My Imaginary Speech at the (in)Fertility Oscars

I look forward to watching the 86^th Academy Awards later today, Sunday, March 4^th ! I'm a big fan of films and a bigger fan of award speeches.

If there is a “Keeping your Sanity despite the Crazy Journey in Infertility” Award, I may have a tiny shot of winning a trophy. (There will be thousands of other men and women nominees, too.) 

Let’s just imagine that there is such an award. Now imagine that I got that accolade (ehem, ehem).

This will be my speech:

Most of the narrative we hear or read about infertility focuses on couples with infertility issues. This is understandable. But today I’d like to center the spotlight on the men and women who help couples fulfill their dreams of having a child. In particular, I thank everyone – the doctors, nurses and clinic staff at our fertility clinic.

To Dr. Beth Taylor, fertility doctor extraordinaire. It’s not often that you get the right combination of a doctor who is an expert in her field and also have the understanding of the roller-coaster ride infertile couples experience. Her intelligence, curiosity and analytical skills makes me think that she is some kind of a CSI – albeit not with crime scenes but with infertility issues.

Dr. Taylor is better than all the CSIs put together though. They’re all fictional characters and she’s not. She’s a superb scientist, yes. She also has the sensitivity of an artist. Her empathy and compassion is a solace, especially in days when hope seemed out of reach.  I can go on with my ode to Dr. Taylor ad infinitum. 

We also had the opportunity to work with Dr. Nakhuda and Dr. Hitkari. Both doctors are very knowledgeable and answered questions clearly, patiently and cheerfully.

To the many wonderful nurses of the clinic whose ability, skill and dedication are remarkable. Special mention goes to Paula, sunshine personified. I first met Paula in the clinic’s support group and was struck with her talent in explaining medical concepts in a way that is accessible to many. What I most appreciate most about Paula is her warm and caring ways. Her positive attitude is an inspiration.

Mikki is also another nurse who made a difference. Some medications taken during an IVF cycle can have different side-effects on different people. One medication was making me really depressed. I called the nurses’ line of the clinic. I talked to Mikki who gave essential support. She stayed on the line until both of us felt confident that I was safe and out of harm’s way.

Other nurses, like Biddy, Nicola, Anna and Wendy (who has a great sense of humor!), have all been helpful and kind. One of the hardest jobs nurses do, I think, is informing fertility patients of a negative pregnancy test. All those who have had this difficult job of delivering unfortunate news to me have done so with exceptional sensitivity and compassion. Being in the front line, every committed nurse is an asset to a fertility clinic.

To all the clinic staff: the men and women of the laboratory, the administrative team, and the team at the front-desk including those who answer phone inquiries. All of them have shown exceptional competence in their own area. I've also felt that they have a real understanding of the intense emotional upheaval that usually accompanies fertility treatments. 

Tracy at the front desk is always friendly and helpful. I suspect she has a special ability to assess (in seconds!) the demeanor of people who come in to the clinic. From the nervous first-timer to the lost-a-couple-of-times-but-still-hopeful “regular” patients like my husband and I.

Going through infertility without the support and company of the dedicated men and women of our fertility clinic would have been very difficult, if not impossible. Imagine Frodo Baggins, bearer of the One Ring, trekking to Mount Doom, without the help of Samwise, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and the other Middle-Earth folks. How could Frodo have survived the orcs, goblins and the evil Lord, Sauron, just by himself? He wouldn’t have.

This is not Mount Doom but Mount Jefferson in Oregon.
Photo Credit: R.H.

I think the “trophy” at the (in)Fertility Oscar’s isn’t having a child. Of course, every infertile couple (or single without a partner) who wishes for a child, wants to eventually have a child. But the trophy isn’t really the child.

It is continuing to love yourself and your partner despite the disappointments. It’s in the knowledge that, although the child you’re hoping for will add to the joy in your life, not having a child does not necessarily diminish your zest for life. It is in not succumbing to bitterness and anger. 

It’s in the deep conviction that whether you’ll eventually be gifted with a child or decide to live child-free, you’ll remain the beautiful person that you are.

The men and women at Olive Fertility Centre have helped me keep my sanity so that I won’t lose sight of who I really am. A complete, loving and caring woman. With or without a child.        

My Nanay

(This piece was written to remember my mother, Rufina, on what would have been her 77th birthday.)

Mom, Morsa, Mutter, Ahm, Maman, Mama. Children around the world call their mothers by a variety of names. I called mine Nanay. I like the word “nanay.” How it sounds, how the word rolls off my tongue easily, how comforting it sounds. Growing up in Cebu, “mama” was more common among my peers. I proudly called my mother “nanay.” Because it was not as common as “mama,” I have always felt it was unique. As unique as my mother.

Nanay grew up in a mountain village in the southwestern part of our island, Cebu, in the Philippines. Her parents were farmers who worked hard to feed their eleven children. Nanay was quick, intelligent, and determined. She was class valedictorian when she completed her elementary education. Nanay had a dream. She wanted to go to high school and then study to become a nurse. But at that time, women did not go to high school or university. In those days, women got married, raised children, and took care of their husbands. Of what possible use would more education be?

In our family, Nanay’s kindness and generosity were well-known. During family gatherings, my aunts and uncles would comment on how Nanay would give the shirt off her back if you need it. Or how, when she had nothing more to give, she would borrow from one to give to the other. This last comment said with a tone of disdain by some; but, often it was said in admiration for her altruism.

It was this selflessness that both baffled and annoyed me especially as a teen-ager. At that time, I was starting to learn about individuality. I was critical of Nanay’s self-sacrifice even when it was for my benefit. I remember telling her, not too kindly, that a woman is first her own person before being a wife and mother. Had she not heard of women’s liberation? Had she not heard of feminism? Why was she allowing herself to be oppressed? Could she not free herself from the shackles of our patriarchal society? These were haughty and arrogant words I said to my mother. Hurting words that I regret now.  

I never really understood Nanay’s selflessness. Though I have to say that I may have had a little glimpse of it a few months ago when it was clear that my husband and I would have to go through the more complex and involved fertility treatment that is IVF. Needles and physical pain have never been my cup of tea. One time, as I was sitting on the skytrain, on the way home from the fertility clinic, I was struck with a thought. I realized that I was now willing to go through all the unpleasant, painful, difficult, intrusive processes for a chance to have a child. Could this potentially be a budding maternal selflessness?  

Just as Nanay was known for her intelligence, determination, her kindness and generosity, her beauty was legendary. When, as an adult, I had the chance to meet people who knew my mother in her youth, they would invariably say how beautiful she was. They would mention how, for five consecutive years, Nanay played Mary during the Sugat or the annual Easter Sunday pageant. Being the mother of Jesus is a plum role reserved only for women who not only exude beauty but embody integrity.

One time, when I was a school girl, I invited a couple of classmates over to my house. Our small living room was filled with framed photos. My friends saw a photo of a young beautiful woman. Who is that very beautiful woman, one asked. My Nanay, I answered.  Then she said: “Liwat di-ay ka sa imong Tatay.” (You must take after your father.) I was speechless for a second but retorted with mock anger: “Hey, do you still want to be my friend or not?” We had a good laugh after. Though her remark stung a little bit, I know what she said was true.

I know I’m not as physically beautiful as Nanay was. I know I will never be as generous of spirit and kind as she was. Yes, I still don’t fully grasp what it means to be totally and unabashedly selfless. But amidst all these challenges of wanting to have a child, I have had a glimpse of Nanay’s selflessness. And maybe for now, that is enough for me.