Deconversion - check; Deconstruction - in progress

I have been detoxing from my scrupulous religiosity for a good many months now.  

The first thing that happened is I gave myself permission to miss Sunday Mass.  This was big bc I had an almost compulsion to work around that weekly ritual.  Now, having missed a few Sundays, I am able to still attend without it feeling like a must.  My husband and son really still like going, and since it's been a family tradition for us all these years, and we haven't found a replacement yet, I still go.  My son in particular enjoys serving at the altar, and since we have a move coming up where he won't be able to continue serving at the new location, I want to give him the opportunity while we still can.  

The shift in thinking from "Sunday obligation" to "family tradition" has allowed me to still get some spiritual benefit from the liturgy.  I'm not sitting there angry at having to be there, or at having to listen to preaching I disagree with.  Technically I'm not sitting much anyway since we attend an Eastern Rite Catholic church ;) .  Rather, I focus on what I find enjoyable - the beautiful interior, the ability to sing/chant 90 % of the liturgy, watch my son doing something he takes great pride in, and this lets me turn a blind eye to any message that might come across as problematic for my deconverted sense of truth and justice.

Perhaps tied for first place was also my prayer life.  I stopped praying.  It wasn't that difficult.  At the height of my most recent religiosity, I recited the Modeh Ani (Jewish morning prayer) in Hebrew and English upon opening my eyes in the morning.  I recited prescribed prayers in front of our prayer corner, with icon veneration and metanoias (venerations).  For a time, I covered my head with a scarf as well.  Slowly, the practice dwindled to an evening family prayer where we just cuddled together in the dark and prayed.  This is the practice that needed tweaking once I made the conscious decision that I have deconverted.  I had to stop dragging my family through my spiritual quest, as I had been doing and they had graciously come along for the ride.  Besides, gathering together right before bed was a good practice.  It's just that what was said and done during it had to get tweaked.  

We kept a couple of rote prayers we cycle through as a way of continuity, and we sing a favorite hymn or just the Our Father together.  But the focus of this time together has shifted to non-spiritual things.  We go through and say what we are grateful for (which may or may not be seen as spiritual).  Then we say something we like about each other, including ourselves.  This started as a way of strengthening sibling bonds between my oft quarreling kiddos.  We then mention something we're working on ourselves that may need some accountability and/or what we need from each other in the coming days, as a way of encouraging open communication and humility.  

But otherwise, my so-called prayer-life has been getting replaced by a meditation practice.  In the past week or two, I've crossed into prayer during one of them - I do miss having a personal God to talk to, Whom I believe to have my back no matter what.  I hope to eventually land there, but for now, it's still marred by a very religiously dogmatic lens that I don't want to reintroduce into my spiritual life.

Probably the most freeing change as a result of my deconversion has been the process of revisiting my worldview as a whole, and reassessing my politics and ethics without reference to "what the church says".  I have returned to a more liberal political viewpoint, and I had to face head-on the single issue that always prevented me from truly and fully embracing leftist ideology: abortion.  Roe v Wade was just recently overturned, while I was very much still religious and unapologetically Pro-Life.  It was that day that I told my children about abortion.  I had been dreading the topic, but I felt elated when it was overturned.  I wanted to explain to them why I supported some candidates and not others, when the only reason was really their stance on abortion.  But now that I was revisiting the issue, I realized that it's way more complicated than I was led to believe, way more nuanced, and there really isn't a single clear solution to the problem, aside from universal voluntary abstinence which apparently is a no-go for a lot of people who are much more vested in their sexuality than I am.

I remember giving a talk at a women's retreat where I shared that feminism had become a type of religion for me.... Or was it environmentalism?  Either way, I was criticizing myself back then for letting something "other than God" replace my sense of direction in life.  My lifestyle and actions were seen as worshipping ideals other than God, but really, this was only true if "God" were defined as the war-lord of the Hebrew Bible and not the Universal Source and Destiny of Taoism.  To worship the God of Nature - the only God that it makes sense to worship - means to do many of the environmental actions encouraged by "the left".  Starting with not being wasteful.  Valuing natural resources and the contributions of all species to life on our planet.  Dismissing materialistic and convenience-based practices in favor of ones that build life up.  Really, I was becoming more "pro-life" by expanding my acceptance of ALL life, all lives, not just those from a narrow set of issues supported or opposed by the church (abortion, embryonic stem cell research, artificial reproductive technology, capital punishment, euthenasia...).  There were issues of life that never got touched with a ten-foot pole by adamant pro-lifers - the exceedingly high suicide rates among trans and gay youth, the plight of children neglected and abused by religious extremists, sexual harassment and abuse and rape of young women.  Immigration was an issue that was embraced by the Catholic church, but not by Evangelicals, who have warped into the American Nationalist Christianity of MAGA Trumpism.  

At any rate, I realized that if there ever was a disconnect between my religion and my conscience, the problem was not my conscience!  Even though that is precisely what is taught in catechism - that we have to "form" our conscience.  That we don't know what's right or wrong unless we are taught it from an authority wearing vestments at the altar.  Talk about gaslighting!  I am so done with being gaslit from my codependent upbringing in a family of an undifferentiated mass!  I'm supposed to doubt the still, small voice inside of me (in spite of what the Bible says (1 Kings 19:11-13) in favor of trusting external authority?  Based on what evidence?  Their lived experiences were somehow more trustworthy than my own?  Ahh, and there's that pesky word - evidence. 

I realized that I was becoming more scientifically minded.  I wanted to study formal logic and critical thinking.  I wanted to use reason.  And while I do recognize that reason is not actually a perfect guiding light, it beats brainwashing every day of the week.  I kept coming back to this word: nuance.  

Neither religions - any of them - nor the strictly secular, atheistic resources I started to dabble in were actually correct.  Everything in life and in the world is nuanced.  Nothing is actually black or white.  Imagine the blow that had on my autistic brain!

So my deconversion is now complete, but my deconstruction is ongoing.  I no longer believe in the literal dogmas of Christianity - none of their variety, nor the competing monotheistic options of Islam or Judaism.  Now begins the exciting part of figuring out what I DO believe then, and what that means for my spiritual practices, how I share these things with my children, how I make moral choices in life, and the inner dialogue that I carry with me.  See, I was once diagnosed with mild OCD, which may or may not be a valid diagnosis, but it points to the scrupulosity with which I tried my best for decades to "be a good person".  I measured myself using artificial metrics that no one could live up to (Virgin Mother, anyone?).  Was there any wonder that I constantly second-guessed myself?  That I deferred to others even against my better judgment?  That I had a hard time establishing healthy boundaries with my mom?  Religion not only didn't help with my mental health, it made it worse.  Now that I'm free of it, I can start to rebuild my life on what is truly good, beautiful, and well, true.  

 

Groups

What groups do we/I belong to?  What groups do we/I want to belong to?  What groups should we/I try to belong to?

I try to be very conscientious about doing what's best for my children.  Because we are a multicultural and multi-ethnic and multilingual family, I have to be intentional about which of the various relevant groups ought to be "ours", and to what degree.

The literature on the best practices for children "of color" (a politically correct phrase for non-white people, but one that my Latino husband dislikes, hence the quotation marks) talks of the importance of immersing children in groups where they can see racial mirrors, find role models, and gain a sense of identity.  And I have tried to do just that. 

For the past six years, we have tried to make friends by participating in Filipino events.  It has been frustrating, as no lasting friendships have emerged from our efforts.  I'm shy, so the effort has not come naturally to me.  My husband has never met a stranger, so it's actually surprising that his efforts haven't had better results either.  Finally I asked my good friend, whose husband is Filipino, for insights.  What a relief it was to learn that even he - a Filipino raised by Filipino parents, does not find himself regularly included in Filipino gatherings. 

Further insights from an online group I belong to pointed out that ethnic and cultural groups tend to be insular for self-preservation or just to have a safe space where they don't need to be explaining themselves to outsiders.  It now makes perfect sense why we, as outsiders, have been unable to "infiltrate" the Filipino groups that have been perfectly friendly on the surface.

It is important to try, try again.  It is equally important to know when to let it go.  I'm letting it go.  Not my intentions to keep exposing my kids to Filipino culture whenever possible, but rather my expectations of it ever getting beyond the level where we are now.  And this acceptance is freeing. 

Another aspect of raising Brown children is to ensure that they don't feel like they stick out because of their ethnicity or race.  In other words, we want to make sure we live and learn and play in areas that are diverse.  It doesn't need to be other Filipinos, but it does need to be other Brown people.  As long as the White people are used to seeing Brown people and interacting with them and befriending them, then we should not have any problems.  But we do not want our kids to be the experimental diversity in otherwise White spaces.

Here, again, I came upon a dilemma. I wanted to do right by my children and move to an area that was more diverse than not.  However, the truth of the matter is that this would come at a price.  Diversity is not the only value our family has.  Nor is it the only priority.  We must live in an area relatively close to my husband's work, and close to my parents, who are in need of more assistance as we all get older.  My children need ample space to run around, especially since we homeschool, and so our home is our base.  We grow food.  We try to spend daily time outside.  We value privacy and safety.  What all of these add up to is a certain sized yard. Fenced, with shade and sunny areas, and room to run and roll around all without worrying about nosy neighbors.  And what's more, we need to be able to afford this kind of living arrangement.  We decided not to incessantly keep up with the Joneses. We have no intention of upgrading the size of our house, or moving to more "elite" neighborhoods.  But we do want to keep a single family house with a fenced yard.  And we want to pay it off by the time my husband is ready to retire and our kids are graduated from high school.

