Updates for 2014-2015

I said I'd be doing the bucket list last time I posted here- and forgot about it all.

Is that bad? Nope.  That told me that my life kept me busy.

I have increased in volunteering, participating in social justice and reproductive justice activism lately!    However to talk about my social justice activism would make it all about me, not the communities that the spotlight need to be on.  Please read blogs by women of color; participate in groups run by trans people; and listen with no intention to interrupt or go 'but' to stories of disabled people.  

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I saw the play "Our Town"  in January 2014.     All I can say is.. it blew me away.     If the play comes to your town, go see it!     Yes, it may feel boring- stick to it and you'll realize how accurate it is to your life.

Actors Theater's 'Our Town'

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In the past two years, I had been pressured to give/donate some labyrinth paintings I created to organizations or individuals.    I had not felt comfortable with that; yes I even resented that encouragement, pressure.   That included being asked to give workshops on labyrinth mediation/walking for free.    What gives?   Do one really think that art or education should be free all the time?  

When I paint, that includes the cost of materials, frame, canvas, length of time- could cost between $75-200.  Yet when I put $90-350 on the paintings, I am told that I am greedy.  !!!

When I come to do a labyrinth workshop, that includes mileage, cost of gas, hotel stay, sometimes rental of the room, length of time, and time away from my job.   Yet when I check whether they will pay me for the workshop, (usually 200-450), I'm told that they cannot afford that.  Yet it's okay for me to pay to fill up my gas, drive 150 miles, and pay for overnight stay at the hotel. Okay......

So I had dug my heels in and said no more, I'm not gonna donate/give paintings away, nor do my workshops for free anymore.   Did that stop people?  Nope-   others realized the value- I had sold six paintings in the last six months!  To me,that's a big step.  Workshops-  I had been asked to do a workshop later this year, and they made an offer to pay for the hotel stay and my airfare, so to me, that's a fair trade.


In 2014, I had gone to the Michigan Womyn's Musical Festival, in which I had fallen in love with.  For the first time ever in my life, I felt safe. I could walk down the road at 3am, not looking over my shoulder, which I did so- walking under the moonlight!  Camped among fellow spirits.  Only one minus about that was that there were no workshops about infertility/childless choice/not by choice.  I recall telling members who have been attending the festival for many years as they could recall, that there IS a labyrinth built on the land, and to be told "no there isn't, unless you mean the labyrinth by ribbon over there."  I was persistent- following my gut, and I found the stone labyrinth!  It had been built a long time ago, so many old members let it slide from their memories.

I came back in 2015, saddened that it would be the last year for the festival.  Heartened that I got to give a workshop on the labyrinth walking- in end, the attendees got to see the stone labyrinth- lets hope that whatever happens to the land, the stone labyrinth will be always be there.  This time, my best friend Roni came and experienced the magic of the festival.  I also volunteered most of the time at the orientation/welcome area, the Deaf haven and the kitchen.  I realized from 2014, volunteering was where I was most happy, and so I did that again last year.


I walked in the 2014 Zombie Walk in Louisville- it was a blast of fun!    Saw so many zombies, yet so little time to see them all!
















I took a break from writing the book, since I found myself stuck with the 'writer's block' (obviously here too in the blog!).

For 2014 and 2015 Goodreads, of 150 and 200 books, achieved, although realizing that with that pressure in the last year, I found myself disinterested in reading. So for now, I'm not going to read just for the sake of 'Goodreads' goals, but for my own pleasure.

In 2015, I had done some travels-  to NJ, OH, IN, CO and KS.

I had also lost my grandmother, June back in July.  Throughout growing up, she had been there a steadfast anchor for me.  When relatives hesitated in learning sign language, she dived in and became skillful so we can communicate to each other- she made sure that I was part of the family, instead of staying in the shadows.  She encouraged me greatly to start reading when I was a toddler; she fanned the flames of reading within me, non-stopping in handing me books to consume.  In the last years, she had been a shadow of who she was, due to dementia, no longer remembering anyone, not even me the last time I saw her. So when I got the news she died, I explored the mixture of grief and relief at the same time- feeling relief that her suffering had ended, yet grieving that she is gone.    At the funeral, I wrote her eulogy, echoing her values in reading and writing.  I still miss her.

And my VW Jetta Sweetheart, bought in 2003, had bit the dust only two months ago.  I got a new Kia Soul-   more room for camping trips!

