Either you are an animal lover or not. And, it is safe to say that even if you are an animal lover, you may not be a pet person. Well, I am both. As a kid I always wanted a dog. My parents had an Irish Setter, Shawn as newlyweds and he was pretty defiant and wild-into everything. A shoe eater I hear. He also ate the top of their wedding cake on the day of their first wedding anniversary. When my brother was born, Shawn didn’t take too well to the new arrival. He was a good dog, but needed more space to run and get out his energy. My mother grew up with several dogs and cats and had never given a pet away. But Shawn needed a better home. So they found him a 100+ acre farm to live out his days, and afterwards received many reports that he was healthy and happy in his new home.

Shawn sealed my fate for ever getting a dog as a kid. However, my parents wanted my brother and I to have pets. Just pets that seemed to be less work. Pets that could be left for a few days if we went on vacation. My brother got a red haired rabbit that he named Thumper. He was the best bunny you could have. Acted more like a dog than a rabbit. Greg had him on a leash and took him for walks. He was the sweetest animal and my brother loved him to pieces.

We had a rather large yard growing up and somehow along the way my dad decided to build Thumper a pen outside in a shed off our garage. The pen had access to the outdoors if he wanted fresh air, but when it was real cold, he could be inside out of the elements. This evolved into finding Thumper a mate so we could have bunnies. Oh, Thumper had many girlfriends. I think I named them all- Tiffany, Violet, and maybe another. Thumper had several batches of bunnies and it was such a thrill when they were born. They were the cutest things ever. We sold them to neighbors and friends and of course kept at least one. In the winter my brother was always out checking on the rabbits. There was a space heater out there on really frigid nights and he would bring them inside sometimes much to my parents dismay.

Tiffany and Violet eventually passed away. The life of a bunny isn’t too long. But Thumper kept hanging in until age 6. I’ll never forget the day Thumper died. It was my first experience with death and I felt so awful for m brother. He was devastated. By that time my brother was a young teenager and had more important things going on in his life than to breed rabbits. But the lessons of love and tenderness learned by having Thumper were priceless.

For my sixth birthday my dad decided to follow through on an ad in the paper for a cockatiel (in the Parrot family). He thought a bird was harmless enough and again, we could live it at home for a few days. It wouldn’t ruin the house, didn’t need to be potty trained or walked.

We went to the pet store and there was a huge window full of baby cockatiels. Who knows how I picked out my bird but eventually I found the one and the person at the pet store got him out and helped me hold him. We realized that he had a lame leg and may not make it so my dad suggested I pick out another.

We brought the bird home with a fancy new cage and bells, and special treats. I named her Maxine. I don’t remember much about the early days of acclimating with a bird except that she was ornery sometimes, and if she cam out of the cage, it was hard to get her back in. After a few weeks I thought I would change the name to BeeBee. Who the hell knows! Then it was Maxine BeeBee.

After about a year we found at the Maxine was really a Maxwell. Flesh colored feet and beak were signs of a male and a better disposition as well. After some thought his name became Chucki. And this one stuck. Notice it had to be with an ‘i.” He was the greatest little creature. Again he was a bird more like a dog than a bird. He came when he was called, flying from the living room to the kitchen where I would be making breakfast. He never wanted to be without me. If I left the room, he followed me. He was always on my shoulder or in my lap. He had the best personality and if you didn’t think birds could smile, you’re wrong. He hammed it up for people and loved showing himself off. He never learned to speak English but he had several different songs and each of them meant that he was in a different temperament.

He liked to eat breakfast with me so I would offer him some cheerios and there he sat on the table chomping away as I ate my bowl of cereal. I loved that bird more than anything. He was the first thing I saw in the morning and the first thing I wanted to see when I got home from school. He comforted me as a child the way most pets do.

When I went away to college in Delaware, I had to leave him home. That was really hard. I got home a couple of times a semester and our reunions were always the same- adoration.

Chucki moved in with me to my first home. I got married and moved to a second home. He filled our house with song and I loved taking him out just so he could sit on my should or as he got older in my lap on a blanket. He loved to have his cheeks rubbed.

One morning I found him at the bottom of his cage. This is the tell-tale sign that a bird is failing. They are such strong creatures that they do not show many signs of their age until it is time for them to pass. I picked him up in my arms and cradled his little body as his eyes closed. His breathing became rapid and I just lay on the couch with him in my arms making sure he was warm and felt safe.