And we're not talking about moving to a completely homogenous, secluded area where we can count on being the only mixed family in any given situation.  No, we're talking about a less diverse area, close enough to more diverse areas that we can drive there.

Finally, this is an issue for my own sanity.  I have been programmed by the anti-racist rhetoric to be very careful to avoid at all costs anything that may be interpreted as whitesplaining, ethnocentricity, or white fragility.  I worry about these things even as I am trying to guts up to putting "on paper" what thoughts are going through my mind.  See, I was brought up with judgment and comparisons being the norm.  I internalized the idea that if I am always judging others in black-or-white terms, then they are likewise judging me.  Concepts like giving someone the benefit of the doubt or not taking things excessively personally are seen as having racist undertones when applied to trying to take White experience as equal to that of people of color.  I was in an online group that taught me a lot, but at the cost of my own sense of self.  The "people of color" in my real life - Latino, Black, Native American, all thought I was in a "cult".  They simply did not experience the world in as harsh terms as the group described.  The group would retort that they weren't being honest with themselves or with me.  But that, indeed, started to sound a bit like indoctrination.

And I recently realized that I have had about enough indoctrination for one lifetime.  I am in recovery for codependence.  Through 3 years of therapy and recovery work, I've come to see how I have weak boundaries, don't trust myself, depend too heavily on the approval and validation of others, and operate from a general sense of ongoing anxiety.  With very few, specific, decisions I've made, mostly dealing with my children, I have no confidence.  I oscillate between superiority and inferiority complexes.  And so, when it comes to what's best for my children, I am again in a place where I can either take in everything I've learned and then make a decision based on my specific circumstances and those of my children, or I can once again let some "experts" make these decisions for me.

I've had enough of giving over my power.  People of color should know all too well what I mean.  Just like not all Brown people are alike, or all Black people, or all Asians, etc. the same holds true for White people.  We are not all alike.  Yes, we all share having White privilege in US society.  But aside from this, we are as different as minorities.  We have different experiences, values, priorities, intentions, goals all of which must be taken into consideration when making day-to-day decisions.  I know I won't find any popular outlet for this perspective, and I don't need it.  I only need to admit this to myself, accept myself, trust myself, and make these decisions for myself.

Returning to the initial questions of groups - what groups do we belong to?  The Catholic church.  Sunday School at OLPH.  Our area Catholic homeschooling group.  My daughter's gymnastics class.  My husband's men's group at church.  My husband's job.  Celebrate Recovery Meeting for me. Courageous Conversations (temporary group). Multilingual mixed families living in the US.  Immigrant families. College graduates.  Transracial adoptive (embryo) families.  I'm sure there's more. 

What groups do we want to belong to? Some sort of ongoing group where we can fellowship over shared values of racial, religious, and LGBTQ affirmation and understanding, as well as the pursuit of socioeconomic and environmental justice.  Homeschooling group local to our area.  A faith community where we can practice the rituals and traditions that give our spiritual journey meaning.  I'd like to return to teaching adults ESL. Honestly, I don't want to belong to any one-race/ethnicity/culture groups.  Not my Polish one, not a Filipino one, not a Latino one.  Our family is all of these and we operate best when mingling with others who understand what it's like to mix and match, to find commonalities across the differences, and not just to uphold long standing norms in an isolated environment. 

While I'm on the subject, I also need to remember that just because we are a multilingual family doesn't mean that we are aiming at 100% native fluency in all three languages.  Frankly, my Polish heritage language is the least necessary for my kids to retain.  Any language is a boon to the brain, and Polish in particular can make the learning of other Slavic languages easier if my kids ever decide to go that route.  But aside from that - their Polish relatives with whom they interact regularly are not monolingual, and we have no intentions for travel back to Poland in the near future.  I will be perfectly happy if my kids understand Polish music, movies, magazines, and can pronounce the uniquely Polish sounds if pressed to do so.

As for Spanish, this is a much more useful and ubiquitous language in our society and world.  Our kids are likely to come across many people who speak Spanish, even only Spanish, and can easily benefit from knowing the language for both economic advancement and the enjoyment of the culture.
Perhaps we should seek out Spanish-speaking playdates?

Tagalog, what I suppose could be seen as a heritage language based on the kids' Filipino heritage, is similar to Polish in necessity. Unless my kids express an interest in actively learning the language, I won't stress over it.  Since we cannot break into Filipino communities in order for the kids to be immersed in this culture anyway, I don't see how learning the language would do any good until they are grown and don't need us to facilitate.  And at that point, they can also pick up the language, having already learned other languages previously, thus making language learning as a whole much easier than if they were starting out as monolinguals.

The next entry will deal with the theme of trusting self and resisting external validation, but from the spiritual perspective.  (Both religious and secular-scientific.)

Homeschooling Research On Hold

I have been gung-ho about researching all things homeschooling for years now.  In fact, one of the reasons I was hoping to have children was so that I could homeschool!  I've enjoyed "doing preschool" at home with my daughter, but I've been noticing that I feel stretched and unable to balance everything I want/need to do.  The hard truth is that with my daughter only three and a half, homeschooling is not a current need.  It's been a hobby really, the research and the planning and the attempts at implementation.

Instead, what I think I'm going to focus on is laying the foundation of our future success.  A smoothly running household will require me to have a firm grasp on decluttering, truly finding a place for everything so that everything could actually go in its place, and then getting into a reliable schedule of household cleaning and chores.  I am slowly warming up to cooking again, so that is where my research and planning needs to be directed right now.  Gardening is another area that requires my attention.  All of these silmultaneously present educational opportunities anyway, just not standard academics.

So what I propose for the next year or so is this.  Still attend the Catholic Homeschoolers'  planning meeting at our church in August. Still participate in the annual Not Back to School online summit in September.  Still attend the homeschooling curriculum fairs/conventions next May.  And in the meantime, I know what I'm working on with Maya is letter and numeral recognition, letter-sound correlation, counting, as well as the things I have prepared on our Morning Board that just needs a few finishing touches for us to start using it daily.  And of course we'll continue with library books, lots of reading time in all three languages, and prayer and faith talks.

I don't need to incessantly view YouTube videos on homeschool room tours or curriculum reviews or how-tos of any kind.  I know what I need to be doing over this next year of preschool, and I am deciding to be intentional about how I spend my free time.  I'm done researching homeschooling until next summer, at which point I will access where we are and determine if we'll be starting Kindergarten "level" work, or rather how we're going to be implementing what is suggested in The Well-Trained Mind (I've returned to this resource and realizing I have the freedom to tinker with what doesn't resonate with me, I think this will be our primary go-to as far as choosing subjects and resources.  Basing our educational approach on the trivuum makes the most sense.  Everything else we'll take as it comes.)

Hopefully this decision will pave the way for more intentional prayer time, as well as using my desire to research and plan for more useful endeavors (gardening, cooking, homemaking in general). Sometimes just writing it down makes it feel more official, and so here it is.

Happy homecoming anniversary, Fernando!

(photos forthcoming)

A year ago, we had our fourth and last embryo transfer.  First transfer of two blastocysts on the 11th anniversary of daddy and I meeting, resulted in a week-long pregnancy followed by a chemical loss.  Second transfer of two blastocysts, about four months later, resulted in a "BFN" - big fat negative (pregnancy test). Third transfer of two blastocysts from a second batch resulted in our miracle 3 year old daughter, your genetic sister Maya. And our last transfer was also planned for two blastocysts, but only one survived the thaw.  That last little embryo was you Fernandito!

Just like with your sister three years earlier, daddy had to wait across the hall while I went in for transfer.  My bladder was bursting and I was certain that I would pee on the doctor, for which I wouldn't have felt bad since he made me drink twice the recommended amount of water and then had me wait on the transfer bed.  I walked on the wild side this time, and secretly took a photo of myself just before transfer.  (What'd you think I was going to say?  I videotaped the transfer?  I wish! Our first two transfers were videotaped, but alas that's irrelevant to you, I guess.)  Luckily this time I wasn't made to lay there for 30 minutes, so I was up and with daddy and Maya in no time.

We had made the whole trip into a family vacation.  We visited my brother and his family, Alex's grandpa and some cousins, aunts and uncles, and we managed a quick day trip to the beach the day before transfer.  I squeezed in an acupuncture session on the morning of the transfer, just in case it would help.  It certainly helped me relax and put me in the right frame of mind, if nothing else.

As we were leaving the hospital after transfer, we had someone take a lovely photo of us - first photo of us as a family of four!  I knew that no matter what, this was the last time I was undergoing any sort of fertility treatment, and all that was left was to find out what the good Lord had in mind for the future of our family.

I'm not sure what to think of the embryo that didn't get transferred.  All of the other embryos we "adopted" were in my body for however brief a moment in time.  I sort of thought of them as little angel companions for each other, especially for my Maya.  But Fernando, you were in there all alone.  So silly how the mind can weave crazy stories out of nothing.

