Infertility is painful. It’s isolating. It’s unfair.

The only person you can depend on to be there for you and understand you completely is your significant other because they are living this nightmare with you. Right?

Not me. Not here. Not in my relationship.

We have secondary infertility. We conceived our son naturally (although we knew his semen analysis was abnormal and just happened to get lucky the month I had my HSG) and have been trying for almost a year for #2.

We have male factor infertility. All of my tests come back normal. I don’t have endo or PCOS or any of the things that plague women. It’s all on him. Sometimes I wish we had female infertility. It is so much easier for me to handle things when I am in control. But this is not something I can control. It’s all on him. He needs to cut sugar and caffeine and alcohol. It’s his sperm! There’s nothing I can do except nag him every night about making better choices and have his vitamins waiting for him at his bedside when he tries to go to sleep without taking them. And of course, all of this nagging and mothering really puts him in the mood for sex… every 3 days…during my fertile period… you know because he takes FOREVER to regenerate any kind of count! It’s all so very romantic… {insert eye roll here}

The other night I was reading one of my favorite blogs, Trials Bring Joy. I love that the writer does these guest writing blogs called “What It’s Like.” Each post is something different. What It’s Like to Be a Stay at Home Mom. What It’s Like to Lose a Parent. What It’s Like to Go Through The Adoption Process. And one of my favorites… What It’s Like to Have Male Factor Infertility. You should really check these blogs out!

Anyway, I am reading this post and I suddenly laugh out loud. My husband who is sitting next to me asks me what is so funny. I shared with him an excerpt from the blog where the woman talks about her husband’s take on MFI and he compares his sperm to a tennis team. He explains the comparison by saying it’s because there are not that many of them and most of them are weird as hell. The image that my mind conjured was PERFECTION! I still smile just thinking about it.

My husband however didn’t see the humor. He just looked at me like I was crazy and said what else did he say. I read him the entire paragraph about this man’s feelings on his MFI diagnosis. My husband listens and says to me, “Do you wanna know how I feel about all of this?” I responded with a YES! He looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I don’t feel anything about it. I don’t really care.”

Silent pause for me to process…

You see my husband doesn’t talk about any of this. I assumed that it was because he was embarrassed or ashamed. He’s not much to talk about his feelings or emotions, so I let it be. He doesn’t come to any appointments unless his sperm is needed. I assumed it was because he takes his job very seriously and didn’t want to miss days unnecessarily. Also I work at the hospital where my appointments are so I just run down for tests and blood work on my breaks. No big deal. He never asks me how anything is going or how I am feeling. I assumed it was because he didn’t want to upset me by constantly talking about it and asking me questions.

I didn’t think it was because he didn’t care.

Now let me be fair and say that my husband can be a child sometimes. He often says things without thinking and then later analyzes what he said and apologizes for it not being what he meant. Of course he did that this time too. But a part of me is not buying that. I think on some level he said exactly what he feels. He is perfectly content just having our son. He is more of the “if it’s meant to happen it will” type. He also operates on the “it happened before when they said it wouldn’t, so they are probably wrong this time too” idea. He has no clue how hurtful is when I want siblings for our son and he acts like he could go either way. He doesn’t dwell on this like I do. He tells me about pregnancy announcements over dinner in his nonchalant way and doesn’t realize my heart is breaking. When I am in public I am hyperaware of all the pregnant people around me and the women wearing newborn babies in their beautiful wraps. He never notices.

If infertility were a sport, every husband and wife would be on the same team. But I can’t help but wonder how successful our team would be if we aren’t both committed to achieving the same goal. Are there really any teams where infertility is concerned or are we all just individuals running our own race?


On the IVF train…

I guess we’re on the path of IVF. I still haven’t quite wrapped my head around it. I went in for a consultation after my 2nd failed IUI. I barely sat my butt in the seat when my RE announced we would be starting the IVF process. I instantly became alarmed because of the financial burden of this. Lucky for me (if you can consider dealing with secondary infertility lucky), my state just passed a bill to have insurance cover infertility. Obviously, we don’t know what exactly that is going to look like yet. But its a glimmer of hope at least.

We’re looking to begin the process in the early fall. That means I get to spend the summer enjoying my time with my lil man and not stressing about anything right? Does anyone actually know how to turn their brains off for a moment and stop thinking about pregnancy? Id love to know the secret to this. Even with this set plan I still keep googling possible resolutions for male factor infertility and hoping.

