Friday, March 27, 2015


I recently joined a new blogroll.  I thought about it for a long time - whether or not I was going to request to be added.  You see, it’s an IVF group.  Don’t recognize the acronym?  It stands for invitro fertilization.

So, you may ask, how do I fit in to the IVF community?  I’ve really struggled with how to explain it, but here goes….

For those who IVF and other fertility treatments don’t work, adoption is often one of the last routes to becoming a parent, so my connection to the community is as a birth mother.  But, when it comes right down to it, I feel my fit has more to do with our shared sense of loss.  I feel an affinity for those who have experienced the devastation of miscarriage and child loss, often more than once, and the final realization that they are not able, for whatever reason, to become a biological parent.

As I’ve been reading other bloggers in this blogroll, it sometimes feels as though they’ve looked right into my heart and are writing on my behalf.  Our shared sorrows and struggles on a day to day basis; our feelings of inadequacy, fears of rejection, our lack of focus.  I hear my voice in the words they share, so I asked to join.  

It offers a sense of ease within the unease...

Monday, March 23, 2015

Heroes & Dragons

"If you banish the dragons, you banish the heroes." 
~ Andrew Solomon

I recently heard this in my new favorite podcast.  I wanted to share it since it is resonating with me on many levels.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Good Bye to a Friend

I lost a friend this past week, a friend who was also a mentor and role model.  Although she was elderly, it was completely unexpected, and I'm feeling shocked.  She was a long time member of my community, but I really only got to know her over the past few years.  And although I wouldn’t necessarily describe our relationship as close, I believe it was a relationship built on mutual respect and common ground.  When I reflect on her life and legacy, I am actually warmed by thoughts of how fulfilling her life was, or at least it appeared to be to me.

She was a tough as nails woman who knew what she wanted, and she accomplished everything I ever saw her set out to do.  She built a strong family, worked hard and volunteered in the community.  I’ll miss her spunky debate at meetings, her overbearing know-it-all attitude and her unapologetic confidence.  She was a spitfire, a force to be reckoned with, yet also kindhearted and compassionate.  I was so lucky to have gotten to know her.  I will miss her dearly.  

But the hardest part for me in her passing is something else.  Something that’s quite hard to describe.  In Darlene I’ve lost someone who I shared a deep connection with: we both lost our sons.  Over the past year and a half when I entered a room with her in it we could make eye contact from across the room and there was an instant connection, an immediate recognition of a shared experience.  We could validate each others grief with or without words.  And I’m going to miss that a lot.

Fare thee well, my friend, and I love you.