Other

The inter-racial issue rarely comes into play in our lives.  There is the occasional weird comment, but they are usually just silly.  The only thing that really annoys me is going to our favorite, closed-minded, bigoted  chicken sandwich place.  In every fast food joint in the world it goes something like this:  Husband and I reach the counter, standing side-by-side.  Typically his hand is on the small of my back because he likes to stand that way.  The cashier looks at us expectantly, I look to J, he says, "Go ahead,  babe," and I place my order.  The cashier then looks expectantly at J, he places his order.  They ask, "Is that all for you today?" and we get the total.  Not at Chick-fil-a.  Every freakin' time they give me my total before J has a chance to get a waffle fry in edge-wise.  It's as if the man touching me with a wedding band on can't POSSIBLY be ordering with me what with his Asian-ness and all.  We just don't fit into their neat little box.

Apparently, Chipmunk doesn't fit into any boxes and s/he doesn't even have a fingerprint yet.  We had to pre-register with hospital for the delivery.  I agree, it seems completely ridiculous to do this so early on, but I'm following the directions from my OB.  I was on the website, plugging through all the boxes.  Mother's name, father's name, mother's maiden name, mother's mother's maiden name, mother's race, father's race.  There it was.  "Ethnicity of newborn."  There weren't many choices.  Asian, Hispanic, Caucasian, African-American... I was stuck.  I'm sure Chipmunk will look Asian, but s/he is Caucasian also.  Do I discount one part of him/her with a click of my mouse?  No way.  I looked at J and we both said the same thing at the same time.

Other.

We chose the last item from the drop down menu.

It left me thinking, why does it matter?  Is this a battle my child will have to face for eternity?  Don't we live in a melting pot?  Isn't there supposed to be some sort of revolution soon where mixed race individuals are becoming the largest minority?  So why doesn't my child get a drop down box?  Why doesn't s/he get to choose how to describe his/her ethnicity?  Why does the birth certificate get to define such an important piece of an identity with limited wiggle room?

Ah, America.  Land of diversity and restrictive little boxes.

So Much To Blog, So Little Time

Ultrasound number 2 is tomorrow.  I'm finally a bit nauseous, so I'm hoping that's a good sign.  I'm still anxious as all get out.  Trying not to dwell.

First, the good stuff.  I MET PEOPLE!!!! J and I went to Dspence's house for a lovely dinner and Oscar watching fun.  Her daughter, Little K, was cracking us up.  It was so fun to watch the hubbys together.  AND I got together last week with two readers who live in the area.  I had so much fun.  We had some good laughs that I REALLY needed.  Send your good vibes to M, she's on her first round of IVF and has a retrieval up and coming!

Now, the not so good stuff.  The in-laws.  Yes we told them, yes they were excited, it was lovely, then all hell broke loose.

See, they live on the other side of the country.  This was their choice.  They moved not long after J finished college.  What's even worse is that despite having lived in the US for 35 years, they speak very little English.  It was full on Korean culture shock this weekend and I could NOT handle it.

The language barrier is huge.  J makes a point of only responding to them in English 1) in hopes of encouraging them to use it more and 2) so that I can at least get the gist of what people are talking about.  It would be exhausting for him to translate the whole time and I don't expect him to.  Let me tell you how much fun 4 days zero English being spoken in your own home is.  So I appreciate the effort he does make.  It doesn't really matter, though, because they keep talking in Korean and he keeps talking in English.  When they do talk to me, it's really basic.  We can't have a real conversation.

Culturally, we are not on the same page.  I am an extremely independent person.  My mother will be the first to tell you that I did not get to where I am in life with any help.  Interestingly, neither did my husband, so I can't figure out how they are they way they are.  As soon as we told them about Chipmunk, it was like I was totally incapable of functioning.  My MIL was taking broccoli from my hands when I tried to carry the bowl to the table.  She wouldn't pass me the vegetables at the table unless someone else carried it to me.  My MIL and FIL said that they didn't want me to go on the road trip to the family wedding that weekend.  It was 6 freakin hours and it was an opportunity to see my brother.  I was going dang it.  Then in the car, she kept talking for me.  "Lisa hot.  She have coat on."  Umm, if I were hot I would take my coat off and I would turn the heat down.  When J was holding on to my shoulder to stretch, she said, "Stop!  She no like that."  What the hell?!?!  When did I say I had a problem with my husband using me to balance?  She bought us some weird genetically modified cucumbers because she doesn't think I should eat cucumber seeds.  My FIL expressed his opinion that I should stay home and not work.  When we said that wasn't an option he said, "Maybe I retire.  Take care of baby."