Looking back, the bucket list have looked harder than it was, and so I decided for the next five years, I will stick to the five goals.

Pay off Debt
Travel out of country
Save
Buy/Build a tiny house.
Re-assess my life and see where I want to go from here.

And for the childless not by choice part in my life?    I realized that I AM a mother in other ways.  To my furkids, I am their mom. I am an aunt spoiling my 3 years old nephew, who now finds himself a Star Wars fan like me, and the twins(boy and girl!) just born to my brother and sister-in-law two months ago.  Being a mentor to several young women is enriching.  So in general, I have made peace with the childless aspect.   Of course, the book about me is unfinished, there is a lot more to write- the plot may change.  And you know what? I look forward to surprises popping up on the next few pages.

Quiescence

I'm back, and I am still around.

Second anniversary on this blog since Feb 2, 2012.

Second waypost since the surgery.

Second year since everything crashed around me.


Yes, in past, I have written posts in reminding myself that it's okay to walk my own path, taking time in grief, and not to rush myself.

Yet, here I find myself nowadays, disappointed that I hadn't gotten over my grief.  So there is this voice in my mind, saying...

 Hypocrite. 

I am still working on ignoring that nasty voice.  

I'll need to start reading y'all blogs again, and start reading that book 'Way of Forgiveness" by D. Patrick Miller- I have been pushing off reading that.    I need to reinforce reminding myself that it's OKAY to have setbacks, it's OKAY to stop and take deep breaths, it's OKAY to be on my own pace, and to stop pushing myself.  

I'm human, and that's what I keep forgetting that.  We all can't be superwomen everyday.  

P.S. will do Bucket list for checking off 2013, in a future post (something to look forward to.)  

Hiatus

After recognizing several signs from previous years, including heightened anxiety, withdrawal from socializing, cussing for no reason, and glaring knives at pregnant women nowadays, and feeling depressed even from reading fellow IF/CNBC bloggers' posts, and with the anniversary of the hysterectomy coming up, I am taking an hiatus from this blog, to stay in my 'cocoon' for the next 8 weeks.

(unknown artist, if you know who, let me know)

When I feel more myself, I'll be back.

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.  

Time out.

Nowadays, I find myself saying no.

Eat out?
No.

Hang out?
No.

Take a walk?
No.

Chat on phone or computer?
No.

Read blogs?
No.


Even thinking about going to the grocery to acquire food, that's too much for me.

Sitting here, thinking how I got like this- and I can only come to the conclusion, Christmas is coming up, and I don't want to see the kids.  What I'm missing out.  What I will not experience. More closer it comes to February anniversary, my mood is darkening.

The degree of sadness is different today compared to last year- last year, I was under a black cloud, numb, raging at the world, with a heap of self-hatred and guilt. Tissue box in each room.

 Now?

I'm melancholy.

With urges to bang my head on the wall, if I see a pregnant woman or a baby.  Not giving in, thro.  But... damn the urges!

(source)

You have to admit...this is an improvement compared to last year, in a sense.

It's funny- I got a note from an ex friend wanting to talk with me.  I did consider talking with her, but with the emotions I'm going through, especially now with the holidays nowadays.....?

Bad idea.     I'll have to hold off 'til the 'dark season' passes.  That'd be after February.

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.

Toxic friendship

There was someone I was hanging out with a few months; I had started to notice things, that were RED ALERTs of the friendship being toxic.  

I notice after visits, I found myself not liking myself, double-guessing my own behavior and thoughts, even wondering why I feel lousy.  

Red flag. 

Excessive talks about exercise, dieting, and valuing looks (even hundreds of photo poses on Facebook!), looking at me, saying "Why can't you be like me?  Obviously you don't like yourself."  When I tried to say something to point out that we have different lifestyles, I was told "don't be so defensive, god, you're so sensitive!"   So I fell silent, feeling no matter what I'd do, I'd still lose.  

Red flag. 

I started watching what I am saying in conversations, to avoid blowups and tantrum fits- it was easier to say "yes" and "whatever", than to share my differing opinions.  

Red flag. 

When disclosing a bad experience (i.e. a dog getting sick) or even small things (i.e. getting lost in a town on way to a meeting), I get laughter, mocking comments "you twit, how can you get lost?!" or "If she is sick, put her down- so?" 

There were several other red flags, but I selectively ignored them because...

