Birth. School. Work. Death.

Kudos to anyone that can remember the name of the 80’s band that recorded the title of this post.

My last post had me pulling this song out of thin air. It was the whole rinse and repeat life cycle that I’ve been living in for so long that had me chanting the chorus (and subsequent title) of this song.

I remember singing this song in high school thinking, “Oh G*d. Is this all I have to look forward to after college?” The thought of just working day in and day out for the rest of my life just seemed pretty, well … boring.

Now realistically I know that life is not broken down into just those four stages. There are many more milestones to pass before we can get from one stage to the next. Going through school alone takes, at the very least, 12 years of our lives.

Personally, I can remember a lot of “firsts” during those years. The first day at school. The first time I got a bad grade. My first crush. My first boy/girl dance. My first kiss. My first job; which was also my first time being discriminated upon simply because of my ethnicity. My first road trip; which was followed shortly by my first speeding ticket. And I certainly remember the sense of accomplishment I felt after surviving all those “firsts.”

And then there was my graduation from college, which would symbolize the end of my formal education. I distinctly remember how wide open the world seemed after that moment; so many opportunities available within my reach. I could have traveled the world at that time. I could have continued on to get my masters in Nursing (which I still could, I suppose). But the truth is, I chose the path of which I thought was of least resistance.

The Asian-American in me did what every good Filipina does. I lined up a job right away and started my orientation before even attending my official graduation ceremony … before even taking the NCLEX (RN licensing board exam). Hubby & I got engaged shortly after that and then the focus was on saving money for the wedding and for a house.

I don’t regret the choice I made, because quite frankly, I had a lot of fun those first few years after college. I had an awesome job with awesome co-workers. I moved out my parents’ home (against their wishes, mind you) and into my own apartment. And of course, had the joys of being newly engaged and planning a wedding.

And then the fairy tale wedding. A gathering of family (trust me, there was a lot of extended family) and friends from both parents’ side as well as our own. Great music, good food, and just pure joy and happiness. It was, and I can honestly say this without prejudice, the best day of my life thus far.

We found our house within months of our wedding and moved in the day after Thanksgiving that year. We didn’t have much to fill the home at the time, but it was our own abode. Our first home.

Ten years later, we have filled that house, and have pretty much outgrown it. Too much junk for two pack rats that tend to keep everything. Too much clutter to constantly be picking up after. Two cats and a dog inhabit the home and shed all over our furniture and our clothes. We have shelves among shelves (not to mention random stacks) of books. We have a lawn that we can barely take care of, because quite frankly, we just hate yard work.

And that’s because we’re work-aholics. While I’m not in love with my job, I’m good at it and I constantly have ideas to make processes flow better … which tends to get me in trouble sometimes. But I’m appreciated at work … and that makes the world of difference, knowing that I am making a difference.

And Hubby? While he tends to downplay his talent, I consider him very innovative and groundbreaking with his design. He has this love of typography (that I have since picked up) that, in my mind, makes for smart and witty design. I respect him immensely because, as a Filipino-American … going into an industry that isn’t related to health care or engineering or accounting (at least here in the Midwest), is a sacrilege. Unfortunately, since moving to a smaller ad agency with more conservative clients, he has not had that much opportunity to do the innovative design work that he loves to do. And that simultaneously frustrates him and pushes him to work harder. And longer.

So what am I getting at with my rantings about the life cycles … and particularly work? Well, it goes back to the song. And where I’m at. Or rather, where I’m stuck at. It’s that part of life that comes after love and marriage. Yup, that baby carriage. Or in my case, the lack of one.

And here Hubby & I lay. Stuck in the “work” cycle of our lives. Our lives revolve around what we do best in life … which is work. Many family members and friends claim that we devote too much of our lives to work. That there is more to life than working. And for them, there probably is. They have family to tend to. They have children to care for, to raise … to be responsible for. They have other priorities in life.

While being childless certainly makes a big difference in the priorities of our daily life. And while it’s also the largest disappointment in my life that I can’t produce a biological child of my own … that’s not the only reason I feel stuck.

It’s that feeling of being alone. Because, in my humble opinion, being childless (and not by choice) tends to lead to a somewhat isolated life. Yes, I realize that this is no different than most people with a life-threatening disease or condition may feel. And I know it’s no different than, let’s say the loss of a child. While I, in no way, mean to belittle these circumstances … it’s just that it goes back to the “physical-ness” of these events. These are things that people can actually see. Or touch. Or understand why someone would feel so hurt or heartbroken. These are things that people can actually “put a finger on” when it comes to expressing sympathy for someone.

With being infertile (and therefore childless, in my case), most people cannot comprehend the pain that comes with being left childless. Most people that I have encountered that see we are without kids automatically assume that it’s by choice. And since we spend so much time at work, that we’re just not “settled down enough” to start a family. Thus the conversation always turns to why we don’t want kids … which of course, is furthest from the truth. And the subsequent nodding and vacant stares from these same people, as we vaguely explain that we’re “still waiting for our miracle.”

