The Opposite of Funny

Today is April Fool's Day.

It's a day in America where pranks and jokes are taking place throughout the whole day. It's a day when you can't trust anyone, and any bit of news is unreliable - especially online. (You know. It's just like what Abraham Lincoln once said, "You can't trust everything you read online!"…Right??) It's a day when doubt plants itself in every moment of that specific day, not know which moment or set of information we can accept as fact.

I love jokes. I enjoy a good prank. I didn't see or hear many jokes this year, but out of the few I heard, my favorite one was created by a child in kindergarten at the school where I work.

It was lunch time and my coworker was talking to a 5-year-old boy while helping him put his straw into his milk. He told my coworker, "I had eggs for breakfast!" Replying, she told him, "good!" Then, with excitement, he said, "APRIL FOOLS!!!! I had sausage." He was so proud that my coworker believed him when he told her he ate eggs for his morning meal. He was probably even more excited that he tricked an adult.

Most of the other jokes I saw were on Facebook. A friend of mine tricked her daughter when they gave her a muffin package. Their young child was sourly disappointed when they opened the package. They were expecting a sweet and tasty muffin inside...just to find some celery. The child's reaction was hilarious and the video received nearly 50 likes on her parent's Facebook page by the end of the night.

Then, I saw a few people post something I see every year - at least 5 times. Something that they claim as "fact" for the first few hours of their original post to later claim is as a joke. Yet, it's a joke that I don't find to be funny.  I didn't like it last year…and I still don't like it this year.  (I just finally decided to voice my opinion.) But most of all?  It's a joke that I wish others wouldn't make.

What was the joke??

"I'm pregnant…again!!"

It seems simple. It seems harmless.

For many women, this "harmless" April Fool's joke is quite the opposite of being considered funny.

Sure, it can be funny to those who have children and find no struggle in getting pregnant. It's easy for this joke to be funny to those who have never cried out to God while spending hours on their numb knees, asking God to bless them with at least one child…for those who have never spent hours at the doctor's office talking about fertility, fertility treatments, and saving thousands of dollars to spend on hopes of uncertain medicine to assist in the process. The joke may cause laughter for those who have never had the heart-wrenching moment at 2:00 a.m. of an ER doctor saying, "You're in your second trimester…but I can't find the heartbeat of your daughter."

Unless you have certain life experiences, it is probably easier to have a good laugh over things that cause others tears.

There is a great amount of (often forgotten) women out in the world who have a constant struggle when it comes to the topic of children and pregnancy…Women who are mourning every day for an unfilled desire.

Jokes like this are a fresh cut on an old wound…A wound created through experiences of miscarriages, giving birth to a stillborn, child loss, infertility, and even the struggle that some experience during the process of adoption.

When women, who have no problem conceiving children, who have never experienced the unforgettable and never-ending heart ache from child loss or infertility post, "I'm pregnant…again!!" as a joke…it's not even slightly funny.

Every day many women are reminded of what they don't have or about what has been taken away from them. When women who have children and an easy ability to conceive children, and then they joke about having another child - when they aren't really pregnant - it is another reminder. They can't have children, yet their friend with a house full of children has such an easy time that they can joke about it.

The woman with a household full of children is lucky. She is blessed as she has been given such an amazingly beautiful gift from God.

The women who have struggled with child loss and infertility? They are thankful. They are thankful that their friends have their children. They are thankful that not every woman has to battle their type of harsh struggles of motherhood. Their journey is something they would never wish upon another woman.

Women who have lost a child are reminded about their loss - or desire to have children - in the daily,
small things. They're reminded in the comfort of their own homes while they surf their TV and pass the drama-filled TV series Teen Mom. They are reminded when they go to a mall and pass the baby stores or the baby isle in Target wishing they could the cute frilly pink dress for a little one. They are reminded when their friends announce real pregnancies and are invited to an endless amount of baby showers - all while craving the ability to have their own celebration for their unfulfilled desire to hold a child of their own…Not to mention when they are reminded on the date of their child's birth, the date of their death, on Mother's day, and on Christmas. They are reminded when they go to place flowers on the gravesite of one of the few things that have their child's name in writing, the headstone of the local cemetery. They're reminded of their loss and struggle by the dusty stored boxes from their time of hope and joy, before that time unexpectedly ended in an indescribably, paralyzing pain.