At 28 years old I lost my first pet. It was extremely difficult to not hear him sing when I walked in the door. I missed his silly antics and smiling eyes. What a blessing he was to me. All because my parents didn’t want us to have a dog. Chuck was in my life for 22 years. Amazing. And again I learned so much about love, compassion, and companionship. I was responsible for taking care of him and he in turn, he took care of me.

Part of what helped me get over the loss of Chucki was my invaluable relationship with my beautiful Brittany Spaniel, Lucy. AJ and I had gotten her when we moved into our first house. By the time Chuck died Lucy was 3.

Lucy has been my lifesaver. AJ always calls her my dog and I know it is true. She follows me wherever I go whether it is down to the basement to fold laundry or upstairs at night when I go to bed.

How we came to bring Lucy home is a story of fate. We called the breeder from a newspaper ad. The farm was 2.5 hours from our home. AJ requested a girl and the man on the other end of the phone said he had one girl left. A couple requested her and were supposed to pick her up the day prior. He said if we got there before them, we could bring her home. We rushed out of the house and made the drive. As soon as we pulled up to the farm I saw a bunch of boy pups romping around in the mud. They were adorable. The woman asked me if I would like to see the girl. She was inside and bathed already. I left AJ outside to make small talk with the breeder. Walking into the cramped farm house I looked down and saw the most precious little puppy wrapped in a pink blanket. She had a shiny cream coat and reddish floppy ears. When they are that young, their spots haven’t formed yet so her coat was almost all creamy white. I held her in my arms and instantly knew she was ours. I hurredly brought her out to AJ and one look at her and we were sold. We gave our money, signed the papers, and headed to our car.

For months we had debated on a name. I am big on names and I had all sorts of ideas. AJ wasn’t keen on any of them and kept saying she will name herself. As we stood on the farm in the cold November weather, I whispered a name that was never on my list, Lucy. She is our Lucy. And she was.

We wanted to show her off to everyone. We brought her to my parents house (the non-dog lovers). My mother was smitten immediately.

After puppy-dom waned and she was potty trained and got past the stage of wanting to chew we got along famously. She grew and turned into a dog but boy did she have a personality. Just like a toddler. She made AJ and I laugh so hard. After we got married and tried to have kids, Lucy was our baby. She was there for us during our many disappointments.

I recently read a memoir and the author spoke of her relationship with her dog as a young girl. She said, “my dog was a great listener, as most dogs are…” This is my Lucy. During our infertility journey and the countless disappointing pregnancy tests, Lucy was my savior. I cried in her soft coat countless times and she lay there just knowing that I needed her. She was my only baby for 5 years. I took care of her, doted on her and loved her the way she loved me.

We were so lucky that other couple never showed up that cold Saturday morning. Lucy was meant to be ours. After becoming adoptive parents, this seems to be a recurring theme in our life. Our little family has been brought together by chance and luck or perhaps the fulfillment of a story already written.

Lucy will be 9 in a few days. She is eating senior food. Brittany Spaniels are notorious for their energy and need to run. They act like puppies well into the senior years. People have told us that their 14 year old Brittany still acted the same as when he was a pup. Lucy runs in our big back yard for hours. She is a hunter by nature and loves being outside.

I’ve noticed that her beautiful red “mask” that covers her eyes and eyelashes had turned white. On rare occasions she will lay down in the grass now instead of running for 3 straight hours. But she only lays down long enough to create a beautiful picture. A creamy white dog laying in lush green grass looking out into the woods behind our house.

Recently we had to bring Lucy to the vet. Both AJ and I decided we could no longer try to ignore the bulge coming out of her right side. We could feel two lumps, one big and one small. We have had her checked before and the lumps are usually just fatty tissue, but at her age we needed to be more proactive.

I cried my eyes out that night. I always expected Lucy to live to her life’s capacity which is 14-16 years. I just could not wrap my mind around her leaving us too soon. The results from the vet were somewhat comforting but left doubt. They don’t believe the thumps are cancerous but unless we completely remove the lumps, we will not know for sure if they are benign.

AJ and I believe in quality of life for all creatures. We will continue to monitor her and if it is necessary have her undergo surgery. But for now she seems in great health.

