (Yes, laugh all you want … but admit it, that thought probably crossed your minds at one point during your high school existence!) Forget that I wasn’t the best of musicians around … I just wanted to be part of something creative.
In any case, my BFF and I came up with this incredible idea to form a band. Armed with many years of piano lessons behind us, we sought to find other people that might be interested in creating the same type of music that we liked.
We didn’t have to go very far to find a few people. One person in particular (we’ll call him S), ended up becoming a pretty good friend of ours*. And it’s also because of him that we found other like-minded musicians. Although we never went further than playing “cover songs” of other ’80’s alternative bands, we spent a lot of time at each others’ houses pretending to have “band practice.” And it’s during one of those sessions that I learned to play “Sunday Morning.”
The other night, I had the opportunity to “chat” with S on Facebook. We’ve chatted a couple times before in the past, but nothing other than “Wotcha been up to?” This chat came at a really really nice time, though. One that had me contemplating, once again, what my life was going to be like sans children.
I won’t lie. That thought has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. Sure, I’ve officially made the decision to live child-free (finally). Sure, I know that this decision has lifted a great weight off of my shoulders. Truth is, I know that right now my future is limitless.
The thing is, I’ve always envisioned my adult life surrounded with kids. Lots of them. And the Filipina in me, who always put family first, strongly supported that vision. Being a mother and raising children was going to define who I was.
I say this as an absolute because, although I like my career, I’m not passionate about it. Being a mother … it would have been my life’s passion. It would have been the pinnacle of my existence.
What does my fortune hold?
With the decision to live child-free, I feel I should be finding a new reason for existing. I have this urge to find out what I really should be doing with my life. While I know I should be embracing this opportunity to wipe the proverbial slate clean, I must admit that I’m slightly overwhelmed.
I could continue with my career path and try to remain successful with each new opportunity … but since I already know I’m not passionate about it, would I be happy later in life? At the very least (knock on wood), I know that this future will provide me with the income that Hubby & I need to survive.
I could go back to school and try my hand at something different; forge a new career path into something I know I’d enjoy. But does this guarantee passion? Does it guarantee success?
Or I could go back to that high school dream of becoming an incredibly huge Rock Star. I’ve always wanted to be a kick-a$$ bass player, a-la-Kim Deal.
I told some of this to S while chatting the other day. And although he did suggest I go out and by a bass guitar right away, he did offer me up one piece of advice. In his always calm and gentle manner, he told me that what I do in life (whether it involves being a mother or not) shouldn’t dictate who I am. I shouldn’t fight against who I am. He said, “Let Emily be Emily.”
So that’s what I’m going to try to do for now. I’m going to let me be me. And maybe, just maybe, my heart and mind will be open enough to find a new passion in life … a new reason for my existence.
* Ironically, he also ended up being my Jr Prom date, while future-Hubby was my HS BFF’s date. How funny is that?
This post has been a long time in coming. Truthfully, this should have been written a few months ago. However, between preparations for the audit at work and having just recently had theconversation with Hubby a week ago, the timing just didn’t seem right.
A year ago earlier this month, I was in Chicago interviewing for the position that I now hold. The very same one that has given me much stress and headaches over the past 11 months. The same one that has made me realize exactly how strong I really can be … without the hormonal emotions getting in the way.
I specifically mention the “hormonal emotions” for a reason. That’s because when I look back during those active “baby-trying” years , I can nowsee how much strength I needed in order to get me through that period.
Except I can honestly say that I never feel that I was strong at all during that time period. I felt as I was living day-to-day, hoping that somehow I would catch a break from all the “hard work” I was putting into starting my family.
Whereas with the “challenges” I faced this past year … well, they didn’t feel like a day-to-day struggle. There was always an end in site for each new challenge I faced. From the very beginning of “Operation: Move to Chicago,” there was a goal in mind that was achievable:
Find an apartment; check.
Start new job; check.
Survive living alone in new city for three months with seeing Hubby only on the weekends; check.
Get through six months at new job without being fired from “My way or the highway” boss; check.
Live through high profile work audit with dignity intact; check.
Everything I faced since moving here was (relatively) successful; with that bright light guiding me to the end of a dark tunnel.
Unfortunately that same bright light was never there when facing the darkness that is infertility. And, in my case, definitely not successful … at least in the way that I defined success.
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There’s this memory I have from back in my high school years. It’s back when Disney began to start re-releasing classic movies on VHS tapes. The idea was so that a person could own these movies before they were put back into the “vault” of classic Disney animation.
My mother totally bought into that smart marketing ploy. In fact, she bought many videos including The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and … if I can recall, Sleeping Beauty. AND she wouldn’t even open them; storing them away in her dresser, in her own personal “vault.”
“Not fair,” I remember telling her. Especially since I loved Ariel and Belle. “Couldn’t we just open them up and watch them once?”
“No,” she had told me. She was saving them for her future grandchildren. So that she can sit down and watch these movies with them, whenever they came over to visit.
This memory, as inconsequential as it may seem to others, is one that cuts me incredibly deep. It’s a reminder of how I’ve failed to fulfill my parents’ dream of becoming grandparents.
Never mind that I already felt horribly bad that my body was not able to give my husband a child of his own. This specific memory reminds me that I’ve probably disappointed my parents as well. That I haven’t been able to give them the grandchildren that they’ve always wanted.
