Reflections.

When I was angry.

Looking back through the journal, I was recalling emotions.

Confusion.
Denial.
Anxiety.
Fear.
Anger.
Bewilderment.
Dizziness.
Rejection.
Bargaining.
Praying.  (okay, that's not an emotion.)
Tumult.
Sorrow.
Anguish.
Indignation.
Depression.
Suicidal.
Sick.
Hurting.
Storm.
Grief.
Ire.
Distemper.
Heartbreak.
Tears.
Heartache.
Flooding.
Numb.
Wretchedness.
Irritability.
Indifference.
Stupor.
Misery.
Lethargy.
Millstone.
Infuriation.
Resignation.
Suffering.
Reluctance.
Emptiness.
Numbness was my best friend.
Emotion-less.
Cloudy.


The thing is that I couldn't put a finger on when I started thinking there is life after infertility.  I believe it was when I realized somewhere, somewhen, maybe with meeting my nephew Eli for the first time at age of 2, or when it was when I was headbutting against an anti who was eager to bully a grieving woman coming in for a D&C for her dead fetus (wanted pregnancy, by the way), or when I realized the Deaf community is behind in its access to full education and almost no voice in politics.

 Somewhere among those, the spark was re-lit within me. When? I don't know and I do not see any point in trying to nail that moment. That does not matter.  What matters is how I chose to live again on my terms. 

Even more when I look at my Pinterest account (don't everyone have  nowadays?), I do see how the collections change with me through the time- there are collections on Infertility blogs, Infertility posts, grief and anger memes, "what if" collections- and there are collections on Geek art, comic books, Tiny houses, racial justice, intersectionality.  The first collections were prominent in 2011 to 2014, while second group of collection started popping up around 2013. Swinging forth and back between the collections.  I see the last time I had posted something in first group (infertility) was in 2015 when I found out I would be an aunt again. "Congrats on being an aunt again. And you're still infertile" was the last post. And I recall looking at that post and was thinking to myself,

"Do I want to feel sorry for myself? Go back into the void, wrapping myself in the comfort of numbness and darkness?"

And my answer.  "Fuck that.  Life is too short."   And made a new collection about 'Womanhood' of how I interpret womanhood- not by the womb to create a baby, but by the capability to create life out of love, passion and perseverance.

And there's a collection in which is basically my 'picture-diary', with the earliest images being dark, stormy, anguish, like crying woman, thunderstorms, cliffs, abandoned buildings, screams, and quotes like ""Don't judge my path if you haven't walked my journey".

Now with recent additions to that collection, I see there is hope, life, passion, wilderness, depth, reading. Michfest. Labyrinths. Protesting.  Art. Self-love. 

And that tells me that I'm healing.

Love me

Have been full up to my ears, Ha!  

So hadn't time to check in with my blog for a long while, which is both good and not so good.  

One reason I have to come to a consideration, (which might be a sensitive spot for some readers), is that whenever I write about my infertility, my sorrow, my frustrations, I find myself in a cycle of depression, clockwise.  

And I don't like that.  

I have been out of state several times, including YES, the MICHIGAN'S WOMYN MUSIC FESTIVAL!!!  That experience walking on the Land under the moonlight, seeing womyn drum and dance, and of laughter and tears among us, I cannot really describe it.   How can you describe the color red to someone blind?  This is similar to whenever I try to describe the event. 

I have been increasing busy in activism, including reproductive justice, domestic violence, awareness of Deaf community/American Sign Language, and my beloved passion, labyrinths.  

Does it mean I have forgotten or pushed aside my infertility? 

No. I still find myself feeling sad, but the frequency and length of experiencing sorrow had stretched to the point that it feels like a soft headsmack, when occurring now and then. Not so like the baseball bat slam that I'd frequently experienced in my heart in the first year, or the cold water bath in my face in the second year.   AND I enjoyed holding a baby earlier this summer, which was a HUGE step for me, to the point that I'd keep looking for opportunities to hold her when possible during that week of camping.  

After two years, I feel it is safe to say that yes it is still hard that I am not anywhere near to my goal of having a child, either by adoption or foster care.  Being deaf is its own obstacle, imagine that.   So that's the battle ongoing in my life.  

When I have time, I'll write more. 

So on this note, I will leave this for you-    love y'all, love me.  

You okay?

A friend just had finished a combination of chemotherapy and medication to treat a type of cancer she's going through.  I was over her house making goulash and tidying her house up, while she was recovering after the appointment.   Over tea, she told me that she is very sick of folks asking her "you okay?"  She was touched in the beginning, but later on, after being asked hundreds of times, she was thinking, "was I reassuring them or me?"   

I understood her question completely.  I, too, had gone through a phase after the surgery, where I didn't want to be asked if I was okay, all because people wanted to make themselves feel better by asking me, not really wanting to know how I was feeling, so using that yes-no question was safe for them. 

Very few had asked me how I was feeling, encouraging me to share whatever I wanted to talk about. That was much appreciated, and personally touching.

I suspect, from that experience, that had contributed to my awareness of how to interact with people suffering through something very tough for them, including my friend with cancer.   To give what I can, to be open with them, including getting shit (and not taking it personally) from the person hurting, and not to ask them "you okay?"

Sometimes, that's all is needed.

Puppy love

Soon, it'll be the second anniversary of the surgery in a few weeks, and now with the cold weather holding us indoors, this is a time on reflecting what had helped me so far, and is still helping.  

It's pretty tough being single, even in a town that have kids coming out of their ears.  I had been running out of folks who don't have kids- that's Louisville for you.  Family is all over the nation, the nearest 10 hours away.  Childless or childfree friends live in other states- so you can imagine how it's harder during the journey.   What really helped me, are my sweet  'furry little persons with four legs.'  

