Feeling equal parts terrified and exhilarated, I pressed send.
It was almost six months ago that I e-mailed my Listen To Your Mother submission. I waited on pins and needles for 10 excruciating days, waited for an invitation to audition or not.
Either way, I’d be fine. I took a chance by submitting a piece. And one of the grittiest posts I had ever written.
When the invitation came, I felt more validated that I had in a long time.
Validated and nervous.
My audition went better than I could have ever hoped. I felt good. I nailed every word and left not only proud of myself, but very honored having been asked to read my piece at all.
Even if I wasn’t cast I had already stepped way out of my comfort zone by sharing a part of myself that only few get to see. Sure I had shared it here first, but reading it out loud, owning my words was very different. It put me in a place of intense vulnerability.
Three days later I learned I would be a member of the 2013 inaugural Sacramento Listen To Your Mother cast. I was elated. This was the best news I could have received, especially on that particular day, having just found out we had to move and that our current round of IVF had to be postponed. Again.
What transpired over the following next weeks was life changing. I met the most amazing women, heard their stories of courage and strength, humor and sorrow, wisdom and love and took the stage with them and for one magical night we were united and shined together.
My knees shook as I took my place at the podium on Mother’s Day and read this:
I haven’t been able to write about my LTYM experience until now and I haven’t been able to watch my video yet either. I’m too afraid to explore why, but I believe it has everything to do with the fact that I am still battling my secondary infertility and even though it feels like I’m winning most days, others it feels like anything but.