Perseverance

[This was written in 2015, a few weeks after the post that got that anonymous attack in comment to me.  Decided to publish it- don't see any reason on why I should not, anymore.]

Recently, I had noticed I had a comment waiting to be moderated.   

The hostile anonymous lurker had sent another comment, "test on"- apparently to see if the comment would go public right away.  Obviously not.  

What that tells me: 

1)  Testing to see if the comment would go through or not, still anonymous, that tells me she is a coward, seeing if she'd troll again.

2)  She is still lurking around.    To see if I am still writing.   

I had thought long and hard; there was two options:

  a)  writing less and watching what words I put down.  

  b) discontinuing the blog.

That made me brought to mind, one remarkable experience I had during graduate school.  I had written a post on another blog (on hiatus while I go through the CNBC experience), which opened a jar of worms among the Deaf community, even more on the campus.   I tossed out a challenge for Deaf folks to look inward to themselves: their being hypocrites about preaching Deafhood, yet discriminating against other Deaf folks.  A week later, a professor in my graduate program pulled me aside, asking to talk with me privately.    Before he opened his mouth, I knew what he was going to say- since many folks did not like what I said in the post.  The bottom line was that he asked me to desist writing; he was concerned about 'confidentiality' (never mind that I did not identify anyone in the general incident, and I got permission from the victim who experienced the discrimination before I wrote the post), and whether it is proper for me to be in graduate school.   Subtle threat, indeed.   

I stared at him in silence; I was shaking in my feet yet I told him, "I have the right to speech. I got permission from the victim, and this is a good time for healthy dialogue for us to discuss about Deafhood and what it means to us all, not just one group. I am sorry but I will not stop writing." 

He looked at me for a pause and then walked away.  

I knew I probably had blown my chance to stay in graduate school.  When they had evaluations later (in which they decide whether the student can stay for another year, or be asked to leave); I was told that I'll stay. 

Nevertheless, from that experience, I noticed I was very cautious writing posts in that blog.  I found myself double-checking and over-analyzing.  I experienced some anxiety attacks whenever I wrote a post.  It took a long while before I could write without feeling anyone is looking over my shoulder.

Now, with my blog struggling to live with CNBC blog-  guess what? 

You're not stopping me.    

I picked the third option- I am still writing.

 I owe myself, so many things, which includes experiencing my feelings, recognizing my thinking, and exploring my flaws.  I also have the right to grief, to anger, and to joy. I have the responsibility to accountability, to emotions, to empathy and to humanity to show that I hurt, and I laugh.  I have the duty to myself to write what feels right to me, and to put a spotlight on the less-understood topic of living after infertility/childlessness, even the part on reacting to news of pregnancy variable to individuals and unpredictability of emotional responses.  

I'd like to share a quote from the well-known and well-loved author,  Nicole Sparks:

"You can't live your life for other people. You've got to do what's right for you, even if it hurts some people you love."    (The Notebook)

In a way, the comment had sparked a recognition in me that I am not knocked down; and that I have strengths, both known and hidden, and I'm much  loved by friends and family.

So.... Thank you, lurker, for giving me that opportunity to find something I had overlooked about myself for a long while, forgotten but not anymore-

Perseverance.

And you're welcome.

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!

Walking the walk

As long as I could remember, I had been an advocate/activist.  Even as a very little girl, I was an ambassador for an organization that encouraged lip-reading and speaking, not sign language (staying away from the Deaf community, making one 'hearing').  Mind you, it was my mom who volunteered me for that position, and of course my face was on newsletters at local hospitals and audiologists' offices back then in the 1970's.   How funny it is that I'm immersed in the Deaf community nowadays.  And that wasn't the first time in advocacy....  Nope, that would be when I was a very very little baby.

Mom had pushed me in a stroller when she marched with other women fighting for equality.

