A Letter

Dear child of my heart,

I’ve written a lot of letters over the years, some to dear friends, some to people I had never met, and others to the nebulous “to whom it may concern”, but apart from writing to Santa in my childhood, I’ve never written a letter to someone who didn’t exist. But in a way, you do exist. You are my child, the child of my heart. You were never conceived and no one knows you in the flesh, and you will never have a fingerprint or a social insurance number, but I know you. You exist in my mind and in my dreams, and most importantly in my heart.

Child of my heart, I am sorry we will never meet, but know that I imagined the day of our meeting a thousand times. The way I would hold you and weep when I finally saw your face. The way your dad would be in awe. How we would send the news to the far corners of the earth that you were here at last, our baby.

I am sorry that I will never carry you in my womb. I’ll never know what it felt like when you kicked me or be able to complain about your pressure on my organs. I’ll never know the agony of pregnancy nausea coupled with that tiny bit of joy because it means you’re still there, holding on. I’ll never touch the place on my middle where you are poking your little arms or legs or butt out, never be able to sing or speak to you, to be the first voice you will recognize.

I’m sorry that you will never be able to show me the depths of love that exist in this world or challenge my innate selfishness by just being a person who needs me constantly. When other women talk with knowing nods about how motherhood changes a person, I’ll think of you – my nonexistent child – and know that I would have been changed too, and maybe I already have been – but in ways that none of these women would understand if I told them.

I’m sorry that you will not know your loving grandparents. I’ll never be able to look at your expression and see my father or mother, my younger brother or your own dad staring back at me. I won’t come around the corner and be overcome with emotion when I see you moving your arms in a gesture that is just like your grandma. I’ll never know if you would have taken after me in my musical abilities or my husband with his mischievous spirit.

I think of all the experiences we were going to share. I was going to read to you, first Goodnight Moon and Paddington Bear, later Anne of Green Gables and the Narnia books. I was excited to see you experience beloved characters for the first time. We would take you to the park, to see you soar in the wind on the swings and use the slide with glee, knowing that mommy would always be there to catch you at the bottom. We would go to the cottage, and you’d splash around on the same beach that I did when I was a child, and we would race to the dam, pick raspberries, and mark your height each year on the side of the bedroom door jamb. Then I’d show you on another doorway how tall I was at that age, and your uncle too, and we would compare.

I was going to watch you grow up, experience hardships and pains that would break my own heart as I stood by but couldn’t stop them. One day, you wouldn’t like me that much, but we’d push through. I would make a million mistakes and say all the wrong things, but in every moment, you would at least know you were loved, so loved. If you ended up like me, you would want to spread your wings and fly far, far away. I would stifle tears and let you go to forge your own path because I too once (or twice or three times) stood at airport security with a big bag, waving at my parents as I went off for adventure in new lands. As I watched you go, I’d lean on my husband and let the tears out, and he’d remind me that you were strong and would have the time of your life.

People will say that you can’t mourn someone who didn’t exist, but to me, you are real. You will always exist. You are my child – the child that never was and will never be – and I long for you each day with a visceral ache. I will miss you every day until it’s time to close my eyes and leave this world for new adventures. I will always love you, child of my heart.

Advocating for the Infertile: Why I Don't Think We Should #StopAsking

A lot has been going on in infertility circles lately. A few months ago, Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg announced that he and his wife are expecting a baby girl, but also noted that she had undergone several miscarriages. Last week, celebrities Tyra Banks, Chrissy Teigen, and Gabrielle Union opened up to the media about their struggles with infertility. Tyra and Chrissy apparently discussed infertility and IVF on the program FABLife today, and though I haven't seen the segment (since I don't have cable), I hope to find a way to watch it. I am thrilled about these developments (although obviously I'm not thrilled that *anyone* had to go through this battle.) On the other hand, I have an issue with something that Tyra said. Her FB feed posted the following:

"I can’t believe that I’m talking about how all of this personally affects me Monday on my new show FABLifeShow but I hope that by sharing my story, I give someone the strength and courage that all your stories have given me. As women we shouldn’t feel ashamed or pressured to talk about plans for a family. But we shouldn't feel pressured to either. We need a space where we can really help each other – and most importantly listen to each other – because a lot of social media is about snap judgments and being well...judgy and just assuming things. The questions hurt. Why? Because you never know what someone may be going through. So you know what? Let’s ‪#‎StopAsking‬."

I wasn't sure at first why this bothered me. I mean, I completely agree that women shouldn't feel ashamed to talk about family plans. I also agree that sometimes people act like your reproductive choices are everyone's business, and they really, really, really aren't.