Your batch of four embryos, I called the Franciscans, after the newly elected Pope Francis.  Maya's companion embryo I named Raquelita after my late best friend, Rachel.  We called Maya "Dee or Dino", alternating months during the pregnancy, since we weren't finding out her sex until after birth.  Your would-be companion embryo I named Francis.  We found out you were a boy in mid-pregnancy, at which point we started to think of names.  We had decided not to name you the boy names we had prepared three years earlier when expecting Maya. You were not some fantasy but a real boy, our son, and everything had to be reset.  Until then, you were a "Franciscan" ;)

I'm going to go ahead and put it out there, though I went back and forth about it.... I started to suspect right after your transfer that you may receive a calling to the priesthood.  (Since we're Catholic, this also meant that I suspected you were a boy!)  You see, after your sister was born and we moved to a new state, I became distant in my faith for a long time.  I had all but given up being able to recapture that sense of spirituality going into your embryo transfer.  Literally within days, I felt something spiritual.  I cannot explain what it was, because it wasn't anything concrete.  I just felt God's presence, I guess.  For the first time in years, I felt hope that I may one day truly "be Catholic" again.

I had a terrible first trimester as far as nausea and prenatal depression.  It was so bad that I had to request prescription medication, because the ginger root tea that finally helped when I was pregnant with Maya only made things worse this time!  I was thinking all sorts of nonesense about my lack of worth and I dreaded the idea of being responsible for two small children. I tried to sleep most of the time to avoid facing these thoughts.  But two Sundays in a row, before and after we moved into the house where you were born, the nausea and depression let up, to the point that I felt well enough to pack and move some of our stuff the first time it happened, and to unpack and put some things away the second time it happened.

Because these were Sundays, I again thought this was a sign of a possible religious vocation for you.  Whether or not the Lord calls you to the priesthood or not, He clearly called you to help bring me back to the faith!  I went on a spiritual retreat while pregnant with you, which helped tremendously in edging me in the right direction (namely, towards God).  As I write this, I am in my third week of spiritual direction, and I have started to call Jesus my friend.

In one of your sonograms, you resemble your sister Maya.  It is most uncanny, the lip and chin area in particular.  With Maya, I didn't think she looked anything like her sonos, but with you, wow!  I hope that you and Maya will be very close friends and are able to find comfort in each other's shared journey as donor conceived adoptees.  I have been working on locating your genetic family, in case you or Maya ever want more information about your genetic roots.  The Lord even put in my life a lady at our church who loves doing geneology and who has been working on your genetic family tree for many months.  I was also able to get a little more information from the clinic where your and Maya's embryos were stored, which has been a great joy to me, and I'm hoping it can help us locate your and Maya's three older genetic siblings, if not your donors as well.

So Fernando, thank you for showing me that just when I thought my heart couldn't possibly grow to accomodate loving another child as much as I love Maya, you proved me wrong!  My heart has been cloned, and each of you have their own mommy-heart in my chest.  I don't know how else to describe it.  I love you, and I'm so very happy that you're here and we're all together as a family now!

How Parenting Has Affected My Faith

I am happy to be returning to this blog with the annoncement that I am, once again, "fully Catholic". That's not to say that there's really such a thing as a "partial Catholic", just that I FEEL Catholic, and that I am actively living a Catholic life, however imperfect, striving for virtue and faith.

It has been a long journey, over two years.  Being given several months of clarity to reflect on what went wrong before being launched into the postpartum period again next month, I've been able to determine what went wrong.  Why did I lose my faith?  What can I do differently this time around?

You see, I pretty much blame postpartum depression/anxiety on my loss of faith.  So as I prepare to give birth to baby #2 next month, I worried that any progress I may have made in the interim may be compromised yet again in the postpartum period.

Prior to the birth of Maya, Alex and I were very involved in our church community, had an active prayer life at home, and had overcome several trials of faith.  Our prayers had been answered with the blessing of our daughter, and it killed me to be feeling anything but eternal gratitude to God.

Here's what I believe contributed to my postpartum depression/anxiety and the resulting loss of faith.

1. Breastfeeding challenges. Within a week of birth, I suffered nipple damage that resulted in a breast infection (mastisis), breast absceses that needed to be drained twice, and a yeast infection, all of which contributed to my limited milk supply and the heart-wrenching decision to supplement with formula.  It took a full two months to resolve our breastfeeding challenges, thanks in huge part to a godsend of a lactation consultant, Angela, and the fact that Maya had a chance to grow a bit, thus resolving the low palate issue that caused the initial nipple damage.

2. Loss of familiar surroundings. Almost as soon as the breastfeeding issues were resolved, we sold our house and moved to be closer to Alex's work.  While this was the best decision for our family without any doubt, it did bring about severe stress.  For one, the house we spent a decade together, the house where I had just given birth to our daughter, was gone.

3. Loss of a support network. We moved out of state, away from what limited support network I would've otherwise had.  I didn't know anyone, friend or relative, and was very isolated home alone with a newborn.  As much as I've wanted and enjoyed being home with our daughter, in retrospect I see that I really needed some sort of social outlet to help normalize the situation.

4.  Neglect of healthy lifestyle.  We resorted to convenience foods, low on the nutritional scale, and certainly didn't think beyond getting sleep whenever possible.  There was no thought of exercise, or hydration, or a social life outside the home, or personal development, or couple-time.  There was only being "on" with full-on care of our baby, or desperately catching some sleep whenever possible.  In my case in particular, sleep is a big necessity.  My body requires 8-10 hours of uninterrupted sleep to feel fully refreshed.  Needless to say I was not getting any meaningful stretch of uninterrupted sleep, much less the amount my body needs.

The above put me into survival mode.  I was just going from day to day, trying to make sure our daughter was safe, fed, clean, repeat.  I had completely ignored all other aspects of myself, my identity, my life. I avoided leaving the house, including to church, for the first month or so, finally venturing out for Christmas Vigil mass, because I didn't want germs around my precious baby.  So even before we moved, I had distanced myself from the church community that meant so much to me.  Somehow, prayer also got lost in the shuffle.  There's no other way to describe it: I was in survival mode.

I had ridiculously high expectations of myself and what it meant to me to finally be given the opportunity to parent, to be a mother.  That's why our breastfeeding challenges were such a deep blow to me.  I couldn't even articulate the disapointment I felt over having to introduce a bottle on day 6 of Mayas life, of having to feed her factory-produced formula that I couldn't vouch for myself.

This muggy mental state that resulted, primarily from sleep deprivation but also from unrecognized stress factors (the move, social isolation, and already feeling like a failure in motherhood) contributed to the onset of my postpartum depression and anxiety.  It either didn't kick in until after 6 weeks post-partum, or I didn't realize it was already underway until then.  Afterall, I did go to my 2 week and 6 week postpartum visits with my midwife, and they do screen for depression, yet it wasn't flagged at those times.  By the time my 6 month postpartum visit came around, I had been to hell and back mentally.

For four months straight, isolated and sleep deprived, I suffered from horrible visual images of worst-case scenarios popping into my mind throughout the day.  There didn't seem to be any discernible trigger.  If one of our dogs caught my attention, my mind went straight to my baby being attacked by the dog.  If I wanted to go sit out on our balcony with baby on my lap, my mind went straight to accidentally tripping and dropping baby over the banister.  I know parents worry, but this wasn't worry, this was as if I was having flash-backs of horrible things that actually happened.  I imagine post-traumatic stress disorder works in a similar way.  There's no reason for the thoughts, they just creep in and take over any sense of logic.  I stopped watching crime shows with Alex at this time, and the news, thinking that perhaps the violence there is what subconsciously triggers violent thoughts for me.  It's now been over two and a half years since I've been censoring what I view.  (And if you knew me, you'd know how much I enjoyed watching shows like Elementary or NCIS with Alex.)

Presumably because my mind was constantly occupied with violent visuals or subconscious fears of another vision episode catching me off guard, I just went about my daily life on auto-pilot.  Around four months post-partum, I started being able to incorporate housework into my daily life.  I took tons of photos and videos of my precious daugher.  I was very keenly aware of the miracle she was in multiple ways.  My entire life revolved around doing everything I possibly could to give her the best start in life.  I jumped into attachment parenting with both feet first, and only in retrospect have I realized that I completely ignored one of the principles of AP: balance.  I did not seek to balance my daughter's needs with mine at all.

Most of our parenting decisions I continue to stand by, even though outsiders may think they contributed to my sense of overwhelm.  However, I definitely went overboard with a few, and this is where hope enters in.  Having recognized that I did not do Maya any favors by neglecting my own mental health, I intend to be vigilent and proactive about my own mental state with her baby brother.

First of all, I do not have to worry about moving or social isolation this time around, which already gives me a sense of ease.  We are settled into our new house and I've made friends locally.  As for breastfeeding, I cannot predict if we'll also struggle or not, but I know now to immediately seek out a lactation consultant if need be, and we know of one through our church.  We have develped a bit of a sense of community at our new church, and my faith has returned to a good working place. I know that there are a few things I have to keep at the forefront of my mind in order to avoid slipping back into mental chaos.

Daily prayer.
Weekly Mass attendance.
Monthly Confession.
Regular visits with friends (most likely playdates)
Regular alone time while kids enjoy daddy-and-me time (we started this with Maya)
Daily exercise: family walk or yoga while the kids play or dancing with the kids
Weekly one-on-one connection with each child (while Maya is having daddy-and-me time, baby brother is having mommy-and-me time, and vice versa)
Every few months, Alex and I need to find a way to connect just the two of us.  (We don't require frequent date nights, as the past three years have proven.  We are happy to take Maya with us when we go out to eat, and that is always a nice treat with no need to worry about childcare.  Also, car trips usually allow for adult conversations, though lately our little jibber-jabber has been struggling with giving us our own conversation time.)
Annual spiritual retreat.  I don't know if we'll be ready when baby brother is only 8 or 9 months old, as the annual women's retreat through our church is in August.  It will all depend on his sleep and nursing.