I cherish every day with her. Seeing her face in the upstairs window every day when I pull in makes me laugh. Watching Min run around in the back yard with her is a dream come true. I love my Lucy. At age 9 I am coming to terms that her life is becoming shorter. Hopefully we will be lucky and get to see her live out her days relatively healthy and when it is her time to go, she will die without pain and in peace.

Lucy is my savior. She is a dog with a human-like soul. She is another unforeseen gift and I am forever changed by having her in my life.

Many of you know that PFM has a line of stationery note cards made by artists local to Rochester, NY and also some of our favorite students at The School at Columbia University thanks to my friend and teacher, Kate.

We have a line of holiday cards that we would like to reintroduce for this year’s season. All net proceeds go toward our endowment. In reaction to the Facebook and Breast Cancer meme which proves once again that infertility is completely misunderstood, I thought it would be nice to do something positive for the Adoption, Loss, and Infertility community.

Kid’s artwork is the best. We are looking for kids to draw pictures of things pertaining to winter and the holidays. Maybe a child you know could have their artwork printed on our note cards and help raise money for our grant program.

Here are the guidelines:

1) Artwork can be emailed in pdf or jpg format to info@parenthoodforme.org or mailed to:
Parenthood for Me, Inc.
PO Box 67750
Rochester, NY 14617

2) Must be postmarked by October 1, 2011

3) Please include child’s first name, age, and and email address or mailing address where parent/guardian can be reached. (we will need to get permission to reprint artwork and post on-line)

4) And last but not least. Be creative!
Here are some ideas: snowmen, snowflakes, holiday scenes. We are looking for artwork for any holiday during December.

Feel free to contact us with any questions.

*depending on volume, we may not be able to print all artwork received

The initiative on Facebook this year to raise awareness for Breast Cancer Awareness Month is not only puzzling but disturbing on many levels.

Last year women were supposed to put a color in their status and keep men guessing what it meant. The color signified the color of the bra they were wearing that day. This makes sense to me. Breast Cancer Awareness- bra color.

There is no need to write a new post on this subject when two wonderful writers explain this year’s status meme and it’s effect on the infertility community and cancer survivors.

“I’m Zero Weeks and Craving a Baby” from Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed

“Pretending You’re Pregnant Makes People Truly Understand Breast Cancer” from Stirrup-Queens.

Walking from my car through the Weg.man’s parking lot I inevitably turned my head to see the “Expectant Mother” parking sign. The familiar twinge of sadness in my heart ebbed for a few moments while I made my way inside the store.

I am an expectant mother. My baby lives thousands of miles away and not in my belly, but he is our son and we are his parents.

I don’t need a special parking space or help picking things up when they fall. There is no need to dote on me and get me pickles and ice cream, but I feel the same way any mother feels who is pregnant. I think of baby Wee every day. I image what he will smell like and look like when he arrives. I hope that he is happy and healthy, although I rest assured that his foster mother is filling his heart with love and teaching him everything she can before he leaves her home.

Throughout my journey to motherhood I have learned a lot of things. I have learned about grief, joy, finding the good in life despite extreme pain. I have learned that I can endure and come out the other side a better person, someone who appreciates the difficulties in life because of the reward that can follow. Motherhood to Min and now baby Wee is unbelievable and remarkably I still marvel at my 4 year old nearly every day. I find myself taking moments while he is singing, jumping on my furniture, eating breakfast, and being silly to stare in awe that this is my child. I have also learned a lot about what parenthood means and what a complete joy and gift it is to raise children.

When do we become expectant mothers? I understand now that it happens long before we decide to try and conceive. It even happens before the marriage. Each woman may not think about having a baby in depth when they are young or beginning to start a life with someone, but motherhood is part of being a woman. There is an expectation of parenthood someday.

I remember playing with dolls, changing their diapers, giving bottles and rocking them in a cradle. I always had tons of names in mind. Like most kids I didn’t particularly like my name and always thought I could come up with something better! As I got older thoughts formulated about things I would do with my children. I am a linguist. I knew I wanted to teach my kids Italian and Spanish. They would grow up in the Thousand Islands at our family cottage. Memories were created long before I wanted to become pregnant.

Now that I am a mother and fulfilling those thoughts and dreams I have new hopes for my second child. He will be 18 months when he comes home from Korea. I hope that his transition into a new life will be easy for him. I am so thankful for Min because he will help his little brother become acclimated to all the new sites, smells, and sounds of our home. He will give him affection and talk to him, helping him to learn English. He will be a great big brother.