I met with a bariatric medicine doctor. I am very nervous about the IVF drugs and weight gain when I am already so overweight. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a physician guide me on a low carb, high protein diet. I am at my all time highest weight of 262.4lbs. I am going to start the program on Monday. So today I went to the bagel shop…twice. And got the biggest ice cream cone from the local creamery. I wonder if this is how an alcoholic feels taking his last drink before entering rehab…

Of course in my attempt to focus on me and get to a healthier weight, I still think about the possibility of a spontaneous pregnancy. Like what if I lose some weight and inadvertently improve my husbands sperm count with my low carb cooking and BOOM I end up pregnant?!?! I am so taken with this idea that I rejected the doctors prescription for a medication to protect my gallbladder during weight loss because I was concerned what would happen if I got pregnant and didn’t know. The constant, all consuming thoughts are relentless.

Commitment Issues

thYup. I said it. I have commitment issues. I absolutely cannot commit to anything that I’ve been told to do that might help me get pregnant. I know it sounds absurd. Of course I would do anything and everything to increase my chances of providing a sibling for my beautiful boy, but I honestly just call bullshit on the whole thing. I cannot convince myself that anything will work and so I can’t stick with any plan that I’ve laid down for myself.


“A low carb, low calorie, high protein diet is the best diet for trying to conceive. It will definitely increase your chances of getting pregnant.” That’s what the NP at my reproductive office said as she filled out my referral form for the office nutritionist. I wholeheartedly believed her in that moment. I’ve seen the success stories resulting from a diet change and subsequent weight loss. I was an avid follower of the keto diet and saw hundreds of testimonies of women that tried for a baby for so long and were finally blessed with a “keto-baby” less than 6 months after starting the diet. I, too, wanted to be one of those success stories. So I went to the store and spent $200 on meat and veggies and low carb snacks. I was ready to commit. Two days later, my husband came home to me laying in bed chowing down on my son’s chocolate chip mini muffins and washing it down with a big ole glass of chocolate milk.

Why? Why did I give in to temptation? It’s because I can’t sustain this belief beyond a few days. There are just too many other facts rolling around in my head making me question the validity of the statement. Yes. I know that being at a healthy weight will make for an easier and safer pregnancy. But low carb, high protein being the key to pregnancy success… What about teenagers? They get pregnant one night in the back of a car when the condom breaks or on the one night stand where they forgot to use protection. There are no OPK’s and ovulation tracking apps being used. It’s just by chance that it happens. Do you remember what your diet looked like as a teenager? I know my diet of chicken fingers, mac n cheese, and pizza would never be viewed as ideal pregnancy intake. And then there’s my best friend. She just delivered another beautiful baby girl 1 month ago. She basically gets pregnant just looking at her husband. Her diet consists of bagels, pizza, and mashed potatoes. This is not an exaggeration. This was the food they served at her wedding because it’s basically all she eats.

This is why I can’t commit.


“Be careful of certain medications that can limit fertility.” We’ve all been told this before. I tapered off of my anxiety medication way back in August to see if that was having an effect on my ability to get pregnant. I refused Versed for a surgery I had a few months back because I wasn’t sure what kind of effects it might have on my chance of getting pregnant that month. When I have a headache, I refuse to take ibuprofen just in case it causes my uterine lining to bleed and affect implantation of the embryo. Seriously…IBUPROFEN? What about Heroin? Any concerns there? Because I have taken care of plenty of heroin addicted babies and children born to methadone using moms. These women are on their 4th, 5th, or 8th pregnancy in a 2 year span! Obviously, these medications are not affecting fertility at all. They aren’t even taking pre-natal vitamins (which I’ve been on for 10 years to make sure I was covered if a pregnancy occurred spontaneously) or getting pre-natal care. Yet they carry babies to term and deliver (although drug addicted) relatively healthy babies. It really makes no sense to me!

This is why I can’t commit.