Which actually brings me to the Balance aspect of attachment parenting, and how I hope it will contribute to a saner post-partum period and baby/toddler years.  I did not hold anything back when it came to breastfeeding and cosleeping. What's more, I took it upon myself to practice elimination communication, which was great during the daytime, and Alex and I both agree that it was worth the effort (Maya has been diaper-free since 18 months, completely out of pull ups for backup on outings since 2.5, mostly bc we finally got up the courage to trust her.)

I was able to reestablish exclusive breastfeeding for three months before solids entered the picture with Maya, and I wanted to make up for the formula I had to feed her in the first three months of her life.  I still intend to breastfeed on cue, however - especially if we are spared the trauma we went through with Maya - I now know that you can, indeed mix breast with bottle without any dire consequences (something I feared the first time around but was forced to find out was unwarranted), and so perhaps we can have some night feedings done by daddy with pumped milk, and if so, I may very well be able to attend next year's spiritual retreat.

Sleep.  Sweet sleep. I simply cannot provide the same environment to my second baby as I did to my first, as that would involve neglecting my older child.  I cannot be of any use to either of them sleep-deprived, and so I will be more strict in this sense.  I do not adhere to crying it out.  I do not believe in "sleep training" per se.  However, I do now recognize that just because a baby cries doesn't mean I'm doing something wrong.  I simply did not want to hear my daughter cry, and that was a mistake. With my son, I will take a different approach.

For starters, since we saw how successful it was for us to watch our daughter for signs of needing to use the potty, and how that enabled us to keep from teaching her to go in the diaper, then why can't we apply the same approach to sleep?  Basically, we will watch him for signs of sleepiness, and place him in his bassinet to fall asleep there.  I won't make it a habit of letting him fall asleep at the breast every time, even though I know it's only natural that he'll get drowsy nursing.  I won't just drop him off and leave the room, either.  But I want him to learn that sleep is something that he can do on his own, if still in the viscinity of loved ones.  I don't see why I didn't do this with Maya.  I kept a meticulous log of the times she ate, slept, eliminated!  I could've easily looked back to see when I should be encouraging sleep by placing her down instead of letting her get used to falling asleep in our arms, especially at my breast.  I will be keeping a log with baby brother too, so after the first week or two, I will look back to see if a rough "schedule" could be drafted for his sleep times.  (I do shutter at the word "schedule" on one hand, but on the other hand, I know that limits allow freedom, both for me and the kids, so I just need to view it as something we do in moderation, but that we do do.)

And as for elimination communication, we will definitely do it again, but I will definitely not deprive myself of further sleep in order to be putting him on the potty in the middle of the night when he's still peeing multiple times at night!  (I did this with Maya, and had to take a break at 10 months to save my sanity.  Lo and behold, when I returned to it a few months later, I noticed she was able to hold her urine all night, and she actually started staying dry at night before daytime dryness.)  So we will defintiely take him to the potty during the day when at home, but we will definitely not stress about him wearing diapers on outings, and I won't be getting up at night to put him on the potty for the first year. If I'm up anyway, to nurse him or change a diaper, then of course might as well sit him on the potty.  But I need to stop waking up at every little sound and movement my cosleeping baby makes!  If he pees in his diaper at night, so be it.  The trade off is a happier, better rested mama.  I'm sorry, but my Eco-Idol needs to go.  I do now think that sanity is worth a diaper in the landfill (since I'd want disposables at night to minimize discomfort and thus wake-ups; cloth during the day for sure!  I'm not planning on worrying about accidents left and right either by letting him go diaper-free before his skills have been tested.)

So with those three parenting adjustments, the different set of circumstances in our living situation, and my conscious decision to maintain a balance in my own well-being, I hope to keep post-partum depression/anxiety at bay, and by extension, keep my faith growing and going in the right direction.

This post started out being about the state of my faith, but I think the practical analysis will prove to be more helpful in its application.  Bottom line, I do not want to lose my faith again.  I am choosing to remain Catholic.  I am choosing to believe in the fundementals of Catholicism.  I am choosing to focus on those areas of Catholic faith and spirituality that nurture my desire for holiness and virtue.  I am choosing to ignore those areas of faith that create in me any sense of doubt, skepticism, or temptation to "use my intellect or reason".

God exists.  God created me.  God loves me.  Death is a mere transition to a more complete state of being with God.  These things I know and believe with every fiber of my being, and these are the things I want to nurture from a uniquely Catholic perspective, because why not?  Catholicism is my heritage, it's a beautiful religion, and it makes no difference that others may find exactly the same thing in another tradition.  To each their own.  Catholicism is for me.

Spring is in the Air!

And with it, it brings new life!  Today marks the third anniversary of Maya's homecoming (ie. the day we transferred her embryo).  Tomorrow we will find out if our last FET will give her a sibling or not. And over the weekend, yesterday in particular, there has been a resurrection of a different kind in my life.

For about the past two years, since after Maya's baptism and our move to Maryland, I have struggled with my faith.  At first it was just not a priority, then as I tried to get back into it, I realized I didn't feel it was a good fit and considered other faith traditions (yet again), and finally, I tried to makes sense of the label of spiritual independent and/or Deist.  Last August, I attended a women's retreat through my Catholic church as a last ditch effort to remain Catholic.  The advice I was given on that retreat was to not only keep attending mass, but to go back to receiving Communion, even if I didn't believe in the Real Presence or the creed, because God would meet me where I was.

So I decided that I still had a birthright to the label Catholic, even if others might call me "lapsed".  I tried to grow in the faith again by attending a Discovering Christ series with Alex (and Maya!), which went OK but didn't convince me of anything.  This was all of fall.  This spring we attended the follow-up to it, Following Christ, and it was even worse.  I was bored out of my mind and I might as well have been attending an atheist convention, because I didn't share any of the beliefs or assumptions that were being presented.  I had pretty much given up hope on truly being Catholic again, and made my peace with being a Deist.  I joined a couple of online Deist groups, which actually haven't been very active, and that was that.

But I wasn't happy.  This weekend I got an incredible urge to want to believe again.  I researched "making yourself believe something you don't" and "what's the harm in believing something that isn't true" and I read with great interest what a bunch of skeptics/atheists/Deists had to say on the subject.  At the end of their arguments, I was left with a singular observation.

I have long held at my core that the meaning of life is to find happiness, and to help others find contentment.  And my current spiritual trajectory just wasn't bringing me happiness.  I thought I was quite rational, believing only what the objective evidence (nature) would allow for, and simply didn't believe in the concept of God revealing Himself through a prophet or holy book.  But in the end, what good does it do me even if I do only believe in evidence-based facts, if this doesn't bring me joy?  Is truth only the sum of rational facts?

Upon further reflection, I realized that truth is relative.  Truth, beauty, love - these are not experienced equally by every individual.  One person can love another when others do not.  One person can find something beautiful when others do not.  One experience can be true for someone when it isn't true for someone else.  So while religion doesn't agree that truth is relative, and neither do atheists apparently (who reveal themselves to be just as religious as theists in that sense), my personal conviction is that truth and fact are not interchangeable.

There may not be facts to back up everything taught by my religion, but I can find universal truth in the interpretation, in the metaphorical meaning.  My problem has always been that I have been too literal.  I assume what I hear and read is literal unless and until proven otherwise.  I've tried to accept Catholic teaching on a non-literal level before, but yesterday, I think I was finally granted the grace to do so!

I started praying again.  Praying in the sense of speaking my heart to God.  Not just in lifting an intention in my mind's eye and envisioning it being immersed and enveloped in God's purifying light. I still think I'll treat intercessory prayer that way, at least for now.  But I actually spoke to God, to Jesus, to be specific.  I called Him Lord and it didn't make my stomach churn.  I think I have distanced myself from my previous literal understanding of God long enough that it is no longer a conflict for me to think of Jesus as Lord.  In the interim, God has become very distant, abstract, impersonal, unapproachable, unknowable.  Jesus is the opposite of all of those things.  And I do not feel like I'm betraying God-the-Father by lifting my heart to God-the-Son, bc I now consider the way God-the-Father operates is more from a distance, by delegating - if you will - to Jesus.  As I was praying in front of our Divine Mercy image of Jesus, I felt God's approval - all of God, including God-the-Father.  And I thought about the Trinity, a concept that gave me so much trouble before, and realized that it's not literal.  The Trinity is simply a Christian koan, a riddle that is meant to make us realize that we are never going to be able to comprehend the full nature of God, so we really should stop trying!

The timing couldn't have been much better.  I didn't even realize we were entering Holy Week.  We have a secular calendar hanging in the kitchen, and I have missed mass the last few weeks, so I had no idea where we were in the liturgical year.  And then yesterday at mass, I looked around at all the familiar rituals, objects, words, and I found comfort in them, and realized they were "true" all along, I just kept interpreting them too literally.

I give myself permission to disagree with certain interpretations and teachings of the Church, following the advice of the priest from my last retreat, namely that God would meet me where I'm at. I don't feel the need to be in agreement with other Catholics, or the Catechism, or the Vatican, in order to reap the rewards of Catholicism.  I give  myself permission to be a part of an imperfect church, even as the church denies being wrong on such issues as gay rights.  I believe it will come around, though perhaps not in my lifetime.  But instead of trying to find a perfect place of worship, which I think had become a scapegoat for my own personal imperfections, I am embracing an imperfect church.  And by extension, I am accepting myself as an imperfect being.