If not for my Lola and Hairy, I don't know what life would be like, and to be honest with you...?  Something I'd not want to know.  

Unconditional love.  Tail wags.   Tongue licks.   Insists on laying on your lap even when the laptop is there already.    Poking noses into my face while I sleep.  Leaving messes in the crate (thank you!)

White fur all over the red armchair, and brown fur on the cream sofa.  Dog poop bags.  Vet bills.  Agility training (for the lil' girl).  Dental cleanings.    Bringing in mud after long trail hikes.  Laughter.  Nose touches.  Sloppy kisses. My furry kids.  

And I would not ever consider trading them for a child.   The dogs came in my life first, and they'll stay there until then.  

I got both lil' dogs from a rescue. It's funny- I was feeling good that I had rescued them, after they were unwanted, abandoned and forgotten. 

  And you know what? In truth, they are rescuing me.   

Warmth in cold weather

With cold, very cold weather beating against the windows and door, one has a lot of options of staying warm!

Me:

Cat head biscuits   (recipe: http://www.cookscountry.com/recipes/5906-cat-head-biscuits)   Warm from oven is the best time to eat!

Beef stew  

Beef stew with beer and papika

Heavy and comfortable blanket I made  

Not mine, but same style, same colors- someone copied mine!  LOL

Dogs cuddling up with me

and

That's all one just need to enjoy, with lovin' and spoilin' oneself nowadays, especially with the freezin' weather.  

Stay warm, dear friends and readers!!!   

Wrong thing to say.

I got together with someone that I hadn't seen for a long while over breakfast recently.  Dancing around the elephant in the room, I had to ask her something.  

"I noticed that you stopped talking with me after a few months after surgery- that was two years ago- and now you asked me to add you again on Facebook last summer.  What changed your mind?"

Yup, that's me,  straightforward.  To the point.  

She looked down and then said she didn't want to explain.

I said, "okay."  I was ready to drop it, and was munching on a piece of my omelet.  

She bursted out, "I can't handle your grief, you had been so sad so long time, you won't get better- I decided to give you six months before I gave up on you.  That's why I defriended you."  

Six...  months?    You can't handle it?  

Really, where is the directions that grief has to be limited to six months?  Where is it in instructions that my grief don't have to be about me, but about you?  

That comes to an article that I had read two months ago, and I feel the article is a must for everyone involved, not the nonmoms only, but their families and furthermore, their friends.  Here is the link-  How not to say the wrong thing

This would have lessened pain for everyone.    Less pain.  Less anger.  Less resentment. 

As it is, I know who to talk with, you dear friends and fellow IFers/CNBC bloggers.  It's pretty much safer to talk in this circle, if you think about it.  

Tree

Before the surgery, I had always loved the tree- Christmas tree, Yuletide log, Holiday tree as long as I could remember from my childhood.   Looking up at the tree, I had thought the lights as fairies holding candles, stars sparking out of the night, a beacon for Santa Claus to come and drop off presents.    A family tradition to get a tree, decorate it, and bask in the tree lights, with the darkness around us.

Looking back, I realized the tree also was an example of family, everyone getting together front of the tree, to open presents, to enjoy each other, and be reminded of what family is supposed to be.


Supposed to be.

Sixteen years ago, I got a very BIG tree-  7'5 tree, so thick that you'd need two persons on each side, to help decorate the tree (woe be the person in back/corner, having to move by inch, hoping he wouldn't knock the tree down!).   Sixteen years ago, I thought I would have a family; a husband to love, and children to see the magic in their eyes.

(source)

I faithfully put up the tree every year, thinking "next year, I'll find someone and have a child."


I had relationships, however, I couldn't picture myself living with each of those guys permanently, and I was unfortunately right.    The last relationship had burned me badly, and I found that singlehood was much better for me.    I then looked into getting pregnant, and that didn't work out; two miscarriages were the result before I noticed the bump that led to the surgery.

The surgery wiped out my hope of having a family.  Children.


Last year, I found myself reluctantly putting up the tree. I found out that I had an hate-love relationship with the tree.

There would be the days I would look at the tree, with tears in my eyes.  

Some days, I'd glance at the tree, thinking there's still hope.

Other days, I wanted so badly to toss the tree out the window, chop it up and toss it into a bonfire.

After the holiday, I decided the tree had to go.  I donated the tree and ornaments to a shelter for domestic violence survivors, so the survivors and children can enjoy the tree in a safe place.

For the last six weeks, I found myself swinging between a desire for a tree and not wanting a tree.   A friend, who spent the road trip with me, encouraged me to get a tree. We didn't get one- and I found that I'm glad about that.  I love her, but I didn't like the pressure, not when I didn't feel ready.

I still searched for trees while surfing Internet, finding myself annoyed when catching myself doing that.

After talking with my therapist a few days ago, about the tree, I realized something.

The 7'5 tree-  it was for my family to be. My dream children.    Hope for family and children.   

Hence the tree never had belonged to ME. It had belonged to my family that was supposed to happen. 

After the catharsis, I then knew what to do.

I looked at trees, taking my time.    Tonight, I went to Target to get some package boxes so I'd mail stuff to family in Kansas, when I thought to myself "why not look at the trees here?"

I saw that the trees were on sale for 50% off. I went, "well, there's this tree I like, don't know if there'd be any left."

I went around the corner to find that the tree model that I liked, was still there, but no packages beneath the low raiser that the floor model was placed on.  I was thinking fatalistically, "that's that..." when a staff member stopped by and asked if he could help me. I shrugged and pointed at where the tree was, "no more packages. All out."

"We can pack this floor model tree for you, 75% off for you."