Expecting our second child through adoption is another surprise in my life that is nothing less than magical. Being an expectant mother for the second time feels the same as waiting for Min but different as well. The wait is longer. There is a different level of difficulty in imagining how he is doing and what he is like. I try not to think too much about how fast he is growing and what we are missing but rather all the time we will have with him.

As an expectant mother I may not need to be helped out of the car or supported when feeling anxious about a pregnancy, but I do need help in the long wait until baby Wee comes home. There are tough days thinking about the remaining five months until we get the call that he is coming. I need help rejoicing in his existence and what life will be like when we all get to hug him and meet him for the very first time.

*image provided by google images.

Hi…my name is Laurie and I’m infertile. My story could be a sad one because I don’t have the happy ending yet. But I’ve chosen to not see it that way.

Still single and 37, I decided that it was long enough to wait for the husband. I moved forward with trying to have the baby. If the husband happens, great. If not, life will go on. I couldn’t accept the same attitude about a baby and becoming a mom.

My doctors knew immediately that there might be a problem trying to get pregnant, but they were very optimistic that fertility drugs would solve what nature wasn’t doing correctly in my body.

At the appointment for my first IUI, my doctor even asked me if I wanted to skip the month, because I had so many mature egg follicles. “Are you prepared for multiples?” It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t get pregnant that first time. I didn’t.

For three years, I did everything possible to get pregnant – fertility yoga, abdominal massages, acupuncture, meditation, shots, vitamins, drinking black-strap molasses and eating only “warm” foods.

Three years later – after six IUIs, six IVFs, one IVF with donor eggs and one miscarriage – I was emotionally spent. At that point, I wrote the following in my journal:

My uterus is the place where healthy, viable embryos go to die. There is no other explanation. It really is the only explanation, and honestly, it’s what I have to believe or I will think that there is something more I can do, something else I can try, when really I have to believe that I’ve done all I can and it’s time to move on.

From that point on, I began my journey in international adoption, which I have discovered can be as unpredictable as my own body. What originally started as a 12- to 15-month wait has turned into a 22- to 28-month wait.

While I am hopeful that an adoption from Ethiopia will still work out, I cannot count on it. The instability and uncertainty in the Ethiopia process have convinced me to be more proactive in pursuing my dream to be a mom, and I have recently started the necessary steps for domestic adoption.

And so as I said at the beginning, this could be a sad story. But I choose to not look at only the things I’ve lost – the chance to carry a child – but also the things that I’ve learned and gained.

I’ve learned that I’m stronger and more stubborn than I ever thought possible. I am infertile. But I am also invincible.

I’ve learned not to take it personally when my siblings and close friends don’t ask how things are going. That perhaps because infertility and adoption are foreign concepts in my family, they don’t know what to say for comfort and support. And I’ve learned which friends are there through thick, thin and tears.

I’ve gained a circle of friends who, without this experience, I wouldn’t have met. Strong, amazing women who have been through the same struggles, who have the same fears I have.

I’ve gained patience. Tremendous patience as I waited for the next cycle of fertility drugs to start, waited the 16 days for the blood test, waited for background checks to come in and paperwork to be filed, and most importantly, as I wait for my child.

And every day, as I still think about what I’ve lost, I think more about what I have to gain, what I have waiting for me down the road.

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Laurie works in the Office of Marketing Communications at Ithaca College. She loves books and baseball, and can’t wait to turn her child into a Yankees fan. She is a recent recipient of a Parenthood for Me grant.

Thank you for sharing your story.

*image provided by Jeffrey Schlaefer

I had never felt a pregnant woman’s belly. I never wanted to be one of those people that feel the need to invade a pregnant woman’s space. But touching a pregnant belly and feeling the growing life inside has been too painful for me. I never asked to feel a baby kick or see if I could feel the feet pressing themselves up against the uterine wall. These precious moments touched too close to my inner loss and pain.

When there are sonogram pictures, I briefly glance but not long enough to see the growing life. I am brought back to the pictures we have of our three embryos on day 3 of their life. The only life we created together. Embryos that did not survive.

When my friend became pregnant, I told her I wanted to live vicariously through her and learn about her pregnancy. I gave her my What to Expect… book. She would fill me in on what was going on month to month. It was nice to hear her speak of this monumental experience in her life. I pushed through my feelings of loss and separated the conversations into her experience, having nothing to do with my lack of experience.