I don't like the term "sin" and "sinner", but synonyms such as missing the mark, being broken, veering off the path, having shortcomings... these are all undeniable and essentially all that "sinning" really means.  It's funny, I don't like to think of myself as a sinner.  It bothered me to no end how much focus there seems to be in Christianity on all the wrong we do, all of our mistakes, instead of focusing on how we can improve.  But if I'm being honest, how can I know what to aim for if I don't know where I'm coming from?  The message of Jesus is that my mistakes do not define me.  It's critical to be honest with myself and realize that I'm not perfect, but that it's ok.  It's my own fault if I focus on the mistake and not on the remedy.  The church has opportunities for both.

Later today I will be leaving the two Deist online groups.  I will continue focusing all of my attention on finding meaning within the religious tradition that was given to me as a tool as part of my birthright.  Yes, there is truth to be found in other religions, but that doesn't lessen the value of my own religion.  The other religions are not there for me to convert to, but to learn from.  My task is to work on my spirituality within the context of Catholicism.  There will be challenges and disagreements, but I know from exploring other faith traditions that this was going to happen no matter what, in every conceivable tradition.  The lesson is that we are not perfect, and neither are our human institutions (say, organized religion), but that's ok.  The challenge is to learn to live within an imperfect world.  To embrace acceptance.  To be content with what is.  To stop striving for a future time, a different place, and to get into the habit of perfecting every present moment, wherever we find ourselves.

Tomorrow I find out if we will have another baby.  I'm leaning towards yes, that he's a boy, and that he will become a priest.  And that he's the reason I have fully returned to the Church. I can't explain it any other way, except that today, I feel like fully Catholic again.  And I thank God for that.

Leaving Online Groups

Weighing the pros and cons of membership of an online group.  I recently chose not to rejoin a group that was very educational in terms of race relations and adoptee perspectives, because of the uneven playing field, for which I don't fault the administration at all.  I just feel like my continued presence was having a toxic effect on me.  I am a bit too literal and can't always decode the appropriate context, and when I hear something is offensive to someone, I run with it, even if it means risking destroying long-standing relationships.  The privileged voices in this group were volunteers, so they didn't need to consider my intention or give me the benefit of the doubt.  But in real life, I should extend those courtesies to others.  And since I don't like to maintain a double standard, the way I am in one arena is the way I want to be in all of them, which was proving quite troublesome in my personal life.

So I opted to find other groups that deal equally well in terms of racial issues, but also covers issues of disability, sexism, and LGBTQ concerns much more so than the other group did (though they did occasionally come up).  I find that even though the group rules sound pretty much the same as those of the group I left, I have not come across anyone telling someone else to sit on their hands and be quiet, no name-calling, no "you should Google before you speak" (as if we know what we don't know until someone points it out to us).  So I'm very happy with these other race-issues groups, and decided I didn't need to put up with being made to feel like the disenfranchised groups just to prove a point.

I'm one of those people who doesn't need to visit the Holocaust museum to understand the gravity of what happened.  It doesn't take much for me to see the light, because I do always assume I have room to grow and don't know everything.  It pisses me off when people treat me like "just another white girl", and whatever stereotypes that conveys for them.

That said, there is another group that I am now thinking I may want to reconsider.  The opposite problem is happening there.  It's a group for those involved with embryo donation, but it is entirely from the perspective of the recipient parents.  Rainbows and unicorns, as was the saying in the race group I left.  I've brought up serious issues to try to get people to consider the perspective of their children, and I've been dismissed as being too negative and in a recent thread, there was actually an onslaught of people who came to comment specifically - it seems - in an effort to minimize the importance of what I said, ignoring it altogether. And yes, I see the irony of my problem with this group versus my problem with the other group I left.

I have to wonder what's the point of my staying in this group.  It's a lot of oohing and ahhing and prayers and baby dust for those still trying, sharing pictures and merchandise ad nauseum of anything snowflake related, and really no education seems to be allowed.  I don't need support, I'm done "trying" - and I feel that way even as I sit here in my "two-week wait", 7dp5dt.  I don't need people's condolences over the embryo that didn't survive the thaw.  I don't need people praying to Santa-Genie-God to show favor on me.  It's nice to share the specifics of where I'm at during this cycle, but this cycle is just about over with, and I don't see any long-term advantages to continued membership in this group.

It's a shame, too.  I really want to mingle with other EA parents, but I see they have got to be similarly-minded, too.  As in, they have to want to parent by taking the child's perspective into consideration.  They cannot be of the mind-frame that as the parents, their word is law, that they know better, that the child is to be seen and not heard.

Trying for a Sibling

I haven't written about this subject before because, quite honestly, I've been mostly ambivalent about the idea of having another child.  In my mind, our infertility simply meant "childlessness".  Now that we have a daughter, I consider us "cured".  Selfishly speaking, I don't really want to go through the newborn phase again, or anticipate another childbirth, even though I think my homebirth with our daughter went quite well.

Then again, I feel bad for the new kid, if this embryo transfer is successful, because I don't want her/him to feel like second best.  I'm sure that my heart will grow to accommodate two awesome kids, if the need arises, though.

But for now, the three reasons we are doing one last embryo transfer are 1) to attempt to give our daughter a genetic sibling, a blood relative she could grow up with, 2) because we made a commitment to the batch of four, and two remain, and 3) because the alternatives - storing them indefinitely or returning them to our clinic's anonymous donor embryo program are not viable options for us.

Storing indefinitely provides no closure, something that is important for me.  It's a main reason I'm excited about this transfer, because in a matter of weeks, we will officially be able to put our infertility struggle behind us.  We won't have to hem and haw when people ask about when we're having another one - we'll just be able to categorically say nope, we're done.  We are raising an only child, thank you very much.  Or if the transfer works, people are less likely to ask about a third child, unless of course we have two girls, but some people are never happy so whatever.

Returning the remaining two embryos to the clinic's anonymous donor embryo program would introduce another obstacle in that we would always wonder if there's another genetic sibling out there.  Right now, we know she has three siblings with her donors.  If we find one of them, we find the whole bunch.  But if we let the clinic have them back, we'll never know what happened to them unless another family receives them and reaches out to us on the DSR (Donor Sibling Registry).

Having said all of that, we are traveling for the transfer and chose to come early to do my monitoring at the clinic, since we are being charged a flat fee this time, with no discount for doing outside monitoring.  In between the monitoring (which consisted of blood work measuring my hormone levels and a sonogram to check my lining, which was a whopping 11cm and they like to see at least 7cm), we have been driving around Florida visiting with family.  We're spending several days with my brother, which is allowing our daughter to hang out with her soon-to-be 6 year old cousin and his two soon-to-be step-sisters, aged 9 and almost 6.  While it is utter chaos with four kids expressing their excitement, it has been amazing to watch Maya observe the other kids, enjoy interacting with them, and therefore keeping busy without insisting on my constant presence or being zonked out in front of her show.  It is exhausting to try to make sure she is getting social interaction with peers, because it means leaving the house and making an effort, and for an introvert like me, I'd rather not!

So now, as we count down to this Friday's transfer, I'm starting to actually hope that it works, that Maya gets a little sibling (sister ideally!  Alex and I agree that we know what to expect from a little girl and are too old to reinvent the wheel with a little boy!  Though originally of course we wanted "one of each")

I've been getting used to not carrying Maya this week, in preparation for after transfer, when I will be limited to what I should be lifting, and it's been tough.  I've noticed how much I still pick her up, so we've been having Alex lift her when need be or encouraging her to get around on her own.  Apparently she can get in and out of her car seat on her own, if given enough time and motivation.

I've also been noticing that nursing Maya is bothering my nipples, and since the meds I'm on may be messing with my milk supply, she's been wanting to nurse quite frequently, at night in particular.  I'm not ready for her to wean yet, but I sure do wish she'd keep it to daylight hours only!

Two days and a wake-up to Homecoming Day!

Belonging and Identity

My daughter was born to me.  I did not adopt her.  I have to get it out of my head that embryo donation is just an early prenatal adoption, the way I was taught to believe by my pro-life Christian online forum acquaintances.  This attitude helped me get over my desire to not go against any Catholic church teaching, which forbids donor conception but welcomes adoption, and which recognizes personhood from the moment of conception.  For my own sanity, I was able to pursue embryo donation and still feel completely aligned with my faith.  

But now that I no longer have a need to be in line with that - or any other - organized religion, I'm also free to look at the circumstances of our family formation without trying to spin it a certain way.

There was no legal adoption that took place.  My daughter never knew any other relatives, any other human beings, until she began to grow and develop in my womb.  Absolutely all of her experiences and memories have been shaped by me and Alex and the people we have introduced her to.  Her donors were in no way coerced to give her up, as is the case sadly in many adoptions.  Her conception was no accident.  It was very well planned and thoughtfully carried out.  She was dearly wanted from the beginning. (That is not to say that this doesn't apply to adoptees, only that the circumstances of their birth tend to have an element of bad timing.)

I look at artificial reproductive technology as a sort of pre-mixing of cake.  You get all the necessary ingredients together, and then if need be, you put the mix in the fridge until you are ready to put it in the oven.  And perhaps you premixed more than you could reasonably eat, maybe because you are concerned about messing up the recipe and having to dump one or two failed attempts, so you allow for a margin of error. So after one or two cakes have come out of the oven, you realize you still have the makings of another cake left that would be a shame to get rid of.  So you donate it, let someone else bake it in their oven and enjoy it as if they made it from scratch.  Obviously people are not cake, but I hope the metaphor makes sense.  