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!!

Thankfully, J put the kibosh on that one.

I know they mean well, and that in their culture wives don't generally speak for themselves.  They need to realize that despite their hopes, J married a white girl.  A very independent, liberal, mid-western, feminist, white girl with a doctorate and an opinion or two.

At the wedding, I talked with his aunts and uncles.  In English.  They all speak English.  It was lovely.  They remembered that my bother lived in the area.  They asked how my mom was.  I learned about his aunt's nursing career and how much she misses it.  I felt like I was getting to know these people and that's when it hit me.  The biggest issue with the language barrier is that my in-laws and I can't forge a relationship.  I worry that the same will happen with our child.  Their grandchild.  I know a lot about language acquisition and that it will be pretty much impossible for us to have a fully bilingual child with only one of us being bilingual.  Even then, J isn't really fluent anymore.  I would say that Skype and things like that would help, but they can't even get in a hotel room door.  Technology is not their friend.

I learned so much this weekend about what J's upbringing was like and it broke my heart.  What teenager has to talk to the landlord when his parents can't pay rent or help them figure out their bankruptcy legal woes?

I know this culture clash is only going to get worse and I don't know what to do about it.  Learning Korean is not a reasonable expectation and it doesn't solve everything anyway.  It's probably too late for them to really improve their English.  I guess we'll continue to flounder through the language wall as best as we can and I'll just have to show them that I wear big girl pants and can handle broccoli transport all on my own.

I won't tolerate listening to her call my brother-in-law "fat boy" for a whole weekend again.  That's just straight up mean.  And they wonder why he has no goals or expectations for himself.  Geez.

The Room

We all have one.  Four walls, a closet, and a lot of hopes and dreams unfulfilled.  Some fill their Rooms with stuff, trying to find a way to cover up the empty space and pain.  Others leave it empty, a reminder of what could be.  The Room is very personal to all of us.  Whether we like it or not, it becomes a sacred space charged with emotion.

Our room is empty… and my mother-in-law is coming.

J has not been very forthcoming with his parents about our infertility, partly because of the language barrier.  He does not know, nor does he care to know, the word “uterus” in Korean.  The biggest reason he hasn’t shared a lot with her is because of his place in the family.  Being the oldest male is a big deal in Korean culture.  Not only is he the oldest male in his immediate family, he’s the oldest male for his whole generation.  He’s embarrassed and feels like we’ve let everyone down.  The Room has changed all of that.

She called for a weekly check-in and immediately went into some sort of strange tirade.  J switched to English for my benefit, but all I could hear was, Korean blah blah blah. “No mom!  You can’t tell me what to do in my own house.”  Louder babbling in Korean.  “Just drop it.  We’re not doing that.  It’s not about that.”  MoreKoreanmoreKoreanmoreKorean.  “Umma!  I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.  Drop it.”

Obviously the switch to English did not help me much.

Apparently she wanted us to buy a bed to put in The Room for her.  J was angry, but I didn’t understand how he could be angry at her.  The only thing she knows is that we are seeing a doctor and my surgery this summer had something to do with the why we haven’t made her a grandmother.  How on earth would she know that The Room is intended to be a nursery and that buying a bed feels like crying uncle to the universe?  He agreed that it was time to talk with her… and he did.

