Let’s talk about hope. On this journey, hope can feel like a fragile butterfly. You see it fluttering in the distance, beautiful and full of promise. But the moment you try to grasp it, to hold onto it tightly, it can feel like it might just flutter away, leaving you with empty hands. Especially when you’re starting a new cycle. After the disappointment of the last one, letting yourself feel hopeful again can feel risky. It can feel like setting yourself up for another fall. Your mind might be screaming, "Don't get your hopes up!" And so, you try to protect yourself by keeping your heart guarded, by refusing to let that butterfly land. But what if there was a way to hold onto that fragile hope, not by grasping it tightly, but by anchoring it? What if you could create a tangible touchstone, a small object that, when you hold it, reminds you of the possibility, the purpose, and the quiet strength that brought you to this new beginning? In our GrowingMyFamily community, we...
Let’s talk about your home. Not just the building you live in, but the feeling of it. The way you can kick off your shoes at the door, drop your bags, and feel the armor you wear all day finally slide off your shoulders. Your home is supposed to be the one place in the world that is entirely, completely yours. It’s your sanctuary, your escape, your soft place to land after battling the outside world. But when you’re on a long family-building journey, a strange and unwelcome visitor can start to move in. It doesn’t ring the doorbell or knock. It just slowly, quietly, seeps in through the cracks until one day, you look around and realize it has taken over. That visitor is the medical world. And suddenly, your home is no longer just a home. It’s an outpatient clinic. It’s a pharmacy. It’s a laboratory. The clinical, sterile, and stressful world of "trying" has staged a full-scale invasion of your most personal and sacred space, and it can feel like there is nowhere left to hide....