Medical Mondays: Coming Out of the (PCOS) Closet

I missed it last month, but I'm back now to link up with Medical Monday, hosted this month by Jane at From a Doctor's Wife and Emma at Your Doctor's Wife.

Today I'm getting very personal.  I try to avoid anything that brings you into the very centre of our private life, but as this issue is more about me than our marriage, I'm opening up.  In a way, I find writing about my issues is cathartic.  Disclaimer:  I'm trying not to overshare, but if you're freaked out by any mention of "lady issues", you may want to pass on this entry.

At 19 years old, I was diagnosed with Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).  I had really no idea what that meant, and as these were the days before Google, I accepted the doctor's statement that I shouldn't worry.  She put me on birth control pills to regulate my (barely existent) cycles, and I pretty much put it at the back of my mind.

Fast forward about 11 years.  When I was about to get married, I started researching PCOS, and found lots of scary stories from women who couldn't get pregnant or needed considerable interventions to have children.  (This is probably why most doctors (my hubby included) scorn WebMD and "Dr Google"!)  I became terrified that conceiving would be very difficult for us, but as we had decided to wait a year or two before trying, I again tried not to think about PCOS.

In the past few months, we've stopped using birth control to try to have a child, and my cycles have become more erratic. The last one was a full 6 weeks long.  I am becoming more and more afraid that conceiving naturally is unlikely and interventions are in our future.

PCOS is an endocrine disorder that is thought to affect 5-10% of women of reproductive age.  In layman's terms, your hormones are out of whack, which can cause anovulation (not ovulating) or irregular ovulation, acne, hirsutism AKA "excessive hairiness" (thankfully I don't have that!!), and even insulin resistance which can lead to obesity or diabetes.  I'm kind of angry that no one told me most of this when I was first diagnosed, especially the insulin resistance because it can lead to life-altering diseases.  I've found this to be a common thread in many PCOS women:  Doctors gave them the Pill to "fix things", and only later did they realize that the pills don't actually solve the problem, but only mask the symptoms.

The truth is, we don't really know how many women with PCOS are able to conceive without interventions.  Using Google or searching message boards will skew the results, since people who conceive on their own are less likely to blog or post about their pregnancy journey.  I am likely getting way ahead of myself in freaking out, but I also don't want to be taken unaware.

In the short term, I'm focusing on what I can do NOW to make my body as healthy as possible.  A good diet and regular exercise have been shown to regulate cycles, something I have definitely experienced in the past.  Because of the link between PCOS and insulin-resistance, avoiding sugar and complex carbohydrates can also have a positive link between regulating the hormone issues and increasing overall health.  (Seriously, I have the biggest sweet tooth in town; why did no doctor EVER tell me that sugar is especially bad for those with PCOS??  *Sigh*)  There are women who claim to have "cured" their hormonal imbalances just through diet and exercise.  I don't necessarily believe I can do that, but am definitely open to any change that could have a positive effect on my reproductive health.

If you have PCOS, I'd love to hear your experiences.  Has diet and exercise impacted your symptoms?  Have you had to use Clomid or Metformin to have children?

On Being Fruitful (Or Not)

Last week was rough.  We have five (yes, five) babies expected among our staff.  When the fifth one pregnancy was announced this week, I was both very excited for the expectant parents, and aware that I needed to steel myself for the coming onslaught.  And come, it did.  Not an hour after the announcement, and all of a sudden I was bombarded with the questions about when it would be my turn to have a baby.  Someone even touched my stomach.  I wish I were exaggerating, but this really happened.

All of this made me want to write a post on how frustrating it is to field so many fertility-related questions, but then I remembered that I already did that before.  In the midst of this crazy week, I happened to read a post by a woman named Heather that made me tear up.  Please take the time to read it and be reminded why this topic is so difficult for many women (and men), and why questions on family planning can strike a nerve.  I've said it before, but this doesn't mean we can't be open with our friends and ask hard questions; it does mean, however, that you should think twice before asking a personal question to someone you've only met on Sundays in the church lobby.  On top of fertility struggles, there could be marital issues, health concerns, financial situations, or other issues that are keeping couples from starting a family, so please bear this in mind before you ask what seems to be an innocent question.  Just to clarify, this is NOT the case with us at present, but I am well aware that could be in the future, so I'm sensitive to the issue.