I came home from work the other day and he seemed rather peaceful.  He told me he had a really good conversation with his mom.  He told her everything.  He told her we were doing IVF, how many failed cycles we’d already had, what the surgery was for, and he told her that this was our last shot.  There would be no more egg making for us when this was done.  Thankfully, she knew what IVF was, so he didn't have to get into that.  She was also morally fine with it which was a relief.  She was very sweet to him and wants to be sure we are as stress free as possible over the next few weeks.  She offered to send us to Seoul for treatment, and when J piped in with, “I don’t think that’s necessary, but we have a Korean doctor!” she was nonplussed.  “Of course you have a Korean doctor, what other option is there?”

Most days I'm grateful that The Room is in the back of the house and I don't have to walk by it every day.  Right now I'm thankful for The Room.  It helped my husband see how much his mother needed to know about our journey.  I so hope we can make her a halmoni.

*Update on rent:  I got a check and it cleared!  I am very proud of myself for my assertiveness in getting this cleared up… for now.”

**Update on cycle: Baseline was fine, although I was surprised my estrogen was as high as it was (68… really?) but I was given the green light to start stims tomorrow.  Oh, and my right ovary was deemed “a good lookin’ ovary” by my RE. 

FOOD Glorious FOOD!

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about the biggest bonus of being in a relationship with someone of another culture.
THE FOOD!

When I moved in, J only had one thing in his utensil drawer that was nice.  Chopsticks.  We have the nicest darn chopsticks.  I'd like to think that my use of them has become better with time, but J disagrees.  I can eat a whole meal, rice and all, with them, but J still makes fun of me.  Did you know they made training chopsticks?  They do.  He threatens to buy them for me.


Who knew Thomas was so into Asian food?

I had only had Korean food once before I met J.  I liked it, but I didn't develop my current addiction until I had a MIL who could make the shit old school.  The woman is nuts... thank God.  She climbs a freakin mountain in California to get just the right mushrooms.  She will actually fly here, 2500 miles away, with a carry-on full of vegetables and pre-made yummies.  She will attempt to teach me how to make it, and when seeing how pathetic I am at the whole thing, she will fill our freezer with a crap-ton of goodies so her son doesn't starve.  For this, I am grateful.  Here's what I've taken home from my MIL on Korean cooking... "more salt."  She repeats that a lot.  Since I suck at cooking it, we thankfully have a nearby restaurant that we frequent.


Banchan

In Korean dining, they bring you a bunch of little dishes called banchan at the beginning of the meal.  They are a bunch of side dishes that the whole table can share.  Whenever we go out, we get a variety of things to try and the only one I haven't liked was octopus.  Yucko.



Kimchi Jeon

My favorite Korean food is kimchi jeon, aka "those pancake thingies."  It's a light pancake made of mung beans and kimchi.  If you don't know what kimchi is, it's fermented cabbage.  Totally yummy and spicy.  My MIL makes us little personal ones, but when we go out, we get a giant one that we slice up like a pizza and fight over who gets the last slice.   
J loves bulgogi.  It's a marinated meat that's usually grilled.  Sometimes you can get it at Korean BBQ restaurants.  The tables will have a grill in the middle and you cook it right there.  I don't eat red meat, so all I can tell you is that it smells delicious.

Bibimbap

Another yummy that my BIL and I like is bibimbap.  I get the dolsot version, which is a steaming hot stone bowl filled with rice, veggies, and a meat of some sort, with a fried egg on top.  I like to let the rice get all crystallized to the side of the bowl and then I pour on the sriracha sauce and stir it all up.  Mmmm.  There are so many more delicious dishes... jjigae, chapchae, mandoo. 

I'm totally about to drool all over my keyboard.

Sadly, Korean food is lacking in the dessert department.  They're all healthy and stuff.  Fruit for dessert?  Pshaw!  Thankfully, as an Italian, I can make up for that in spades.  See how great interracial marriage is!

Happy Loving Day!!!!

June 12th marks the anniversary of the US Supreme Court Decision of Loving vs Virginia.  "Why do I care about Loving vs Virginia?" you may ask.  Well, let me tell you.  Mildred and Richard Loving met, fell in love, and got married in 1958.  They were just a regular old couple, except that Mildred was Native American and African American, while Richard was white.  Interracial marriage was illegal in Virginia, as it was in most states at the time.  They pled guilty and avoided jail time by moving out of VA.  They moved to Washington DC and decided to start legal action.  The case ultimately ended in the Supreme Court in 1967.  The ruling made it illegal for states to ban interracial marriages.  Up until then, J and I would not have been able to be married in either our home state, or the states we we grew up in.  In many states, there were laws on the books that forbade people of different races from marrying each other.  Seems silly, right? 