(from Washington DC ARCHIVES)

Mom talked with many (teachers, representatives, senators, board of education, everyone) to encourage passing of Education of All Handicapped Children Act (which was passed in 1975), which was then renamed the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA).  Just one of ten thousands speaking for support of this act, which increased education for children with disabilities. 

Marches for Reproductive rights.  HIV/AIDS education/prevention, Take the Night Back, GLBT rights, all in 1980's and 1990's. Been there, done here while growing up.   When not pulled in the Radio flyer red wagon, I rode a bike.  When not on a bike, I walked in my sneakers.  I was a walker, a cheerleader, and fundraiser for many causes. I sat at booths to explain about equality, HIV education, and access to communication for the Deaf.  

When I was a freshman at Gallaudet University in 1989, I even got an opportunity to talk with my Representative  and two senators at the U.S. Capitol, explaining the importance of passing the Americans with Disabilities Act before it was passed in 1990.  

In the last two decades, I had been advocating for vulnerable adults' right to be listened to, and to be respected,  and not to be babied.  Being a mother hen, I was fiercely championing for individuals with intellectual disabilities to increase independence in housing and employment, much as they are able to.   Trembling in my shoes, I stood up to abusers, while shielding women.  I held hands with victims of rape as they were being treated behind the hospital curtains during the sexual assault examination.  Was a legal aid advocate; victim advocate; and medical advocate in numerous fields.   While doing extensive studies in graduate school, I encouraged free-thinking, exploring beyond limitations and civil right to marriage (marched with fellow graduate friends in protesting Prop 8 in 2008.) 

It was over a year and half years ago that I stopped activism. 

That was when I had struggled with my own reproductive issues which included surgery and struggles with my own identity.  

Through the decades of being confident and assertive, now I found myself extremely vulnerable.  After years of knowing who I was, I wasn't sure anymore who I was.  If I was not to be a mother, what was my gift to the future?  If I am not to have children, why should I care to make that the world is livable, with civil rights to everyone?   Cannot I leave a mark on the world?  

All the fierce passion, all joy of empowerment,  all my desire to better the world, and I never had a chance to be a mother after all.  I felt cheated. 

I was angry.  I stayed in the darkness of rooms, refusing the sunshine, rejecting the world's cajoling of sharing news crying for help in many areas, especially women rights and reproductive rights nowadays.

Right.... Reproductive Rights, I never got to practice that myself.  

Can't help but see the irony there.  

Last month, I was surfing on Facebook when I saw someone posted a meme "I Stand with Wendy Davis!" That name wasn't familiar to me, so I checked  Facebook, Twitter and Google and discovered her goal of filibustering against the new abortion regulation bill in Texas. 

Wendy Davis, June 25, 2013

The neglected ember, within my spirit, sparked with interest in seeing what Wendy was doing.   More she stood in her sneakers, more she spoke, the more the world watched her.  I found out many women sent her their experiences to her to read aloud, more I was reminded of something I had forgotten during my grief.

It's not about me.   It's not about you.   It's about ALL of us.  One for all, all for one.  Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno.    To better the world, we better ourselves.    To advocate for people, we advocate ourselves.   In my way, I have been advocating for infertility awareness in the Deaf community for a while. That was a small step for me.  

So with reflecting what Wendy Davis is doing, with noticing how thousands of women showed up at Texas to protest, with showing up in North Carolina, and with recalling Occupy Wall (Restore the Fourth) protests (still alive!), I felt like the world had just slapped me, as of going "du'oh!"  

I realized, I do have children in a sense-  my nephew (and future nieces/nephews), my cousins' children, my friends' children.   If not of my womb, then for them, for the women, for the vulnerable adults and elderly, and for the children who need the world more than we do, especially in this political environment.  

After reading a blog written by volunteers who advocate safety and empowerment at a local organization here, the volunteers are the witnesses and warriors to a constant war on the sidewalk almost daily.  I was reminded of the one thing I had been interested into doing, but hadn't taken the opportunity to do: To walk the walk, to participate in the battle. Not to stand in sidelines.   I contacted the writers recently and inquired about volunteering.