Anyway, this past week's frustrations have led me to ask God daily for His help in trusting Him, and as a result, I've begun to rejoice in the fruitfulness I see all around me.  Aside from the pregnancies at work, I have two close friends expecting babies, and two of my former youth group girls (who are now married and in their 20s).  It has been so amazing to see this women go from teens to mature adults.  As well, last Wednesday, I noticed that a pair of bluejays have built a nest in our front yard tree, so I anticipate baby birds in the coming weeks (or months?); for me, it was hugely comforting to know that there is new life on our property even in the midst of a week that felt lifeless.  We are planning a vegetable garden, so we anticipate growth and new life in our own backyard.  God is alive, and He is good.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come 

that they may have life, and have it to the full.

John 10:10

Thoughts on a (Probably) Failed Exam

In high school, I dated a guy who had an amusing quirk.  If he wrote an exam and found it not very difficult, he would say, "It was so easy, I felt sorry for the test."  Remember that huge Mandarin exam I was studying for?  I did not feel sorry for it.  If the exam had emotions, I think it would feel sorry for me.  In fact, I'm fairly sure that I failed.

You may hate me for this, but I have never failed an exam before.  I was that person who felt like any grade less than an A was a failure.  I might have failed a quiz once, but that's about it, so staring at an exam paper and knowing it's not going well is a new experience for me.  That said, it's a pretty huge blessing to know that my first failed exam is one taken voluntarily which has no bearing on my future.  I can study and take it again in the fall, when my Mandarin levels should be higher.

I took some time yesterday to think over what I could have done differently, and besides studying hours and hours more each day for a few months, I don't know.   I have to work and my marriage is important to me, so I'm not willing to structure my entire life around language learning.  My main issue is reading speed, so if I'd spent more time reading and less time cramming vocabulary, perhaps that could have helped, but even then I may have been out of my league.  I'm trying to remember that my recent intensive studying was not in vain:  I learned so much new vocabulary over the past few months which will help me in my Mandarin progression, and now if I choose to take the exam again, I already have the flashcards and practice exams so I can jump right in.  加油！

Readers, how do you react when you fail?  Have you had the experience of cramming for something important and then seeing your efforts fall flat?  How do you keep from feeling disheartened when you don't make the grade?

Today because my studying is OVER(!!), I treated myself to a sorely-needed haircut and a visit to my favourite local library today.

New-ish hair.  It looks a lot like my old hairstyle, just shorter.

On Being an In-Law: Cultural Considerations

This is a continuation of my thoughts from last week. I wrote about my struggle to feel connected with a new family, especially one so far away. My in-laws are not only on the other side of the globe, but they are of a different culture and speak another language, which adds to my stress about being a good daughter-in-law. I know that no matter what I do, I will never look or sound like part of the family, or maybe even know how to be part of it.

Eating dim sum before my wedding

Family ties are very important in Asia, as are social customs and roles. In the Chinese custom, there are specific names for everyone in the family; for example, cousins have different titles based on whether they're on your father's or mother's side, and whether they are younger or older than you; it's often considered rude to call aunts and cousins by their first names. For an outsider, these customs can be difficult to learn. Attendance at family get-togethers can be a non-negotiable. In our case, being here in Canada gets us off the hook for some of the filial responsibilities, but I sometimes feel stressed because I don't know if I'm messing up without even realizing it, missing opportunities to call and congratulate on holidays I didn't know existed.