You know what, though, I don't think not asking is the answer either. I'm worried that the message that gets received is that we shouldn't talk about these things or bring them up. Yes, I've had experiences where people asked about our family plans, and the end result was pressure to discuss my private matters. On the other hand, I've had people ask questions which gave me the opportunity to open up in a way I hadn't been able to before. Usually the key factor in whether it's a negative or a positive interaction is context: What is the context of our relationship and what is the context of our conversation? If you're asking because you are curious or you feel like I 'ought' to be pregnant by now, chances are that the conversation will not be positive, but if you ask as my friend, I will feel safe to share my journey, and that's a good thing.

All that to say, I don't think the message should be "Stop Asking" but rather "Think Before You Ask". Think about whether you actually know this person and whether you are ready to potentially share their burdens with them. Think about whether you are asking out of a desire to be a loving friend or whether you are just merely curious. Think about whether you're in a situation where this person might feel comfortable sharing a struggle with infertility, miscarriages, or any other reason why they may not have chosen to have children yet or whether the setting is not conducive to a heart-to-heart (e.g., the person is working - happens to me all the time! - or you're at a family event with several others looking on... you get the drift). Don't be afraid, however, of bringing up something that's hard to talk about. Chances are, someone out there is longing to open up to someone who really does care.

ETA: I'm linking this post up with Amateur Nester's infertility link-up. Go check her out, as well as some other infertility bloggers.

Tips for Interacting With Your Friends Who Struggle With Infertility (Infertility Awareness Week)

Apparently it’s Infertility Awareness Week.  I had no idea!  I found this out from my dear friend over at Mama Cravings, whose post you should check out, even though it might make you weep. You’re probably tired of my rantings about infertility, but I couldn’t resist taking the opportunity this week of awareness affords to post something that’s been on my mind for a little while. Let me first preface this with the fact that I am by no means an expert, I don't speak for everyone on this journey, and as I see how long some people have been on the infertility road, I know that I can't even imagine how much harder some people's situations have been, so please don't take my word as final. 

The more I talk about infertility with people online and off-line, the more I realize how hard it is.  It’s hard for me, because I want them to understand my struggle and come alongside me, and sometimes I’m disappointed.  It’s also hard for them, because I know many people really want to support their friends through infertility, but they don’t know how, or they feel like they aren’t able to because they have children.  I get it.  I’ve realized recently that after being married 2.5 years (as of last Tuesday – wheee!), I’m no longer able to fully relate to my single friends (the ones who want to be married) they way I used to be.  I am always looking at my single years from the standpoint of having met “that special someone”.  I remember what it’s like to be single and 28, but I don’t know what it’s like to be single in the mid-thirties, and I’d imagine that’s a big difference.  I feel like anything I say could come across as trite, and that might hold me back from saying anything at all.  But following that logic, we can’t comfort or support anyone unless we’ve had that exact experience, and I don’t think that’s the case.

There are lots of posts out there of advice on what to NOT say to someone who’s fill-in-the-blank (adopting a child, has a multi-racial family, going through infertility, experienced a miscarriage, etc.)  Sometimes those are helpful, but sometimes they leave people walking on eggshells.  So what are some basic tips for relating to your friend who is going through infertility? 

Listen:  Remember Job’s friends that came to comfort him?  At first, “when they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.  Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.”  (Job 2:12-13) It was when they opened their mouths that they got into trouble.  A listening ear can convey so much more support than your words can:  “We have two ears and one mouth, so we should listen more than we say.” (Zeno of Citium).  Because I love quotations, here's another:  Stephen R. Covey said, “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”  Don't do that.  Just listen and be there.

Ask:  Every person on this journey has different needs.  What I like might not be helpful with someone else.  Personally, I hate being told, “I know you’ll have a child one day”, because really, you don’t know that, but maybe some people find this comforting.   One person might like being asked how treatment is going, while another might want you not to bring it up.  It sounds confusing, but don’t we all have our own unique ways to respond to trials?  Instead of trying to be a mind-reader and pouring over Google, why not just ask, “Hey friend, how can I support you in this journey?” 

Don’t give advice:  While everyone is different, I have yet to meet anyone who enjoys unsolicited advice, let alone about their most private matters.  It’s especially hard when advice comes from someone who has never actually experienced infertility first hand, notwithstanding the fact that said advice usually comes from Dr. Google. 