Well, I'll be wearing an orange vest locking arms with fellow volunteers in the wee hours of Saturday morning, to keep clients safe, protecting their right to choose for themselves, without politics or religion butting their noses in.   

I might be infertile but I'll always protect reproductive choice, all choices.  The advocate roars again! 

  

(from the movie Ace Ventura)

My house.

You came in the house.   You looked around, noticing the placement of furniture.  The decorations.   The curtains.  The lights.  The texture of the walls, and the floor.  you went, "Hmm."

You immediately imagined how you'd change this chair from the window to a corner- "it would look better that way."

You gave in and moved a little statue from a side table to the mantle.   Emboldened, you relocated a plant from the corner of mantle to a corner where the window is.

You got yourself hooked- you moved the stuff to another room, to paint the walls in a color you like, "that's who I am."  You replaced the carpet, for something that is more to your taste.

You then found yourself moving around the furniture-  the sofa, now upholestered in a fabric you prefer, is now in the center, not against a wall anymore, "to make it two rooms."  The armchair that was resting in one corner is now at one side of the sofa.   You replaced the shades of the lamps for something you like, "the shades looked so old, time to bring in new!"

You went through the books, tossing out books that made you go "eww" "nasty", and then re-organized the books you determined worthy to keep, alphabetically.

You replaced the art on the wall, that defines you.


Can you see the problem here?

You just changed MY house, into something that YOU like, to define YOU, never mind that it's MY house.
The house, who is an echo of who I am, my personality- and you attempted to change all that to match YOU, to make you feel comfortable, to match your expectations.


That's the problem- 
You tell me how to get better; you're just moving MY sofa to one other side of the room. 
You proclaim to me on what to do with my health; you're re-organizing MY books. 
You give unasked advice about how I "should" handle my grief; you're upholestering MY favorite armchair.
You, uninvited, try to fix the issue that I live with; you're putting artwork on MY walls, pretty much a band-aid.
You get frustrated or angry about how I deal with my own mental/emotional health, on my own time; you're replacing MY carpet for a rug you prefer.
And you declare your displeasure about my journey; you're painting MY walls in your favorite color.

You're trying to change me into someone you think I should be, when it's NOT who I am.   At first I was going to say "I'm sorry for disappointing you, not meeting your expectations," when I realized no... it's YOU who should apologize for trying to change me into someone I am not. 

Would anyone wonder why I'd toss you out the door if you tried to change my house?


******* This post is for us who go through the infertility journey, dealing with good-intended yet hurtful advice, and judgmental comments.  Can also apply for individuals living with chronic illness, grief, trauma, mental illness, domestic violence, recovery, etc.*******

Try to lead a herd of cats? Try 11 teenagers!

Attempting to discuss on helicopter vs. authoritative parenting, I was challenged about having the ability to parent or not;

"You mean, since I don't have children, I don't know what it's to be a parent?"

"Well, that's not what I mean... you don't have children, you know?"

"I took care of many children, including my cousins, that meant  babies to adolescents. I have three godchildren.  Have you EVER taken care of 11 teenagers under your roof for 6 weeks? Especially them being all girls...  have you?"

"Eleven girls- how did you do that?"

"With a sense of humor; a routine for chores; clear rules with enforcing responsibility for actions; listening and empathy; not taking B.S; and also to know that I'm not perfect, but I did my best. Even the kids knew that and appreciated that."

A pause, then "I guess you do know how to parent."  

Nice to know I get approval to parent... (sarcasm) 

(Note: I was a summer counselor. Two other counselors, who were teamed with me, were too busy with their summer flings and gossip, leaving me alone with the teenagers in a range of age 13 to 16. Including two kids that had a history of being kicked out in past years- but they managed to complete the stay with me. All sharing a cabin with two toilets, even so. Gotta love Camp Endeavor in FL!) 