It is said that women are the bearers of culture. Because women tend to spend more time with children, they are typically the ones that teach language and tradition to the next generation. This comes into play with my marriage because Gil doesn't really care about traditions. For the past few years, I asked him whether he wanted me to buy something or do something for Chinese New Year, but he has never cared to celebrate it. He is, to paraphrase Dr. McCoy from Star Trek, “a doctor, not an anthropologist”. He pays little attention to traditions or cultural differences, so he rarely informs me of how our own traditions differ, and what my role should be in his family. For now that's not a big issue, but it may be harder when we have children. While our kids will be a typical Canadian mishmash of backgrounds, I don't want them to feel alien to their own family and culture.

Last year I read the book Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda. Though so much of the book is thought-provoking, I was particularly impacted by a scene in which an American woman and her Indian-born husband go to India to see his parents. She goes outside for a walk and comes back with half of a sandwich, which she leaves in the fridge. She has no idea that the meat in the sandwich is defiling the whole kitchen for her in-laws. Her husband gets angry, because she should have known that as the in-laws are strict vegetarians, they can't have any meat in the house. I was really moved by the scene, as it seemed like something that could happen to us. When you're from that culture, it probably makes sense that vegetarians = no meat in the whole house. Being from Canada, I would never expect an extreme reaction like tossing out all the defiled food. I would assume that at most, the in-laws may not appreciate meat in their fridge. Should the wife have known? Maybe, but it seemed to me that the husband had not adequately prepared her for his parents' culture and expectations, and I was surprisingly offended about it. The scene captured one of my biggest fears: That I would deeply offend my new family unknowingly.

This is a bit of a rambling entry, because I really don't have any answers. The number of Canadians invoved in inter-racial and/or inter-cultural marriages is rising rapidly, so there must be many of us in this situation. (See for example this and this.)  We can be thankful that, unlike the characters in the scene above, we have access to Google and can at least read up on our spouse's traditions; this is why I'm working so hard to learn Mandarin. Sometimes the most we can do, however, is extend grace to each other and to ourselves as we navigate a new world.

Are you in an inter-cultural marriage or relationship?  How do you try to bridge the cultural gap?

On Being an In-Law

Lately, I've been thinking about in-laws, not only the in-laws that I now have, but also the in-law that I've become. “Awful in-laws” are one of the most commonly stereotyped aspects of married life. Sitcoms have produced a miriad of jokes about the prying mother-in-law. It's easy to think about the in-laws you're getting when you marry... but sometimes you forget that you're also becoming an in-law at the same time.

I've actually been an in-law for nearly nine years, since my step-sister's 2004 wedding, but this reality hit closest to home when my little brother got married last fall. My mom and I were very conscious that of our responsibility to welcome his bride into our family (although we'd already considered her family for years). I hosted a shower and tried to stick it out into the wee hours of the night for her full-day bachelorette festivities.

While I do think I'm a pretty good sister-in-law to my siblings' spouses, I don't feel the same about my performance as a daughter-in-law. In some senses, I've lucked out: My in-laws are in Asia and Australia, so there is no reasonable way for them to expect frequent visits or our attendance at Christmas dinner. They don't come by and critique our housekeeping because they've never been to our house. You could say that I have it super-easy, but on the other hand, it is so difficult to feel close to them. I only met my mother- and brother-in-law three days before our wedding, and I've never met (or even spoken to) my husband's dad and older sister. Even keeping in phone contact with Gil's mom is difficult as there is a signicant time difference and she is one busy woman!

All of this makes me feel discouraged. My husband's mother is a lovely woman and she does make an effort. This past fall she sent me a gorgeous jade bracelet, and recently she sent an envelope of photos from Gil's childhood. (Oh, how I wish I could post some here... but I'm pretty sure he'd be livid!) I'm often at a loss over what to do to show that I do care for them, and how to feel like they're part of my family. Write letters? Send maple syrup? (Yes, I'm kidding about the last one.)