I didn't want to feel alone.    It was getting harder and harder to find people, either childfree or CNBC; and so many times I'd contact a friend to find that she's busy with a daughter visiting, or another parent friend not having time even for a phone chat (even when we scheduled it when kids would be asleep.)   So having someone who is childfree AND local, that's a plus.

Nevertheless, all this came to a stop when I decided to invite him to a labyrinth ritual three weeks ago, (a church invited me to attend a private labyrinth walk, and I was told I could bring someone.) I thought he'd appreciate that since he had been curious about my passion about labyrinths.    I noticed he brought his camera, so I explained that he might need to ask permission of the priest to take photos of the labyrinth ritual and people participating (during the ritual, silence and personal inward journeying can be sober and private).

That's when he went off.  Ranting about having the right to photograph whatever he wanted to, wherever he wanted to.  When I'd say something, "I can see how you love your photography, and you are a good photographer, and how this could  upset you, but this is a church.. You CAN ask the priest.....", he would go off again, saying that the church should appreciate his photography, to show the world about labyrinths...this went on for a while.  

I found myself bursting into tears.  I was taking him to a place that I love so much, and I felt violated.  He then started to belittle me, "crybaby, overreacting."  

I stared at him, and I suddenly thought to myself, "What's wrong with him being abusive?"  I shut down my emotions and told him we're going back- I will not take him to the labyrinth.  He said "whatever, I don't want to go anyway, with you being negative."  

Suit me just fine.  I dropped him off.     Later on, he sent me a photo of my dog,  "she's so cute!" I figured he was trying to apologize in his way or testing the waters-

I'm not taking the bait.  

I talked with some friends to figure out where I was going wrong.  R pointed out, "Wait, wait...you didn't do something wrong-  HE's the one who is messing up with you, making you feel lousy, its all about him going 'me-me-me.'"  I got confirmation of what she said, from other friends, that's it's not me.  It was him, toxicity in the 'friendship.'  

For the last three weeks, I didn't contact him.   It never entered my mind 'til today, when I realized I'd need to get copy of my key from him (when he needed to use laundry occasionally.)   

I told him that I'll come by to get the keys back, when he said he'd come over. I told him no. I already stated that I will come by. He wanted to talk about his trip to college, how lonely he feels, blah, blah-  I stared at him and said, "I'm sorry to hear that you feel alone, but I don't see how that relates to me here getting my keys."  I told him due to what happened recently, I don't feel safe with him anymore, and that to keep his distance from me.  He was, of course, upset, raging "You'll be sorry!  People don't like you!"  I looked at him, shrugging before getting into my car.  I know one thing for sure- he's out of my life, permanently.  And good riddance to that.  

End of this toxicity.    

The geek in me, just had thought of this movie "Aliens", and Hicks (my favorite hero) saying something very simple about ensuring the end of Aliens (nuking the site invaded by Aliens).  

Yes, that means I'll still deal with social isolation especially with parent friends in town, that speak my language.  Harder to find childfree or CNBC folks who can sign...  I can still talk with childfree/CNBC friends on Facebook, email or phone.  

But you know what? I'd rather have that than dealing with a toxic 'friend'.   

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

Love relatives, but they can be hazardous.

Back from the family visit.   The celebration of Grandma H's 95th birthday was awesome, especially with reuniting with some relatives that I hadn't seen in more than a decade (or two).  It's always comforting to be with family...a joy to reunite with brothers and dad, yet it's bittersweet, seeing cousins bending over to talk with their little girls, or throwing balls with their boys.   My emotions were plummeting, then going up- pretty much an emotional roller coaster.

http://pandawhale.com/post/11983/roller-coaster-pov-gifs

It was also significant that I met my toddler nephew for the first time.  I was anxious, staring at him wondering when I could touch him without me shattering.   My SIL was sweet yet aware, so she didn't push him toward me. We did it in small steps, such as me sitting next to him, then me touching his hands- you get the idea.  Gradually, it was pretty much as walking into the cool water, getting body adjusted to the temperature, you know?  In time, I was able to hold him but not long.  He isn't the type to cuddle, and at this time, I'm all right with that.  It was humble to find that I already love him at sight, and I do look forward to see him again.  SIL and I are talking about doing that again in a few months.