Facebook landmines

A dear friend had shared this article: When Facebook suck! on my page- and I'm touched that she had thought of my situation, since she knows I had repeatedly hid some people on Facebook.  

After reading the article, I'm telling you- if I was that good in writing, that's exactly what I would have written sometime ago! Although, I admit I do hide certain people who is pregnant or over-sharing of their children on their posts (or restricting number on new feed). I know how much some parents love their children, but must they talk about their kids every 10 minutes on Facebook?! Or over-share 20-50 photos daily of what their kids do?
"His first accident-heeheh"
"see how she's so cute sleeping with her Barbie!"
"His first car!" (with 11 photos, taking all angles of the car, no less.)  

You get the idea... I had to hide or de-friend one or two last year before/after the hysterectomy surgery for my own self-preservation (fortunately, one understood, the other didn't, unfortunately). I do understand that some parents find joy in sharing info of their children, although a hundred-thousand photos in a month? Don't you think that's a tad too much? I admit occasionally I feel a concern about one's intentions (even good ones) for sharing photos with friends, friends of friends, or even to public. After all, have anyone truly considered that one might use your photos of children for their own profit/purposes that may not be...nice? Last fall, a friend came crying to me, being very upset, that one of her Facebook photos of her child daughter had been "stolen," and it had gone viral as a meme.

I do share info about infertility now and then- but not often..since I don't want folks to feel like they're 'walking on eggs' if you get my meaning. I was flabbergasted when someone, I thought, as a good friend, claimed that I share posts about infertility "8-10 times daily, woe is me." I had to check my feed to see if that's true biz, of me over-sharing. I even asked a friend who is quite objective, without explaining why I wanted her to do so, to check numbers and what I share in a week, in the last three weeks. Love her, but she reported, literally "17 Star Wars memes, 8 Johnny Depp memes, 6 tiny house posts, 21 positive/feel good quotes, 3 infertility posts, one infertility meme, countless geek crap (hmmmm, I take that she doesn't like geek stuff, huh?) and...." I told her that's enough. Well, even *I* would get sick of myself if I do that much as that person claimed! The purpose behind my sharing is to help increase awareness for infertility. After all, according to the U.S. census 2008, there's a finding: slightly less than 50% of women (18 years old to 44 years old) are child-less (by choice, or circumstance). One in five encounters infertility (and I know I'm preaching to the choir here..) 

Back to the point, The friend shared the article to show support, and that's significant. What's wrong with wanting to share information, or to be an ally? It's all the same, as in the idea for cancer awareness or MS support or education to watch out for symptoms of depression.

And in long run, advocacy for awareness of infertility helps me heal as well. Face to face, being public and being supportive of each other (my tribe), instead of sweeping it all under the rug, hence leaving it to fester and increasing risk for relapsing to bitterness, avoiding emotions, pretending it all didn't happen- that's not healthy for me.

I chose this path, of being a public face for infertility, childlessness not by choice, and for deaf women who may or are already on the path that put them without children to raise. To give hope, and to reassure that they are not alone. By sharing my story, and by posting articles and quotes now and then on Facebook, I'm saying, "I may be down sometimes, but I'm not out."


That's all I can do.... I refuse to stay in bed forever, I refuse to pretend that it didn't happen. I refuse to put a deadline on the grief as some folks think it should be within 1 month to six months- grief is NOT a straight path.....there's good and bad days, there's some moments it's okay to cry, and there's times it's okay to laugh. There's times to step on the soapbox and speak up, and there's times to sit with friends, debating Star Trek vs. Star Wars. And that's why it's important to acknowledge that sometimes Facebook has its plus and cons, when one is infertile. One has to practice self preservation, and that's on you. To walk away, or to take a hiatus from Facebook, or to hide people. Don't chew people out if you're hurting- they have as much right as you to share what they want to post. Just hide them if you're not comfortable. I could go on and on about this since this just happened to me, but that's a post for another day. 