If you haven't seen the documentary on HBO, I highly recommend it.  It's awesome.  You can also learn more about Loving Day here.  The Lovings were true heroes.  Their story offers lessons on how each of us can make a difference for generations if we continue to fight for what is right.
In honor of Loving Day, I'm going to center my posts this week on the ups and downs of a marriage between two people of different races and cultures.  Most of the time, we forget that I'm white and he's Asian.  It's usually a non issue.  Sometimes, it offers us a real opportunity for learning.  Other times, it's a unique challenge.

The Loving Family.  Mildred, Richard, and their three children Peggy, Donald, and Sidney

You Know You Have a Good Doctor When...

... he calls you on a Saturday morning because he's going out of town and doesn't want to leave you in limbo.  I really like the Saturday morning consult method.  J was involved thanks to the marvel of speakerphone and we didn't have a copay or trip to the clinic.

So we're on to IVF.  He did offer to do a lap and have a round of COH with all injectables, but the thought of less than stellar stats with a decent risk of higher order multiples did not sound enticing.  I'll lake more stress and shots, but no surgery for a 50/50 shot, Alex!  He's leaning towards an antagonist protocol, but hasn't decided yet.  Anyone done one of those and have info to share?  I'm going to go ahead and start BCPs on CD3, schedule a sonohystogram and IVF class.  We are both scheduled to be out of town for part of the first week of May, so I'm hoping we can find a way to work around that.  I can't figure out when things will fall timing wise.  Anyone go out of town during an IVF cycle and not have Armageddon on their hands?

On a lighter note, we planted a vegetable garden today.  You should know that we are doing this because we have so  many extra pots laying around.  The only reason we have so many pots is because we've killed so many things.  If I can't make a baby, maybe I can at least germinate a damned squash seed.

Oh and I learned a new Korean word today!  I learned "okay."  I now know yes, thank you, okay, mom, dad, grandmother, mother-in-law, father-in-law, and dogs taste good.

Odd Parent Interaction...

I end up getting pretty attached with the families I work with and there are over 600 of them.  I work with kids and we all know that kids just say stuff.  I'm often asked by my patients if I have any kids and when I say "no," they quickly follow up with "Do you want kids?" and I answer "Of course I do!"  Sometimes they start asking stuff about when we will have a baby, blah blah blah.  I'm pretty good at fielding them.  This usually happens at least once a week and I have never had a parent redirect their child or mention that their questions about my reproductive status are probably inappropriate.  It stings, but kids say stuff.  I know it's just hard for them to figure out why this married lady who spends all day every day with kids wouldn't have one of her own.

I have a photo of J and I on my desk, of course.  The other day one of the kids saw it and asked, "Is that your husband?"  I said, "Yes it is."  She noted, "You guys look different from each other."  I just said, "We sure do.  It's funny how that happens.  Husbands and wives can look very different sometimes."  She smiled and started to go back to her coloring when her mom jumped in with, "Janie*!  That's not appropriate.  We don't ask those kinds of questions." WHAT?!?!?  Seriously - that was not offensive a comment - at all.  Nor was it a question.  Guess what!  J and I DO look different and it isn't something you see every day.  I felt like by her mom jumping down her throat she was sending a message that there was something wrong with interracial marriage and we shouldn't talk about it.  It could have been a teaching moment, but instead it became something... weird.  Have we just gotten out-of-control PC on the race thing?  Was I supposed to be offended?  It's not like she said he was funny looking, just that he looked different from me. 

This isn't the first time something like that has happened.  People feel the need to correct their kids when they comment on the fact that my husband and I are of different races, but not when they ask when I'm going to have a baby.  Just so bizzaro.  I'm way more offended and weirded out by questions from 6 year olds about potential uterine occupants than I am by a kid who notices that my husband is Asian and I am not.  Just sayin.
 