It's okay to make jokes and to perform pranks on April Fools. But please - keep in mind that your posts are seen by all on your friend list. What may be seen as harmless to you can hurt another in ways that you (hopefully) will never understand. Your posts are seen by mothers, fathers - but also by the childless.

I've never lost a child of my own. I've not dealt with infertility - and I pray I never will…But I know so many who have - including my sister who gave birth to first child, to her daughter, Ashley, as a stillborn (read Going Home for the story from my perspective). Knowing how much it hurts me, just as an aunt of a child who has passed on, for people to make light of pregnancies and the reminder of the pain my family has gone through throughout the last two years since her death…just to see someone be so flippant...I know I can't even imagine the pain my sister must feel - especially when people know her story and that she sees all that they post.

Sure, time has passed since the death of my niece.  July 5th will mark the 3rd year anniversary of both her birthday and the day she died...But it is still a sensitive topic for my family.  Our hearts still ache and our memories often feel as though they just took place yesterday…Memories from the few short moments when we all held her for the last time (and in my case, it was the first and last time since I was abroad during her birth).

Please…Think before you post. Your words - written or spoken - do impact others around you.

And to those of you who have lost children and/or who struggle with infertility - please know that you are remembered and loved. My prayers go out to you and your family, and I pray that your deepest heart's desires will one day be filled with a precious bundle of joy for you to share your love with…(All while helping you lose brain cells and causing you many strands of grey hair.)

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

Cast Decoration Ideas

On December 13th, 2013, I had the joys of undergoing ankle surgery.  Basically, my doctor went in to clean out all the scar tissue that has built up since my last surgery (in November of 2011).  In addition, he also tightened up my ankle ligament and added stabilizers to improve its stability.

Funny thing is, when I woke up from the surgery, I guess I wasn't ready to talk…but I was FREEZING.  Instead of verbally telling the nurses that I was cold, I caught myself repetitively fingerspelling "cold".   I'm not sure that they ever took notice to my communication through sign language, but I was eventually able to speak again and received two extra blankets from the nurse.

Since then I've had a splint, a cast, a walking cast, a boot, and am now switching from the boot to my shoe (with the help of a brace for 3 months).  I've used a knee caddy, a pair of crutches, and am now in physical therapy.  Yesterday, for the first time, I even drove across town.  My mom had to drive us back home…but hey, I can't complain!  Progress is progress!!

Let's face it.  Ankle surgery isn't fun.  At all.  You're "knocked off" your feet, unable to drive or walk.  You temporarily loose your independence as you learn to rely on others to help you from the basics of eating food, to getting in and out of the shower, to driving you to school or to meet a friend.

Since ankle surgery is naturally pretty lame (did you catch that pun??), I decided to try and have at least a little bit of fun during the recovery process.  Pulling into my sister's (Amanda Howard) creativity, and my own, we had fun decorating my two casts.  (We also tried to google ideas and look some up on Pinterest, but surprisingly there are not many out there in the digital world!)

Again, I started with an ugly, average splint....But then my 3-year-old cousin, Rayna, saw the ugly splint and with wide excited eyes she exclaimed, "It's BEAUTIFUL!!"  She loved the splint, so I wanted to impress her with the casts.  We didn't really decorate the splint - but two teenagers from church had fun adding a ton of hashtags and signatures to it for me.

Rayna's signature.

#anklesurgery #ouch! #stupidcurb
#painful #notfun #icannotwalk

When it was time to get my casts, I asked Rayna, "Hey kiddo - what color cast should I get??  Pink, purple, or blue?"  I really wanted to get blue, so don't ask me why I asked a 3-year-old child her opinion…especially when I know what her favorite colors are.  Her request??  Pink!  Here's what we came up with for decorations that still allowed space for others to sign:

My brother-in-law, Will, also offered a helping hand!

This cast, surprisingly, actually took about 4 hours to create
between the designing and adding of the jewels.  Repair work
had to be done throughout the two weeks I had it on as
some of the jewels would pop off from wear-and-tear, or from
the putting on or taking off the cast protecter for showers.

Ever kid likes shiny and sparkly things, right??

Butterflies and their trails.

What can I say?  I got bored in the DMV.

This is signature is from my oral surgeon who signed
my cast while I was under anesthesia.  A fun surprise!