And oh yeah, referring to that article I read today, it's okay to be THAT woman sometimes.

Louisville Zombie Run

Alert! Alert!  Zombies are loose in Louisville!

On upcoming Sunday, if you have to be specific.   There is a Zombie Run in which there'll be hundreds of runners who'd run and  avoid being caught by zombies.  Nothing to worry about, except for the zombies on the path, hiding and waiting for an opportunity to grab a runner.   Zombie kids are the worst- looking cute, harmless, but they certainly run faster and use their innocence to lure in the runners. And they are most frightening to behold, in my opinion. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dtstuff9/8106781714/

As a volunteer, I'll be out, handing out water...errr vaccination hydration supplies for the runners, who are participating in the Louisville Zombie Run.  

At least, that'd keep me out in the sun, feeling sorry for the runners and socializing with zombies- might be courteous to let 'em bite me once or twice.  After the run, there'll be the Survivor's Quarantine Party, full of food, DJ music, and partying with both survivors and zombies. 

********************************

On a somber note-   what happened last Monday, with the two bombings in Boston-  that's horrible.  Unthinkable.  Especially during a historic event, where thousands come to watch their friends and family relatives run.  It was supposed to be safe; unfortunately, it wasn't.     What gave me hope, is that among the chaos,  people came out to help.  They gave coats to runners in shock; they handed their cellphones to runners to call in with their friends or family.  Runners ran to the hospitals to donate blood.  Even now, on Twitter and Google, there are people who opened their houses to runners and relatives.   

Boston had seen its battles, starting with the Revolutionary war.  It stood strong against the English. The city stood steadfast as it sent sons and brothers to the Civil War to fight, knowing that many would not return.  Boston's women were already strong and respected long before women's rights were even addressed.  The city welcomed the GLBT community with open arms.   And so, Boston is the literal representative of freedom and strength.     Despite the bombings, Boston is not knocked down. Among the confusion and fear, Boston locals turned around and ran toward the screams, to collect hurt victims in their arms, to hold weeping  relatives, and to stand steadfast and say "You messed with the wrong town"...and they aren't kidding.  

So in that mind, Louisville Zombie Run runners are running for whatever reasons they have registered in, but we are also running for Boston...even when zombies are chasing after us.  

Shopping and Bias against disabled parents



Thanksgiving had come and gone.  It was somewhat good, just with mom and some neighbors.    Now, we gotta hope that Xmas would come and be gone without any incidents, like weeping.  I can't say it won't happen.  

I had gone to the baby department of Macy's to get some clothes for my baby nephew, one of his holiday gifts...and it was harder than I thought.  Even more at the book store.  Some of you have read a post that I wrote much earlier this year, of how much I love reading. So getting books for the nephew was tough, looking at books, thinking "if I had a child, I could get that...." eyeing 'Boot and Shoe', "or this", of another book 'Star Wars Alphabet'.   

Bottom line, I got clothes and books for the baby nephew and they are all wrapped, soon to be mailed.  :::pat on my shoulder:: 

 I did it. 

While reading posts and articles on Facebook (yup, I have an account there, nothing to be embarrassed about.), I saw an article shared by a good friend.  Its title grabbed my attention "Facing Bias, loss of children, disabled parents should get more support, advocates say."    I clicked on it to read.

After reading, I feel validated that what I have gone through with planning to have a child, or adoption...  you see, it'd be hard to adopt as a single woman... even more as a deaf single woman who uses American Sign Language as her communicative language.    I have always had a fear that if I had a child, in my 20's and 30's, that I'd have to go through court to fight to keep the child, especially with my maternal family- I love 'em, but there's a bias that deaf cannot do anything.  They'd think I'd put the child in danger just because I can't hear.   So that's one of many reasons why I hesitated getting pregnant.  It was only when I became 40 and more confident in myself, I decided "hell with them, I'll get pregnant- and if that comes to court for custody of the child, I'll fight like hell." 