And so that’s how the isolation begins. We’ve either became isolated because a) we’ve refused to fully divulge our infertility issues, or b) we have told them too much and have thus eliminated about 90% of conversation with those who do have children. Because really … how can life with children not encompass every aspect of a person’s life? How can one with children not be able to bring up what their sons or daughters are up to? Or how their children are taken into consideration when deciding on simple things … like what they’re going to do for dinner. Or even more complex things … like deciding on which presidential candidate will best help their children’s future.

Depending on the person or persons, I can handle conversations like that. And I can have great conversations with certain people and relay to them that not everyone can identify with how it’s like to live a life with kids. But for the majority of people … I find that I’m too nice of a person to push the subject. And besides, I hate confrontation.

In addition to being stuck, to remain childless, especially after this past birthday, has also created the feeling of being “left behind.” Over the past ten or so years, Hubby & I have encountered many couples who have since gotten married and subsequently started their family right away. Some of those couples have also had issues trying to get pregnant, but had ultimately been successful. We’ve watched other family members and friends move forward toward the next milestones in their lives … their first pregnancy, their first child followed by many “firsts” for that child (first smile, first word, first step, etc). While Hubby & I are simply left in the shadows.

Ironically, Hubby & I were one of the first couple among our friends and family to get engaged. The first ones to plan a wedding. The first ones to get married. I can say, hopefully without sounding arrogant, that we were a couple that many of our friends and family looked up to. We were not the usual older Asian couples that most of us grew up around. They were more afraid to show any type of affection amongst the conservative Filipino peers. And they, at many times, communicated with double-edged passive-aggressive tones with each other. We, on the other hand, were a couple that weren’t afraid to show some PDA. We were a couple that geniunely listened to each other and communicated openly. And to the parents of our Filipino friends and family, we were used as “good Filipino-American examples”: Happily married after finishing college and establishing our careers.

And now … we’re the ones left behind. We’re the ones looking up to those family and friends who have now gone through all the milestones in life that we have … and now have surpassed us. We’re the one’s on the outside looking in. We’re the ones that long for the children that aren’t coming. We’re waiting for the next milestone to surpass, to knock my wedding day off its pedestal as the best day of my life. The next stage in the cycle of life …

And if we keep going in the childless direction we are at … perhaps the next stage in life will be that very last one.

Yes … realistically I know life is not all about milestones and stages. Life is exactly what we make of it. And how we want to fill those times in between these moments is much more important the milestones that we pass.

I’m just trying to feel my way around the filler time. And trying to find a way to feel less isolated and less like a fifth grader who just failed sex ed.

Rinse and Repeat

I’ve finally sought some professional help.

Okay, so technically I’ve already been seeing a wonderful therapist (… who completely ROCKS, by the way). But that’s not the kind of help I sought out this morning.

You see, I have been absolutely sick since coming back from vacation. Yes, I initially thought all the deathly-doggedness and weariness was simply from a stupid case of jet-lag. And then I thought … only a 2-frickin’-hour time difference? How can it be jet-lag?

And then I started with the runny nose. And the congestion. And then came the sore throat and the cough. By Wednesday, I thought I got over the hump and was back on the road to recovery. But then I lost my voice on Thursday and then developed soreness on my ribs from all the frackin’ coughing on Friday.

So after a night of coughing up yucky stuff … oh, and my lung … I broke down and went to an urgent care center this morning. Because I thought I might be able to kick this sickness with lots of juice and soup and fluids all on my own. Alas, the stubborn nurse in me finally broke down and kindly asked for some help (read: magic candy pills) in getting rid of this bugger. So Dr. Candyman so abliged after looking at my nose and throat (all swollen) and listening to my lungs (nice and clear). “Bronchitis,” he says and tells me to take it easy for a few days. Sheeee-it. Can’t I at least have a note for work excusing me for … oh, I don’t know … the next twenty years?!

Anyway ….

Thank you thank you thank you for all those that have told me I’m not the only one out there that can’t “just relax” and also for those that have offered wonderful relaxation tips. Reading all your comments has just made me smile a little longer, laugh a little louder.

I seriously don’t know what I would do without my bloggy friends. Geesh … it still astounds me that after eeons of IF issues, I’ve only found this method of support a year ago. How I ever survived before finding you all is nothing short of a miracle.

Oh yes … now I remember. I just went day to day simply in survival mode … Wake up, go to work, come home, spend time with Hubby, and sleep. Rinse and repeat day after day after day.

It’s still the same rinse cycle I live in, but at least this detergent has color-guard in it … to prevent colors from fading.

If you didn’t get my sad attempt at making a clever wordplay … you guys add color to my otherwise lack-lustered world.

Frankie Says …

I saw a heartbeat today on an ultrasound today.

Naw … not that kind of heartbeat. You know, the one that pregnant women all over the world are excited to hear every time they go in for a prenatal visit? The same one that I wish I could hear as well inside of my belly if I could only manage to actually get knocked up?

No, the heartbeat I was actually looking at was my own. I went to our local hospital clinic today to get an echocardiogram done. And may I add that I was quite surprised that it appeared to be functioning okay. And it wasn’t blackened or hardened either. And … Whew! I was happy to see that even after all the years of IF heartache, I wasn’t all “Tin Man” inside! I’m not sure what the final results are just yet, but should find out in the next week or so.