Serious? 
Serious?  
Is he serious?!  

I knew then that the tree was meant for ME.    Jules, the woman I am, on my own journey, exploring the world.

I took the tree home.    I put it up, decorating it with new ornaments, with some ornaments I kept from my trips to New Orleans and Britain.

This is MY tree.

Pillar of awesomeness

This post is scheduled during my absence.    (It was supposed to appear during my absence, it didn't- harumph)

A few months ago, a close friend and I have been chatting about when we could get together again.  Impulsively, I tossed out "how about a road trip- just like Thelma and Louise?  Without the cliff ending, that is!" 

After laughing so hard, she LOVED that idea!  

Now....we are in the almost end of the road trip, going across the Old South-  Memphis, Jackson, Baton Rogue,  New Orleans (most of the time in that Big Easy!), Huntsville, and all.  

BBQ.  Lighting ceremony of Elvis' home.  Games and laughter. 

Kayaking.   Cabin.  Crawdads.  

Vintage buildings, throwback to 1950's and dark roux.  

Crawdads, masks, carousel, swamps. 

Oak trees, shrimp & grits, 2 am dancing. 

Soul food, plantations and streetcars on the st Charles street. 

Eye candy, tacos and art markets. 

And best thing through it all?   The laughter, the tears, the sisterhood. 

R- seriously- you're awesome!!!    When it comes to example of awesomeness, you're the pillar!  

Back on board!

Had been away for a long while, due to being sick and taking a self care 'vacation' for a few days.   Due to it being October, there is a mixture of sorrow (miscarriage anniversary, the tumor, and several traumatic anniversaries) and joy (bonfires, colorful leaves, costumes, haunted houses, Halloween/Samhain), I knew I needed to be away from everything, including reading others blogs.

I didn't want to think about my childlessness; I didn't want to recall what led me onto this path. I didn't want to relive the grief and confusion.

I wanted to live in the present.  And that's what I did for the last few days.

Gone to Cobb's Haunt, which is a corn maze, with zombies jumping out among cornstalks, grabbing at you.

Cobb Haunt Vignette (from Joseph Phelps)

http://www.jguessphotography.com/blog/2010/07/05/cobbs-haunt/  picture by Jami Guess

You can get an idea what it's like walking in the corn maze... NO lights (except for strobe lights here and there)..I took advantage of the full moon-  took me 32 minutes to get out!  I have to see if I can do that again- that is if Cobb Haunt is open this Halloween (It's my goal to do three places all on one day!)

I went fishing- I hadn't done that for a long while, and so I caught two bluegills.  I hadn't caught that kind before, so I had to google up if there were recipes to determine if I can cook 'em or not.   I also went to a spa to treat myself to a body massage, pedicure and manicure.  I needed that for a long while.

And there were absolutely nothing to do for some days, and I LOVED that.  Freedom to read, catching up on movies, and doodling and painting.

I took my dogs to a pet supply store for their Howl-oween costume contest.  Due to Derby being popular around here, Hairy had a jockey on him! Lola went as a bumblebee-  Sweet Sweet Lola! 

We all got some awesome treats despite that neither had won- but that's all right.  I got to show off my furry kids in their costumes..and had gotten some ideas for next year- perhaps Star Wars or Walking Dead theme.  

Oh that reminds me-  everyone got a kick out of my t-shirt that I wore while walking through the corn maze and the dog contest.  "Walking Deaf"

Nowadays I feel pretty much  human, and it's easier to handle triggers, especially with babies and pregnancy. I recently had talked with friends about Pennsylvania news of a guy being arrested for rubbing a pregnant woman's belly, and there was no pangs of hurt in my heart.    

That tells me that I'm doing it right my way during the journey.  

Children of Elfquest

I am taking a page from Jody Day's Gateway Women blog, especially the tradition of identifying childless role models (such as Georgia O'Keefe, an artist, and Susan Anthony, a civil right activist), to give my own childless heroes a well-deserved recognition, and of their contribution to the world, the geek world, that is.


That would be Wendy and Richard Pini, the creators of Elfquest. What is Elfquest?  It's a comic book that came to life in 1978, of a story about elves (certainly not your Santa Claus elves or Tolkein's elves) trying to survive and find their place in a two-moon world, after their ancestors were stranded on the unwelcome world.  The main characters include Cutter, the 11th chief of the Wolfriders (yes, the tribe members literally ride upon wolves and live in the woods); Skywise, Cutter's best friend/blood-brother (and smart-ass, if you ask me), and Leetah, the healer for the Sun Folks (another group of elves who are peaceful and living in the desert.)

Skywise and Cutter

 (copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

The story wasn't limited to them, tho; there is a community of other characters, from the treeshaper Redlance to the glider Aroree, to trolls Pickaxe (yup, you read that right- *giggle*), and to preservers that could pass for winged fairies and humans aren't forgotten either. They range from enemies to an human daughter adopted by elves. War, love, death, life struggles and joy, laughter and tears, and philosophy could be found on pages, giving one awareness of worlds beyond what we see.

For me, Elfquest was a lifesaver.  

In 1984, I was a teenager, in a new house, in a new state, new school, away from everything familiar to me. Even more when you get to think about me being deaf, furthermore isolated and bullied.    I plummeted into depression.

It was one of those weekends I had to go with mom to her work on a Saturday.   There was a newspaper stand, that had a limited selection of books and a rack of comic books nearby.  So I was peering at the rack of comic books for something to keep myself busy while mom was working upstairs.  Used to see covers of Spider-man and Batman, I was surprised to see an unusual cover of  a group of pointed-eared humanoids, walking across a desert.  

( Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

What struck me was their desperation.  Walking in an hostile environment that can bring death to them.  You would presume that one on the cover is already dead.    I opened the comic book, reading about the elves losing their home to a fire, and of choosing to walk the desert, not knowing if there would be cool dark woods on the end.  They took a gamble on an unfamiliar object that Skywise (turned out to be an lodestone) acquired in the caverns of the trolls. I was so mesmerized, drawn into the world. The colors, the words, the pictures, I was lost in the sphere and I welcomed the depth of the story that swallowed me.   

I was startled awake when a hand laid on my shoulder, shaking me, and I looked up, blinking in an attempt to adjust myself back to the harsh reality to see that it was mom. She was telling me it was time to go home and to put away the comic book.  I begged for her to buy the issue for me; she refused as usual.  Images flew through my mind while I was staring out the window in the car; Cutter worried about his injured tribe member; Skywise's confidence in his lodestone even that he only got it a few hours ago; and the doubt on whether the tribe would survive the walk through the desert, with two wolf deaths.  They may be a tribe, but they were also a family.

I wanted to be one of that family.  I forgot that I had a plan to kill myself that night.  

Instead, I was considering wildly on how to gain all that Elfquest issues, knowing that mom  wasn't keen on me reading comic books.  It was a week later when we went to WaldenBooks (anyone remember that book chain?), I found that Elfquest are available in graphic novels!  I was freaking out- "I MUST have those!"    After convincing mom that I'd do all my chores without complaining for 30 days, she is to get me all graphic novels she could find.  You can picture anyone a parent would think to herself, chuckling "that kid won't go through, it won't happen."   

I did do all my chores, even extra ones without complaining!    On the 30th night, I reminded mom of our agreement, showing her the calendar with checked days, that she had to get all the graphic novels. 

Mom knew she was beat.  

After floating through the school day, waiting impatiently at home, and peering outside to see if mom had arrived, my heart was pounding.  I was right there at the door when mom came in, and I exclaimed, "wherearemybooks?!"  She handed me a Waldenbook bag, in which I quickly drew two graphic novels, Elfquest Books 2 and 3.  After being told that the two others (1 and 4) weren't there (of course, I grumbled!), and rushing through dinner, I ran to my bedroom to devour the books.  

(Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

It was basically in the wee hours of the morning (3 o'clock if you have to know) when I looked up, dazed, finished with the second book (Elfquest Book 3). 

A spark was lit in my soul. 

I wanted to live.

If the elves can survive the challenges, so can I.  If the elves could live through hardships and still live day by day with eyes of joy, so could I.   I drew hope from the illustrations, breathed in perseverance and courage from the characters, and welcomed life.   I wasn't alone anymore. 

When I found myself forgotten and bruised from bullying, I opened the book to remind myself, Winnowill (a villain) tried to control the Wolfriders because they were different. Humans tried to erase them from existence. The elves refused to be victims, and so I had the choice too, to refuse being a victim.  I refused to tolerate bullying; I spoke up.  Bullying stopped, (and hitting one back, certainly did help.)    

When I felt darkness of depression upon me, I buried myself under the blanket, with a flashlight and the ragged-corner books, welcoming me back to the two-moon world. 

It took two another years before I finally got the Book 4, and another year for the Book 1 (I know I should have started with Book 1, but damn, that was always out!)  My beloved Grandma managed to find a copy, Book 1, for my Christmas gift- the best present ever!  

I must make a confession. In a few years later, I was a college student, aspiring to meet Wendy and Richard one day. I was visiting an interpreter friend who lived in Poughkeepsie.  I was telling her about Elfquest, and of my dream, adding that the couple was living in the same town.  You know what she did?  She asked me for the address- I kept saying "No, no that'd be RUDE of me to show up at the door...! They would think me an insane stalker!"  

Next thing I knew, I was at the door, dragged out of the car by the friend, to the door.  I stood there, frozen in excitement and terror.  The friend prodded at me "go ahead, ring the doorbell." I was overcome with racing thoughts: "ohcrapohcraptheyaregoingtocallcopsonmeohcrapohcraptheyaregoingtothinkmecrazy!" 

So she pushed the doorbell.  

Then, Richard was there.  It had been over fifteen years ago, and I still remember vividly to this day, his curiosity about two strange women standing front of him, both signing with hands (although one was voicing for me).  The friend had to poke at me to say something, in which I rushed out my name, where I came from, how much I love Elfquest, rambling all in one breath. Bless her heart, the interpreter friend managed to get it all out for Richard to understand what I said.  Richard took it all graciously and smiled, asking me if I'd like to come in.  Would I ever!!??

He showed me around in the place, the room where he was editing pages for Elfquest: Kings of the Broken Wheel.  He showed me how to put a speech balloon in a panel. He printed out an Elfquest cover with Cutter and Rayek in front, with Cutter saying "Hello, Julie!" and handed it to me.  I was drowning in awe. When I thought we would have to leave, Richard asked if we would like to meet Wendy. 

I was FLOODED, oh yes oh yes!   So we walked down the street, to a cute house.   We all entered, and Wendy was coming out of a room, smiling. I felt like a guest, with the gates to Elfquest just swung open to me. She showed me art she had done, which took over the room from floor to ceiling, and items that fans had sent to her, including two cloth dolls, Cutter and Skywise and a real elf-sized sword, New Moon, Cutter's sword! She encouraged me to pick it up, and it was surprising heavy yet light, and I was so delighted when I realized the pommel could be taken out, revealing the hidden key!  I rattled off many names, even minor characters, in which Wendy admitted she couldn't remember every single character and their names (that ought tell you how much  of this obsession was back then!).  I asked her even if there'd be a deaf elf, in which Wendy said there was, a mother of a major character.  I was glad to hear that, since as you know, dear readers, I'm deaf.  The interpreter friend's fingers were flying fast as I talked about how Elfquest changed my life, and how happy I was to meet with them at last. Richard and Wendy were wonderful hosts! 