I was pleasantly surprised about numerous relatives being supportive, not pushing for me to socialize with children until I was ready. After a few hours, I was able to talk with some cousins' children, especially one pretty much a clone of me-  a book-lover, geek, liking math and science.  Imagine a 11 years old girl and a woman in her 40's chatting about graphic novels and pre-teen books (such as Harry Potter- we both found we absolutely LOVE Hermione Granger!)  One relative even brought up adoption fundraising- I was touched that she has some awareness how this option can be challenging in terms of finances.    I admitted to her that I have been thinking about that.

In all, the family visit was much better than I expected when it came to my emotions. I didn't break down. I didn't cry.  I didn't hide in the bathroom (well, I did hide in public in a way.) I didn't avoid the pregnant relatives.

That's a good step, in my opinion.


It was two days later, when it was time for me to fly home.  The flight was in the afternoon, so  I stopped by to see my other grandma (with dementia) in the morning. I wanted to grab some more time with her, she was becoming very fragile. It was when I was about to hug her, when she patted my stomach and said "you're pregnant?"

A crack in the shield.  That moment, I knew I was going to lose it.  I tightened up my shields and smiled, while telling her no I wasn't, that I was plump.    Then the aunt wanted to stop by a store to get something, on way to the airport, so I went along with her. 

When I realized where she was going, I was thinking, "you're kidding me or what?"   Nope, she was going to the baby section, the least place I needed to go, especially now.  I called out I was going to the restroom, instead. I waited for her outside.  

So, when the layover was in Chicago, there was two hours before the flight back into town.  I gave myself something I deserved for not losing it all, like crying on the floor.  

Got an Upside-down pineapple drink, finding a corner to myself, and started reading my new book, "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that can't stop talking." 

It came, it passed and I survived for another year.

The week before 

The weekend

Monday after.  

'Nuff said.  

Blue sky photo: http://loadpaper.com/id6988/white-flower-and-blue-sky-94508-1600x1200-pixel.html
Rain photo: http://nowiknow.com/making-it-rain/

Pins and pining for something out of reach.

Two hours.


How much time was consumed while I was re-pinning and liking pins about infertility and childlessness on Pinterest?

Two hours!!


Staring at the pins on my infertility/childlessness board, questions popped up

Validation of my experience? 

Finding my happy space? 

Acknowledging that it did truly happen to me?

Seeking community to affirm that I'm not alone?


If so, why 369 pins?   Isn't that a 'tad' overmuch? 

I like to collect things, but thankfully, they are manageable. Definitely not a hoarder.

http://www.twirlit.com/2013/01/11/bizarre-craigslist-ad-allegedly-seeks-hoarder-roommate/

I have a strict list of rules that I follow, to reduce risk of saving everything.  One rule: if certain things don't fit on the shelves, or box, or  closet, I have to give one or two things up as a trade.

That's not so on Pinterest.   I find myself consumed, finding more and more.  Why?  I have other boards, such as horses, ice cream, cadbury eggs and Star Wars, yet I keep returning to infertility boards to see what pins had been posted, either for me to pin on my board or to click on 'like'.


That Infertility/Childlessness board used to have 502 pins, but to make me feel less obsessed, I broke it down into three infertility/childlessness boards: general, blogs and humor/sarcasm.

It has been a year and two months since the surgery, and it seems now these days I'm burying myself in  reading books on grief and living with childlessness, writing in my journal, painting, and staring outwards, feeling empty, and fanatically collecting pins for the infertility board on Pinterest, and all that.

What am I doing?

This little dark voice whispered, "If you had a child, you'd not be spending all this time online."  

Pesky voice.  However, there's the sense that is true.

Now that I found out that I couldn't  have children, I felt I had to give up a lot things that either I enjoyed or prepare myself to have children, such as going to zoos, (children), street fairs (children), art/craft classes and sewing/crocheting baby blankets, a lot that I did not realize until after the doctor told me I couldn't have children. And then children and babies were everywhere, and so I constantly bumped into 'em.  At malls.  At plays.  and big events like Derby festivals or music festivals.

So, I started to hide.  I stopped doing things I enjoyed especially when it would put me within distance of children.

I hid behind my laptop.  Books.  DVDS.  My porch garden.  Painting.  Hiking.  Pinterest was one of many reasons why it's easier to hide behind.  Same with reading blogs and ebooks.  Ditto for photography and writing in my blog.

It's easier for me to pin up things that I understand, to pin for something that is out of my reach, to verify that I have the reason to do so, to keep the pain to myself, yet telling the world in my way, I hurt.

