Wolfgang

Wolfgang has been with me for almost 3 months 'til today.  

In that months, I saw Wolfgang bloom from a scared, skinny dog with a flea infestation, multiple bacterial infections, and worms, to a healthy and happy dog, very frisky and loving.   He had played daily with Lola; they were buddies, "BFFs"

Before I took him in, I checked with the condo association and the landlord if it was okay to take him in, due to him being a foster dog (not a permanent dog), I got the go-ahead.  

Last Friday, during work, I got an emergency call from the landlord telling me that the condo association is threatening to press me to get rid of *TWO* (including Wolfgang and one of my furbabies H and L), due to "violation of two-dog policy." I was stunned and pointed out to him and he and the condo association agreed that I'd take care of the foster dog until he finds a home. I added that the flyer is already out with several rescues, of him being ready for adoption, and that I have a family interested in adopting him.  He said that the neighbors were complaining (I can figure out who since there's two neighbors in condo that don't like me), and that if there's more complaints, the association can evict me if I refuse to comply with the issue.  To get rid of Wolfgang *AND* either Lola or Hairy.   I asked him if he can encourage them to postpone that 'til third week of September when the family comes by (they live in Ontario and will be driving down that time to get Wolfgang).  He said he can't since the condo association sent him an official letter already, giving him a notice of warning, of a week of deadline and he had already used two days arguing my case with them.   At that time, I knew I had no options left, but to send out messages of urgency to the family and other rescues.  The family did not reply in the three days, when one rescue said that they can take him in right away.  

With a heavy heart, I drove him to West Virginia today- a road trip taking 7 hours round way.  The rescuer reassured me that Wolfgang is in good hands.  

What sticks in my mind at this time, a few hours after returning to town-  

They threatened MY babies.  Lola and Hairy. 

I don't like the condo association anymore, I don't trust them anymore.  They did not talk with me. No neighbors had talked to me.  No one bothered to find out Wolfgang's story, or that he had a potential forever family. But no... they had to have him out all because he was a "third dog." (never mind that I got permission- which I should have asked in paper, instead of vocal- but that's after the spilled milk.)  They threatened my Hairy and Lola who hadn't done anything wrong, who have been with me all the years while living here. I don't feel comfortable here anymore.   

Nevertheless....  Ain't happy.  

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." 

Fast Forward

(from movie "The Princess and the Frog")

I didn't realize 'til now that I am flying to see family in a few days.    Where did time go?    

Summer flew by faster than I expected- as if someone pushed the "fast forward" on a channel remote and it is all a blur.  

I couldn't figure if that was great or that it went fast by-  don't get me wrong-  there was some days that was totally awesome (hadn't yet shared my post on another blog- 506 reads in one day, and a lot of comments- WOW!- That's a record for me.)  Other days, not so great, and the rest of days, you know how that was. 

The trip to see the family is making me anxious.   A part of me is excited; I hadn't seen some cousins in 20 years, and we'll be celebrating our grandmother's 95th birthday this coming weekend.  A part of me is a bag of emotions- it'll be the first time I'll see my nephew in person- he just had become 1 year old. I hadn't yet put words on those emotions.     Another part is sad- I'll be seeing my other grandmother, who is dealing with dementia, which I had written about:  Remembrance.    Her dementia is worsening to the point that she is not able to complete sentences anymore, or remember anyone but Grandpa (who died in my 20's).  

So you have it....all juggling with emotions.

And they call it a vacation?   My ass.  

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)

Why I blog?

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

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

The simple answer is:  I'm Deaf. 


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

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

Let's Mambo by Sean Forbes, with Marlee Martin

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

With permission from Michelle P. 

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

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

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

After all, if not me, who will?  

(photo taken at Underground railroad Freedom Center, 2013)

Once upon a time.

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

And I got hooked.   

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

Rumplestiltskin (Once upon a time)

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

Emma Swan (Once upon a time)

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