Standing outside, waiting for the friend to unlock her car door, I was in a blissful mystification. She laughed and said "Now, are you sorry that I dragged you here?"   

So it had been 28 years since Elfquest entered my life, shifting the path from despair to life. 

This year, Elfquest is celebrating 35 years, with so many books, with a variety of artists and writers all in the two-moon world, but always watched fondly by Wendy and Richard Pini.   Thanks to Wendy, underground comics were growing popular (not of the Marvel or DC universes).  Their having a company of their own with the Elfquest story, independent of the mainstream comics, contributed to people aspiring to create their own stories, such as A Distant Soil, for one. There were so many comics that I couldn't include 'em all here.  And to add, Wendy was the ARTIST and writer with her husband being co-writer and editor, which was unusual in the 1970's.  Comic artists had always been men, until Wendy Pini's entrance into the comic book world (as Red Sonja- cosplay- which is another story! LOL) 

Now what does childlessness have to do with the couple?  They chose not to have children.  They chose to give life to characters in their mind, to put word of whispered stories onto pages,  and to introduce the two-moon world and the pointed-eared ethos to a world used to caped superheroes. So Elfquest was created...and shall we say "And they're off!"  One'd think that the couple would feel absence of children as they get older.  You'd be wrong.  

So many readers have seen themselves in the stories; many explained how Elfquest had affected them personally- even saving some lives (and mine). So many stories mirroring our lives in ways you could not imagine.   From the elves' story, we rediscovered humanity in ourselves, and rekindled hope in seeing what life can offer us, with new eyes.  So many of us have been inspired, that even some of readers are introducing their own children to Elfquest, giving the stories a new generation to live on.  

And that's where Wendy and Richard find their joy in.    As Richard said in this article "Elfquest- 35 Years and Beyond", after being told over and over by fans describing how Elfquest influenced their lives, even saving some of them, Richard said, "Any time someone says 'you inspired me' or 'you helped me'-- you're our kids.  You are our spiritual and creative and artistic and wonderful kids.  And thank you all for being that... You are now our family, our tribe."  

His quote helped me realize something- we do not have to rely on parenthood, to find our place in the world.  There are other ways to leave a mark on the world, as Georgia O'Keeffe did with her painting, Susan Anthony with her activism, and Wendy and Richard with their Elfquest.  There are other ways to be a family, a tribe, to raise and/or teach children and individuals. 

So from my heart, I thank you, Wendy and Richard.   You saved me and many, and in turn, you can trust that Elfquest will be safe in our hands, our heads and our hearts.  

( Elfquest copyrighted by Wendy and Richard Pini)

Stay mum or not.

I wrote this post six months ago- overlooked it it'til now.  Sorry about the delay.  

There was someone I have felt close to. She too dealt with infertility- the bottom line is that she said she had made peace with her infertility, not being able to be a mother; now she's in her early 60's. I have known her for more than fifteen years. I had looked up to her for many things, seeing her as a mentor for the religious path I have been on for over 20 years. Now on my childless path, I had looked up to her through the months going in and out of the hospitals, and when it struck me that I wouldn't be able to be a biological mother. I I still vividly remember when I was crying on phone, she said, "Go ahead and cry, cry it all out of your heart. Listen to me, don't obsess about it too long. Don't waste all your time on this. I got over it soon enough, and so will you." 

When I found myself still down 3 months after the hysterectomy, I started to think something was wrong. After 8 months, I was thinking "am I obsessing over it? Am I not letting it go?", drowning in self-guilt and self-doubt. It took reading blogs like Life Without Baby, The Road Less Travelled, Real Life & Thereafter, Serenity in Chaos, and books like "Silent Sorority" by Pamela Tsigdinos, "I'm Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to say No to Motherhood" by Lisa Manterfield, and "Unsung Lullabies: Understanding and Coping with Infertility" by Janet Jaff, Martha Diamond and David Diamond. There are more blogs and books that I could read, but to me, those blogs/books I listed are more significant- helping me realize that:

"Grief is not a straight path, it's a continual cycle, very much like a labyrinth with its countless turns and stripes short and long. Uphill, downhill, it's all that."

"Not everyone experiences infertility alike. No one walk the same path. Each person goes it her way, with individual coping, access to support, and courage on their own time."


That was the catharsis for me; I had to let go of my expectations and society's expectations on how I:

"should complete my grief,"
"should move on,"'
"should shut up, be quiet."

I have been an advocate for women power, Deaf community, HIV/AIDS education, awareness of child abuse, domestic violence, more, for long as I could remember. So, returning to advocacy, as a tool to help myself heal, while noticing how infertility, childlessness and childfree life are still overlooked and/or judged in society's eyes, I was thinking, Why not? This is something I can do. Empowering people and empowering me. I walk the walk, and I can say "have been there, done that- and I got this stinkin' T-shirt."

So in time, I would share a post or meme about infertility here and there on Facebook, occasionally...testing the waters.

Mostly, I'd get a few likes, two or three comments affirming or at least, asking how this happened to me and/or how they could help someone infertile in their family or among friends.  

I felt emboldened, to share some more posts, although I drew a line at 'oversharing' because even I don't want to focus on infertility alllll the time in my life. I keep a balance as possible, mostly advocating and supporting causes, (including fighting against domestic violence and oppressing women). I like to share positive memes, introvert memes and geek memes- What can I say? 