Be sensitive:  Remember that you don’t know who is going through this, so assume that if you know someone who is in a stable relationship and of child-bearing age, there’s a chance they may be going through infertility, and be appropriately sensitive in your interactions.  Some estimates say that one in five couples deal with infertility, so that means it is affecting a lot more people than you’re aware of.  Not only that, but there may be other very personal reasons why people aren't having children.  This means that the most well-meaning question of “When will you have a baby?” might be really really hard for someone, and you won’t know it until you ask.  (Here’s a great post by Jayme about why you might not want to ask when someone is having kids.)  I’m not saying you should recoil in terror from ever asking about family plans, but it does mean you should use common sense and consider the context: 
      Consider the context of your relationship.  Are you actually friends with this person?  I personally would welcome the opportunity to discuss this journey with people who are close to me, but I don’t want to talk about it with the FedEx delivery guy, or every staff member at my work, or my Chinese teacher (already happened).  If you would never dream of telling me your own personal struggles, perhaps you shouldn’t ask a question that could delve into mine. 
     Consider the geographical context of your conversation.  Again, it’s a sensitive subject.  How would you feel if I approached you at work in the middle of your busy work day, and said, “Oh hey Bill, here are those photocopies you asked me to grab, and by the way please tell me about your deepest unfulfilled personal longing.”  Awkward much?  If you’re going to ask me a personal question (about children certainly, but also about career satisfaction, my marriage, etc.), do it someplace where we can sit down with mugs of coffee and I can open my heart if I want to.  This place should never, ever, ever be the church lobby on a Sunday.  When I attend church, I sit around other peoples’ adorable babies for over an hour, and watch their sweet little ones running around in their best clothes.  Asking how I feel about my baby plans after church is like asking how I feel about my abs after I just watched the Miss America pageant.  I feel lacking.  Thanks for rubbing that salt in my wounds.

Be the friends that have each other's back. Literally.

I don’t think we need a special vocabulary to talk to friends dealing with infertility, any more than we need to know exactly the right words to use with someone who has lost a parent or who is going through unemployment.   These statements convey more than you can ever know:  “I care about you.  I want the best for you.  I will be there for you, no matter what.”

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.

Proverbs 17:17

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?

Ruminating on 60 Years

This past weekend, we flew down to Florida to celebrate my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary.  It was a pretty amazing time:  All 11 grandchildren made it out, plus 5 of their spouses (only one was missing; he had to go to a wedding), 1 boyfriend, and their 2 great-grandchildren.  It was a better turn-out than any of the recent family weddings

My grandparents are an inspiration to me.  They married on June 6, 1953.  They didn't have a lot of money, but they made ends meet.  They went through having three children, struggling to make ends meet, my Gramps having a heart attack in his late 40s, my Gramz having a rare neurological disease in her 70s, the divorces of two of their kids, etc.  Now towards the end of their lives (both are in their 80s), anyone can see that their love and commitment is still strong.

It is crazy to think of 60 years with one person.  Since Gill and I married at 39 and 31, it is unlikely we will make it to that milestone, though of course only God knows what will be.  Even if we don't, I love the idea that at 40 or 50 years married, we too will be surrounded by our loved ones, hopefully children and grandchildren, and that we will have laid a legacy of faith and love.

Actually, my grandparents aren't my biological relatives.  Their oldest daughter married my dad when I was 11 years old, but since that day, they have considered me and my brother as part of their grandchildren, and now Gil and my sister-in-law are also part of the brood.  Since all of my biological grandparents have passed away, I feel extra blessed to have Gramz and Gramps still around.

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.

Interesting Holiday Traditions Chez Nous

--> T'is the season, friends! I loooooove Christmas! Today I was thinking a little bit about holiday traditions. Gil and I have yet to really develop our own set of traditions. Where he is from, Christmas is primarily a religious holiday, so other than going to church, there is not much that people do to celebrate it. I, on the other hand, grew up with the whole gammot of Christmas traditions, from turkey to Santa to carols. I love everything... except eggnog and fruitcake.

While my family have a lot of your typical North American Christmas traditions, like decorating a tree there are a few oddball ones that I and my family have developed over the years, so I thought I'd share a few:

1) Christmas Carols as of November 1. This tradition started in university. Most of December was usually consumed by exams, so my friends and I would go gift shopping in early November so we wouldn't leave it too late. Now I always crank up the carols after Halloween. Last year we returned from our honeymoon late on October 30, spent one day in Ottawa, and moved all my things to Toronto the following day. Gil drove the the U-Haul with me following in my car, and you better believe I was listening to Christmas music all the way! My husband is not so keen on this tradition, so now it is mainly limited to my car and when I'm home alone.

2) Garfield Santa and Garfield Angel. We got these stuffed toys from McDonald's some time when I was a kid*, and they have aged remarkably well. My mom let me take them off to university with me (I believe I hung the Garfield Angel from the ceiling by his halo using dental floss). Ever since then, I bring out the Garfields to decorate at Christmas time. Even though I have some classier decorations now, these plush friends still make me happy.