Nearly every day my thoughts turn to infertility. Sometimes the thoughts are of acceptance. Others I cry my eyes out. I have prepared myself for these moments of acceptance and grief knowing that they are a part of my life.

Another good friend is pregnant, and for the first time ever I asked her if I could feel the baby. Through weeping eyes I explained that I had never touched a pregnant woman’s belly. I wanted to know what it was like. Even if I never touch my own pregnant belly, I want to understand the miracle of pregnancy.

This moment was a rite of passage for my very long and painful experience of infertility. I was proud of myself for opening my mind and not allowing my own grief to make me lose out on being involved in loved one’s pregnancies. The process has been an evolution.

Nearly 7 years into trying to conceive I am still learning and growing. I continue to try and focus on all that wonderful things in my life and accept that pregnancy is not something in my life’s plan. However, my boys are a dream come true. I cannot imagine who I would be if I was not an adoptive mother. For every loss and sad feeling that overcomes me, I look at my son and smile. His hugs can cure all and his smile makes everything better.

My husband and I are adopting again and waiting for our son to come home from S. Korea. We were matched on February 14. Just like the first time we adopted, the phone call telling us we would be parents to a baby boy came unexpectedly quick and was a thrill beyond belief.

We were warned that the wait time for this adoption would be longer. There is a lot of paperwork and processing through both governments to get the baby cleared to leave their birth country and bring them to the United States. We are anticipating his arrival in December. However, we are also preparing ourselves for delays.

When we were matched with Min in November 2007, the anticipated arrival time was four months. March came and went along with his first birthday and Mother’s Day. The delay was excruciating. We just wanted to meet him and have him in his home. His room was all ready, the toys were put together, clothes all washed and in the dresser. Finally on June 3, 2008 we met our son for the first time, and all the months of waiting washed away.

This time around I have tried to parallel the adoptive parent’s wait with a pregnancy. The anticipation of the birth of a baby’s is similar. As the months go on anxiety builds and everyone just wants the baby to be born.

Adopting internationally offers a different type of wait because our son is alive, thriving, and making many milestones that we are not there to witness. We have a few pictures but hardly any details about his progress. We know he is being well taken care of and that does help, but it is hard thinking of him every day wondering what he is doing. Baby Wee turned one May 10. He will be about 18 months when he comes home.

Min is very excited about being a big brother and he mentions Baby Wee almost daily. I cannot wait for him to have his brother home. I know he will do a great job and help make our little son’s transition home easier. Min is very loving and always wants to help. He will embrace his new brother and teach him things. Seeing their relationship is one more reason why the wait this time seems more difficult.

Time always flies by in hindsight. We have many things to do around the house in preparation for a baby to be here. We have to paint the boys rooms. Min is moving to a “big boy” room and Baby Wee will have his current bedroom. I have to wash all of Min’s baby clothes and reassemble the crib. The baby gates are somewhere in the attic along with the pack and play.

It will be amazing to get all of theses items out, dust them off, and see our Baby Wee in our home forever.

Since inception Parenthood for Me has been made up of a board of directors. AJ and I are the founders but without the help of many people, PFM would not be where it is today.

I would like to take the time to mention all those who have sat on the board since we became an official non-profit corporation in January of 2009.

Beth Brownstein- 2009
Mark Gunther- 2009-2010
Sally Bacchetta- 2009-2010
Deborah Wittenberg- 2009-2010
Elaine Pelissier- 2009-2010
Jerry Furciniti- 2010

The following are current board members volunteering their time to our worthy cause.

Charles Montante, MS, CASAC, NCACII, LMHC
Board Chairman

Chuck is Vice President of Clinical Services at Westfall Associates. Chuck has 36 years’ experience in the chemical dependency and mental health fields, having worked in schools, community based agencies, inpatient facilities and outpatient treatment agencies.

Chuck and his wife Suzanne have three children, Carrie 29, Danielle 27, and Jonathan 24. The Montantes split their residences between their home in Rochester and their cottage on the St. Lawrence in Clayton, New York.

Kevin J. Mulcahy
Vice-President

Kevin grew up in Hamlin, NY and has 2 sisters. He is the owner of a landscape and design company in Rochester, NY. He and his wife, Elena have two boys ages 10 and 7. Kevin is involved in many community activities and volunteers his time in youth sports.

