RememeRED: Slender Promise *And LTYM Tix Are On Sale!*




It’s finally here, Tix to see Listen To Your Mother NYC on

Sunday, MAY 6th 2pm at the JCC MANHATTAN are available through Eventbee for $30

You can CLICK RIGHT HERE to purchase yours.

 (if you’d like to come to see me  and my fellow writers read our works about Motherhood I urge you to buy tickets quickly as we are certain that the program will sell out soon.)

I’d be honored, humbled and happy to see you there!

Listen to Your Mother is  also donating 10% of every tix purchased to Room to Grow  

(a local charity that serves mothers babies and young children)

See You There!!!!  


Write on Edge: RemembeRED

There came a time in 2007 when I had swallowed enough Clomid to explain away my awful mood swings, had endured enough timed and uninspired sex to make a hooker blush and visited enough doctors to have my own degree in the sensitive art of procreation.

Smiles were forced, desperation was abundant and joy was moored. If I had been a boat, I would have been just floating in the shipyard, rocking back and forth with no chance of leaving my slip.

The truth?

I was in desperate need of a silver lining, something that would prove to me that the last 4 years of my life had been worth something.

It came in the form of prefilled syringes, alcohol swabs and daily internal ultrasounds. Little by little, picture by blurry fuzzy picture of blobs attached to my ovaries moved the clouds aside to reveal small bits of blue sky.

It was enough to push me to heat progesterone oil in the middle of a balmy May and wince only slightly as John glided needles into the fleshy part of my tush, it was enough to steady me as they readied me for the surgery that would harvest the blobs from my stimulated and baseball sized ovaries and it was even enough to carry me through the next 5 days as the phone calls came in one by one to update us on the state of the embryos we had finally managed to make after 4 long years.

My feet in stirrups on Memorial Day 2007, they glided two blastocysts into the warmth of my womb.

With crossed fingers and not much else we waited.

I guessed I must have prayed over the next week and a half. Knowing me I probably fell to my knees and begged for the answers I so desperately wanted but looking back I hardly remember any of it.

What I do remember? 

The body bending cramps, the anxiety, the complete refusal to take a pregnancy test choosing instead to wait for the blood test at the office.

As always, I pushed myself to the end point of procrastination and refused to pick my head up to gaze at any light at the end of the tunnel until I was sure it wasn’t a farce or a tease.

Today, there is an icon that sits in the upper right corner of our computer’s home screen. It doesn’t stand out or make its presence known, but it sits there and waits for the days that I need to click it, to hear the saved voicemail from the nurse at our fertility clinic the day of my blood draw.

“There it is…” I often whisper to myself as I listen to her animated urging for us to return her call  “…that was the first time I felt the slender promise of motherhood surface and was able to grasp,with my own hands and my own heart,the HOPE that would become Giovanni & Jacob.”


This week, we asked you to share a memoir featuring hope, expressed in 400 words or less.


15 thoughts on “RememeRED: Slender Promise *And LTYM Tix Are On Sale!*”

  1. “As always, I pushed myself to the end point of procrastination and refused to pick my head up to gaze at any light at the end of the tunnel until I was sure it wasn’t a farce or a tease.”

    The desperation and hope of coming hope is beautifully written in this line. Thank you for sharing it with us!

    1. HI Betsy,
      thank you so much for coming over to read..that means a lot to me. I am glad that line spoke to you too, it was one I fiddled with until it felt like “me saying it”. I appreciate the feedback and you coming over. :)

  2. Maybe the most provocative first sentence in blogging history. I want to say you had me at blushing hooker but we’re happily married people.

    Anyway, this is deeply personal and very revealing. You gave it to us with honesty.

    My cousin struggled with infertility for years. She now has four year old triplets – 2 boys, 1 girl. I know hers and her husbands lifes have been enriched beyond their dreams.


    1. LOL. I love thinking of YOU blushing. :)

      I wanted to write this as if I were telling you the story and I’m glad it came out like that. Infertility is too much and not enough all at once , it is hard to find the words, but thank you for telling me I might have with this piece.


  3. “If I had been a boat, I would have been just floating in the shipyard, rocking back and forth with no chance of leaving my slip.”

    oh how I could relate to this image of tossing and turning, movement with no where to go. It is amazing how you were able to capture so much angst and despair in so few words – I wanted to cheer out loud for you when I got to the end too. Hugs to you and your sweet family!

    1. HI Emily!!! thank you for coming over.
      and thank you for talking about the boat metaphor, I wasn’t sure about it, took it out and put it back three times but it felt like “me and my story”. I appreciate you taking the time to tell me that. THANK YOU so much my friend (HUGS BACK!!!)

  4. Hope is an incredibly powerful thing, and this piece illustrates that so well, your push through the struggle, the hard truth that hope is HARD sometimes, all of that shines in this piece, and the moored boat metaphor is wonderful.

    1. thank you Cam,…you know what I learned in writing this…that for all the years I felt like I was holding onto hope I really wasn’t…I was being optimistic, realistic but NOT hopeful. It wasn’t until I was pregnant that I felt that HOPE, and that’s why I had to write this to share it with others that may be wondering where their hope is. I believe someone else holds it for you until you can.

      SO THANK YOU….you liking this makes it even sweeter.

  5. Oh yes, that tiny slender of hope was something I will never forget. “See that right there (as he pointed to the ultrasound screen), that’s your baby.” Maybe…. Just maybe.

    1. oh yes Jennifer, exactly like that. I was just saying that I had someone else hold the HOPE, but when i could believe it was Real…that’s when hope flooded me.

      thank you for reading it and “getting it” with me. That means so much to me. :)

  6. For someone who doesn’t have the slightest idea about the struggle with infertility this shines a light and makes me understand better. I’m so so glad that things finally worked out and you have your boys now. :)

  7. As a woman who has been TTC, your words give me hope…oh so much. And I can imagine how that little voicemail reminder is like a gift and a reminder of those dark days shattered with light.

    Your words pictures are so deeply emotional, provoking my own. I appreciate that so much.

    Thank you for sharing this glimpse into your journey!

    1. HI are you??? it’s been a long time but it’s so nice to see you here.

      I hope that whatever HOPE or Promise I offered you here you hold it with both hands…or let ME hold it until you can. My prayer is always for my dear friends who want a child, who long to be called “mommy”, like you.

      sending love, hope and hugs to you..xo

  8. Oh Kir, I love this piece. And I love your response to Cam, about that sliver of distinction between optimism and hope. They ARE different, and I think that when you are optimistic, as you and I are :) the loss of hope is sneaky. We don’t realize it’s gone until a glimmer of it returns; we just feel the cloud of its loss.

    1. BEST COMMENT EVAH!! (Or at least lately!!!) I agree and I’m glad that I wrote it like that..that the line exists between the 2 and so I have people HOLD HOPE for me while I remain (or try to) optimistic. THANK YOU for these words, they made “all the difference” today. xoxox

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