Anyway, there would be some dry weeks without a post about infertility, then 2-3 posts a week. I did notice when I would experience depression (trigger of pregnancy announcement, or a glimpse of a baby), I'd start looking at infertility and/or grief posts/articles to validate and comfort me, normalizing what I'm going through. From there I'd find a good article to share in goal of making the word infertility public; to share that infertility exists for someone in your life- if it's your sister, your cousin, your best friend, or your teacher. Or at least you know that you're not alone in this.

A day before Infertility awareness week, I was already 'down' due to a friend who had recently have her baby. I congratulated her about her son's birth and sent her a baby gift earlier that week. That's the best I could do, while hiding her (which I tend to do with friends/relatives- when they announce being pregnant, or going through pregnancy, I hide them. I say nothing. It's for my self preservation.) Anyway, looking forward to advocating awareness about infertility, I had already shared a article about how to be supportive to infertile friends earlier that week. That day, I noticed I had a private message from the dear friend. I was quite aghast of the horrid tone in the message, chewing me out for being open about my grief,, posting "8-10 posts about infertility DAILY", "taking up all her new feed with all negative posts", "it being a friggin' year of this." And right after that, she de-friended me.  

I was quite flabbergasted. I even had a friend check my page to see if I truly post infertile stuff "8-10 daily" as I said in one recent post; turned out that accusation wasn't true. I had to talk with a good friend who is also an IFer. More we talked about my response to the email, it drew upon me.

It wasn't about me. It was about the friend's own pain of her infertility.  

I tried to put myself in her shoes- back then there'd be not much support in 1980's. No support groups on Internet, or at least forums to talk it out. It would have been lonesome for her and other women back then. It might be presuming of me to say this, but it might be easier to sweep it under the rug, to pretend that it didn't hurt anymore. I could be wrong, although.

Me, I chose not to pretend that it was 'all fine'. After struggling thinking I should put a deadline on my grief, and learning I didn't have to. The journey is mine, not anyone else's.

I chose to face my grief, and I chose to be public about my childlessness/infertility- in goal of removing the sting of taboo, normalizing and shrinking sense of stigma from the word 'Infertility. More I speak up in advocating, more women (and men) have contacted me privately, thanking me for putting the spotlight on this issue. They are not ready to open their hurt to the world, yet they appreciate that they are not alone anymore.

So that led me to realize that the friend possibly experienced re-opening wounds of her infertility; maybe that she hadn't proceeded through her own grief. Hence, it's pretty easier for her to lash out at me outward, instead of looking inward of her own pain.

That furthermore led me to realize three things-

I had hid certain people who go through pregnancy, for self preservation.. Why couldn't she have hid me for her own preservation?

I moved some people to close friends or favorites, where I could see their posts while NOT seeing others' posts. Why couldn't she selected close friends in new feeds where she'd see their posts, not mine?

She could have de-friended me; well she did. After sending me that horrible email, that was. However, she could have done this all along before now then- why waiting a year and some to do so, doing it as a dramatic exit?

I don't know the reasoning behind this. I just wish she could have talked with me about her reactions, her perceptive about me sharing posts about the topic she is not comfortable with. The email's message was absolutely unnecessary. I feel sympathy for her, and what she had gone through; I also understand how she chose to face this devastating trauma. However, I am not definitely happy how she projected herself upon me, putting a deadline of grief/healing on me, and when I didn't, she chose to think that something was wrong with me. She forgot, I'm NOT who she is.

How I address my grief, how I choose to draw strength from advocacy and helping people, refusing to 'sweep under the rug', that is certainly not wrong for me.

That's the difference between her and me.

http://cdn.ebaumsworld.com/thumbs/video/1990574/82280914.jpg

Awesomeness

I wrote a post for another blog about my first time volunteering; that's why I hadn't written one for this one in a week.   It had just been posted this morning, and I got a LOT of comments (all positive). That surprised me!

I hadn't yet determined whether I'd want to share that since the post is not related to infertility- but then again my blog is about my journey, isn't it?

Well, the bottom line is I feel good!  No, not that word.     I feel...  AWESOME!

Why I blog?

I had been thinking about the context of Lessons I learned from Seven Years of blogging, of how to make the blog my own, to define it- for some folks that's short quotes. Some other folks like writing focusing on their families or the infertility journey. It depends on each person's purpose behind blogging,  what she's okay with sharing and what not to share- it's all her own journey-  think it pretty much- walking on a path, with a journal open and a pen.

Some folks had asked me why there are visual cues in my blog- many of my posts include memes, gifs (brief videos at 2-3 seconds), and describing of background information.  There would be a lot of analogues and metaphors- pretty much my "special effects" tools.  

The simple answer is:  I'm Deaf. 


Being Deaf, that means I identify myself as culturally Deaf.  What does that mean?  That means we see deafness as a difference in human experience, not a disability.    After all, think this way- you fly to Malaysia, do you truly expect everyone to speak English?  Their language is Malaysian.  Hence you speaking English in the country of Malaysia- is that a disability?  No, it's just a different language. That's what it is for us, culturally Deaf.  We have a language, culture, norms, traditions and history- (and more)...  The key word here is  Visual, vision, perception, using our sense of seeing. Okay that's more than one key words!  We use our own eyes and hands for communication, although not limited to sign language only.  English is pretty much our second language, through texting, emailing, writing, reading. Some of us can speak. I could speak, but not much.  Often, folks would ask whether we can read and write. Seriously, yes, I had been complimented on how well I write for a deaf person; I had been praised for the ability to read. All that, and encountering questions/comments, such as "I didn't know you're deaf. You type so well" or "You're kidding, right? I never knew you were deaf! You write so good!" (when I disclosed I was deaf, in chat rooms, online forums, groups, after weeks or months).  There's a good article addressing that, as presented in this link: Ridiculist/Deaf people can't read or write. .