My new primary doctor ordered for this test to rule out any heart abnormalities as a reason for my high blood pressure. Personally, I think it’s an interconnecting web of issues from having PCOS which makes me insulin-resistant. Numerous medical studies have shown that those with insulin-resistance eventually develop atherosclerosis (or narrowing of the arteries) due to the excess build-up of insulin in the blood stream. And when you have narrowing of the arteries, you eventually develop higher blood pressure readings. But that’s just in my humble opinion.

Add to that the whole stress thingy. Yes, I do know I was whining about how stressed I was in my last post. (I’ll chalk it up to being pooped from traveling the whole day before and to being overly emotional on my birthday.) And no, I didn’t mean to say that I have it all so horribly bad. I was merely pointing out that I’ve been trying to deal with a lot of stuff over the past 7 months. And according to this Life Stressor Calculator, I apparently have a “medium susceptibility to stress-related illness”. So yeah, I need to find a way to relax.

Speaking of relaxing … I was reading Kate’s most recent post (and the subsequent posts she linked to) about the whole “Frankie.Goes.To.Hollywood” relax bit. And how none of us should discount relaxing as a technique (much like acupuncture) to prepare a woman’s body, mind and soul into the next phase of her life. In this case pregnancy. And I agree with her, whole-heartedly.

But let me emphasize one thing here. I. Still. Hate. Being. Told. To. “Just Relax.” And if any one person gives me that sorry piece of a$$vice again … I can’t promise that I won’t get physically violent. Just a warning …

The sad thing (and trust me, I know this is sad. Really pathetic, actually), is that I simply do not know how to relax.

Yes. Sad. Pathetic. And stupid, too. And probably the reason I can’t promise to remain calm when someone tells me to relax. No matter what I do (deep breathing, meditating, exercising), I can’t seem to calm down. My G*d, even while on vacation, I still couldn’t 100% relax.

It’s like my mind constantly runs at 150 mph; always thinking, always problem-solving, always trying find a way to make things work. Like now. I’m actually running through my head exactly HOW I can get myself to just kick it back and chill.

I’ve tried to take up different hobbies like knitting … which I honestly like to do … but then I find myself getting stressed over screwing up the pattern or something to that effect. I’ve tried to just sit in a quiet room and do absolutely nothing … and then I start freaking out about all the other things I should be doing (like cleaning the house, or laundry, or yardwork). The same thing goes for anything else I might like to do … like reading a book, or catching up on blogs, or even writing. I just simply find myself stressing out about everything.

So … for my health and my sanity’s sake … does anyone … anyone have any ideas or suggestions on how I can “just relax”?

Ack, so I just read the last few paragraphs that I’ve written. And once again, I feel like I’m painting a sad, pitiful and whiny portrait of myself. Maybe one day (you know … the day I figure out exactly just how to relax), I’ll find a way to paint a different … sunnier or brighter … portrait.

Until then … I give any of my readers full permission to simply just skip the pathetic parts.

Blowing out the Candles

Yes. So today’s the day. The day I turn a big whopping thirty-six. Woo-hoo. (Uhm, yeah … that was a sarcastic woo-hoo, if you didn’t catch on.)

It’s 9 am this Sunday morning and I’m back at home from vacation, after arriving from the airport at about 10 pm last night. Did I mention how much I missed sleeping in my own bed? As much as I love traveling and exploring new places, I do enjoy coming back home and climbing into my cool, soft, comfortable bed. Nothing says “I’m home” more than that … Okay, so I lie. No matter where we’re at, being with Hubby is always going to be home. Must be the Cancerian in me.

Anyway, I decided today that there is no way in H*LL that I’m going to catch up with reading over two weeks worth of G**gle Reader posts. SO … I’ve made the decision to just clear any new ones off my list for now. I promise to be much better at reading and commenting this year … but right now I just don’t want to be overwhelmed and stressed over something like that. At least I can control THAT stressor.

Speaking of stress, I mentioned in a previous post that I’d tell you exacty how high my blood pressure (BP) got at my Doc appt on the Friday before I left on vaca. It was as high as 180/100. Yep. You read that right. And the scary thing … that’s not the highest I’ve ever been. The first time I was diagnosed with hypertension (HTN) was after the last laparoscopy I had in October of 2002. I was feeling dizzy at work that following Monday after surgery and one of the many nurses at work decided to take my BP which was 180/110. So I drove my butt to my primary doc at the time (and got a d*mn speeding ticket along the way … grrr), and was promptly started on the lowest dose of hypertensive medications possible. They didn’t want to put me on anything stronger at the time, as I was still trying to get pregnant.

Flash forward five years. My HTN has been “controlled” through a variety of different BP meds. Because since I’m not actively trying to get pregnant at this time, we’ve decided to try a little stronger medication. My baseline BP has been running in the 140’s/80’s. But nope. Not that Friday before vacation. Of course, it could have been that I was affected by white coat syndrome. But the truth is, it’s probably because of all the weeks months of stress I’ve been experiencing in my life.