*names have been changed to protect the innocent... or something like that.

Biracial children

I grew up in what is probably one of the most racially segregated cities in the US.  It wasn't something born out of bigotry, it just was the way people lived.  It was cultural... at least that's what I tell myself.  Italians, Jews, Germans, Irish, African American, Vietnamese... pretty much every culture you can think of had an area of the city that they tended to live in and share their culture and values.

I'm pretty sure I was almost double digits before I met a person with a different skin color.  As an Italian, I was the darkest person in my class growing up.  So when an African American family moved in next door, I was completely fascinated with the little girl who became my new friend.  I loved the rich tone of her skin, the texture of her hair, and I thought she smelled really good.  Thankfully, her mother was not at all put off by my naivete, and I remember her laughing at all of my questions.

That being said, interracial couples were not something you saw around those parts in the 80s.  I distinctly remember being in Dairy Queen with my mom when a family came in.  The mom was white, the dad was black, and their two daughters were gorgeous.  I had to remind myself that it was rude to stare.  I wasn't staring because of the fact that they were a mixed race family per se.  I was staring because they looked so beautiful to me.  I told my mom, "I think God makes biracial children so pretty as a message to the world."

I dated a bunch of disappointing white guys until I finally opened up my eyes and heart to an Asian man.  We lived happily ever after - except that we really really want one of those messages to the world.  Not for the cute factor, but for a little piece of him and a little piece of me all mixed up in one person.

Interracial Marriage

On June 19th, we celebrate "Loving Day."  It's in celebration of the 1967 supreme court decision that made it illegal for states to ban interracial marriages.  It's hard for me to believe that just over 40 years ago, my darling husband and I would not have been able to be married in either of our home states.  But thankfully, that was 1967.  NINETEEN SIXTY SEVEN.

Today, a friend of mine who is married to a multiracial gentleman posted an article on Facebook about a church in KY that banned mixed race couples.

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me.????

When I consider that there was once a day where I couldn't marry Mr. Right I think it's just nutty.  Really - it seems so weird to me.  Especially since 90% of the time I forget that he's Asian.  When people ask, "Where's your husband from?" and I answer, "Chicago originally," he has to remind me that that's not what they are asking.  I just forget because it's so not a big deal.  I hope my friends in the LGBT community will be able to feel the same way about their marriages.  That it was silly that people judged their relationships and tried to take them out of being.  But I guess I was just super naive to think that interracial relationships were well accepted now.

It appears that a few people in the church found the mere sight of this couple to be atrocious.  It all started when a seemingly lovely, well educated engaged couple led the congregation in song.  The pastor approached the woman's father and told him they were no longer welcome to sing at the church.  When the gentleman protested, it was put to a vote and the vote actually freaking passed.  The vote decided that they could worship at the church, but they couldn't be involved in services (you know, when people have to look at them) or be official members. Oh wait - they can be involved in funerals.  The church says it's in an effort to promote "greater unity."  WTF?

Now, I realize that a white/Asian marriage is probably more socially friendly than a white/black marriage.  But back in the day, the limits on interracial marriage we just that - interracial.  Not black, yellow, red, white, purple - just two people of different races could not marry.  In this day and age we do get funny looks sometimes in public, but I just chalk it up to us being short.  Face it, we shorties look kinda weird.  Especially in pairs.  I recognize the look of shock of the faces of the families I work with when they see our wedding photo on my desk for the first time, but they get over it quickly and that's that.  It's just a surprise is all.  They probably had him pictured in their heads and he was a white guy.  But day in and day out, we do not face any discrimination so to speak.  I have never really felt judged.  I think that the weird comments people make about it are kind of funny because they are so bizarre and ignorant that you just have to laugh. ("You'll have Jon and Kate kids!" "Can your mother-in-law pronounce your name?")  So I can't really imagine what it feels like to be this couple.  To be sharing your gift of song with a Christian worship community and then to be told you aren't welcome because they see something morally wrong with your relationship.  And the only thing they are seeing is the color of your skin.