On top of not knowing what to do, I struggle with feeling connected to people I barely know. Obviously, I love my husband, but he's not a person to reminisce about his childhood or discuss his family a lot, which makes them seem a bit like voices at the end of the phone or names on a greeting card. I'm assuming/hoping this distanced feeling is normal when you first marry into a family. It would be odd for me to feel as close to them as I do to my own family members, most of whom I've known my entire life. Still, it's difficult. I want to come to love these people, but it just takes time.

What do you think? I'd love to hear your suggestions! If you're married, how long did it take before you felt close to your in-laws? What kinds of things did you do to help you feel like part of the family? Just be aware that Gil's mom is not so into technology, so Skype is not an option for us.

The Last Name Project

I promised something new and different today, and here it is:  Today I have a guest post over at From Two To One. 

I found Danielle at From Two To One and noticed a series of articles called "The Last Name Project".  This is a series in which women write about why the decided to keep, change, or hyphenate their last names upon marriage.  I found my self spending hours reading all of these women's stories and thinking over my own decision.

Changing your name is a very personal choice.  While for my mom's generation in English Canada, it was expected that a woman would change her name, this is not so for my generation, and certainly not for women in other parts of the world.  In my own family, one of sister-in-law hyphenated her name, while the other is using her maiden name professionally, and my step-sister has taken her husband's name.  I didn't really feel any pressure to take Gil's name, but I decided to do it anyway.  I knowingly did this realizing it will mean some confusion meeting people who know me by name first, who will in all likelihood assume I am Chinese.  (For any new readers:  I'm not.  I am a mix of Belgian and English-Canadian.)  You can find my post about my decision to change my name here. 

Oh, That Adam and Eve...

Wrecked. Alone. Ashamed. Foolish. This is how I was feeling the other night. I try not to blog much about within my marriage, because those are, well, personal. We do have conflict and strife at times (like everyone does), and this past week was fairly eye-opening to me.

One evening last week, I sat down with Gil to talk about an issue that had been bothering me. It was something we had discussed previously, but I did not feel like he had been working towards making things better, and as time went on, I found myself growing bitter about it. Didn't he care? Didn't he see this was hurting me? I sat down with Gil to have a heart-to-heart talk, and he promised to work on the issue, although he still thought I was over-thinking things. It seems like a typical, boring, married-people discussion, right?

After we went to bed, everything changed. I couldn't sleep, and my mind was filled with doubts and anxieties. Did Gil really care? Had I screwed up our relationship? What if this issue was never resolved and we had to live with it for the next few decades? I oscillated between anger that Gil didn't seem to care about my feelings, and regret that I had brought this up in the first place. I felt like a terrible, unloving wife. Despite the anger and regret, though, my overwhelming feeling was shame. I was embarrased that I been so vulnerable in the first place. I was ashamed that I could not overcome my emotions. To top it off, I was ashamed of my shame, because I should have felt free to be vulnerable with my husband. The words that kept flashing through my mind were, “I feel naked and ashamed.”

You see, that morning I had attended a Bible study where we discussed Genesis 3. Although I've probably read that chapter a thousand times, being married brings it to life in a different way. When I woke up after that awful night of second-guessing my actions, I realized that Genesis 3 holds some answers for me right now. Firstly, that this struggle is normal. Shame is was one of the first consequences of sin: Adam and Eve were suddenly embarassed of being naked, even though they were married and one flesh (not to mention they were the only people around). To me, this means that my feelings of discomfort with being (emotionally) exposed to my husband are deeply rooted, and will take time and prayer to get over. Moreover, verse 16 pretty much guarantees that conflict will happen in a marriage, so if Gil and I have trouble resolving an issue, it's not because there is something wrong with us personally. It seems strange, but the idea that marital conflict is a guarantee actually gave me a lot of comfort, if only because it reminded me that we are normal and not failures at marriage this early in the game. On the other hand, Genesis 3 also holds the promise of redemption. Jesus came and He allows us to break free of the patterns of sin, so that even though I can be sure we will always have conflict, I can also trust that as we grow our characters in faith, we will be growing in our abilities to respond to each other with love and grace.

