An Early Gift

It isn’t Valentine’s Day without an ice pick. My husband made this for me today. 

A Gift

An admirer brought me a present tonight at work: the cutest rosary ever. My husband told me to let him down easy. 


It’s Mother’s Day here in the US; for the first time in ten years, it hasn’t been a day of grieving my infertility. 

It feels good and it feels bad. Bittersweet, and I hate that word. It’s my husband’s first Mother’s Day without his mother, and I hurt for him. I’m sorry, Ian. 

But it hasn’t hurt me not being a mother today like it has in years past. I don’t know how to explain; I can’t put words to it. Can I?

I’ve let it go. Today is a day, just as yesterday and tomorrow. What happens, happens. 

It isn’t throwing in the towel. It’s being present and being able to appreciate what I do have, rather than shed tears of longing for what I have not. 

A Gift

At dinner with my brother Sunday night, I wondered aloud what was in my present. 


Hint: it’s half a lemon. 

And alas, my tuna was woefully overcooked, but still tasty nonetheless.