I'm proud to be in an interracial marriage.  I'm proud to share two cultures and I'm excited about making our own merge of traditions to share with our child(ren).  We get to share our cultures with our extended families.  Both of our families learned so much in the wedding planning process - it was great!  Most of all, we plan on having a gorgeous hapa baby whose mere existence screams, "These people made me because they love each other."

Screw you random baptist church in Kentucky.  You don't know what you're missing out on by shunning this couple.

Okay, gotta run.  They are talking about freezing eggs on Whitney.

The MIL Knows!

At some point, we need to be outed to the whole fan-damily.  Mr. Right told his brother a few weeks ago that we were seeing a fertility specialist.  His brother said something like "I figured as much since Lisa's had those prenatal vitamins on the counter for, like, ever."  Awesome.

He was tentative about letting his mom know about our struggles, mostly because she's a worrier and he thought the language barrier would be a struggle ("Babe, I don't know the word for 'stirrups' in Korean and I don't want to).  I didn't fight this because I read things like this: http://iamkoream.com/be-my-baby-kas-and-infertility/

Before I got to know my MIL, I was really worried.  Mostly worried that she would want me to be a traditional DIL, which pretty much means bearing sons, being subservient, and being really good at peeling fruit from what I understand.  Thankfully, she doesn't expect any of these things.  She is as sweet as a woman could be and accepts me for who I am... a heathen, white, cafeteria catholic who loves her oldest boy.  I love her to death.

She's only mentioned the baby thing a couple of times.  We know she's anxious for grandbabies, but as long as she wasn't asking, we weren't mentioning it.  She asked again the other night and Mr. Right told her that we've been trying since the wedding (Yes, he keeps up this charade where he thinks she believes he was pure as the driven snow until our wedding day.  I give her more credit than that.  But he would never tell her that it's been longer than that.  Goofball.), that things hadn't been working, and that we had been seeing a doctor.  She said to tell me not to worry.  I of course interpreted this as "just relax," but he quickly corrected me to be sure I knew that she just didn't want me to worry in general because worrying is bad.  Not that she thought it would help me get pregnant.  She was concerned about the side effects because she doesn't want me to have any.  And that was it!  I hope SHE doesn't worry.  It feels good that she knows.  I know we weren't keeping it a secret or anything, but it felt weird.

The White Girl's First Trip to the Asian Market

I once dated a guy with red hair and freckles.  He HATED going with me to the Italian Bakery/Meat Market (because we Italians like to combine the two on a regular basis).  He said people looked at him weird and he felt like an outsider.  I couldn't understand why ANYONE wouldn't want to stand in an Italian Bakery and just sniff it all in.  It smells so dang good!  Who cares who is looking at you funny!  But because of his constant comments about stepping into my personal heaven and feeling unwelcome, I've been nervous about going to the Asian Market with Mr. Right.  But this week, I broke through the barrier and went!  Go me!

We pulled up and he said, "Just be sure you say 'no' to the lady who asks to do your hair."  I said, "Are you being serious?" I really thought he meant it for... well... several hours.  Let's not lie about how incredibly gullible I really am!

It was a tiny little grocery store run by a tiny little Korean woman filled with crap tons of Korean food.  I could recognize what he was picking off the shelves because it has been in my house.  I could make brilliant comments like, "Oooh, get some of those thingies."  I was a little freaked by the self serve freezer. (Seriously - like the one in your kitchen right now.  Not a standard issue grocery freezer.  A household one.)  It was chock full of random meats piled up on each other.  Mr. Right says that the meat standards in Korea are higher than in the US, but I've never been so glad to be a chicken and fish only kinda girl!  Anywho, we checked out, I knew when he said thank you (one of the phrases in my vast Korean vocabulary of... about 5 phrases) and we left.  No one looked at me funny - or looked at me really at all for that matter.  Koreans are cool like that.