And our issue? We're still working at it. We spoke again over the weekend, and I apologized for coming on a bit too strong. Gil has also been doing his part to make things better. And I am reminded that there is always hope in Christ, for our marriage and for all other things too!

On the Lighter Side...

Remember how I blogged about all the pressure I feel about having babies?   Sometimes you just have to choose to laugh instead of getting stressed out.  For example, my mom has lately taken to telling me all her favourite baby names, just in case.  I've reminded her that she already had the chance to name me and my brother, but she persists in throwing random options out there, and honestly, they are all really weird!

The most recent example of this is that my mom just got back from in Italy and was eager to tell me her new favourite girls name:  Lucrezia.  Let's just note that any future biological babies will be Belgian-English-Scottish-Chinese-Canadian, with some Malaysian and German cultural heritage thrown in for good measure, but certainly not Italian.  Not to mention that the only association I have for that name is the Renaissance figure Lucrezia Borgia.*  Sometimes, she makes me want to pull an Elizabeth Bennet and shake my head while softly murmuring, "Oh, mamma..."  It also makes me wonder what kind of name she'd have chosen if she had gone to some place like Iceland** instead.

Does anyone else experience this??  How do you handle it?


*According to Wikipedia, "Lucrezia Borgia (18 April 1480 – 24 June 1519) was the illegitimate daughter of Rodrigo Borgia,  the powerful Renaissance Valencian who later became Pope Alexander VI, and Vannozza dei Cattanei.  Her brothers included Cesare Borgia, Giovanni Borgia, and Gioffre Borgia.  It is often suggested that Cesare and Lucrezia may have had an incestuous relationship.^" You can read the full article here.  Hmmm, I'm not so sure I want to name my future daughter after this person....

**According to this site, one of the most popular girls' names in Iceland for 2010 was Hrafnhildur.  (And I'm not naming my kid that either!)

32 (Sigh...): A Post in Which I Get Real

--> Disclaimer: Parts of this post are new, and other parts I have written and re-written many times over the past few months. If this piece comes out as disjointed as a result, I do apologize and welcome your input!

I had a birthday this week, and am now 32 years old. Sigh... It was a good day of relaxing, going for a run in beautiful weather, doing errands, and a surprise dinner with my husband. (I thought we would have to postpone as he is on-call this week.) He also gave me a Kindle, so I am in the process of downloading lots of books (mostly free!) from my reading list, and also of eating my words, as I have been known to proclaim loudly that I would *never* give up physical books. :-)

I had mixed feelings looking forward to this birthday. It was exciting as it would be my first birthday as a married lady, hopefully the first of many. I imagined the joy of Gil being the first person I would see on my birthday, and looked forward to that morning. On the other hand, my feelings are mixed as I find myself deeper into my thirties every year raises the pressure I feel to start a family ASAP.

When I was young, as any young child, I did not understand why adults would be upset about their birthdays. What's not to like about having your own special day? Now I kind of understand that frustration. It feels like I am constantly being bombarded with reminders of declining fertility in the thirties. It's on the news, it's in my inbox (usually from news sites), and it's in conversations with other women around my age. My mom has been hinting for a while now that she'd like a grand-child, and mother-in-law asked us right after our honeymoon when we would have a baby! Even my brother-in-law recently asked Gil when we going to give their mom a grandson. (Seriously? Is Downton Abbey and we need a male heir?) Talk about pressure!

