Life Catching Life

 Log20260630

Well, I didn't finish the draft I was working on, and Blogger seems to have deleted what was written before. This is going to be so bothersome.

It's been a minute. Well, it's been more than a minute, hours, days, years. I'm still here, sadly.
A lot has happened since the last time I was here. The last time I blogged was about a procedure I was going through, and that was IVF, and I went through it several times. It was not fun, aside from it being a roller coaster ride of emotions. Very much like parenthood, it is a whirlwind of dedication. The blood tests, medical tests, the poking and proding, the biopsies, the prescriptions. So many prescriptions. The diagnosis of health disorders, the extractions, the embryo transfers, the waiting game. And what a waiting game it was, as my IVF journey started in 2018. What do you think happened not too long after that paused this life-changing journey I was on? But I wasn't the only one. The pandemic really put a pause on many women's IVF journeys. Eventually, it continued on, and after two egg extractions, two failed embryo transfers, some more testing, and another embryo transfer, we eventually had our first baby.

Yes, I am a mom. The first baby arrived in 2022, and the second, also with IVF, arrived in 2024. And since the kids came, it just feels endless. Giving birth to life caught my life in an endless loop of doing stuff. With only a sliver, if lucky, of time to catch up with myself before I lose myself again into the abyss. Thus, life catching life.

In between the time it all started and ended with the last baby, we lost two members of our family. First, it was our dog Koji, who had to be put down due to cancer in his stomach. And the second was my dad, who was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer around the time of the announcement of baby number two. He passed three months before my second one was due. I had really hoped he would have been able to hold on until the birth of the baby, but it was too much to ask for. He would have loved her. I also wish I could have done more for my dad, but it was hard as I had a toddler and was pregnant. I brought over the tot to spend time with the only grandfather he had left, although I do fear that he was just far too young to be able to retain any memory of my dad.

I never really had a close relationship with my Dad; even nearing the end of his life, it was not any better. Regardless of how our relationship was, it was still not easy to watch Dad slowly be consumed by cancer. After his diagnosis, it felt like the first two months he was like his old self, but soon after, it was like a domino effect of one health issue after another, which sent him into a downward spiral that he would never recover from. First, it was a fall that sent him into the hospital, and then they sent him to a place to get rehab, but that didn't help as he became more bedridden as the cancer had spread to his bones, and mobility was the first thing cancer took. The second was his voice, as we began to lose it before his fall; it was not long after that it became harder and harder for him to speak. I tried to encourage him several times. I would ask if there was anything he wanted to tell us or say to us, without being so forward as to say. "HEY, you're about to lose the ability to speak forever, is there ANYTHING you want or need to say to us?!" He didn't have anything to say. After he couldn't speak anymore, I tried to encourage him to text. Hey Dad, if there's anything you need to tell us, you can always text, ok. It wasn't long after that I noticed he became really withdrawn and didn't want to respond to phone calls or texts. It was some time after that I learned it was only due to the fact that he was losing his sight. He never texted. Before cancer took his breath, Dad did become more physically violent, upset with the world, upset with my mom. Lashing out, angry. I didn't agree with his anger and violence, but could not help but understand how unfair it must have all felt. I could only hope that he really did say all he wanted to say before he lost his voice, and saw all he could see before he lost his sight.

After all that, I began to question a lot of things. One was my mom's well-being, as several questionable events occurred throughout this whole ordeal. The second was my own Chinese cultural superstitions and practices.

As I was pregnant at the time of Dad's passing, I couldn't even sit in the chapel during his funeral service. In Chinese culture, it is very taboo for someone pregnant to attend a funeral; however, since it is my own father's funeral, it is also very disrespectful for the daughter not to attend the funeral. I remained in the foyer most of the time, greeting old and familiar faces from my childhood, collecting condolence cards and signatures for the guestbook. I heard the speeches over the speakers that echoed throughout the chapel and foyer, while watching Dad's remembrance slideshow on repeat on a TV screen just outside the chapel doors. I was ushered into the chapel at the end of the service when everyone was leaving and giving their condolences to the family in line. My sister, beside me, broke into tears once in a while, and I was close to crying when I saw an uncle, one of Dad's childhood friends, burst into tears, giving us hugs and condolences. I was at one point somewhat disconnected from it all as one of Dad's friends tried to discern my sister and me apart, asking which one was born a certain year. Saying it was the same year as his son's. The year he gave was the year I was born, but the name he gave was my sister's. After the uncle left, I turned to her and said something along those lines. If I'm her, and she's her, did I not exist to Dad? She responded with an elbow nudge.
After the funeral service, the family and all others who wanted to were welcome to come to the cremation at the crematory, but no one aside from the family went, and an elder uncle on my brother-in-law's side. We said our final goodbyes there, placing into the casket one last flower from each of us. My brother and I sent Dad off with a push of a button (although I remember a turn of a switch), as my sister couldn't bear to do it, holding back tears.
A lot of people didn't stay for the reception, which was held after the cremation ceremony (I really don't know what this is called); many went on their way after the funeral service. But I can't really attest to that, as people were allowed to help themselves to the reception room to any food and drinks as the cremation ceremony was happening. But I do recall having to split a lot of food with my siblings at the end, and as everything came to a close, I felt comfort in the fact that Dad was just not in pain anymore, and I really do hope he's in his own way enjoying the afterlife.