Now I know that any pro-lifers who agree with the Catholic stace of personhood beginning at conception won't be able to get past this comparison.  How can I talk about tiny little people as dispensable, experiments, donations?  That's where we differ.  I do not believe that Maya was already a person before her embryo implanted in my uterus.  I believe that all the ingredients for her physical body were there, but that she only became animated once implantation took place.  It was my blood, my flesh, the environment that I provided for her during pregnancy, that molded the raw ingredients provided by her donors into the unique individual that she became.  And she is not done becoming, either - none of us are!  We all continue to change and evolve according to the experiences of our lives, never arriving at who we think we are.  What we really are, deep down, is not limited to our physical incarnation, our earthly life.  But that's another story.

So, while I do think we have an obligation to honor her Filipino heritage, I do not think that we need to do this to the exclusion of her Polish and Salvadoran heritage.  These last two are the cultures that she was born into.  She wasn't born into a Filipino culture.  

Alex and I recently took a DNA test to see what our ethnic heritage is made up of.  Alex has a large portion of his heritage (about half) indigenous Central American.  In other words, he is half Native American, according to his genes.  He was not born into a Native American family or culture.  He was born into a Salvadoran culture.  Similarly with me.  I long suspected that I have some Roma heritage, and it seems that there is about an eight of my heritage that originates in South Asia, which likely means I was right.  But I was not born into a Romani family or culture.  I was born into a Polish culture.  

What's more, we both changed dominant cultures when our parents brought us to the United States.  Now our dominant culture is American.  So too with Maya.  My Roma blood, Alex's Native American blood, and Maya's Filipino blood all contribute to our physical appearance.  I have the least amount of non-white genes, and so you really have to know what you're looking for to see it in me.  Only my very white relatives have ever noticed my light olive complexion, dark brown hair, and light brown eyes as being possibly of an origin other than Polish.  And while I feel intrigued by this link, and as much as Alex would like to claim his Native American heritage, what really defines us is our American culture.

Now I know that there are two points to consider here, and I've only talked about personal identity so far.  Based on my experience and Alex's, I am making the assumption that Maya will view her Filipino heritage similarly.  She may not, but then again, my parents never anticipated the difficulties I would have with my identity when we immigrated to the US.  

The other point to consider though is how mainstream society perceives us.  People assume I'm Anglo-American, or at least "just white" with solid roots in American genealogy.  They do not see a Polish immigrant.  Alex was once assigned the boxes of "white Hispanic" without being consulted. Are we treated differently?  It is really impossible to compare my experiences with those of Alex.  

First of all, I am female; he is male.  Second of all, we have very different personalities.  I've struggled with my identity while Alex hasn't.  If Maya takes after her dad, which we have reason to believe that she just might, she'll take on a carefree attitude as well.  If she takes after me, the brooding type, then no matter what we do, she will analyze every little thing to the detriment of much progress!  

Bottom line, I think I'd be doing her a disservice by fixating entirely on her Filipino heritage, to the exclusion of her Polish and Salvadoran heritage.  If identity is formed in large part through culture, and culture is passed down through language and experiences and values, then she has more claim to Polish and Salvadoran - and American - culture than she does to Filipino culture.  But identity is still determined to a degree based on genetics, and that's why we can't simply ignore her Filipino heritage. Only as she grows will she be able to reflect on her own identity and determine which aspect(s) of her background are the most salient for her.  

Does Alex have a claim to his Native American heritage even though he wasn't brought up in that culture?  I think so.  But I think so in large part because it's a significant part of his genetics, and it affects his physical features and thus how he is perceived by others.  Do I have a claim to my supposed Roma heritage?  I doubt it.  Probably because the percentage is something like 12% or less, and it doesn't have a significant affect on my physical features or how people perceive me.  

What I find interesting about Alex's heritage and identity is this.  As a Latino, he is by definition multiracial.  His ancestors include Native Americans and white Spaniards.  If he had been born in the United States, with North American Native American heritage rather than Central American, he would not be considered "Latino" even if his white ancestors were Spanish speaking Spaniards.  Yet because he has the added layer of immigrating to the United States, within the US, his multiracial identity is replaced with the label of "Latino".  

Similarly, had my family emigrated to a different European country instead of across the Atlantic, I wouldn't be considered "white" as my primary identity, but Polish.  Our differences - mine and those of the people of our host country - would be highlighted over our commonality, opposite to what happened to me in the US.

Maya, had she been born into her donor family, would be a multiracial American, just like she is after having been born into our family.  She would be perceived the same by society - multiracial.  People may guess as to her heritage - Latina?  Part-Chinese? Some other mysterious and exotic combination? And she may very well get these questions from Filipinos and non-Filipinos alike, because she is multiracial.  Granted, Filipinos as a whole are made up of various racial admixtures, some looking more white, others more Chinese, others somewhat Latino or indigenous.  

To treat her genetic heritage the same as if she had been adopted from, say, a Chinese family, or even a Chinese-white family, by two white American parents, is to ignore the additional layer of identity that is created by the facts of her donor conception and subsequent birth into a different yet still multiracial and multicultural (and multilingual) family.

In the end, the best thing I can do for Maya in helping her form a sound identity is to educate myself not so much on transracial adoption, which doesn't technically apply to us, but on parenting multiracial children as a whole. Her being born into our family isn't what makes her multiracial.  That was a given from the circumstances of her conception.  What being part of our family does is allows for a more nuanced consideration of what it means to belong, to a culture, race, ethnicity, nationality.  

Who decides on the labels used? Who decides what percentage of one's heritage is sufficient to lay claims to that identity?  Who decides which type of heritage - genetic or cultural - is paramount? Who else if not the individual herself?

Happy New Year

So I thought I'd say adieu to the old year with a bang today.... After getting some bloodwork done (as the first step towards an embryo transfer looming in the near future), I passed out.  And apparently fell to the ground, leaving a big oh colorful bump on my forehead and a cut by my eye from my glasses. In the aftermath of coming to, I realized today's date and joked to my hubby, thank goodness it's the LAST day of the year!  Let's get this sort of nonesense out of the way and make way for a fresh start in the new year.

I used to spend New Year's Eve doing various activities prompted by, well, superstition.  I called it tradition, but let's be honest.  Today, I realized that I'm not worried about any of it.  I don't believe anything magical is going to happen tonight at midnight, since it's been turning midnight for hours now around the world.  How can one part of the world already be in 2016 while other parts are still in last year?  I tell you how, time is a human construct.

As I was coming to from my little incident today, I felt exactly as if I were waking from a dream.  I actually remember the dream.  There were a lot of people, it was a sort of convention or something, there were some stairs and balconies, and an event with a ginormous whale was about to start.  It felt like a pretty long dream, though apparently I was only unconscious for a minute or two. During the chatter of the phlebotomist and nurse and hubby, I just marveled at how time essentially stood still as I mentally checked out of this reality on my way to the floor.  I marveled at how this time (not my first encounter with blacking out, I'm afraid), I knew I felt queasy, but I didn't see it coming.  One second, I'm sitting there confirming that I want a bit of water, the next second I'm in a parallel universe getting ready for some giant whale show?!

I smirked to myself a bit.  What we think of as reality, that's the real dream, isn't it? ;)

Today, as the sun set on the year 2015, I didn't even peak outside to bid it farewell, as I've done in years past.  (I've welcomed the first day after high school graduation by photographing that "first sunrise of freedom" as I called it.  I also photographed my last sunset on my way home after being discharged from the Army, another "freedom shot".)  I just thought to myself, hmm, I'm no longer superstitious, am I?  I'm not religious anymore.  I'm sure they're related.  Not terribly sentimental either, at least not as much as I once was.

Ever since my daughter was born, I've been trying to figure myself out.  I feel more grounded now, as a mother.  My life feels more real.  Looks like I got exactly what I had hoped to get by becoming a mother: a meaningful life.

And yet.  And yet I'm still here, ruminating about the ever mysterious spiritual things.  Part of it is that I don't want to teach my daughter things I now consider lies, or at best, fairy tales, but at the same time, I do want her to have a spiritual sense of self.  Part of it is that I realize my daughter will not be so little forever, and eventually I will have to be OK with whomever I am besides her mother.  So I should figure out what that is.

Interestingly, it seems just as a sense of a new normal finally descended on our home, and hubby and I have gotten into a rhythm as a family of three, we are now embarking on the journey of another embryo transfer.  This will be our last one.  This will finally conclude our long journey to parenthood.  Either we will remain a family of three, and continue raising our little girl as an only child - something we are both perfectly happy doing - or we will add to our brood and have to relearn all over again how to function with multiple kids on our hands.  But these last two embryos, they are genetically related to our daughter.  We owe her the attempt to have a genetic sibling for her.  If it doesn't work, c'est la vie.  But it is the only right thing to do.  And so we're doing it, and praying that whatever may come, God will walk us through it, just like God walked us through these last three years, since the last transfer, through the pregnancy and birth of our daughter, and these last two+ years with her.