The thing is, I don't think any of this pushing is helpful. There are lots of great reasons to have a child, but “got tired of my mom's nagging” and “all my friends were doing it” are not among them. Honestly, when I read another scary article or undergo an interrogation, it doesn't make me trust God more. Instead, I feel as though I need to get on it and have a baby while I'm still young enough for God to bless me. That's not the heart of the God who gave Isaac to Sarah, and Samuel to Hannah. I'm not saying it is wise to postpone childbearing and expect a miracle, but I am saying that we need to be careful not to use biology to put God in a box. It makes me sad that some people are not giving us the freedom to enjoy these first months of marriage without the pressure of starting a family right away (let alone the freedom to make our own decisions). I know friends who have started families young, and many of them took a lot of flack for being young parents, but I do believe that those of us who marry older also bear some stigma as well. Can't people just mind their own business sometimes? Not only that, but we all need to mind our words and make sure we are not being insensitive. We never know all the details of another person's life and struggles.

I just want to clarify: I have no issues with discussing these things when I'm with close friends. If you are my friend (AKA you know my last name, we have had conversations in places other than the church lobby, etc.) PLEASE don't be afraid to ask me about my hopes and plans. In fact, I love talking about pregnancy and babies, as it helps me get read for if/when it finally happens. I don't mind casual joking about having a baby if I know it comes from someone who genuinely cares about me and not just my ovaries. I just don't need the constant reminders that I'm getting older.

Okay, end of rant. :-) Thanks for reading and letting me be vulnerable.

Ah, the days when birthdays were angst-free... and bowl haircuts were all the rage.

PS While am not endorsing this movie in its entirety, any discussion of the unhelpful things people say to unmarried/childless women is best illustrated by this clip.  Seriously makes me laugh every time.

Learning to be Slow

Once upon a time, there was a lady who never slowed down. She felt the need to be busy all the time. Between work, church, friendships, and exercise, she fell exhausted into bed most nights, and slept just enough hours to give her the energy to do it all again. One day, she married her Prince Charming who moved her to a new place where her life slowed down... and now she is learning to love the slow.

Of course, this lady is me. When I think about my life over the last few years (okay, probably more like 15 years...), I feel tired. During my time in Ottawa, it was not unusual for me to be busy every evening of the week, and that is after waking up at 6:00am and working a full day. My life was full of Bible studies, youth group, ladies missionary fellowship, girls' nights, etc. Meeting Gil made things even crazier: Now I was up even later talking on the phone with my long distance boyfriend, and going to Toronto on weekends to see him. (We're not even going to talk about how my housework suffered....) And yet, I didn't hesitate to add new things to the mix, like running a half-marathon or taking night-school Mandarin. Many evenings, I prayed to God to “please multiply these few hours of sleep ahead so that they are enough to get me through tomorrow.”

Why did I do it? In truth, I've always liked to be busy. Even in high school, my parents warned me about over-extending myself. In university, I ended up with bronchitis after a particularly difficult semester in which I took an extra class and was involved in marching band, German theatre, and a dance show; when I came down with a bad cold, I refused to take time to rest and just got sicker and sicker. There are probably lots of reasons for the chronic busyness: I have always liked to make the most out of things, so if it comes down to German theatre group or more sleep, I'll choose the theatre, because who knows when I'll get the former opportunity again. (The answer would be never, unfortunately!) In Ottawa, I often kept busy because I hated being home alone in the evenings. I value deep relationships and I wasn't content to have my main personal interactions be in a work context. Of course, then the church dynamic comes into play: If you are a person who serves at church, you will almost certainly be asked to serve in other areas. If you are unmarried and childless, as I was, you often feel like you can't say no to these requests, because it's not like you need “family time”, right? Once in a while, I had glimpses of the insanity of my lifestyle when I would get sick and actually be thankful for the time to rest. After recuperating for a day or two, however, I was ready to jump back into the craziness with no intention to slow down.

Until I got married, I had no idea how exhausted I was from this busy cycle. For the first few weeks, I was sleeping for hours after Gil had left for work. My body needed to catch up on years of bad sleeping habits. At first, I didn't know how I would cope with the slower pace of not working, but it started to come naturally: I could do things that I'd always enjoyed doing, like working out mid-day and studying Mandarin, without feeling guilty. I could enjoy my coffee in the morning without feeling rushed. I could clean the house before it started looking like a disaster area.