A-hem … let’s recap what has happened in the past 7 months, since the beginning of the year. Hubby’s grandmother passed away (bad stress). Found out good friend in Portland, OR is expecting (bad stress, but gotten over it over time). And within that same week, found out SIL was also expecting (bad stress … and the jury is out still on how I’m dealing with it). Dad had a heart attack and subsequently hospitalized for three weeks after complications from surgery (bad stress). And have been going with him to follow-up appointments (expected stress) to make sure he follows up on his health (bad stress). But since he’s “master of his own body,” I’ve all but told him it’s up to him how he wants to keep up his health (good stress). I’ve taken part in a work-improvement group (good stress) and initially have gotten negative criticism from my peers (bad stress) but have since improved as we continue to roll out changes (good stress) and work towards our end-of-July deadline (bad stress). I’ve seen pictures of my high school friend’s new baby … whose middle name is that of a Red Wings player, just like his older brother (actually … good stress. I’m happy for her!). And I’ve been to Chicago a couple times to visit with Dr. Bro, Dr. SIL and the cat-nieces and dog-nephews (good stress). And I’ve just recently been on vacation in Calgary and Canmore / Banff National Park (good stress) with my parents (mixed stress). Except on the morning we flew out, Hubby & I had to drive back and forth from the airport to pick up our passports that I thought we left from home (bad stress). And now I turn 36, knowing full well I’m on the downhill slope of my already screwed up reproductive years (bad stress).

So there you have it. I’m stressed. But then the question I always ask myself is … Is this any worse than anybody else’s level of stress? And why should I be sitting here b*tching about being stressed when there are probably so many more people out there with much more stress in their lives (uh … cancer or unemployment, for example)? Am I being such a frickin’ sorry a$$ for feeling so stressed and letting my health be affected by it?

Seriously people. I’m not just being rhetorical here. I really wanna know.

On a separate, but somewhat related note … while in Calgary, we visited with my younger cousin (M) and her hubby (D) who just recently had their first baby (J) last September. M & D have been married now for at least 5 years (I’m so forgetful with these things) and they are the absolute greatest couple together, so I can’t be anything but completely happy for the two of them that they have this incredibly beautiful son who … even at close to 10-months … has this incredible personality. And to watch M & D with their parenting style … I couldn’t be more proud of the two of them, knowing how much they’ve grown since last spending this much quality time with them.

But as I was already expecting (d*mn infertility!), the hour ride back to Canmore from Calgary and the day afterwards was tough. It’s that desire to have what M & D have; the wonderful baby, the teamwork and … most importantly, the happiness that they have with taking care of J.

Let me be clear here (for those non-IF readers), I don’t consider the desire to have what M & D have is jealousy. Because to be jealous infers that I’m envious of what the two of them have and that I wish that the two of them could experience even a fraction of what I’m feeling with my IF. No way would I EVER wish that on them; they are truly a couple that deserves to have this happiness in their life.

Okay, now back to the previously scheduled blog session …

As I was saying, it was quite a difficult couple days after that visit. My mind kept going back to all the disapoinments I have with myself and with my infertility. I kept kicking myself down for not moving any more forward with the adoption process which then made me feel like I am such a wimp for being so afraid to take the next step. Which then made me just so … sad.

Sad because during that visit, I also saw how much my parents love babies. How great my Dad is in getting babies (and any kid, really) to play with him. How my Mom tried to sit patiently until J came up her, but in the end went up to him because she couldn’t wait to hold him. And seeing the look in their faces. Seeing how happy they were to be holding a baby. No, they didn’t have to tell me what I already knew. I saw it in their faces how much they really wish they had a grandchild of their own. And. That. Just about. Killed. Me.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to feel these things. And sometimes I wish I wasn’t so attuned to other people’s feelings. I truly wish I could go back in time and change some events that may have affected my reproductive health (eat better, exercise more, see an IF specialist sooner, etc). And I absolutely wish I could give my Husband our biological child.

So on this birthday … you know what I’ll be wishing for. Better health. More emotional strength. And a grandchild to give my parents who gave ME life on this day.

Reading & ‘Riting

Well, today is Day 5 of our vacation in the Banff, Alberta area. We’ve been so busy since arriving to this beautiful area that today is the first day I’ve actually had the chance to sit down and write. And to tell you the truth, I’d rather be finishing up the novel I started reading on the plane ride down here than compose a string of words to form a sentence. BUT … I figured if I don’t do it now, I may never get around to it until I get back. And quite honestly, I think I’d forget all that we’ve done here on our vacation.

I have to tell you, I am so utterly enthralled with the scenery surrounding Banff National Park (BNP). Not only do the majestic mountains continuously surround you at every turn, but all the water … Ack! It’s pure heaven for the Cancerian water-sign girl in me. The colors are simply amazing. You know how when you see pictures of certain bodies of water that are so brilliantly blue in color but when you actually see the water with your own eyes … it’s just this brownish-greyish color? Nope. Not here. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Lake Louise captures the exact same hue of turquoise that I’ve now seen IRL. It’s. That. Brilliant. And pretty much every lake we encountered was that shade of blue or … gasp … even deeper.