3) The Santa Stocking. As a kid, my mom had a set of four stockings, each with a different design: Santa Claus, a snowwoman, a nutcracker/soldier, and a teddy bear. I had the teddy bear and my brother happily had the soldier, but when my dad moved out, we each decided we liked the Santa stocking best. Every year, we would fight over who should have Santa, so my mom made us take turns.... and we still do! We have a slip of paper in the stocking to keep track of who had it each year. Come to think of it, I'm not sure who's turn it is for 2012...

4) My Mom's unintentional insults. This isn't a real tradition, but it's something my mom ends up doing every year by accident. When we were little, my brother and I were kind of obsessed with fairness, so I guess Mom tried to keep the presents even. Now we don't care, but my mom still tries to give us a similar number of presents and even give us similar gifts. When this fails, she always feels the need to explain herself, which leads to hilarious statements like, “Now Neil, I've bought your sister several books and none for you, but that's not because I think you can't read very well.” Mom never fails to make us laugh each Christmas with her explanations.

Of course, there are serious things to ponder, and I am trying to be more mindful than usual of the spiritual significance of Advent this year, but that doesn't mean I can't also enjoy the lighthearted side of life.

*A little digging found me this McDonalds ad ca. 1991 featuring my Garfield buddies.  Check it out!

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.

Wedding Recap

I am happy to announce that my little brother is now a married man!  All went off without a hitch (well, other than the "getting hitched" part, haha") and I can honestly say it was a beautiful weekend.  Coming so close on the heels of my own wedding, it was a bit like experiencing that event all over again, with the added bonus that I wasn't stressed out and could spend more time talking to family and friends.

Hooray for the bride and groom!

The wedding was also a reminder of the beauty and power of marriage.  My brother and his wife (so weird to write that!) have been living together for five years, and done extensive traveling together.  Compared to me and my husband, who had never spent the night together (well, except for on a plane to South Africa), my brother getting married seemed kind of anti-climactic when I anticipated the day.  Seeing the joy on their faces during and after the ceremony, however, was enough to remind me that marriage in itself, in the act of formally and publicly committing oneself to another person for life, does change a relationship.

On the other hand, this wedding was a reminder that my brother and I are so different.  Where our wedding was more of a banquet, theirs turned into a wild party.  Seriously, guests stayed and danced with the bride and groom until almost 2am.  Where Gil and I saw our vows as the time to declare our love, my brother and his wife each gave long, moving speeches at the reception, in which they talked about how they fell in love.  It was touching, and very them.

Thanks to all who prayed.  There was no family drama in this wedding weekend.  In fact, it gave me an opportunity to reflect on how much joy there is in my family, despite all we have been through, or perhaps because of it.

Many waters cannot quench love;
    rivers cannot sweep it away.
If one were to give
    all the wealth of one’s house for love,
    it would be utterly scorned.

Song of Solomon, 8:7

How Did This Happen?

Two days from now, I will be all dressed up and heading over to the church to witness my little brother marry the woman he loves.  I am excited beyond words.  It's been a hectic few days with a cousin's wedding last Sunday and my dad and step-mom staying at our house this week, and it's easy to get so caught up with the busy-ness that I lose sight of this momentous occasion.

How is it possible that my baby brother is about to be married?  Sure, I have friends who are younger than him and some of them already have children, but in my mind, those friends are responsible adults whereas my brother is still five years old.  As Elizabeth Bennett once said, "In cases such as these, a good memory is unpardonable."

Is this chubby little guy ready to get married??

In all seriousness, I would appreciate your prayers this weekend.  There has been some family drama, so please pray for peace and love to blanket this event and for grudges to be let go.  I pray that my brother and his lovely wife-to-be will enter into marriage with hearts full of love, joy, and commitment to a life spent together.

“Haven’t you read,” Jesus replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

 Matthew 19:4-6

One Year of Auntie-hood

I don't have anything deep or meaningful to post today, except that I'm really really excited about my nephew Ezra turning one.  A year ago, I became an auntie, and I am enjoying seeing him grow month by month.  (Unfortunately, most of this "seeing" is by photograph since my step-sister lives in the Chicago area.)  I have since become an auntie again three times over since my step-brother's son was born in December, and I gained another nephew and niece when I married Gil. 

This new stage in our family is so rewarding; I enjoy watching my siblings grow personally as they learn to be parents, and it is awesome to see how my capacity to love is increased with each new addition.  I hope and pray that we will be able to add our own children to the mix one day soon-ish!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA!

Doing his best to represent Canada!