A few months later, my second child was born. I remember having to go to the hospital on a planned day and wait for a long time, as I had to be "induced" since I'm apparently now old and considered a geriatric pregnancy.  They soon realized I didn't need any medication to be induced and just broke my water to instigate contractions. Husband was sick and stayed more than an arm's length away, popping cough drops while trying not to snot up his medical mask. It was another quick labour without an epidural; the baby was out within 35mins of pushing, the first one was about 45mins of pushing.

The first baby story is a whole other story. Quick story: From the previous night and the whole day after, I was not feeling well, and thought it was just fatigue. I napped all around the house like Goldilocks trying out all the places to nap: the couch, the beds, the studio sofa, but nothing was right. And then in the late afternoon it started, the strange tightening of my tummy that I excused as Braxton Hicks, and then I asked Google. It was not Braxton Hicks but real contractions. I told my husband throughout the day of my feelings and noted the baby might be coming. The husband did not believe that the baby was coming and went to Churches Chicken on his way home from work, brought home Churches Chicken as I was rushing us back out the door to the hospital. I had said to bring the chicken; he opted not to - went hungry. I needed to be 'popped,' and the baby came a few hours later, which felt like an intense interrogation birth with a bright light shining on me in a darkroom with 13 medical staff members since the baby had come early at 33 weeks. It was very intense with the normal delivery doctor and nurses there, along with people from the NICU team. Baby's heart rate was dropping, and he needed to come out. Blood had to be spilt (meaning I had to be cut), forceps used, and out of it all, I had to zen out to feel when to push because I wasn't feeling any contractions after I was popped, and me zen-ing out caused the medical team to think I may have been on the verge of passing out when I wasn't. It was craziness. He was a little firecracker from the start who had to stay in NICU for a few weeks, which gave us time and me rest and recovery, all the while to prep everything for when he was ready to come home.

The second baby was not like that at all, just hours of waiting at the hospital. No epidural, just sucking on the gas they gave me and pushing. At least this time, my body really felt the contractions and pushed hard to get her out. Although I think I closed my eyes too hard during labour, as my eyes kept seeing flashes of light from the corner of my eyes even weeks after the baby's birth. She was a full-term baby, and I guess everything felt just as hard and easier at the same time as it was the second time around. If it's not your first rodeo, you just know what to expect.

Since years have passed and my first kid is now 4, he has since told me that he decided to come early into the world because he really wanted to see me. Which was a nice sentiment.

In November, my mom ended up having a spill; she fell and ended up fracturing her hip. She had to get surgery, and while there, she ended up being a little difficult for the nurses the first few days. So much so I was told she had to be restrained earlier on when she was hospitalized, as she was pulling out her IV's and trying to leave. It didn't take me long to realize that Mom was showing signs of sundowning, as relayed stories of her acting up were mostly in the evening. And they decided to have her checked out for dementia. She was diagnosed, and a lot of things ended up making more sense. For example: Soon after the birth of my second child, Mom came to see the baby. During the time she was at my house for the visit. She had ended up asking me the same question 5 times in the short span of 30 mins. Well, soon after her surgery, I was notified that she was no longer able to live on her own and had to have supervision regarding her medication and vitamins. I ended up taking Mom in after her discharge, and taking care of her kind of made me feel like we took in another toddler who was just adult-sized. Although she could be left alone to be unsupervised (most of the time). 

This has become my life. It took me a month to even write this post, and that is just the reality of my life now. Everything just seems to be functioning in a high-priority or low-priority list situation. Sometimes I feel like I'm just at the bottom of that list of things that never seems to end.