Due to us being visual, there's a love for visual sensations and stimulation.  We can write a story in air, just with hands.  We can dance and sing, with our bodies, facial expressions and hands as shared in this youtube video- created by Sean Forbes, a deaf hip-hop artist. 

Let's Mambo by Sean Forbes, with Marlee Martin

A number of Deaf bloggers use vlogs (video-blogs) instead of writing in a blog.  Why?  Their natural language is American Sign Language, not English. With permission from Michelle, I got to share one of her vlogs to show what a vlog by a deaf blogger would look like, to share information as we, writers, do in our own blogs.   There's no captions here, but that's what it is-  in her natural language.  In this one, she was addressing women's right to reproductive health. 

With permission from Michelle P. 

 To be clear, not everyone are limited to vlogs. I'd say fairly that there's an even number of vloggers and bloggers in the Deaf community.  Personally, I prefer blogging over vlogging, for many reasons- I'll share two reasons.  I grew up reading and writing in English, speaking English before learning SEE (a system of manual language to teach English with exact representative in sign), and I did not get to learn American Sign Language until in my 20's.  Despite exposure to ASL for more than fifteen years, I still struggle with certain words.  Don't get me wrong- I can converse just fine with an individual; it is when there's an audience/watchers, I 'trip over' words, switching between SEE, ASL and gestures.  The introvert in me, I guess- not liking to know folks are watching me on vlogs. 

WHY do I write?  I am deaf and infertile.  Mostly you'll see deaf bloggers/vloggers, and you'll see infertile bloggers (are there infertile vloggers?  Just checked, Yup!).  But are there deaf and infertile writers?  Due to the Deaf community being a small community, privacy is out the window.  I like to use this example which perfectly describes how small yet close community can be.  I disclosed to a friend that I love hunting ghosts.  Just in 24 hours, from that person, many folks know I like ghost hunting.   Kewl....  I even had some clients say "I hear you like ghosts..." Yup, that's the deaf infamous grapevine.  My point here is, due to infertility being viewed as 'something not to talk about- TABOO', it's hard enough to be singled out in the Deaf community, without including physical or mental disabilities.   Many had fought to show that they are not failures as society projected them to be, so adding a diagnosis, that's pretty much a scarlet letter 'A' for affliction.  

So that lead many of us to 'hide' additional disabilities/illness.   So I decided to speak up, to put a public face upon a deaf individual, to show that you (Deaf/hard of hearing) are not alone on the infertility journey (be it through experiencing IVF treatments, struggling with adoption, or adjusting to childless life). There's limited access to resources, due to the community's different language/accomdations, but hey, that's another post (my list of posts-to-be-written is getting longer).  And so that is the same with many websites/ resource blogs out there, but hey, we have to put out the first step.  I hope with me speaking up, I had started the step reducing sense of stigma of infertility in this community, whose hands draw stories in the air. 

After all, if not me, who will?  

(photo taken at Underground railroad Freedom Center, 2013)

Once upon a time.

I am not much a television watcher, did you know that?     At most, I'd have one or two TV shows to watch (i.e Ghost hunters and Walking Dead), and if I miss an episode or two, that's not a big deal for me.   So when some friends found that I love 'Fables', a comic book series about fairy tale characters who found themselves stuck in the real world (Earth) among us, I was told that I should watch "Once (upon a time)" TV series. The TV series is similar to Fables in characters, but the difference is Fables were chased to this world from the dictator who took over many worlds, destroying all magic but his own, while in Once upon a time, it was a curse upon the characters by the evil queen, who wanted her happiness above everyone else. There was only one who escaped that curse, Emma Swan, a daughter born to Snow White and her prince Charming, now an adult. She was placed in the real world, as a baby before the curse took over. However, she does not believe in magic, yet she's the heroine expected to rescue the characters out of the 'real life' back to their story-tale world.  Anyway.... I started to watch the series.

And I got hooked.   

I love the plot, the characters, Snow White (Mary Margaret), Red Riding Hood (Red), Prince Charming (David), Jiminy (Archie), etc,  the real world echoing the story tale in many ways like Archie/Jiminy being a psychologist (if one gets to think about it, Jiminy was certainly a counselor to Pinocchio in the story!) and who knew Rumplestiltskin can be both ugly and hot at same time?!  

Rumplestiltskin (Once upon a time)

And I think I'm in love with the main character, Emma Swan. Her ten years old son, whom she had given up as a baby, had found her in Boston and asked her to save him and the people in Storybrooke (can anyone see the pun there?!). Turns out his adoptive mother is the evil queen, now the mayor of the town.  Emma decided to stay in town, to get to know her son and figure what is going on in the 'strange' town.   Why I like her?   She's very strong-   she was shaken to find out her son found her, yet she decided to stay among strangers.  Some folks try to change her, manipulate her, try to destroy her, just because she's 'different.'  And in one episode I saw (and managed to find a gif of it), it just nails it all for me.     

Emma Swan (Once upon a time)

On the infertility journey, I found that people have expected me to stay who I was, to stay 'exactly the same' as one remembered, as if the journey never happened.     It does not mean for the worse. It means there are lessons on the journey that will change one, and that's something we can't lie about.  One can choose to come out stronger, as Emma did, to stick out and say "Hey, I decide for myself, not you."  

Little boy, big giant.

Almost a year ago, I wrote a post "Small step, big step?" which was about a friend who had a baby, had reassured me to take my time, before I'd feel ready to hold her baby.  I felt both excited and apprehensive at that time.

It's almost a year now.

I hadn't held her baby yet, who is now a 1 year old cheeky toddler.

Now I could look at photos of him.   I find myself smiling when the friend share a story or two of her children, here and there.


