More wishes…

came in through phone calls where my girlfriends had much to say, their thoughts and stories impossible to capture in any form of correspondence.

Each conversation, some brief and some a half hour-long were all steeped with memory-provoking stories which, still resulted in me crisscrossing my legs and arms. Now laughter and gratitude peppered our talks as we also  buoyed each others’ new endeavors. Right before we hung up each one reiterated their wish.

“I wish people would simply shut up and hug the other person, I mean a real hug, a nice long one where the person can just fall into you.”

“I wish more people understood, that ‘I’m so sorry’ goes a long way.”

“I wish folks hugged more.”

“I wish for people to listen to each other more.”

I also received this comment on the blog (thank you!) and wanted to share it:

“I wish for any women undergoing infertility to find a support group, online or in real life to lean on, to hear her when no one else will listen. To not feel she has to smile through her tears or be made to feel terrible because she cannot sit through another baby shower. I wish that she remember her worth as a woman is not measured by her ability to conceive. I wish that she remember that she can still plan vacations and be romantic with her husband just because without having to monitor her cycle every waking second. I wish that she not waste hours upon hours Googling for the top 10 ways to get pregnant or every crazy potion on the market. I wish she could just love and appreciate what she has in the moment and not put off enjoying her life until she can have a child.”

 

Thank you so much to all of you who sent a wish!

Listen to your mother

Yes, you!

The listen to your mother show, listentoyourmothershow.com is coming to the Bay area! Their motto being “Giving Mother’s Day a Microphone”.

“…Remember, regular everyday people with a story to tell make up the heart of LTYM. You don’t need to call yourself a writer. You don’t need any performing experience. You just need to share the story in your heart or on your mind.”Giving Mother’s Day a Microphone.”

Time to refine and rehearse the best of our stories and tell them to a live audience. Come on, how often are we aspiring  authors invited into the giddy nervous pleasure of reading our work out loud?

I can count the times on one finger, thanks to the utter devotion of the folks at The Monterey Bay Writer’s Studio, who showcased their students as budding local writers. I was hooked. I recall my instructor, prying my hands off of the microphone ready to announce the next writer, while I stood my ground like a petulant two-year old.

I loved the view from the dais. Row upon row of bookshelves framed a hefty and enthusiastic audience that made me feel like the famous authors’ photographs that lined the bookstores walls. I didn’t have a book to sell. Yet, but I would.

I do. I’m auditioning in February, how about you?

 

What’s your wish?

I told you mine in yesterday’s post, so please, tell me yours.

I coo at each and every comment I receive via post, phone call, and email, and am working on shepherding all of you into my blog. Please, think about it.

And meanwhile,–What’s your wish?

 

My wish to women going through infertility

I wish you shed off the filmy, suffocating label of infertile with more expediency than I did.

I wish that as soon as you can, you step out, one foot at a time, careful not to trip over the hem of your pent-up feelings, and toe that heap of uselessness away before you take another step.

I couldn’t do it for myself for far too long, even when I knew how to advocate. I instinctively grew claws when my sons entered elementary school and refused the set of labels the caring and concerned teachers and evaluators bandied around.

I countered with their background and that boys were ill-suited for sitting long stretches at a time. I’d blame the summer when my sons lived outside, like feral kittens, in a tent away from the house where they’d pee and contribute to the decimation of invasive shrubs, and shower from the hose. They came in to forage for food only after the parade of ants and beetles in front of their tent flap passed by. They’d settle down, I promised. Just wait and see, I’d smile, just wait, you’ll see.

That’s another post, for another day.

All this to say that only we can refuse any label, even infertility, when it feels glommed on like a facial masque, sucking out the moist juicy you and seemingly rendering our insides into ashes. But, it doesn’t have to define us. It doesn’t have to tattoo itself to our soul. We don’t have to pick it up and clunk it around either, like the Opus Dei, flagellating ourselves in penance.

I did. All of the above and more, but you don’t have to.

That’s my wish for you.

Stretch Marks release date

My learning curve has been steep. I have the callouses to prove it. And I smile when I state this.

The publication process is daunting. Holding the proof of Stretch Marks in paperback this week demanded I look uphill once again. While I was thrilled with the professional quality and the I’m a bona fide author sensation, I knew it wasn’t ready–sigh– for release.

I’m still, all too often, stunned when another one of my assumptions doesn’t pan out. Yet, I’m enjoying it, mistakes and all. The CreateSpace team is great to work with and My Man has my back on this one.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed for releasing Stretch Marks this month.