The thing about Lake Louise though is that it’s an incredibly calm and quiet lake. So quiet that the surface of the lake actually looks like glass. And because its surrounded by these beautiful mountains, you can actually see the reflection of them in the water. Hubby & I decided to rent a canoe for the hour to try to make it to the other end of the lake, but nope … we didn’t make it. However, in the process we were able to get some incredible pictures that we would have never been able to get otherwise. Out of all the things we’ve done thus far, I have to say that canoeing Lake Louise was one of the brightest highlights.

Not that we didn’t do other sightseeing things … in fact we did do quite a bit in these past five days. We took a gondola ride up Sulfur Mountain and then proceeded to climb the up to the summit … something my Dad didn’t think he could do and then did it on his own time. (Yay Dad!) We drove west on the Trans-Canada Highway and then up to the highest point of passing in BNP. Along the way, we saw more beautiful lakes and glaciers! I’ve never seen glaciers in my life, so to see how ginormous one is … it was incredible. We stopped at Crowfoot Glacier, which was named because it was appropriately shaped like a crow’s foot with its three fingers clutching the mountainside. Unfortunately, the lower finger has pretty much melted (damn global warming!) and all that’s left is the top finger and half a middle finger (oh … the jokes I could make … :-p ). We’ve done tons of walking that we would have probably lost some weight. If only we didn’t go around eating lots of good meals!

One of the best things we did for ourselves was an hour-massage at a spa located by one of the natural hot springs in Banff. And despite the fact that we arrived about 15 minute late, not only did we get an incredibly relaxing massage but the staff was kind enough to actually give us the whole hour massage! What a great way to help us destress.

We spent Canada Day (July 1st, for my fellow Americans) with my cousin and her hubby & 10-month old son at their house in Calgary. And that was just simply wonderful. So wonderful that I’ll probably post more about it in another future post.

And tomorrow on the 4th of July, we’re heading back to Calgary for the day. For … da da da dum … the Calgary Stampede! Who’d a thunk that a city-gal would want to go see a rodeo or a chuckwagon race? Or surround herself with all things Country-Western … Well, hey, because Calgary is known as the “Nashville of the North,” I figured that “when in Rome” …

So that’s what we’ve been up to this week thus far. Perhaps when I get back I’ll have more stories to tell, along with pictures of my cousin and Hubby with their adorable 10 month old.

And now … back to reading. And relaxing.

Have a great 4th of July, everyone!

Heinz 57

Well, I admit it. I failed at NaComLeavMo. I was doing so well the first two weeks … oh, who am I kidding? I failed the minute I set foot in Orlando in the beginning of the month. But it’s not for lack of wanting to do so. Honestly. It’s just been a horrifically busy month, both personally and professionally.

Work has been work. My normal assignment has been abnormally insane. Normally, this time of year hospitalizations around our area tend to slow down. More people are on vacation and are therefore not around to be hospitalized; less people schedule elective surgeries around this time of year. But for some reason, we’ve seen an incredible rise in our caseloads.

Add that to the fact that the workgroup I’ve been on is now on super-rush mode … all in efforts to make sure that we have at least 90% of our projects done by mid-July. And at that time we get to present our work to not only the Executive staff for our department, but to the big wig Board Members in mid-August. Yikes.

And then there’s the personal life. Ack. Where to begin?! Well, since the beginning of this month, I have now traveled out of town for three of the five weekends in June. First Orlando. Then Chicago. And this weekend? Calgary, Alberta. More specifically Canmore, Alberta. That’s right, Mrs. Spit … I’m actually in your neck of the continent. And if I could … I’d be delivering Lord Stanley’s Cup to your doorstep. At least for a lookey-see.

Hubby & I have no particular reason to be out here for the week in the Canadian Rockies, other than to take in the absolutely beautiful scenery. My parents are part of a timeshare program and asked if we wanted to tag along. And of course we said yes. Free lodging and all we had to do is pitch in for groceries and buy airline tickets? How could we resist? That and the fact that I have a cousin that currently lives out this way and haven’t seen, like, in forever. Plus she and her Hubby just had a baby boy last September and this will be the first time I get to meet him. I am truly excited to meet her little one, as he just seems to be the most adorable baby. At least in all the pictures I’ve seen of him.

What more should I tell you about my personal life lately? Hmmm … I turn a big whopping thirty-six on the first Sunday in July. I’m still trying to put the feelers out on exactly how I feel about being yet another year older. Part of me is trying to be incredibly optimistic about it. You know, be happy that I’ve made it through another year. And can I actually believe how much I’ve changed for the better over the past year? Yeah … yada yada yada. And truly, I am grateful for all that I’ve done since July 6th of last year … all the friends I’ve made online and all the moments I’ve broken out of my infertility shell and stopped feeling so alone.

But the other part of me feels like I’m physically falling apart. Yes, I’m done with the Lupron (praise be all the fruitless goddesses!), which should help temper the fiery demon I call endometriosis. That’s the good part of my health. The bad part is that I have horrible blood pressure control (despite being on two different drugs to lower my blood pressure). And have, for over the past year, been finding myself incredibly exhausted and fatigued all the time. Of course none of this has anything to do with the fact that I’ve been, probably for the past ten years, incredibly stressed out.