Last weekend, I found myself choosing the slow, and not taking on the guilt of being idle. On Sunday, I was supposed to go to a barbecue organized by my Chinese school. My plan was to wake up earlier than usual, attend the first service at my church, and go straight to the park to meet my teacher and co. All the plans went to naught, however, because I woke up way too late to make it to church for 9:15. I was about to give way to guilt, to skip church and head to the barbecue because I had told my teacher I would be there but then it hit me: I have a choice. I can choose to act out of duty, or I can choose to prioritize church and time with my husband. Okay, so I felt a bit bad because I had RSVPed yes, but in the end, choosing the slow day of a late sushi lunch after church and watching Olympics with my husband was the best choice. I'm realizing that these first months/years together will fly by, and one day babies will come and add a new craziness to our lives, so we had best enjoy the slow while we can.

Expectations and Doing Hard Things

A couple of weeks ago, I took the opportunity of my husband being out of town to go to Ottawa and visit with some friends. I was also looking forward to attending my (beloved) former church... and I was not disappointed. The teaching that weekend was really challenging and relevant to where I have been at recently. The sermon talked about finding lasting satisfaction in God. Our pastor mentioned some surprising statistics, noting that in surveys on happiness, Canadians and Americans rated fairly low levels of happiness and satisfaction. In fact, Americans were even surpassed by countries with much lower standards of living, such as Nigeria and Afghanistan! With everything that we have in this society, we are not happy, and I wonder how much this is related to our expectations about life. We expect a life of comfort, one in which our work and home lives are meaningful, and we obsess over the many options and choices we have. Instead of making us happy, we are miserable because we feel like things could be better than they are. The pastor also noted that Christians who look for happiness in external things, even good ones like work and family, will be especially miserable. Our spirits know that we could be experiencing deep satisfaction in God, yet we are disappointed because our spouses, our families, our jobs, etc., cannot provide as deep a satisfaction.

This gave me some food for thought, and while I was pondering it, I decided to attend the Sunday school class with the youth group that I used to serve with. The awesome youth pastor PJ was in the middle of a series of Sundays on Alex and Brett Harris's book Do Hard Things. I don't know if I expected to be impacted much by the talk, because the book is written for teenagers, but PJ gave me a lot to think about.

I haven't actually read Do Hard Things, but the basic premise of the book is that our society has really low expectations of teenagers, basically assuming they will spend 10+ years being lazy and irresponsible before settling into adulthood. (Obviously, there are families in which this is not the case, but this is the general view presented in the media for sure.) Alex and Brett Harris argue that teenagers need something to strive for, and that they are at a place in their lives where they are able to take chances, to throw themselves into causes, and to do hard things. It's not about doing things just because they are hard, but to seek the tasks God would have for them and then do them; to make a difference. In so doing, they will have to fight against the expectations of their elders, their peers, and even themselves that they should be focusing on their own enjoyment for this period in their lives.*

I'm (obviously) not a teenager any more, but this talk really impacted me. I started thinking about the expectations society has for me at this point in my life. It didn't seem like they were particularly high either: get a decent job, focus on my new home, take some vacations, have kids in a couple of years. These are good things, but it seems like the expectation is to be always wanting more. People expect us to upgrade our home every so often, to get new cars every few years, to focus on comfort and on materialism. Not only that, but it seems that no matter what we have, it is totally normal to whine about it: Complain about how kids don't obey and their extra-curriculars are expensive, about things our spouses say or do, about the costs of living and the upkeep of a house, about how tired we are from working/raising kids/taking vacations. We live in a culture where the overall expectation is to be unsatisfied and self-centred! I don't think very many people outside the church would expect me to throw myself into meaningful service, or to continue to practice a frugal lifestyle, or to try to find real satisfaction in God and in extending grace rather than complaining. Thinking this through really encouraged me to keep asking myself, “What does God expect of me? Am I more concerned about God's expectations for my life, or society's? What expectations have I internalized rather than taking a good look about whether they are in fact distractions?”