It's easier to hide behind the curtain.

Now that I said it, I look outward at the outside, seeing the flowering trees, the darkening clouds and a couple walking their dog, and I find the world....  intimidating.

And a bit of regret.

It had been very busy for me since the last post, especially with me attending a counseling conference last weekend (and take a note from me- *try* to take a day or two off before or after.)     Before I go on in this post, I got to tell you- I was flabbergasted to find that only one Deaf counselor (me) had showed up at that conference, among 3700 attendees.   Whatever.......

Although, I took a lot of workshops that I felt were necessary to pursue in my job, or would benefit my clients;  I chose one workshop for myself- "Regret and Forgiveness and Wellness." What grabbed my attention was what the presenters had written for purpose of this workshop: "Negative emotions can lead to a breakdown in all areas of life. "If Only" are the saddest two words in the world.  Regret weights a ton for those who shoulder it every day.  The process of this session will be to confront regret and learn the path to forgiveness. There is almost a magic as forgiveness allow guilt, sadness, shame, anger, or disappointment in self to fade."

The room was totally packed when I came in, so a guy was nice to give me his chair when he realized I had trouble getting on the floor (due to bad knees.)  It was then a realization that all of us have to be in smaller groups, to identify a regret, to expand on it if desired, what one can do about it and to let it go- well you get the idea.

When the presenters said to tell each other of a regret, I looked at the fellow members in group, and I had one thing on my mind. Many doubts flying around in my mind- "was this big? Not enough?  Too soon to say?  Would they understand?"  Realizing the eyes were then on me, waiting to hear if I'd share something forbidden, I burst out,

"I cannot have children, I should have gotten pregnant much earlier, that's my regret."

That said, I wanted to grab it back and say "you didn't hear that at all."  But no, that's out in the open.   I was both frightened and emboldened... crazy, huh?

I couldn't say more than that, but to say that by end of the educational session, I was thinking on what I had learned about myself:

I am still grieving, although it is changing bit by bit.
I am not ready to let it go at this time.
I need to forgive myself first before I could forgive others.
I need to follow the spiritual/emotional map destined for me on my own time, in my space; I cannot follow others people's maps in forgiveness.

And you know what?  I'm okay with that.



P.S. I had ordered the book, that was recommended in the session "Way of Forgiveness" by Patrick Miller. So that's something I'll read someday.... when I'm ready.

Small pond

I admit being Deaf has its own hazards... in this situation, even more being infertile/childless.  You see, it's nice to hang out with folks who can sign- don't get me wrong, I do have hearing friends- usually online (where we could type in instant messages or social networks), or writing forth and back in person.  The convenience of having a language where we can communicate, instead of writing (that would consume more time, looking for paper and/or pen, and waiting for turns to read and write forth and back.)  Trust me, after a certain time, it does become tiresome. 

So, it's nice to chat with folks in sign language- doesn't matter if the other person is deaf or hearing, as long as we share a common language. Anyway,  due to being in a Midwest town (they say small city, it's all same to me- certainly not a big city like New York City or Washington, D.C), there is a certain limitation of people who can sign, one could befriend-  even less for one who works in human services.  So that's a complication, furthermore- gotta be careful not to befriend one who might end needing services from the Deaf services one day. Or relative/friend of a client-  you get the idea.  

So to put it shortly, my pond was small when it comes to developing friendships. Nevertheless I did my best, befriending all I could which ended up with a certain number.    There was two who were already mothers to children- no problem.  At that time, I was hoping that I'd have a child.   All others hadn't children.  

Since late 2011, it seemed something was in the water then....  Someone was already pregnant by the time I found out I can't have children. No problem...  then...*boom* *boom* *boom*...by end of 2012, there was three babies in the circle.  Okay...  No problem..I had two local friends left- *boom*...one was pregnant- was due this month.  No problem...  I had one left.

Last month, the last local friend told me she was pregnant.   I am happy for her, but I swear the gods were laughing at me.  

I was thinking, "Okay- there's this new co-worker- she can sign.  There's hope."  I was going to see if we can go out for coffee- especially that I had found out that she lives nearby.   There was sunshine peeking through the dark clouds, finally!  

 Today, I was chatting with one other co-worker, when she asked me whether I know anything new about the new co-worker. I asked her, with dread growing in my stomach... "what?" 

"She is pregnant."     About the same due date as the other friend who told me last month.  