These are the concerns that I brought up to my new primary doctor, whom I saw for the first time yesterday morning. I decided that I needed to “break up” with my old primary doc, who I’ve been seeing for years because, quite frankly … I just need a change. I needed another person’s opinion on all the issues I’ve had. And so far, I’m liking her. But of course, I think I would like anyone who can be empathetic towards a blubberring idiot who fell apart when she asked whether or not I had kids.

I’m sure I’m making too big of a deal over this birthday. And even though I’m trying very hard not to focus on the whole childless aspect of it all, certain things just seem to pop up. Like the adorable 3 month-old sitting across the aisle on the plane ride here. Or the parents at the airport with the child who was obviously adopted from China.

But the best one was the commercial I heard on the radio to work the other day. It was for the Ch.evy HH2. And it talked about how busy this 36 year old woman was. How she ran around every morning going to the gym for weight training. And then meetings across town. And to the yoga studio afterwards for some cardio. And all while taking care of her new baby.

Ouch. Nothing like emphasizing to me how different I am from the rest of the population.

But right now … while on vacation … I’m going to focus on enjoying life. And relaxing. Because at the rate I’m going with my hypertension … I may just have a stroke before I turn 40. Yikes.

I will try to post again later on and tell you just how HIGH my blood pressure went at the doctor’s office … and how incredibly stressed I was this morning before we flew out. And maybe this week I’ll be getting around to posting some comments on other people’s blogs that I’ve been wanting to do for the past few weeks. Like KC - I seriously wish I could give you a huge hug right now. And Sara - when can I come and keep you company for a day? Or Kara - who I’ve been meaning to contact about my trip to SD at the end of July. And many many more of you … that I wish I could pick up the phone or IM you to tell you that I’m thinking of you.

And now … since my body is still in Eastern Standard Time … I’m going to crash. Even though the clock here in Canmore says it’s only 11 pm. Good night, y’all.

Dawn of Summer

It’s Sunday Morning around 7:30 am. Except with the time difference, it feels like an hour later.

Yesterday, Hubby & I made an impromptu trip to Chicago. Initially we were supposed to go with my parents to visit Dr. Bro & Dr. SIL, but instead we went alone. Last minute, we were booking a hotel room so that we wouldn’t have to bother the busy docs so much.

Imagine our suprise when we got into our hotel room and saw a view of Lake Michigan. It. Was. Spectacular. And to top it off, we scored a corner room which just happened to be the best view of Buckingham Fountain in Grant Park. I’ve been to Chi-town many times in my life, but have never had the opportunity to have such an incredible view of Lake Michigan.

You see, at the last minute the cheapest room we could find within the downtown area was at the Congress Plaza Hotel. And even then, it was a little on the pricier side than what we would have like to spend. But, oh was the view definitely worth it. Especially at around 4:30-ish when I specifically set the alarm to watch the sun rise.

It was a thrilling moment this morning, looking over Lake Michigan’s horizon and anticipating the sunrise. Watching the sky turn different shades of a pastel-like rainbow as I waited patiently for the sun to make his (her?) appearance seemed to be very symbolic of my life at this exact moment. At least I hope it is.

Last Monday, I had a follow-up appointment with my GYN to go over the current treatment I’ve been receiving for endometriosis. Yes, I’m talking about that God-awful drug called Lupron. After reviewing the ultrasound results from my last date with the US tech, my GYN gave me the option of continuing on Lupron for one more month (to make it a total of 6 months) or stop it after receiving the Month Five dose on that visit. Guess which one I chose?! Uh-huhn … one last shot in the rear, and I was skipping out of that office knowing that I no longer had to endure the side effects after this month.

And after this month, I’m looking at the end of yet another dark period in my life. Hopefully this means no more awful headaches. Or no more of those d*mn hot flashes. But most of all? Hopefully no more of that rainbow of emotions from extreme happiness to anger in a flash of a second. And hopefully no more tears brought on suddenly by a tidal wave of sadness or of feeling completely overwhelmed by something as simple as getting up for the day.

I’m literally hoping it’s the dawn of a new day in this period in my life. And seeing as yesterday was the Summer Soltice, otherwise known as the first full day of summer, I’m hopeful that I will find the inner strength in me … the power of the sun, if you will … to climb out of the horizon of darkness of and into the light of a new day.

How appropriate, because two weeks from today, I will be celebrating yet another year of life that I’ve gotten through. And this birthday, I want to celebrate the fact that I was born and not focus on the fact that I will still be childless at the age of 36.

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And now pics from our impromptu Chi-town Trip

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Family Bubble

Well … it’s been a week or so since I last posted or responded intelligently to the few blogs I had a chance to read over the past week. Trust me … it’s not for lack of wanting. Rather, I appear to be “paying” for that mini-vacation I took to Orlando. Like I mentioned in this previous post, the theory of having more work to do prior to and after returning from vacation is a definite.

Not only has work been a killer, but life after work has been pretty hectic too. Which, of course leaves little time to read, let alone comment on blogs or even write a post for me-self. But that ends today. On my scheduled day off from work. Well, at least for a couple hours anyway … just got done running around town and doing yardwork. And now I’ve got a couple hours before Hubby gets home from work.