When I went back for a follow-up appointment with my podiatrist and to get a new cast, all the nurses came out to look at my cast in excitement.  I didn't expect such a reaction from the workers at the hospital (or even the reaction of an occasional stranger at a store), but I am glad others enjoyed it just as much as I did!!

Next, Rayna requested for me to have a purple walking cast.  To quote her in her decision making process, "Pink and purple are my favorite colors!"

I promise you I had at least three people ask me about the
zipper on my cast.  One person even asked me, "Does it really
unzip??  Do you get to take your cast off at night?  Lucky you!"

In memory of the tic-tac-toe board on my last cast.
This is also a chalkboard.
 

For my passion of ASL!  This is the sign for, "I love you."

A random guy at my college asked me if he could sign my cast.
Knowing I had plenty of space on the back, I told him "Sure?  Why not?"
Little did I know, he was planning to take up the WHOLE back of my
cast - the only space I had for everyone to sign.  After I realized what he
did, I text messaged my sister and said, "COVER IT!!"  And she did.
Isn't she great??
:-)

During the first week of school many people asked me, "What happened?"
This was the simplest way I could think of to explain to a mass
audience with the same question as to why I was wearing a cast.
(As you can tell, after a week or so, my decorations started having problems.)

My sister crocheted this sock 11 years ago when I broke
my leg.  I was amazed that it still fit my foot, and that I was
able to find it!!  It was super helpful in keeping my toes warm.

The chalkboard was a hit!!

I think my favorite addition to the cast was Rayna's sweet
bandaid.  Currently she is a, "doctor for toys", and was a little 
shy at the idea of treating an actual human.  :-)
(Again, the cast decorations were having problems after a while!  At this point
the butterfly left-overs pretty looked like a bug that hit a windshield on a car…)

Towards the end of my time with this cast, we (as in just my sister…ha!)
 did do some touch-ups to fix the broken and worn-out parts.

When it was time to get the purple cast off, the hospital staff was impressed once again.  The nurse who was removing, however, it looked at it with a disgusted look and asked with a scrunched nose, "What is all of this??"  I guess he was having a bad day…but it's alright that he didn't like it…the decorations were meant mostly for Rayna's enjoyment, and my own.

Oh, and here are some photos of my sweet ride that I decked out with animals, a basket, and at one point a horn (the horn fell off, sadly):

Rayna and I decided that the elephant is named "Mr. Blueberry"
and the giraffe is "Mr. Grape".

Rayna loves taking a ride on the scooter!  And she
loves it even more when Mr. Bear joins in on the fun!

Have you ever had fun decorating a cast??  Share your ideas!!

The Travelin' (and temporarily immobile) chick,

Crystal

PS: Although I am thankful to be in matching shoes again and that I am starting to walk again, I have to admit that I am starting to miss my chalkboard on the cast!!

A New Dream

My third semester of taking ASL (American Sign Language) classes has now come to an end.  Although this was my third semester of ASL, when the semester began - I was a journalism major.  Journalism has been my major since I started at my current college in the year of 2010.  In fact, I've wanted to major in journalism since I was 13-years-old.  (I'm pretty sure Superman and Lois Lane may be partial to blame for this life decision.)

My goal was never to be a reporter for the New York Times or for the local Fresno Bee.  My goal was to go overseas, using my journalism skill set of video creations, writing, and photography on a mission field - kind of like what I did in London.  I always saw myself working in another country, in another culture. But, recently I realized that my preferred writing style isn't even close to the journalistic style, and I decided that I pretty much despised my college's journalism classes and didn't care about the classwork.  I thought, "If I don't like the classwork, I'm pretty sure I won't like the real-life work either."  And although I am staying open and flexible about the idea of the mission field, currently I am leaning more towards staying and settling in California.

Now, here I am in 2013 at 22-years-old.  In October I officially changed my nine-year journalistic dream to chase a new dream.  I am now majoring in ASL, hoping to one day become skilled enough to be an interpreter for the medical field.  Once I am done at the local city college with my AA and interpreting certificate, I would love to continue studying ASL at Gallaudet - the main university for the Deaf - through their hearing program. (Between the expense and high competitive level for the hearing program, it is a big dream...so we'll see.)