But the idea of meeting him....

I'm afraid.


What exactly am I afraid of?


That I'd break down and cry, front of her and her family;

That I'd have to look the friend in the eye the next day, and resent her for being a mother;

That once I hold the child, I'd feel nothing.  Or everything;

Or that I'd find myself back in the cycle of doubting myself, re-examining my life, and trying again in acquiring  a child, knowing I'd go through the frustration and confusion, not knowing what would be the outcome, but likely the familiar taste of grief all over again.

Just a friggin' 1 years old toddler, yet to me, he's Galactus.

http://www.fightersgeneration.com/characters4/galactus.html

P.S. My geekiness  sneaks up here and there.

Trek on the NY/NJ

Basically, I had basically a Greek comedy/tragedy experience traveling to the East coast. Repeated delays, broken planes, pregnant seat neighbors and babies everywhere, cancellations and shuttles from one airport to another all in one day!   Despite that, I had a joyous reunion with dearest friend R.

After resting for a few hours, we sat down at the table and made a "bucket list" to complete while I'm here.
Certain goals were very much for self-care, while others were quirks and/or something to enjoy.

There was a friend reunion, with someone I hadn't seen for almost twenty years!  I had gotten a kick out of that he didn't recognize me!  Even with hints, he couldn't figure who I was.  Finally, in mercy, we told him, and he was so happy- couldn't believe that I came all over to see him!  It was nice to reunite with him. There was even eye candy of an Irish Bartender working-  he introduced me to a drink- I should keep this as one of favorites to order in the future-  Pineapple Upside-down cake martini!   It's so yummy!

One day was full of mindfulness and pampering!  I got to do gentle yoga (now I have to see if we have that here!), a wonderful pedicure, with toes painted glorious purple, hugs out of the blue, staying in the present, and chatting over tea at night.  Best day during the vacation!

We got to watch 'Switched at Birth", all in ASL (no voice).  "Uprising"-  if you hadn't seen it, go and watch it!  You are very much welcome to experience my world from the Deaf view.. :)  Was wonderful watching it with R (she's Deaf, too!)

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One of my favorite spots is New Hope, PA.  There is an energy there that one can soak in, warm and loving- very much like sitting front of a fireplace, cozy in your blanket- that's the energy one can find in New Hope.  Meanwhile in New Hope, I got another tattoo at Living Arts where I had my tattoo long ago, of the wolf cub to represent my miscarriage.  This tattoo is of a curvy labyrinth on my calf, which I can lift to trace discreetly while sitting.  I had to hold hands with R, during the applying of the tattoo, due to one area being bone.  A tip to y'all who might consider getting a tattoo....get some lollipops. Don't ask me how, but they sure reduce experiencing pain to tolerable levels.

New Hope and R

 We ended up at a restaurant that faced the Delaware river; Martine's RiverHouse.  OMG, the food there- so good!  For the first time, I had tried duck- eating Duck Salad.   I swear we could hear the ducks outside quacking while I ate the ambrosial meat!  There was a sunset, causing the Lambertville bridge to shadow upon the river.  Something not to forget.  

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One other day, we went to New York City-  in goals of checking off one sightseeing of three choices: Ripley's Believe it or Not museum, Madame Tussauds museum, or the Harry Potter exhibition at the Discovery Center- all on the Time Squares.  We picked Madame Tussauds, and I am glad we did! There were so many characters that tickled my funny bone, like Charlie Chaplin; characters that I squealed over, like Johnny Depp; and characters that touched my heart like Amelia Earhart and Marilyn Monroe.    There's so many photos that I want to share, but those has to be my favorite ones. 

With John Elton

R chatting with someone high above the city

After walking through the Time squares, (saw the building where they drop the ball on New Year Eve!), we then went to a restaurant, Elmo, (yes, that's their name.)  in another area of New York by subway. I sampled one of their signature drinks, Black and Blue mojito (full of blueberries and mint)- absolutely to die for!!! I met some neat-o guys, sweet friends of R, and to boot, the waiters... so cute hunks that I'd love to take home!  *Giggle*  

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There was pauses in time when we'd just sit down at the kitchen table or on the couch and chat for hours over coffee(me) and tea(R), and those times were precious to me.  She totally knows what it is for me, in my situation, and she gets it.  Not many folks could say that, you know, dear readers?  That's one of thousands of pieces I love about her.    There was tears, there was giggles, there was eyes-rolling, and sighs of exasperation, and there were laughter.  How could one put a price on that?  

To my delight, (although dismay for all other who live in NJ/NY), we even had a snow day!  I was disappointed that there was not enough snow in where I live, so to wake up to a winter wonderland was something unexpected yet exciting!   To R's astonishment, I walked in snow barefoot, to measure the depth of snow; by the way, that was 8 inches.  Yes, I was sad that we couldn't go walk labyrinths that day as planned, but the snow made up for that!  I threw snowballs, playing in snow- I had missed doing that for several years!  

We had a memory lane trip when we went through R's book shelves, including talking about her collection of Laura Ingalls Wilder books, "Misty and Chincoteague" and other books by Marguerite Henry, and Anne Rice's Vampires novels.  Always loving to talk about books!   Currently, I'm borrowing some books from her, including one book I hadn't known that Anne Rice wrote, so looking forward to read "The Feast of All Saints."   

So, the vacation was very much what I needed-  away from everything, to focus on me only.  I am Jules, just not childless and sad infertile, not therapist, not advocate only, and that was what I needed to dunk myself in, to reunite with myself, on vacation and with wonderful friends. Thank you, R- heartfelt!  

By the way, I got to check some stuff off the bucket list, so I look forward to review that by end of 2013!