It has been amazing, exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating, stressful, joyful, difficult, yet second-nature.  Our daughter stretches us in new ways, pushes us to grow in ways we otherwise wouldn't have grown.  Every day we look at her and think (or say out loud) how amazing she is, and how lucky we are to have been blessed with the job of being her parents.  And to think, we might get another bundle of joy like this?  "We don't want to be greedy", my hubby says.  We are happy with one child, if one child is all we have.  But as difficult as having a newborn would be, especially with a toddler/preschooler, I think of how much joy the kids may bring to each other down the road, and I'm torn between hoping for a successful transfer, and hoping that we can just end this chapter of our lives and focus all our attention on our daughter.

In a way, we're both glad that it's not up to us.  It's in the hands of God.

Here's to the great unknown that is 2016.  We will be celebrating our 13th wedding anniversary, and 13 being my lucky number (our daughter was born in 2013!), whatever the future holds for us, I know it will be awesome, and rewarding, and worth the work.

Happy New Year, blogosphere!

Quick Aside on Homeschooling

I sometimes question weather I'm really a teacher at heart, as I like to think of myself.  Because once I learn something important, I internalize it, and I forget that not everyone knows what I only recently came to know myself.  And then I get exacerbated trying to explain something I think "everyone should know".  Or even when I do engage, I'm not always good about starting at the beginning, and instead use arguments that already take for granted that we have the same common knowledge on the subject.

Currently, I'm thinking about homeschooling.  I can easily say why I am personally choosing to educate my daughter at home, but when it comes to convincing arguments that I've read regarding the deficiencies of the public school system, I retreat a bit.  So I wanted to leave a little record here of one little nugget I just read that may provide a little backup to my next conversation on the subject.

In David H. Albert's "Homeschooling and the Voyage of Self-Discovery", he cites Dan Greenberg, founder of the Sudbury Valley School (essentially an "unschooling"/child-led institution of learning located in Massachusetts. Greenberg notes seven "essential features of an education that would meet the needs of society in the 21st Century", something that business leaders, government officials, and educators all agree on.  Below I list my three favorites.

"As society rapidly changes, individuals will have to be able to function comfortably in a world that is always in flux.  Knowledge will continue to increase at a dizzying rate.  This means that a content-based curriculum, with a set body of information to be imparted to students, is entirely inappropriate as a means of preparing children for their adult roles."

"People will be faced with greater individual responsibility to direct their own lives.  Children must grow up in an environment that stresses self-motivation and self-assessment.  Schools that focus on external motivating factors, such as rewards and punishments for meeting goals set by others, are denying children the tools they need most to survive."

"Technology now makes it possible for individuals to learn whatever they wish, whenever they wish, and in the manner they wish.  Students should be empowered with both the technology and the responsibility for their own learning an educational timetable."

Idealism and Regret

We anguished over whom to choose as Maya's godparents for a long time.  We hurt my mother's feelings by not choosing her or any other family members.  We chose a long time friend who had proven to love Catholicism and was happy to discuss her faith - something we wanted for Maya, someone to go to for faith questions as she grew up.  We also chose a new friend from church, a secular Franciscan.  He was super Catholic, involved in all the causes we cared about.  He was also ethnically Latino, and it was important for me that Maya have a non-White godparent.

And yet, soon after her baptism, I began to doubt and regret our decision.  I had consulted various people and researched how people choose their kids' godparents.  I didn't want it to be an honor.  I wanted someone who we felt was qualified to provide a strong faith foundation and to hold us accountable for raising our daughter Catholic.  And yet, the first thing to go was contact with the godfather.  Once we moved out of state, in spite of repeat attempts to contact him, send photos, remember him on father's day, getting a text back was a toss up.  He did manage to attend Maya's first birthday party, which was held near all of our old friends and relatives.  I thought there was hope yet.  But there's been no contact with him since.  He's assured us of his daily prayers for his goddaughter, and as a secular Franciscan, I believe him.  But I was hoping for their relationship to be more practical, more earthly than just spiritual remembrance.

Maya's godmother also turned out to have a different view of her role than we did.  Her goddaughter was not invited to her wedding.  Both Alex and I were in the wedding - I as a bridesmaid and Alex as an usher, but Maya just wasn't supposed to show up.  Only family kids, she said.  Two issues with that - one, I assumed being her goddaughter, she counted as family, but apparently not.  And two, she was only 8 months old, so wouldn't be running around or eating any of their food.  I was forced to pry myself away from my daughter for the first time and leave her with my sister-in-law in the hotel as I attended the wedding.  And now that Maya's godmother had a baby of her own, we were looking forward to being at said baby's baptism.  Only we just got word that it may be "family only".  

As for accountability - Alex and I must hold each other accountable.  Neither of the godparents were there when I left the church during my postpartum period.  One was too absent to even know I was suffering a crisis of faith, and the other - in spite of knowing - did not do or say anything to help ensure that her goddaughter was still being raised in the faith.

I am pissed at myself for trying to idealize what the godparent role is supposed to be.  I wanted better godparents than Alex and I had.  I wanted involved godparents, additional people who would be "like family".  I wanted to extend Maya's circle of love and influence, especially when it comes to faith.  But instead, I ended up building an awkward wall between me and my mother, and having dashed expectations with both of Maya's godparents.

My godparents were my maternal grandfather, on whose behalf my grandmother always bought gifts and remembered special occasions, and my mom's sister.  My grandfather/godfather happened to be visiting us in the US when I was confirmed, and so I chose him as my sponsor.  But it was a matter of convenience, since we didn't know other Catholics.  My aunt/godmother told me after my wedding that her job as godmother was now done.  As if she had done anything in regards to my faith formation.  She didn't even attend my wedding.

I wanted better for Maya.  But it looks like it was a pipe dream.  I meant well, yet sometimes the best of intentions do not make up for the rotten impact of a decision.

As we consider the possibility of adding another child to our family, my number one concern is having to choose godparents yet again!  I'm pretty much at a point where I will just leave the decision up to Alex and hope for the best.  No matter what I decide, I no longer believe that I can ensure that my kids have certain relationships with certain people.  I suppose we can call it a lesson learned and move on.  I suppose that's the only thing we can do.  Dwelling on regret isn't going to change what is. 

What's important is that Maya was baptized and is being raised in Christ's one, holy, and apostolic catholic church, something that always was and always will be the sole right and responsibility of her parents.

We Should Be Coming Out of the EA Closet Soon

I've been struggling with the discussion of embryo donation/adoption lately.  Before our daughter was born, I was very open about our journey and what avenues we were considering in our pursuit to parenthood.  But now that she's here, it's her story too, and I'm afraid of giving too much away without her consent.

I know too many ignorant people who do not censor their thoughts before they speak.  Case in point.  Last night we were getting our check at a restaurant when the waitress, looking at Maya, asked, "Who does she look like?"  Awkward pause... "She doesn't look like either of you!"

Hmm, I chickened out and took the chance to focus on my daughter not spilling her drink so that I wouldn't have to address the waitress.  Alex, luckily, responded with a vague truth that seemed to satisfy our rude inquirer, "She's got a little mix in her."

Apparently, as Maya gets older, she is growing more into her Filipino looks.  To be honest, we both assumed that we could bank on her being mistaken for Hispanic and therefore, since Alex is Latino, not have to face these sort of questions.  We've been getting comments about her beauty since the beginning, and I've had two different men ask me - when Alex wasn't with us - if she were "mine".  Alex generally sailed by on their daddy-and-me escapades, until just this month.

Apparently, he recently got his first comment questioning where Maya gets her looks from.  There was a guess that I - his wife - may be Chinese.  He got the exact same comment from someone else just the day before the restaurant situation.  So if even he's getting these comments now, we have to be proactively prepared to respond in a way that lets our daughter know 1) that she absolutely belongs in our family regardless of resemblance, and 2) what an appropriate response to such a nosy question would be if she ever gets asked something like this directly.

The other piece of the puzzle is that we do want to celebrate her British and Filipino ancestry.  We want her to be proud of it, though to be honest, I don't know what that means.  What does it mean to be proud of a group that you belong to?  To be proud of the accomplishments of those who share your DNA?  Your ethnicity?  Your cultural history?  Why is that something to be proud of?  I'm not saying it's not, I'm just wondering what makes this phenomenon relevant in a person's life.

Regardless, we can no longer ignore that Maya's ethnicity is not Polish-Latina.  Don't get me wrong - she absolutely still is Polish, by virtue of having a Polish mother who speaks Polish to her, and she absolutely still is Latina, by virtue of having a Latino father who speaks Spanish to her.  Furthermore, she is American - that which unites the three of us.  But to think that this last identity would take precedence over race, ethnicity, or culture is a bit naive.

Several months ago, Alex and I agreed that if the topic of conversation naturally presented an opportunity to share Maya's unique beginnings, we would matter-of-factly share.  I had the chance to do just that with a new friend whose husband is Filipino.  It made more sense for me to share this information with her than to go out of my way to hide it, since I was asking all sorts of questions about Filipino culture!

But there are other friends, both old and new, who don't yet know.  Not because we're hiding it, but because we don't think of how she came to be in our family anymore. I don't want anyone to ever question how "real" our relationships to each other are.  I don't know what I would do if someone said something like "does she know her 'real' parents".  Would I cry?  Would I curse?  Would I start yelling or even lash out with a backhanded slap to the back of the accuser's head?  I honestly don't think I could just calmly correct the person.

Quick aside.  I was recently asked if I "just stay home" with my daughter.  I tried to make light of the phrasing.  As in, yeah, I don't really do anything much.  But it didn't catch on and the person asked if I did anything before having Maya.  I took the bait and responded that I taught ESL, and the moment was gone after that.  But the implication was heavy and is still with me, though I don't think what I do is easy at all (hence the word "just").

