---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,

Watching my body grow is a gift unlike any other. How many sleepless nights did I spend pleading for this; for a robust mid-section and a rounded belly to hold. I ached for stretch marks and morning sickness and midnight trips to the bathroom to pee, yet again. Each wearisome symptom a welcome reminder—it's working. It's really working. This is finally real. This body I once scorned has become my most prized possession. The belly I too often sucked in and sighed out disappoin