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Robert F. Spatola, Jr., CPA
Treasurer

Rob graduated from St. Bonaventure University with both a Master’s and Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration and is currently a manager with The Bonadio Group’s Small Business Advisory Group. Aside from his tenure with PFM, his community involvement includes a current board position with the National Kidney Foundation, past treasurer of Friendship Children’s Center and Junior Achievement volunteer. Rob and his wife, Megan have an 8 month old son.

Melissa Mulcahy

Melissa graduated from St. John Fisher College with a Bachelor’s degree in Communications and a Master’s degree in Human Service Administration. She is the Executive Director of CDS Unistel.

RESOLVE is celebrating National Infertility Awareness Week by asking people to Bust A Myth about infertility.

Myth: The pain of infertility is cured with parenthood.

I am an adoptive mother of one. My husband, AJ and I are also expecting another baby boy through international adoption. Our son, Min who is now 4 came home from S. Korea in June of 2008. Parenthood is a dream come true. We couldn’t be happier with our little family, and it is very exciting to have a brother for our son. However, the very long and arduous journey to parenthood has left an imprint on my soul forever.

Infertility, the disease of infertility changes one’s life. We tried for nearly 4 years to conceive through Assisted Reproductive Technology. I had an ectopic pregnancy, and shortly thereafter our attempts to get pregnant stopped. The financial and emotional toll were too much. We were faced with an extremely difficult question.

Will we ever be parents?

When you have to ask yourself this question because of circumstances out of your control, the words seem like those uttered by someone else. The thought makes your insides ache; the conversation surrounding your future life with or without children implodes a sadness beyond comprehension. I will never forget that period of time when every sight and sound of babies and families made tears sting my eyes. So many people were moving on with their lives and becoming parents, and we were alone with our grief. We were alone with our inability to plan for a pregnancy and enjoy telling our parents that they would be grandparents. We were missing out on so many important milestones.

Everything became about the word “if.” If we have a child, we will use this room for the nursery. If I get pregnant, we won’t be able to go on that vacation next year. If we become parents, teaching him or her how to play baseball, golf, or fish will be so wonderful.

“If” hung in the balance and was a constant reminder that we did not know what our future entailed as a couple or individuals.

When Min came home, a friend of mine said, “Now you’re in the club.” She meant the parenthood club. But I thought to myself, I’m in a lot of clubs. I was still infertile and without the experience of pregnancy. And it hurt.

Procreating is such a natural part of being human. When you are forced to come to terms with the fact that it may never happen, you are giving up a large piece of yourself. It’s a blow so unexpected it takes your breathe away. As a woman I feel like I will never be able to catch up in the circle of conversations that revolve around becoming a mom. When I get together with women, the first third of conversation regarding pregnancy, giving birth, breast feeding, swaddling an infant (my son came to us at 15 months), and deciphering if baby looks like mom or dad will forever elude me. I am different and always will be.

There are so many days when infertility escapes me, and I am simply happy to see my son grow into a little boy. I am planning the nursery for baby Wee’s arrival. Having a child is a blessing no matter how they came into your life. But at 33 years old, still in child-bearing years and still surrounded by peers having babies and growing their families, I continually have to face the disappointment of infertility. The ability to grieve a loss and move on cannot take place because the loss is continual. The reminders turn up every where.

I work hard on finding peace with my situation. I may never experience pregnancy, but I am experiencing parenthood through a very special means. Unexpected circumstances brought our son home. Sifting through experiences of the past 7 years I find the hidden gifts bestowed upon us due to the struggle of infertility. My understanding of why AJ and I have been met with this challenge becomes clearer every day.

I am happy beyond words that all of those “if’s” became a reality. I see the little socks strewn across my living room, sippy cup on the counter, and Min’s pre-school backpack hanging on its hook and genuinely relish the moments. Infertility led me to the path of adoption, and I am so proud to be an adoptive parent. AJ and I feel so fortunate that our inability to conceive led us to our son, and the arrival of our second son is extremely exciting.

To quote the book “Many Lives, Many Masters” by Dr. Brian Weiss, MD, “Patience and timing. Everything comes when it must come. A life cannot be rushed, cannot be worked on a schedule as so many people want it to be. We must accept what comes to us at a given time, and not ask for more. Time is not as we see time but rather in lessons that are learned.”
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Click here to learn more about infertility.