PJ also stressed that if we are not spending time with God and trying to live out His commands, we should not expect to know what hard things He has for us. That really hit me hard. As I mentioned in a previous post, I feel a bit like I'm in the desert lately, knowing that there is something ahead for me, but unsure what that is. In truth, I have not been spending nearly enough time in prayer and reflection. How can I expect God to reveal open doors if I don't even have my eyes open?

As a reaction to this, I decided to do a (not so) Hard Thing. I took a good look at how much time I spend online. I'll often start reading sites, blogs, etc., in the morning, and end up spending ages online. Then I'll do it again in the afternoon. Since I'm at home a lot, the internet can eat up so much of my time, and honestly my time with God gets postponed. Sooooo, I'm not ready to quit the internet altogether, but I've started a new rule: I have to do my Bible reading and prayer time first, and for the month of May, I will limit myself to half an hour in the morning, and another 15 minutes in the evening. (This will not include checking my email as I get it on my smart phone, or any things that arise out of necessity, such as checking my bank balance or finding an address on a map.) I'm really hoping this will cause me to focus my time on God, as well as on other tasks that are getting pushed aside. I want to be accountable in this task, so if you do see me or talk to me, please feel free to ask how it's going. I'll try to post a few updates on this blog as the month goes on.

What about you? What expectations do you feel society has for you? Are you challenging them?

*As I noted, I have not actually read the book, so if you have, please let me know if there are some inaccuracies in this description.

Weekends

...Or a lack thereof. Strangely enough, weekends have been one of the biggest adjustments in the transition to married life. I anticipated the on-call weekends being busy, and barely having the chance to see Gil, but I figured the “off” ones would be more, well, weekend-y. You see, as a bureaucrat working in Ottawa, my weeks generally went like this:

Monday – Go to work doped up on coffee, grumbling about the work week starting.

Tuesday to Thursday – Trek through the reeds, all the while counting down the days 'til the weekend.

Friday – Hot dog! Happy times are here again! Get through 8 hours of work and then the time is all mine!  (Okay, technically I know that it is God's time, but I still acted as though it was mine.)

Saturday to Sunday – Don't work. Ever.*

I don't think I realized until just now how much that cycle of building up to a weekend, then being disappointed at its brevity had made an imprint on me over five or so years. While I did like my job, I hung on to the guarantee that my weekends were for my own enjoyment, and also for getting all the stuff done that is put off when you are working full-time and busy with ministry and social activities during the week.

Even in the best of times, Gil has a tenuous grasp on weekends. He tends to spend a lot of Saturday catching up on sleep (something I am incapable of doing), and even when he's NOT on call, like last Saturday, he often goes in to check on patients. Even on Sundays, people call him to ask all kind of questions, and sometimes he is called in for urgent issues. To be honest, this was starting to bother me. Where was my weekend? I thought we were supposed to use these early months of our marriage to build memories and such. Now you're napping and I'm making Mandarin flashcards! Argh!

What I'm realizing more and more is that this is a problem of expectations. Namely, it is one thing for me to ask Gil to spend some time with me when he has days off, but it is another to ask him to ignore his needs to catch up on sleep as well as his work responsibilities. I certainly cannot expect him to know what I want to do and magically provide fun times just because he is not at work. If I continue to expect him to awake early-ish on Saturdays feeling well-rested and delighted to to go hit up museums or go furniture shopping, I will continue to be disappointed. Marriage is often about adjusting expectations to what God realistically has for us, so if weekends packed with crazy adventures are an idol based on a Hollywood movie, perhaps it is time to love the new normal and to settle in for the quieter joys of a Godly marriage.

Postlude: Interestingly, when this post was half-finished, I read this article, which really convicted me to examine my unrealistic expectations. I encourage you to go check it out!

*Okay, I'm slightly exaggerating. In truth, on many occasions I was on-call to go into work should a situation arise, but I never actually had to work.