When I tell people I am studying ASL, often I get asked, "What has inspired you to learn ASL?  Why learn ASL over German or Spanish?"  To answer those frequently asked questions, I will usually explain that I needed either music or language credits for my AA in college.  Considering I can't keep rhythm to save my life, I easily chose to learn a new language.  But why specifically ASL? 

Growing up, my sister, Amanda, studied ASL.  Instead of teaching me ASL as she learned the language, she would sign to me or in front of me with her hearing best friend - and never would interpret what was being said.  So, as I thought about which language I wanted to take, I thought, "Since I don't really have an interest in learning a language at all, I'll just take a couple of ASL courses to meet the basic college requirements, but mostly so I also learn how to decode what my sister signs.  I’m going to beat Amanda at her own game!" 

Since changing my major, I've been asked once again, "Why ASL?"  I started to give the answer I've been giving for the last few months…But then I realized - my original answer that I've been giving is why I started learning ASL and what lead me on this path…but it's not why I continue to choose to passionately pursue knowledge of the language and knowledge about Deaf Culture.  So, one again…Why ASL?

There are many factors that worked together in helping me decide to continue studying ASL.  First, my ASL 1-3 teacher, Nancy, is passionate about teaching her native language to others – and it shines through her every day.  The more I’ve learned in my ASL 1-3 classes and the more I get to know Nancy on a personal level, the more I feel inspired to continue learning about Deaf culture and the language.  She is someone that I admire, and sometimes I can't but think, "If I didn't learn ASL - I'd be missing the chance to know her…How many inspiring people have I missed the chance on knowing, just because I didn't know their language - especially ASL?"

Second, I accidentally fell in love with the language.  I had every intention to complete just two classes and be forever finished with the subject. When I talk to people about my ASL classes, I always tell them, “I walk into the classroom and when I leave – I feel more in love with ASL than when I walked in the door just two hours earlier.”  It's the first time in a long time I've felt so passionate about something, and the first time in a long time where I have felt like, "This is where I belong".  I’ve been told by my friends that my eyes literally light up when I talk about the language, and have even been told by another friend that when I write about learning ASL that my words seem to light up on her computer screen. 

Third, and most importantly, for the first time - the more Deaf people I meet, the more I feel like I am understood and have found a group of people I can relate to in certain ways.

Fact is: I am not Deaf.  I am 100% hearing.  Despite this fact, since starting ASL classes, for the first time in my life I feel like I am meeting people I connect with who "get me" more than the average hearing person.  For the first time, I feel like I've found a group of people who fully accept me for who I am and who I can somewhat identify with.  (Granted, I know my family fully accepts me as I am – but although they accept me, there is a part of me that they will never fully understand or identify with.)

Again, I'm not Deaf, so there are some things that I know I will never understand about the experiences and life of a Deaf person.  However, being born with a birthmark that covers half my face, I understand what it means to not quite fit into the stupid box that our American society hands out to each child at the moment of their first breath.

I still remember a class conversation that took place earlier in the semester.  It's one that won't leave my mind, and it is probably one of the biggest moments when I realized that I feel as though I relate more to Deaf people than I had previously realized.  Those that are Deaf were primarily sharing in class about family meals.  I remember someone sharing that when they are with their family, people verbally make jokes and laugh.  When asking what was said, the Deaf person would be told, "I'll tell you later", or, "It's not that important."

Many of my classmates were asking, "Doesn't that make you mad??"  The response shared was something to the effect of, "I'm use to it."  People sitting next to me expressed how sad and upsetting they found this reality for many lives of the Deaf.  I too, was saddened.  In fact - I remember being moved to tears, thinking about how lonely that would be to not understand what was being said, and having no one willing to interpret. But I also remember thinking, "I get it."  And I do get it - to an extent from two different perspectives.

This summer I spent two long months in Germany.  I know I've mentioned that I was supposed to be there for 6 months total, but instead of coming home in December, I came home in August.  My time there isn't really much to talk about on the positive end of the spectrum…Hence coming home early.  For many different reasons, living in Germany was one of the biggest struggles I have ever had to face - especially alone.  (I've briefly mentioned my time in Germany since arriving home.  Most of what I wrote - which isn't much - can be found in my entry "Life Outside Church Walls.")