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for 'em.   Just that it sucks being the last kid picked for the game, (as in school.)  

http://coloradomagazine.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-molly-ringwald.html

Yup, what Molly Ringwald said.  

One for quotes.

I found this while surfing around-very accurate when you think about it.

"A picture is worth a thousand words"

The image says it all,  since I don't feel like saying anything today, especially TODAY. 

(I don't know the author/artist name; I'd like to give credit- so if you know, please let me know)

Smack dab in the middle

A reader wrote me a private message:
"You going to write about the fourth part- I noticed you wrote part 1 to 3- but where is the 4th?"

When I read that query, my heart started to pound hard.  I found myself starting to have an anxiety attack-

I had written the Bump (Part 1); Without Answers (Part 2) and Not sure (Part 3) last spring.   Originally I had written this post in October.  I kept coming back to the post to stare at my writing, re-opening my wounds over and over like a monk flagellating himself.  Interesting,I find myself switching forth and back between two moods while reading; some days I cry reading this post and other times I find myself distant. It's in January now since October, and it still hurts reading the post, remembering. Nevertheless, there are sensitive triggers here, for folks who are still recovering/struggling with accepting childlessness, I'd not recommend you to read furthermore.



Between late December 2011 to February 2012, that timeline was the most painful time for me, mentally, spiritually and emotionally, and even now it being January 2013 (as reviewing this post, I still consider that time as worst of all I had ever experienced.)

I found it easier to bury my head in the sand- in other words, denying that I was going to be childless; refusing to accept that I'd not hold a baby of my own in my arms; hoping against all hope that the doctor was mistaken. I was praying day and night that it was all a nightmare; that I'd not have the surgery upcoming to remove my uterus, and the execution day will not happen.

When I was told that I'll be an aunt, only two days after finding out I cannot have children, I was able to 'put it aside', thinking "it was all a nightmare, I'm going to wake up soon."

I patted some baby clothes at the store thinking, "I'll get some of them later, when the doctor tells me I was the wrong patient."

I laughed and made jokes, living in the illusion that the doctor would say "oops, my bad, that's the wrong ultrasound pictures- let me get your right chart. My apologies again."

"I'll be fine-   They'll be able to fix my uterus after they find out that there is nothing wrong with it", I told myself.

                                               

Ironic, it wasn't the doctor.  It wasn't the surgery.  It wasn't the size of the fibroid.  It wasn't the waking up at the hospital room afterward.

It was someone who was closest to me, who shoved me into the river of agonizing fire, to see the reality.

 Among all that, I had the close friend, who was my confidant in everything. I'll call her M.  We had a lot in common.   We could laugh at the same things; we loved science fiction and horror movies.  We could be jumping in and out of topics through the conversation all day without blinking.   I was very supportive to her, especially with her private issues.  I was flippy happy when M got married.   I understood her when she said she didn't feel ready to have children; she wanted to work on her issues first.    

During my medical journey trying to find out what was wrong with me, including testing the water of whether I would be able to have children or not, M was supportive of me all the way.  I tried to be strong but she reminded me that I didn't have to be strong sometimes.  When I needed to talk with someone, she was there.   Don't get me wrong, there were other friends.  It just was harder to get in touch with them, and she was there always for me. Admittedly, I considered her- Safest friend

Unsafe friends- who already have children, or are pregnant.  

Safe friend- who has no children, never had raised children, or having no plans to get pregnant any time soon.   

I started to identify friends into two groups -unsafe and safe.  Even in levels of unsafe and safe friends, there were sub-types....  mommies with adult children are safer compared to mommies with toddlers-unsafe.  Crazy, I know, but that's how I tried to hang on. 

This was what I was clinging to, during the insanity going through examinations, tests and doctor appointments.  In and out.  Lab works.  Sonogram images of dark marks.    I didn't want to accept the stark truth. 

All this changed with an email from M.   

                                  

I got a short message from M in January.   She told me she wanted to tell me something-   I read the brief message, thinking, "oh great! She is getting a job!" I knew she was looking for employment, and so I was thinking she was excited to tell me that she got a job.  

Later on the same day, I got a long email from her.  Among the thick long paragraphs, I saw a sentence which was smack dab in the middle of it all. I zeroed in on that, and among all that, it was the only sentence I saw...  one dab white among the blackness of the dark.  

"I'm pregnant."  

I cannot tell you what I felt at that moment.    I just can't.   All I know was that the world crashed upon me.  

