Getting pregnant is easy or so it's been said Your husband just looks at you Mine too. And a team of doctors, nurses, embryologists The room is full of frenzy when I conceive I just need to put it out of my head To take a vacation, you say — as if treatment has not already swallowed my savings Because getting pregnant is simple But if it's not happening for me It might be my diet; something wrong I can't see "I told you!" you'll say when I finally have happy news to share I w

---The below excerpt is a chapter from my debut memoir, Temple and Ash--- I am sitting on the front porch watching a spring rain soak the already-damp earth. I so rarely sit like this; never allowing myself a moment to rest. To just be. But today is Mother’s Day.  And the weather is kind to me, poignantly reflecting my mood.  As I watch muddy puddles form across the saturated lawn, an old song plays in my head. A song from childhood. Rafi, I think.  The lyrics are silly and a

It's 5:03 on a Wednesday. The day has been long, though not particularly unkind. Just more of the same: waking up too late, rushing to get the baby changed and out the door, a busy work day packed with back-to-back meetings and fires to put out. It is not unfamiliar, but it drains me nonetheless. I have been waiting for this. All day, I have been waiting. At long last, I ease my aching bones into the swivel chair, and she dresses me like a queen in a draping black robe. She d

I want to carry the pregnancy test around with me; a talisman for what my body still can't be convinced is true. Never mind the unrelenting nausea. The overwhelming odor of salmon in a co-worker's lunch box sending me straight to the restroom. No, it isn't enough. That could be something simple; the mere stomach flu. This thin plastic wand bearing a second painted pink line, faint as a whisper, is something solid in my hands. I can put it in my back pocket and pull it out aga

---The below excerpt is a chapter from my debut memoir, Temple and Ash--- My gerbera daisy bloomed this morning. I didn’t think she would flower again. Mom said she has never been able to get hers to, and her thumb is greener than Shrek’s.  There were times I thought she was a lost cause; dead for good. But this morning she stands tall and bright. Resilient. Hopeful. That relentless canary yellow daisy is the first thing I see in my mind’s eye when Dr. C tells me that we are

I started Progesterone in Oil (PIO) injections this week. Shall I compare them to a summer's day? No. Maybe more like a subzero January morning. An unprecedented winter storm. A flurried downpour of freezing hail. In short, they suck. PIO shots are widely regarded in the infertility community as the most painful. The needles are the longest, not to mention that they must be injected into the upper outer quadrant of the buttocks, meaning there is less landmass , if you will,