I seriously need to learn some more Korean before I end up with children who have a secret language where all I can understand is "thank you," "yes," "mom," "dad," and "dogs taste good."  Yeah.  Mr. Right thinks he's a regular riot act.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things... The Little Boogers

The general rule in my office is that the kids can say whatever they heck they want.  I love how kids just say what's on their minds.  It just comes flowing right on out.  So I don't mind it when some little sweetie looks at me and says, "Do you have any kids?"  because when a four year old asks, "Why not" the answer, "God hasn't sent us any yet" does the trick.  But do kids have some sort of radar to find infertile women and tug at their heart strings?  Do they smell it or something?  Infer-dar?  All week I've had the questions! 

"Do you have a Chinese baby?"
"Are you asking because you saw my husband's picture on my desk?"
"Yeah"
"He's Korean, and we don't have any kids yet."
"Oh.  Do you want a Chinese baby?  I think I want a brown baby"

That cracked me up. This theme of "Why don't you have any kids, Miss Lisa," has been insane this week!  And the other day, I got one that about killed me.  A little boy asked me if I had a son.  I said that I didn't have any kids, and that little darling put his hands on my desk, laid his chin on them and said, "Do you want a son?"

It took everything I had not to load him in my car.

They've Found Us!



Maybe the one on the right contains a Korean fertility secret!

I was cleaning the bathroom like a good little wife when I heard the doorbell ring.  Mr. Right answered it and I figured he was at the door for awhile because the dog was going buck wild.  He comes upstairs and looks bewildered.  He is carrying religious tracts... in Korean.  Apparently, there was an evangelist type at the door from the local Korean church.  Now, we don't live in a huge Korean community or anything, so the fact that this man turned up at our door with religious tracts IN KOREAN freaks me out a bit. I mean, is he hitting up all the households with Korean last names?  Did my in-laws send him?

*Sigh* We have no idea what this says.

Apparently he was very kind (I've yet to meet a Korean who isn't) and Mr. Right had a nice conversation with him... in Korean.  What was curious was that he saw Mr. Right's ring and said "Oh, I see that you're married.  On page blah blah blah is some great advice on child rearing."  I think that was the part where hubby should have said "My wife is a white, barren, Catholic heathen" but apparently he didn't think of that.

Oh, and Mr. Right does not read Korean.  He told the gentleman that, but he still left us with the tracts.

The White Girl

When Mr. Right and I started dating, his mom was less than keen on the possibility of him settling down with a white chick.  In fact, she dubbed me "The White Girl."

Traditional Asian parents tend to like the idea of their kids ending up with other Asians.  This really bothered me at first.  I saw it as a small minded, biggoted thought, but it's really not.  It goes back to the whole legacy thing I was talking about the other day.  When I got to know MIL Right better, she grew to like me (I mean come one, what's not to like), but then the problem wasn't that I was white - it was that I was Catholic.  I couldn't win!  Over time, our relationship helped me figure it out.

It wasn't the color of my skin or shape of my eyes, it was the culture I practiced.  She needed to know that her culture would be passed down to her grandchildren and that my Catholic self wasn't going to deny her that legacy.  I would never dream of keeping that from my children and ever since she learned that, we've gotten along swimmingly.

That brings us to the infertility issue.  She doesn't know.  My mom knows every excruciating detail,  but when MIL Right says "Why you no have baby?!"  All we say is, "We'll let you know when it happens.  Promise."  Mostly it's because of the language gap.  I mean, it's not like reproductive terminology is part of Mr. Right's Korean vocabulary.  He says that her knowing would be more stressful because she would worry a lot since she wouldn't totally understand what's going on.  I understand and respect that.  The thing is, I wonder how it looks culturally that we aren't popping out grandkids.  Could the White Girl end up bringing some shame to the family?  I worry about that.

Can Kimchi Make Me Pregnant?

I've been craving Korean, something I never even thought about eating until I met Mr. Right.  Good thing I married a guy from a tradition that has great food!  Once we actually have a child, he or she will be well fed between our two heritages, that's for sure. At any rate, while we were eating our yummy Korean dinner, I had a crazy thought.  Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Right's swimmers consider my uterus to be a hostile environment because I don't eat enough Kimchi.  Yes, infertility has fried my brain.

But I ate up anyway and at least now I have clear sinuses if nothing else.