That didn't work out, dear readers. Despite some success getting pregnant, none had gone past the first trimester.     

Then, I looked into adoption, I read about requirements of international adoption, and of articles about surrogate mothers/single women (or with lesbian partners) trying to get pregnant with semen from deaf donors- and I have noticed folks in those articles had fought.  Some won..and some lost, especially with deaf semen donors and some international adoption.  Even some local adoption would put disabled individuals last on the waiting list to adopt...  

*sigh*     some days I'm pushing up my sleeves and say "bring it on!'  and on other days, I feel hopeless. 

It has been more of the latter feelings for those days-  rare to experience the former feeling of confidence...  I can only hope I'd experience that more often- not now, but perhaps next year or so...

I want to say "Bring it on" to fight for my right to have children, even if they are adopted or foster or by surrogate mother someday and stick to it.  I want to have hope...

Like the photo says..hope is a bitch. 

The world is watching.

How far we had gone to achieve voting.....

Not even a century had gone past since Women had gotten the civil right to vote.

Let us not forget the disabled- they are ABLE to vote

Help people exercise their right to vote- volunteer and protect their exercising to vote.

Afar you are, yet close you vote! 

May common sense, honor and inner strength prevail over fear, threats or delusions today on the day that may determine the next fifty years. 

It's all lies

 Lately, I find myself in a bout of emotions, crashing and rolling like waves.     Lately, there have been times when I'd encounter so many photos of babies, baby announcements, even a photo of a dead baby in its coffin (who'd even think sharing THAT on Facebook?), and....

I throw in the towel.  

I see people share posts of loving their mothers, loving their children, being so grateful of being a mom, and I kept thinking, "is it me or are they doing that on purpose to rub it in?"  Several times I remind myself, they have the reason to be happy.

A part of me then snaps, "Then why can't I either be happy?"

 *sigh*  No way to go around that right now.  And I think what adds to the complication is that I'm not in a relationship, so I don't have someone, where I could let go and be told it's okay.  

I was getting to know someone.  He knew of my situation.  Yet I knew then he didn't 'get it' when he asked "what if I wanted children later on? What if I want to have kids? I don't want adoption but children of my blood."  and I looked at him and said, "that's something you have to think on."    

I knew it when later on when I heard nothing from him.  

It has been seven months since the hysterectomy.    The world has been moving on, while I find myself stuck.     I have said that I have been okay.    Things are good.    Things are going good.  I'm better.  

Guess what?  It's all lies.     I'm not okay.   I find myself hateful- angry- bitter- tearful- sad.  

I hate 'em.     I hate that they have babies and I don't.    I hate guys who think they can decide for us women.  I hate the cultural mentality that a woman is nothing without children.  I hate women who think everything can be fixed by having children.  "If I can't find a job,  might as well have a baby!"    "To save my marriage, I gotta be pregnant."  "Everyone else is pregnant, so if I am not pregnant, I'm a freak."    I hate 'em.  

I am angry that I didn't get a say in having children or not.  I am angry that everyone else around me is able to pop babies out, except me.   I am angry about the woman who had killed her unborn baby a week before its due date.  I am angry at the world for moving on.  I'm angry at idiots who feel women should keep their legs crossed, blaming the woman for rates of pregnancy when clinics providing birth control, one by one, are shut down in name of  "religion."   I am angry at people who want small government, yet is fine with the concept of having government in our bedrooms, even in our beds (or bathtub or car or on the beach.) I am angry that I am infertile.  