I had a minute of sanity to email her that I was not ready to talk about this.  That was the only thing I could recall before I lost it.  Truly LOST it.   

I screamed. 
 Cried. 
 Tore things up.
  Ripped paintings apart.
Chaotic thoughts-
      "I am not going to be pregnant ever, of my own baby." 
   "I'd never come home from hospital with a baby in my arms."
"I'll never get to kiss my baby's belly while seeing her smile at me."
 Considered ending it all.   

Ending it all.  
    No more agony.  
       No more betrayals. 
          No more pain.  

A sane part of me fanatically reached out during my crying fit of rage. Thankfully, a friend S was in town.  She was immediately there with me.  I wept as she held me. She convinced a neighbor to go to the store to get more tissue boxes without asking why.  She threw out a bottle when I told her I wanted to drown in drunkenness.  Another friend, T talked with me in a firm yet loving tone, to remind me I have friends who love me, and that she'd be pissed if I gave up.  She was steadfast in her love as I screamed at her, "WHY me?" In her Old South attitude, she loved me with her nonsense attitude.  I cried, with tears coming down my cheeks as I looked upon L, a close friend, and to hear from her that "She knew you are hurting. Not to tell you she was planning to get pregnant.  That's the lowest blow." and reminding me that I'm not alone, that L had been there for me for so many years, and she is not going anywhere, from my side. 

Thankfully, the office didn't question when I decided not to go in for a few days.  I was looking down at the void and I knew there was a millimeter between me and the void, very tempting.  

I got the email six days before I was to see the doctor.     It was a weekend and a few days of sorrow, rage, weeping and staring at walls, writing letters to N, trying to explain my feelings, failing and tearing them up,  before I found myself at the doctor's office, -dead to the world.   Hope was dead. 

"When do you think you would be ready for your surgery?" 

"Can you do it on February 13th?" 

The doctor knew something was wrong.  She strongly encouraged me to see a therapist right away. That was the best decision ever I had made since the finding the bump.    

Nevertheless...   January 12th was the starting of the end of my world as I knew it.  The new world- all gray, shades of black and grey.  Thunderous clouds, empty rooms with abandoned dusty baby furniture.  Empty frames on the walls, old wallpaper peeling.  Trees empty of leaves, dying. Repeating cycle of riding on the empty subway, that doesn't stop at exits.  With the two new pregnancy announcements, both very close to me without no clues, no hints, no red flags-- during the most painful moment when I wasn't ready- that's the world where I found myself in. That is what I had experienced in the reality since January 12, 2012.


February 14, 2012-  Waking up at the hospital after surgery, I felt empty.  Not because of the uterus that had been taken away, but of empty dreams.  Pandora's box is even empty of hope for me. I was very distant, dissocated from any emotions for a long and long time but for fits of weeping and rage. 

And turned out that I didn't have cancer.  Sick joke, if you asked me. 

My therapist said "You know, you're going through this and your sister in law is pregnant. A surprise to you. Then your closest friend planned to get pregnant, but didn't give you an head-up to prepare yourself and now she is pregnant out of the blue, double hits.   You're going through all this and alone, no less- this is your baptism by fire. Worst time ever to find out that you cannot have children."  

She nailed it. 

I'm a proud aunt of a new nephew last August; hopefully one day I would get to see him in person when I'm ready emotionally.  

M had her baby in the same month.  

So, that's your answer for the 4th part.  It doesn't mean the end, but of surviving the worst that had been thrown at me.  It's a year now, and I'd like to think that I'm stronger after that, but I'm not there yet. 

Substitute children with furry kids?

Noticing so many friends sharing photos of their kittens/cats and dogs on Facebook, there were a lot of moments when I found myself go 'oooo adorable!' or "ahhh, cute!"      Looking at videos on YouTube, with dogs howling, or of cats prancing, certainly lightens my mood.  I started to look into whether I could adopt a cat, specifically out of hypoallergenic cats (i.e. Devon or Cornish Rex, Birman, etc.) I found myself on several cat rescue websites, while wondering where I could put the litter box that the dogs couldn't have access to.

I stopped and realized I was thinking about acquiring another furry kid.  The worst part of the first anniversary's timeline is coming up in less than a week; in which I have already noticed some symptoms re-appearing lately.   Weeping for no reason;  tears in eyes if someone say something unthoughtful, such as "aren't you glad you don't have a kid?" while cleaning a mess after his kid; hypersensitivity to pregnant moms or new moms with babies in their arms; mooning over children books or clothes; and the black cloud above the head.  That tells me that I'm more vulnerable- which comes to the question of furry kids.