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I’ll be honest that one of the many reasons Hubby & I moved to Chicago was start fresh. There had been way too much emotional Infertility baggage that I had been carrying around for years. And although I had been working very hard at purging that baggage, I could never fully put it away … at least into a place within me that could make things manageable.
So putting some physical distance between myself and the baggage (which held waaay too many memories of hurt and disappointment), as well as the physical location where most of these memories occurred, was something I felt I needed to do.
And it’s with the blessing of my very supportive husband that we found ourselves moving out-of-state; away from the only “home” I had ever known. All this is in effort to be exposed to new people and to be open to new challenges. To have a fresh outlook on where Hubby & I stand in our quest to have a family.
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Next October will be my 20th High School Reunion. Part of me is interested in seeing where everyone is at in this stage of life; to see how far they’ve come since we were teenagers. Then there’s the rebel in me that thinks, “Pshaw … HS Reunions are so ‘Peggy Sue Got Married’! We must break this cycle at once!”
And then there’s the Infertile (with a capital “I”) in me. The one with no children. The one with nothing exciting to show for my life over the past 20 years, other than a degree (only undergrad, to boot!) and a good job. I’ve no kids to brag about; I’ve no incredible 3,000 square foot house to talk about. All I have is a decent walk-up apartment in the city and fur children that shed hair all over the place, including my clothes.
At least I have an incredible husband who I can show off and brag about.
As it is, I’m still debating on whether I want to go or not. However, what I doknow is that a bunch of the HS friends that I still keep in touch with, will be planning a more low-key get-together some time next year. That should, at the very least, be a “milestone” something to look forward to next year.
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I’ve had the pleasure of (finally) seeing my new family physician, not once but twice in the past few months. One was the quick one-over, “Hi, nice to meet you” -type of visit. The second was my yearly female parts check-up.
Both times my physician asked me if I was interested in pursuing further treatment for my infertility. And both times, I told my physician I still wasn’t ready to make that decision. I was in the midst of still adjusting to my new job in a new city.
And I needed more time to separate want vs. need, hope for the future vs. more disappointment, treatment vs. acceptance.
Let me say it’s extremely strange to go from living in one State where In vitro Fertilization (IVF) is not covered, to currently living in a State where it now is. To now have that option to choose what course of treatment that Hubby & I would like to pursue in creating our family.
For those that don’t know, infertility treatments are sometimes not covered by health insurance in certain States. There may be some aspects of treatments that are covered (such as the work-up and, at times, the medications), but for the most part infertility treatments — and specifically IVF is not.
The Infertile RN in me thinks it’s utterly cruel to allow coverage for the work-up of the infertility diagnosis and then turn around and not cover the treatment for it. Even though IVF is not a “guarantee” that one would be successful in starting a family, there’s still that little bit of chance that it becomes successful in “curing” that person’s infertility.
I relate it to treatment for cancer. Much like chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy is considered standard treatment for a person with such a condition … it’s never a “100% guarantee” that the cancer would be “cured” or go into remission.
It’s that double-standard in treatment of a health condition that bothers me the most about the lack of coverage in IVF treatments. Because, quite frankly … the RN Case Manager in me (the one who works for a health insurance company) strongly believes that people have the right to choose how they would like to pursue treatment and have the Health Insurance that I pay for assist in coverage for that treatment.
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This January, it will be a year since I’ve lived in Chicago. And April will mark the official date that Hubby & I will have lived together in this bright new city (well, new to us anyway).
During this past year, Hubby & I have had a chance to open our hearts and minds to different possibilities. We’ve had the opportunity to accept where we’re at when it came to reassessing our options in creating our family.
We’ve talked about IVF and the impact it may have emotionally for me … Both if it wasn’t successful and if it actually was. But even though we know the option of IVF is available to us in the fine State of Illinois, both of us have decided not to pursue that route.
We’ve also had the opportunity to discuss adoption more in depth. To decide if this was the right path for us to take. And the more we thought about it, the more we decided that this was also something we wouldn’t be a 100% comfortable with. (Okay, I admit it. It’s me. I’m the one who fears that I’ll just end up being disappointed again. And I fear that I’d get stuck down that rabbit hole of darkness once again.)
So what does this all mean? Well, readers. It means that Hubby & I have accepted that having children at this moment is not in our best interest. It means, that we have accepted the fact that we may never have children. (Okay, maybe it’s more like *I* accepted this fact, because Hubby was light years ahead of me in this thought.)
This means that we’ve consciously and deliberately have made the choice to begin living life child-free.
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It’s taken me more than 12 years, but I think I’ve finally reached some closure in my infertility journey.
Yet even as one door has closed in my life, I’m still learning to live with the reality of this decision. My infertility is no longer a daily struggle, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have those “moments.”
And those “moments” are the reason I choose to continue writing on this blog. Except now, instead of this blog being about the longing to have a children, it will be about trying to let go of this longing. About learning to look forward to my new future with Hubby. The new journey we’ll be taking together.
It’s about trying to break free from these Apron Strings.
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Maybe it’s just the office I’m in, because at the very least … I’ve managed to get the employer group I work closely with to laugh at some of my off-beat humor. That should count for something, right?!