As I think about my time there, I remember the strong sense of loneliness I felt.  Not being from Germany, I don't know more than 30 basic words and phrases of German….And I only know the 30 because of my time there.  Despite my lack of knowledge of the German language, I still had to face my days and live the life of the Germans.  Some days I would be around people for 6-10 hours with German being spoken all around me…usually with no one willing to interpret.  I would sit there completely lost, often finding myself staring at a wall completely in another world.  I felt completely isolated.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea, let me clarify: I never expected the Germans I met to cater to me as an American and native English speaker.  I knew going to Germany that I was going to a different country with a different language.  I respected this fact and looked forward to this upcoming adventure!  I went expecting and hoping to learn the language.  (I was so dedicated to learning the language that I even inquired a few times about language school – but my idea and interest was shot down each time.)  However, the days when I was around German for so many hours, I struggled.  I had no idea what was being said.  I didn't understand the joke, or even if I was the joke a time or two…Or why people were laughing.  (There were a few times when a laughing crowd would look in my direction.  I still have no idea what was said, or why they were looking my direction while laughing.)  If instructions were given, I couldn't rely on the spoken instructions.  I had to watch other people's actions and play an international version of Follow the Leader.

Even though I was almost always around a couple of English teachers and someone who held a past job as an interpreter, knowing both German and English rather well, rarely were things interpreted to me. 

I even remember a Sunday after church when I was talking to a friend.  My friend expressed that she was tired and that speaking in English was becoming more difficult as she became more tired.  I told her that she could leave, that I was thankful for her sweet friendship, and kind efforts.  She told me, "I don't want to leave you here alone with no one to talk to."  Replying, I told her, "No worries!  I am happy that I was able to speak to you just for an hour in English!  I'll be okay sitting alone for a bit."

Instead of letting me sit there alone, she went got the attention of one of her friends.  A couple of Sundays before, this friend was supposed to interpret a two-hour church service for me from German to English.  In the end, she didn't as she forgot (which, I totally understand!), but I knew that she knew English rather well by this fact - and by a couple of brief conversations I had already had with her.  Once my friend got the lady’s attention, my friend said, "Hey - I am leaving.  Can you keep Crystal company and talk with her?"   Before turning and walking away, the friend gave a two glance and two second reply, "No, sorry.  My English isn't very good."  Her English "wasn't very good", yet we had talked before and she had promised interpret different things for me in the future.

I only lived in Germany for two months, and I lived with people I had met for the first time…and although I know this part of my Germany experience doesn't even compare the the life-long stories and experiences of those who are Deaf...knowing how lonely and frustrated I felt by being left out and often ignored, it breaks my heart knowing that families with a Deaf child or sibling willingly do that to their loved one.  Actually, it doesn't just break my heart.  This completely shatters it.

It was a really hard moment when I felt completely dismissed by the lady, who knew English, but wasn't willing to make an effort - especially after she promised to spend time with me and to help me…and she was someone I barely knew.  And I know it's one thing for a near stranger to do this…But it bothers me that families would do the same thing to their own blood...Not being willing to make an effort to learn sign language, or sometimes not being willing to use what ASL they do know with someone is Deaf.   To be frank - I find it to be quite stupid.  (I have a friend in my ASL classes who has a Deaf friend.  Her friend’s parents know ASL, yet they chose to speak around their son without signing or interpreting the conversation. My friend, a classmate, had to interpret the family’s whole conversation to their son – her recently made friend.) 

I imagine and very well remember the struggle of two months among people who were practically strangers.  As I try to imagine living a whole 22 years with the experience with my own personal family…I can't even wrap my mind around the idea, let alone my heart.

(Before I continue – let me add that I am extremely thankful for a few specific people who went out of their way to welcome me to Germany, trying make me comfortable.  Although I am extremely thankful for their efforts, and I remember my time with them with a smile on my face, I either usually only saw these people once a week…or, I sadly did not meet most of these these friends until the end of my time there.)

The second way I can relate to the class discussion is in regards to the response of, "I'm use to it.”

No one in class was able to understand how Deaf people can become use to family members who aren't willing to communicate and include their family members.  I don't know what it is like to go to family dinners and to be left out in this way.  However, I do understand how it one can become use to something that most people don’t understand.

Having a birthmark on my face…Well, that’s hard to hide!  Between people’s staring, crazy comments, or rude questions, I usually have a story to tell by the end of each day – or at least a few by the end of each week!