I am also bitter at ex friends who claimed they were friends, but when they found out I couldn't have children, they dropped me like a hot potato.  Such pals I had...  Bitter at folks who said they'll be there as they did a week after my surgery, and then they disappeared off the surface of the world, basically blocking me, not explaining- nothing.  At least I'm entitled to an explanation, wouldn't you think? Now I find them on another page under a different name (while a friend left a comment on my page), brown-nosing someone I knew.  They had fed on each other, being supportive of each other on the surface, yet being so hateful behind each other's back, being angry that one copied one other, "She got that idea from me, I'm sick of it!" and "Can't she be original, why does she copy me in everything?"  I could tell one other about what they had talked about each other behind each other's back, and me trying to stay neutral all through it, with ugly truths, but why should I open a can of worms?  I have enough on my own hands without dealing with their drama.  Beside if they could do that to someone (me) who trusted them during a vulnerable time, I wouldn't trust them again, as far as I could throw them.  Burned once, lesson learned.  

I am tearful here and there.   My eyes fill up with tears looking at a baby announcement I got in mail.  I wipe tears away as one new grandmother joyfully shares a photo of her holding her grandson. I reach for a tissue as I finish a movie 'Bride Wars' with such dismay, as two characters look at each other, "you're pregnant?" with excitement. I struggle not to cry as a co-worker talks with other about their babies.  Tears go down cheeks as I touch my hand on the monitor, aching to have my own baby, not even liking that photos of babies are found on Pinterest inadvertently. 

I am sorrow filled.  I grieve that so many things had happened horribly.  I am sad that some folks are dastard, that they would go low to hurt when someone is already low.  I am lying on bed, saddened that sometimes truth hurts, even leaving wounds behind.  

So..I'm better.     That has to be the biggest lie one has to live with in the world of infertility.  

In Honor of Childless Awareness Day

In Honor of Childless Awareness Day     You need to click this to read the note.....

I found this on Facebook, and read the note.  I came out thinking,

She nailed it.




I admire her for achieving to where she currently is...and I have faith that we will get there.... on our own time.

Mark of honor

I have been thinking, of bearing up with pain inside me, why not have it out on my skin?  


Tattoo.  


I looked, and I looked...    there's no childlessness symbol, as there is for eating disorders, cancer, HIV/AIDS, military branches, etc..     nothing-   here's an infertility symbol I found on Internet search:

However it's very much for resolution of infertility (after medical interventions), motherhood, finding hope going through infertility, etc..  You can get the context from this:

Fertility & Hope

"Featuring words to fortify the spirit. A spiral to symbolize the journey and the creative life force. The heart represents life and the heart that is full of love for our future children.  A wonderful gift to encourage someone you love going through the emotional roller coaster of infertility."

All to give hope to the individual who is going through infertility, in and out of doctor's offices, IVF, etc... "one day you'll have a child."

Granted, I'm writing all this on a day when I'm going through anger.  All that fluffy, bunny-cute, sunshine-warm, white clouds-happiness?  PASS.



Okay- what about childlessness,   not by choice?  Not speaking of child-free or childless by choice, but childlessness, with grief, the anger, the acceptance and the heartbreaking journey all through it? And one day,  accepting it as a path walked less, but still a PATH you walk on.


I have been talking with an artist- she is aware of what I'm going through.


So, I'm still mulling.

Ain't Fair

I just read an article this morning, and I'm pissed (pardon my language).  

I can't bear children, due to not having an uterus anymore.   That's a fact.

This woman had a son and she forgot him on top of her car after being high on pot.   That's a fact.

This baby is not safe with the parents, especially with the mother not realizing until much LATER that he wasn't with her.   The baby seems to be overlooked; drugs are more important.

What's wrong with this picture?!

Jokes, Boundaries and Grief

"You are over your grief, aren't you, since you're joking."  I had heard that quote and similar sayings from people lately, and I grit my teeth.  Seriously...    First of all, do not presume that I'm "over it."  ASK me.  I wouldn't ask a grieving spouse if she had gotten "over her husband's death" after a few weeks.  I would hope some of us would have common sense, to consider that grief can evolve, depending on support, coping skills and time.    For me, I use my sense of humor to cope with my grief now and then.  I am not yet out of the cave; I'm not ready. But I don't want to stay in the darkness forever, so to me, the sense of humor is my flashlight, in a sense.  Basically, if not for that, I'd be curling in my bed, not wanting to get out ever.  My humor is one of few coping skills that keep me hanging in there.