How was our mini-vaca? In a word … FUN! Our goal was to create time to spend with our cousins outside of the usual weddings and funerals. We wanted to make it a bigger group of cousins, but timing allowed for the majority of the cousins to do it on that particular weekend this year. We’re hoping to start planning next year’s “reunion” by the end of this summer. Hopefully that will give the rest of the cousins … not to mention our parents … the time to set aside the date. Next year, we’re thinking lakefront cottages on the west coast of Michigan. If you’ve never been there, you’re missing out!

Did I mention we stayed at Hubby’s uncle’s house in the Orlando area? I say uncle, but really he’s only a couple years older than Hubby. And although there’s a bit of a “cultural difference” (a-hem … meaning he was born and raised in the Philippines while Hubby & I have been strongly influenced by the American cultures, as I’ve mentioned before in passing), Hubby & I get along great with him and his wife as we have some similar interests.

Hubby’s uncle and aunt (we’ll call them E and ML) met and married about two years after Hubby & I got married. Two years after that (in 2000), their son ME was born. And another two years after, their daughter, J joined their family. But because they lived in Florida, we did not get to see too much of them over the first half of this decade. It wasn’t until about late 2005 that we finally got to spend a little more time with their family, when they came up to Michigan for the kids’ first experience with a “White Christmas.” Hubby & promptly fell in love with ME and J. The two of them were so smart and so affectionate to us. While ME was quiet and shy, J was “Little Miss Personality.” Six months later, the family flew back up for SIL’s wedding. J was the flower girl and was loving every minute of it, while ME enjoyed his time with the other younger male cousin’s and with our nephew.

Prior to the Orlando trip, the last time we saw ME and J was for Hubby’s grandmother’s funeral in Virginia Beach. And while it was overall a somber occasion, we did get to spend some fun time with them as well as the rest of the cousins. (In fact, this is what spurred the cousins to try to get together in the first place!)

While playing a board game at this Virginia Beach gathering, I was amazed to see how incredibly smart and logical that ME and J were. Not that our other cousins and our nephew weren’t also being smart and strategic … it’s just that with these two cousins, they had this reasoning behind their actions that reminded me so much of how Hubby & I think. I was floored by that observation.

Also, during one of the more somber moments of that trip, I stumbled upon E and ML with their kids while they spent some private “family time” together. J was sitting on E’s lap while ML and ME sat on either side of them. They happened to be reading a story book together and I could sense the intense love and closeness that they all had for one another. It was as if they were in their own, impenetrable family “bubble” that no one could ever take away from them.

It was that image and the previously mentioned observation above that it suddenly hit me square in the chest. That ME and J were the living incarnate of what I always thought our children would be, if we ever were able to produce our own biological children.

I can’t remember if I told Hubby that comment back during that Virginia Beach trip or not … but I certainly did this time, after our Orlando trip. On the car ride home after arriving from the airport, I turned to Hubby and told him how I thought ME & J were who I always imagined that our kids would be like.

Hubby said nothing for a small spell and then said, “I know.” Those two words simutaneously filled my heart with absolute pure love and broke it into a million pieces.

That’s because we won’t be able to have a son like ME, who is shy and reserved just like Hubby. Who, as his parents claim, is such a big bookwork like Hubby & I both are. And who likes to draw comic books as much as Hubby loves to read and collect them.

Nor will we ever have a daughter who has such an infectious laugh with enough sass to light up all of Disn.eywo.rld, just like (according to my Mom, anyway) I was when I was around her age. Who, in her parents’ opinion, feels the need to include everyone in anything she does, much like Hubby & I do. And who loves to be out in the sun and at the beach as much (if not more) as I do.

Because, while I know there are different ways that Hubby & I can have that dream … have our own image of that “impenetrable family bubble” … the reality is … we are not going to be able to pass on those unique biological and genetic traits to our future children.

And that’s one H*LL of a big bubble to have had burst.

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And now, for your viewing pleasure … some pictures from our Orlando Vacation

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Strength Pooh-Poohed

I love all things Disn.ey. Yes, I do admit it. Even though I know how the company mass-produces and over-commercializes everything … I do love Disn.ey.

So when Hubby, his cousins, and I all met at his uncle’s house near Orlando … there was no doubt in everyone’s mind that we’d be heading to Disn.eywo.rld. Specifically the Magic Kingdom … because I just HAD to go to the new Pirates of the Caribbean ride. After all, I also have a relatively healthy (?) obsession with Joh.nny De.pp. But as luck would have it, the ride had just closed for two weeks the day before we went.

Hubby & Me with Shayna
Notice all the red tshirts?

There’s something about the Magic Kingdom that just makes me feel like a little kid again. After all, the first time I had ever gone to Disn.eywo.rld was when I was six years old. And once we entered the park and looked up at Cinderella’s Castle, I was once again that six-year-old who just wanted to be a princess when she grew up.

This is a comment I made to Luna before Hubby & I left for Orlando. Luna and I both found out that we were going to be in Disn.eywo.rld for a short spell of time. And even though I really would have loved to meet her IRL, unfortunately that small window of opportunity proved to be too small. (One day, though I may just find a way to meet up with the fabulous Luna!)