Recently I met a Deaf woman by the name of Lisa.  She told me that someone once wrote a question down for her on a piece of paper that asked, “Do you know how to read??”  From what I understood, the person was genuinely curious if she had the ability to read – but I guess they didn’t realize the irony of their question, nor did they know how to completely use their brain when they asked it.

No one ever asks me if I know how to read, but I do get asked questions all of the time. I get asked, “Does your husband beat you?” (I’m not even married – or dating.)  Or, “What’s on your face?  Is it contagious?”  One time a store clerk asked me what was on my face.  I told her it was just a birthmark that I was born with.  She responded with, “Oh – that must be an interesting story to tell.”  Confused, I thought, “Ummm…There is no story.  I was born – end of story.  It’s people like you who give me stories to tell!”  Or, for a more recent story - I had a guy staring at me.  Usually during these staring contests people get a clue that they should stop.  This man, however, did not.  For the first time I actually had to say, “You can stop staring at me now.  You’re being incredibly awkward.”  He did stop…For two minutes.  Then his eyes returned.

Usually I take these situations with a grain of salt and take them as moments to laugh.  When I am out with friends or family and someone is staring, being rude by what they say or ask me, my friend will ask me with anger in their voice, “How do you put up with this??  How are you not rude back?” Casually and calmly, I respond, “I’m use to it.” – And my friends don’t get it.  They forget that I was born with a birthmark on my face and forget that I was born into a lifetime of staring contests and bizarre questions and comments.  They also forget that I don’t know life any differently. While it’s not normal to them, this is the normalcy of my life…Even if it is sometimes a bit of an obnoxious kind of normal.

Maybe I don’t get what it is like being Deaf.  Maybe those who are Deaf don’t get what it is like having a very visible birthmark covering their face…But although my story is different than someone who is Deaf and vice versa, there are still often common denominators in our stories.  Even my ASL teacher recently told me, "Your stories about your birthmark...Yours happen to be visible while my deafness is invisible but the way people deal with us is more similar than one would think."

As I learn of other people’s stories, I realize that some people who are considered “normal” can easily become ignorant and uncomfortable with something that is “different”…and because of this discomfort and lack of knowledge, people don’t know how to act – often resulting in their insensitive and brainless questions.  They forget that regardless of who the person is and what they look like, or if they are Deaf or blind – we are all ultimately the same on the inside.  We are all people with joys and sorrows, people with heartaches and happiness.  We are all people with a story to tell and people who have feelings.

While growing up outside of the box, many lessons can be learned.  You can learn to be confident and happy in who you are and not conform to what others wish you could be.  You learn that there is something incredibly beautiful in being “different”.  And yeah…sometimes I do get frustrated in specific situations…But if I react in equal rudeness to the comment or question given, wouldn’t I be giving up an opportunity to educate another person?

Even if someone asks a question in an insensitive manner, I still believe that it’s an open door to educate someone – and possibly the chance to change their perspective on how they see other people – and the world.  It’s a chance to teach that people who have birthmarks, people who are blind, Deaf, in a wheel chair, etc…That these are not people to look down on or people to treat like they are any less than themselves, but these are incredibly beautiful people we can look up to for inspiration and as great role models.

Growing up, I've never really felt like I've lacked people who understand me.  But, now that I have met Deaf people who understand me more than most hearing people, I find a sense happiness and relief that I didn’t realize was missing.

Deaf people are always talking about Deaf pride and being happy in who they are - regardless of not fitting into that ridiculous box.  Even though I'm not Deaf, I find the attitudes of those that are to be contagious and to be a reminder to be happy and proud of who I am whether I am hearing, Deaf, if I have a birthmark or don't, if I fit into that box, or if I break the mold.  

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal

PS: Most of what I have published here was written for a class journal for my Deaf Culture classes - but with a few alterations.  There are other reasons as to why I am studying ASL…Like the stories I learn about of children who are mistreated by adults because they are Deaf...Like in my blog entry "A Home to Return to", with the story of the Deaf child whose parents cut off her fingers because she was signing instead of speaking…Yeah, stories like that?  They break my heart.  Stories like that make me want to try and make a difference on how the Deaf are treated, and any person who is being mistreated in any way.