I tried to check blogs and Internet articles on whether there is a tendency for childless folks to get furry kids.  I hadn't success-  there's a certain amount of childless and infertile blogs and articles, and that goes for the furry kids....but nothing about *both* at same time.  

With the maternal instincts and the need to take care of something, it's certainly easy to meet that need with furry kids.  We have those dog daycare and schooling, we have pet insurance, Gods know some of us even go out of our ways to dress dogs like babies. Clothing boutiques, no less, to accommodate one's desire to humanize their furry kids.


Gods know that  my dad's family look odd at me when I tell them my dogs have to be with me if more than a few days- you see, Dad's family see dogs for working and hunting purposes, not pleasure or comfort (or forbid the thought, family) purposes. I wasn't like that two years ago. So, you get the idea.
Do we try to transfer love to furry kids-  dogs, cats, horses?  Don't get me wrong, but recalling the book "Falling for Eli" by Nancy Shulins certainly comes in mind.

After realizing that I have kept my dogs close to me since the beginning of the journey ending with the realization that I cannot have children, I found myself confronted with the question:  how would I react to either of the dogs' death?  After all they do not have a long lifetime like us human beings.  Would I want to get another dog after Lola?  Just thinking about it, I am overwhelmed by anxiety and fear.  And would I want to raise a kitten, treat him like a little human baby, and deal with his death when he becomes old or sick?

http://cattime.com/dog-and-cat-photos/funny-dog-pictures/no-more-kisses-please

For now, I'm reinforcing the reminder not to consider adopting any furry kids until well past March, when I'd be less vulnerable.

Readers, have you encountered similar situations like this?  If so, how did you handle this?

Just be.

Knowing this would be tough for me, especially if I went to visit family, ever growing (with several babies this year), I stayed home.  I also knew that means there has to be adjustments, to avoid feeling lonely, abandoned, sorry for myself (mind you, that is somewhat irrelevant), to avoid becoming Scrooge Bah Humbag! I know already that looking at my Yule tree, I had visualized having children open presents, and so I had to change myself, my expectations- even when I don't want.... (:::eyeing the neighbor who is going forth and back between her car and her place- dang..that's a LOT of presents...), Sorry- I have ADD tendencies! Now where am I...oh yeah, when I don't want to change- since I felt that is very much like giving up on myself.    You know?  

Anyway, instead of feeling sorry for myself,  I am treating myself to several things- 

::: I cheered the runners and walkers on, hanging out cups of eggnog last Saturday at the Merry Christmas 5K eggnog challenge.  It was fun watching the runners- there were elves, Santa Clauses (and some Mrs Clauses), and even presents (I didn't take this photo- but that's what I saw!)

 

(from Courier-Journal)

:::: driving and then walking among the holiday lights in Lexington, while sipping the hot mulled cider. 

:::The lights in Mega Caverns-  the only cave you'd even drive through to look at lights! 

:::: made a lot of 7-layered bars to give away at two shelters.    Here is the recipe I used from Internet:

Seven-Layer Bars

::::treated myself to Wild Eggs- my favorite breakfast- Farmer Market Skillet (between you and me, it's absolutely to die for!)

::::completed three blankets- one for nephew, one for a cousin's kid, and one to donate at a shelter- and currently working on a blanket in colors of berries.  

::::taught neighbor how to play Mah Jongg (not the computer game, but the real game as practiced in China)- she is getting hooked to it, so I expect we'll play this when time allows!

:::::got myself a lot of books at this used bookstore, plenty to keep me busy for several days!  

Tomorrow, I will try the recipe for lamb stew (slow cooker)- in the meanwhile of it cooking, I am going to take my dogs out to hike in the Tom Sawyer Park.  I got the Sims 3 Supernatural expansion and so I'm looking forward to tweak my characters into vampires, fairies and werewolves, oh my!  

There's presents under the tree, for me and my puppies- and I do look forward to opening them while enjoying my White Christmas Dream drink-  (here is the recipe: White Christmas Dream)   By the time the presents are open, the lamb stew will be yummy...

Wish y'all a survivable holiday, either by yourself or with family, full of love (and that means loving yourself as well.)