Sunday, March 11, 2012


As I look out the window and wish for sunshine, I am grateful that even without the sun, spring is in the air.  Some of the trees are budding, the magnolia trees by my school are ready to open, and the robins are back.  And I feel like I am back too, and the fog is clearing.  I haven't written a blog in a very long time.  I was worried I would have nothing more to write.  But in the last week, the need to write has brought me to the computer on a quiet, overcast and rainy Sunday morning.  The only sounds are the humming of the refrigerator and the energetic play of my hyper kitten, Willow, as she races from one room to the other.  It's been a challenging couple of months, but wonderful things have happened as well.  Michael started a new teaching job, we got a kitten, we bought a new house, and we had several visits to the fertility doctor.  We are very excited about our new place, and we move in at the end of the month.  Change.  Something we have wished for, and something we have manifested.  Our place is beautiful: close to the river trail,  near coffee shops and grocery stores, and is our first home we have ever owned.  It will be very sad to leave our mountain, our view, and our wonderful friends and landlords, Vivan and Lorne, who have become our surrogate parents.  They have truly blessed our lives with their friendship.  My health is starting to improve, and although I put my back out in February,  I feel much better than I did before Christmas.  And after multiple blood tests, (17 vials, to be exact) and a special ultrasound, Michael and I received the news that we are a fertile couple, and there is nothing preventing us from having a healthy baby.   Our journey to get pregnant and stay pregnant, is just life, and unexplained.  We had a wonderful meeting with the kindest, optimistic, and heartfelt genetic counselor, who assured us that it will happen.  It was such a relief to know that our struggles are unexplained.  The genetic counselor was surprised that I felt that way, because for some couples, it makes it more frustrating.  For me,  I felt free again.  Free to love the mystery.  Free to trust the universe.  Free to really believe.  Am I scared and nervous? Absolutely.  But, for the first time since Luka was born, I don't feel fearful of it not happening.  As much as I appreciate and am thankful for modern medicine,  sometimes the mystery of conception and birth is taken away by all the answers.  From my experience, we will never know all the answers to the beautiful gift we call life.  As we get ready for our move, and I think about leaving this beautiful mountain retreat,  I have been reflecting on the past four years.  We have made wonderful friends, shared and borrowed Sassy, our neighbour's dog, watched deer and bobcats go by our front door,  and watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets from our bedroom window.   It is in this home, that we conceived Luka and where she grew for nine months.  She was our greatest joy, deepest pain, and biggest gift.  And now,  as I wrestle with all the emotions of leaving this place,  I know we are beginning a new chapter in our lives.  The other evening after I came home from school, the storm clouds blew in.  Amid the rain and sleet, there was a moment where the sun burst through the clouds,  and created the most glorious rainbow.  As I watched it unfold, I gave thanks to the universe, for reminding me of the beautiful mystery of life, the beginning of change, and the opening of the door to all that is possible.