That comment of just looking forward to being a kid again was in a response to Luna, who had mentioned that I was strong person to be excited to go to the kid-centric universe called Disn.ney. And I could see her point, as starting our own families and raising our own children has been, in part, a ginormous part our our lives. How was I going to survive being surrounded by hoards of families, with little ones in strollers and slightly larger ones (aka the 5-9 year-old range) holding on to the hands of their parents?

Well, for one thing … we found out rather quickly that the day we went was “Gay Day” at Disn.eywo.rld. Oh yes … a sea of red t-shirts with interesting sayings like “Slut Puppy” or “The Best Marine is a Submarine” surrounded us at every turn. My personal favorites were “Closets are for Clothes” and “Brokeback from Waaaay Back!” Let’s just say, it made the day twenty times more interesting! Not that they couldn’t have children of their own, but frankly we just didn’t see any young kids being pushed in strollers by them.

Honestly, I think I was doing pretty d*mn good. Hubby and I were having fun with our cousins, especially our one cousin’s 5-year old daughter, Shayna, who was just so excited to be there amongst all the Disn.ey characters. She had a special affinity to Belle … as did our other older, single male cousin which we teased him relentlessly about.

It wasn’t until I hit the “Many Adventures of Wi.nnie the Po.oh” ride that it hit me. And thank G*d that we didn’t get to that ride until later in the evening. Because quite honestly, the rest of the time I found myself struggling not to feel so unsettled.

This is me at 4 years old with my
Po.oh Bear and Classic Po.oh Dress

You see, along with all things Dis.ney … I especially love all things Po.oh, which started from the time I was very little. My favorite thing from childhood (which I still have) was my Po.oh Bear blanket. My bedroom, until the time I was 10, was decorated in Wi.nnie the Po.oh and his friends. My favorite storytime “record” (remember those?) was all about Po.oh. I loved Po.oh so much that back when Hubby & I were optimistic about having our own baby, we planned to decorate the nursery in all “Classic Pooh” items. And ten years ago, “Classic Po.oh” stuff was difficult to find. So any time we would find something that might fit in with our nursery theme we would try to pick it up.

Now we have all this “Classic Po.oh” stuff collected and yet, no nursery to decorate. Or fill. And in those ten years I’ve now seen at least three of my family members and friends have babies and provide them with all the “Classic Po.oh” stuff that I wish I could give my own child.

I managed to find ways to distract myself for the remaining time we were there, but there just seemed to be this miniature black cloud hanging over my head. And later on that night after getting back to our uncle’s house after 2 am … and after Hubby (who did all of the driving) crashed into bed, I stepped in the shower and silently mourned yet another wish unfulfilled.

And I realize now that I’m not strong as I thought I was.

Loopy Ron

Heh. The title of this post makes me think of Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s best friend in the popular series. Woops … there I go again, getting off subject!

Recently someone asked me if Lupron is seriously as bad-a$$ as I keep making it out to be. And whether the side effects have gotten better with time. I’m sure I’ve pretty much painted a nasty picture of how it’s like to be on it, especially with all the blob (oops, meant to type blog ) posts I’ve written on it … but I figured I would share this with the rest of us IF-ers or Endo-babes out there.

I wish I could tell you that being on Lupron gets better with time. If I had to be completely honest, I would say absolutely not.

I still get those d*mn hot flashes. I pretty much expect to get them about 3 times every hour, lasting about 5-10 minutes at a time. I swear, it feels like I have enough heat in me to generate power for a third world country! They’re no longer that bad at night for me … but that was probably solved by stripping down to a tank top and undies for pajamas and by having that clip-on fan blowing directly on me. But despite that, it still hasn’t stopped me from getting up at least once or twice in the middle of the night … grrr. So you could probably add sleep deprivation to the list of side effects!

As for the headaches … they’re still there. But I do find that the more I keep myself hydrated, the less frequent I get the headaches. So, I’m trying ot make it a point to keep myself hydrated. Of course, the more I drink the more I sweat it off with those hot flashes. For me personally, I’d rather deal with the hotflashes than deal with with those horrible headaches …

But the thing that affects me the most is the range of emotions I’ve experienced since being on it. I’m either really static (no emotion at all) or extremely happy and passionate about something or sad and totally withdrawn from everything. No in between. And because I’ve been really stressed lately because of work … I think I’ve been bouncing literally back and forth between being passionately happy and completely deflated. And, let me tell you … that gets pretty frickin’ exhausting.

However, the one thing that has been good about it (yes, there is actually a plus side to it), is that I haven’t had any severe pelvic or abdominal cramping / pain . And I haven’t had any extremely nasty visits from Aunt Flo. But that of course, is because Lupron is supposed leave Aunt Flo waiting at the train station. Which, for someone who’s got some pretty nasty endometriosis, is an absolutely wonderful thing.

So while I’m aggrevated to be on this loopy medication … I know “the end” results (reducing the symptoms of endometriosis) more than justifies “the means” … it’s just “the means” is one h*ll of a b*tchy ride