Based on my lack of a witty yet polite reaction to the "just staying home" conversation, or the "she doesn't look like either of you" exchange, I can't say that I would know what the best way to respond would be to a "real parent/own child" interaction.

I think the best defense is offense, as counter intuitive as that may sound.  I should probably test the waters one person at a time, until I am very comfortable sharing just enough but not too much information, so that I am prepared for the inevitable stranger comments and questions.

By the way, here's what I've come up with regarding any future comments about our family's resemblance to each other:

1. Yeah, I don't look like my mom either.
2. Really?  You don't think?  Everyone else says she's a spitting image of her dad!
3. No, she looks like herself.
4. I know, aren't genetics a fascinating phenomenon?
5.Well, she's all ours!  I gave birth to her myself, naturally at home, even.
6. Why do you ask?  What makes you say that?

Deepening My Spirituality (Instead of Trying to Define It)

I received a request for prayer from a friend yesterday.  I waited until today to respond.  The reason? My immediate reaction was, "should I tell him I'm a Deist, and thus no longer pray the way he would expect from a fellow Catholic?'  But today I was moved to respond, "I'm holding [your request] in the light," the way Quakers lift up prayer requests.  It felt right to respond in this way.  If he comes back asking for why I used such terminology, I can get into the details then.  If he says it sounds like I'm Quaker, I'll say "thanks."

I will be attending an overnight Catholic women's retreat soon.  I love retreats, although generally I opt for silent Ignatian retreats, which allow plenty of alone time and time in nature.  Not sure this will compare.  I'm concerned that I will face my "former Catholicism" head on during this retreat.  I already know I will not be participating in their sacrament of reconciliation, and I'll be leaving to come home before their ending Mass begins.  I hope I won't have to share much and can just listen for nuggets of God's speaking to me through others, and then reflect alone as much as possible.  If asked, I can honestly say that I attend such-and-such Catholic church, because I do.  Though it does not mean I am Catholic anymore.

I think one of the most difficult things about this transition is being critically aware of the wording associated with holidays, spirituality, and God.  I can no longer just mouth what I'm used to mouthing if it holds no truth to me.  And I need to give myself time to come into my own as a Deist (does deist need to be capitalized?!) so that as my daughter grows, I'll be better prepared to navigate her "religious upbringing" with my husband.

The more I think about being a Deist, the more I wonder why I hadn't embraced the term much sooner, as soon as I learned about it.  I think I know.  It had a lot to do with my need for external validation.  But I live in such a pluralistic society that I see now that no matter what one person may validate for me, someone else may very well counter.  In other words, I can't please everyone.  Nor is that my job.

I hope that as a Deist, I'll be able to go back to celebrating Christmas and Easter without worrying about the Christian overtones... I was really on the fence this past year with both holidays, as I didn't know how to find meaning in them.  I think I may revisit some Pagan practices, actually.  I spent two years as a Pagan - one actively practicing and the second just sort of waiting for the next phase in my spiritual development.  During that time, I came to appreciate nature more, and it was one of the things that attracted me to the religion.  That and the feminine divine, but now I see God as a transcendent being, non-person, gender-less, so I don't need a reactionary Deity to counter my patriarchal upbringing's Father God.

The more I think about what it means to me to be a Deist, the more I think, "it's just so simple.  So uncomplicated.  So pure and minimalist."  I'm looking outside my window and catch a glimpse of leaves swaying in the breeze, and I realize that I'm having a "spiritual moment".  Here's my religion. I just attended a brief religious service, having merely glanced outside.  I look beyond the trees and sit still enough to notice the barely moving clouds in the bright blue sky, and I think, "there's God." And I see the sunshine on my windowsill, and think, "here, too."  :)

I love to read.  I recently realized that reading "counts" as a hobby (!).  And what does Deism encourage?  Reading, study, learning.  That is one of the main ways to get to know God.  (The other is observing nature.)  I'm glad I'm done looking, and can now spend my time on deepening my spirituality instead of on trying to define it.

Maintaining Heritage, Is It Worth It?

I recently attended a Polish festival.  It was a bittersweet experience.  On one hand, I was taken back to my homeland with the savory Polish food and seeing the traditional colorful pisanki and folk dolls for sale.  I watched as Poles, Americans, Polish-Americans performed some of our traditional dances dressed in our traditional costumes.  I joined in singing Sto Lat to a dancer whose last performance was that day, before he joined a religious order of monks.  And the whole time I felt like I wanted to go off into a corner and cry.

There were all of these reminders of Poland, but this wasn't Poland.  Most of the people there didn't speak Polish, or what Polish they did speak was heavily marked with an American accent.  There were actually more non-ethnic stands than Polish ones.  One vendor was actually selling German artisan items.  It just felt like a mere attempt at reminiscing, not the real thing.

Shortly after the festival, I visited the Polish church where I received my first communion the year after I arrived in the United States.  I sat through mass, easily singing along the various parts of the mass, reciting the Lord's prayer in my native tongue, looking around at my fellow Poles and wondering if any of them felt the same disconnect that I do.  I now have the added burden of no longer identifying as Catholic, something the priest that day pointed out as an essential aspect of Polish identity.  I'm not married to a Pole, so we do not speak Polish at home.  I do speak to my daughter in Polish, but I often wonder just how long that will last, since I resort to English to express the deepest emotions and most profound thoughts that come my way.  I won't allow my relationship with my daughter to suffer because I insist on using a language I'm no longer native-fluent in.

My younger siblings were both born in the United States.  We made one family trip to Poland when they were teenagers.  My brother was motivated by the pretty Polish girls to teach himself to read and write Polish.  His outgoing personality allowed him to enjoy himself and explore his parents' hometown without worrying about how he would be perceived.  My sister spent the majority of the time with her nose in one book or another, safely tucked away in our gradnmother's house.  Whenever I see Polish-Americans, I think of my siblings.  They are proud of their Polish heritage to varying degrees, but they do not miss something that was never theirs to begin with.  They have never known a time when they weren't American.  They can't relate to my sense of loss.

My parents, on the other hand, made a conscious choice to leave Poland as adults.  They got fully socialized into being a Polish man and a Polish woman before they left. Even if they don't maintain contact with the Polonia community, they have internalized a very clear Polish identity that has essentially been fossilized inside of them.  They do not worry about comparing themselves to other Poles, other Polonia, Polish-Americans, or other Americans.  Their ethnic identity was never questioned growing up.  They cannot relate to my sense of confusion over who I am.

My husband also immigrated to the United States as a child, but from Central America.  His family settled in a largely Spanish-speaking area of Florida.  He has the added aspect of being a "visible minority", meaning people know he is Latino just by looking at him.  He doesn't have to do anything to prove it, to himself or to others.  He speaks Spanish, which is icing on the cake.  And there are a ton of Latinos, both from his native El Salvador and other Latin American countries, in the region where we live.  There's restaurants, music stations, media outlets available in Spanish.  Even government forms offer a formal nod to Spanish speakers by providing an option to fill out paperwork in Spanish.  My husband doesn't feel confused about his identity and doesn't feel like he's lost anything because his Latino identity is reinforced all around.  He doesn't relate to my immigrant experience.

I've been learning about transracial parenting, trying to educate myself on how to provide racial mirroring for my daughter, how to raise her so that she feels comfortable in a Filipino community as an adult Pinay, how to instill in her a sense of pride in her genetic heritage without making her feel that just because she can be mistaken for her dad's Hispanic heritage she should shy away from claiming her Filipino heritage.  But I wonder if I can really deliver.

How can I teach my daughter to feel comfortable about her ethnic heritage if I don't feel comfortable about my own?  I'm tempted to stop putting so much pressure on myself, stop focusing so much on the externals.  Heritage is all about the past.  It's not who we are now unless... unless other people only see our racial ancestors when looking at us, and more importantly, when such observations lead to differential treatment.  Generally this treatment is based on negative stereotypes and bias, leading to discrimination and racism.  These are issues I don't need to worry about on account of my ethnic heritage while living in a country built on white privilige.  It seems the best thing I can do for my daughter in this regard is to make sure we raise her in a racially diverse area and expose her to not only her own heritage but to the cultures of various peoples.  

The spiritual instinct in me tells me that it is important not to become stuck in the material trappings of our physical appearance.  It's important to not ignore how our race can affect the way people treat us.  But it cannot become the only - or even the main - way in which we identify ourselves.

I'm in a difficult position of having to anticipate what my daughter may need in order to feel comfortable in her own skin.  But when it comes to my own heritage, I am the mistress of how I choose to identify and what I choose to feel about that identity.  At first I thought that since my daughter is still very young, I could focus on reconnecting to the Polish community, and later apply what I learned to establishing that connection for her.  But I'm afraid that this pursuit would actually distance me from my spiritual goals, goals as a mother to raise a well-rounded daughter who can gain strength in her identity via spiritual means rather than relying on the external validation of the Filipino community or mainstream (white?) community.

While I understand the perspective of the advice-givers in my transracial parenting group, they come from adults who were transracially adopted by white parents and raised in predominantly white communities, and white adoptive parents of non-white children.  It is important not to assume that their experiences are transferable to ours.  I'm learning a lot from them, but I have to continually consider that their advice may not apply to me 100%.  Nothing, it seems, relates to me in its entirety. Story of my life, it seems.