I still cry when I see someones posting a baby blog.  I still feel my heart breaking when I see someone sharing a sonogram on Facebook.  I still feel a whack of pain when I notice a pregnant woman.   To keep my fragile sanity, I had hidden some friends on Facebook, and I set up boundaries for myself. After all, I cannot ask those friends to hide their joy just for my sake, that would be selfish of me.  So it's MY choice on how to handle this on my own, by hiding certain people.   Mind you,  I had explained my decision to them,and most accepted that.  I am told, " It is important that you take care of yourself first.  When you are ready, I will be there."  They understand that I am not emotionally available for them during their pregnancy and for when their babies are born.  Of course, there are exceptions, and I'm not surprised.  One had insisted wanting me to be a godparent despite my refusal, insisting on sending me an invitation to a baby shower (got angry when I told her I can't attend), and then announcement of her baby's birth/photos (got upset when I asked her to stop tag me in photos).  Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her and her baby, but I'm also jealous of what she has, that I can't experience- pregnancy and a newborn at my breast.

 That is something one have to remember, when it comes to infertile women (depending on how serious their medical condition is; in my case, uterus removed four weeks ago), we are very vulnerable to emotional triggers, including jealousy, insecurity, guilt, resentment, confusion, and oh yes...anger.   I'm angry at the gods.  I am angry that there are so many women out there that shouldn't have children, but here they are, having children in abusive families, neglect, poor parenting.  I'm angry at myself for not getting pregnant much earlier.  I'm angry at friends who experience through their pregnancies and babies.  I'm jealous of their joy with the 'baby bump' and holding a newborn in their arms.  I'm confused about my responses to stranger women carrying their babies, one moment disliking them, next moment wondering what it'd be like to hold a baby in my belly. I resent feeling people are trying to force me to accept their pregnancies, especially when some pregnant friends feel I'm playing "favorites" with them; not realizing that one may be very discreet, not being public with her pregnancy, preferring it to her friends and family off Internet (much easier for me), while one other is celebrating by talking about her pregnancy weekly in her blog, sharing photos of nursery ideas, and whatever so related to pregnancy (which is repeatedly pouring salt into my wounds- not her intentions, but that's how I FEEL.)  I experience guilt for feeling angry and jealous toward friends and family relatives who are pregnant or had babies born.  I And you know...  this is normal behavior and thinking for infertile women (and men).

This blog I found, said it much better than I could, especially in the third paragraph; "It is a very painful place for an infertile to be. There is no hope, just a great deep dark sense of despair. You feel totally alienated from the rest of the world and you are consumed by your situation. Every thing hurts, and every thing has the power to hurt you. Your world shrinks to the world of infertility and you fight tooth and nail to protect the fragile hold you have on sanity." 
How to be Good Friends with an Infertile.

 Some infertile women try to get pregnant with medical treatment, so it may be easier for some of them to handle their emotions, although not everyone can be successful getting pregnant, hence emotions can be remarkably torturing.  For me, my uterus was removed, so I did not have the chance at all to try for pregnancy, hence my grief is more painful for me.  And so, I respond in using my sense of humor; be it morbid, silly, sarcastic, funny, eye-rolling.  And it keeps me sane, and feeling very much human, which I have much need for. 

At least, I'm starting to learn my limitations, emotional-wise.  My point here is, even if I look "better", if I joke "better", it does NOT mean I am better emotionally.  It means I'm protecting myself emotionally during this hurricane-like storm, hanging on with my claws, wondering when I'd get out and see the sunshine.  At least, every time I think of that, I'm visualizing a poster of a cute kitten hanging on a branch with her front arms, and the quote "Hang in there", and thinking "would be funny if the kitten was trying to hang on a wet dog, not a branch."