“Limit your exposure to harmful toxins and chemicals, especially those found in cleaning supplies in your house.” Ooooh! Maybe thats it? I can’t get pregnant because I use 409 to wipe down my counters after my husband cuts up raw chicken and spills blood everywhere. OK! I switched all of my cleaning supplies to organic. I am researching and purchasing essential oils so I can use them in place of  laundry detergent and medications. I want my home and surroundings to be as free of toxins as possible. Buttt then something happens that makes me again question the advice I am getting. This nurse that I work with was talking about how she adds bleach to the sink when she washes her dishes. Like actual bleach! BLEACH that is now on her dishes that she serves food on. Guess what? She’s pregnant with her 5th baby. She is one of 8 children. And her mom is one of 9 children. All of the women in her family clean with pure bleach. All of the women in her family are baby making machines!

I used to work in the Post Anesthesia Care Unit at the hospital. That is the job I had when I conceived and carried my son. We conceived naturally and I had an extremely normal pregnancy. I’ve read countless articles about the questionable safety of being a PACU nurse. There has always been concern about the anesthetic gasses that are exhaled by the patients immediately post-op and therefore inhaled by the healthcare workers. Apparently my body (and those of all my PACU co-workers) thrives on the inhalation of gasses when attempting to conceive. Because now, I am safely tucked away in an office, 3 floors above the PACU, completely removed from all that harmful gas, but I am not pregnant am I?

This is why I can’t commit.


“You have to reduce your stress levels. High cortisol levels will decrease your chances of conceiving. Stop worrying so much and just relax. It will happen.” Ugh! The dreaded “it’ll happen when you’re not expecting it” advice coupled with the “just relax…” idea. Do you know how impossible it is to stop stressing about something that is as important to you as growing your family? You can’t. And honestly I don’t buy the whole low stress thing as a whole. I mean sure, as a nurse, I know what high cortisol can do to the body. I’ve read articles and blogs of women who switched careers or quit high stress jobs and got pregnant that very next month. But I just can’t support it 100%.

Problem 1… I have the lowest stress job ever! I am an assistant nurse manager. I am not at the bedside taking care of sick and dying patients. I am not the manager that has the stress of everything resting on their shoulders. I’m just the assistant. I make my own schedule. I’m salaried, so if I’m running late it’s all good. I can just stay late to make up the hours. I don’t work long overnight shifts or 10 shifts in a row. My situation is a dream. Especially compared to the demands of my PACU staff nurse position that I held when I conceived my son. Now that was stressful. Getting yelled at by surgeons every day. Having patients try to punch you in the face when they come out of anesthesia scared and confused. It was rough. Apparently my uterus preferred that job over my low stress career choice.

Problem 2… I have a friend who has 4 children and found out her husband was cheating on her and planned to leave her. She had to put her children in daycare and find a job ASAP. One night while attempting to “de-stress” by going out with some work friends, she made the decision to move on in the form of a one night stand. 6 weeks later… BFP! Really? Really? I’m using OPK’s, temping, and having timed intercourse here and can’t get pregnant. But an ill-timed tryst with a random guy… BOOM! Pregnant.

This is why I can’t commit.


“Limit alcohol intake when trying to conceive… it will help maintain a healthy environment for you and it will increase your husbands sperm count.” Uh huh. I tried. I really tried with this one. For 3 months my husband and I basically swore off alcohol. We didn’t even go to places where alcohol would be lest we smell it and get drunk by osmosis. Ok. We didn’t go that far. But seriously we did not have a single drink in 3 months. Do you know what we got for it? Absolutely nothing. Actually, I’m pretty sure my cortisol levels were higher than ever without my weekly ritual of a bubble bath, candles, and white wine while reading a good book. So that can’t be good.

But if you’re the type that needs scientific proof… I got that for you. We did IUI this month and last month. My husbands sperm count prior to starting fertility treatments was borderline low, but we were mostly concerned about his motility and morphology. Since starting the treatments…aka stopping alcohol consumption… he has had his lowest sperm count to date. It seems like the longer he goes without a beer the less his sperm feel like doing their job. Perhaps, they have banned together in a sperm union and decided they would no longer work if we don’t bring back happy hour at the end of a long day. I mean seriously people… his last count at my IUI 3 days ago…1.2 million! Thats it. 1.2 MILLION! The doctor said have faith… “it only takes one.” I barely heard the rest of the conversation because I was on  my phone mapping out which vineyard we were stopping at on the way home.

F*** alcohol reduction. If a college girl can get knocked up at a party on 4th of July weekend after a 4 day tequila binge than I think my husband and I having 1-2 drinks per week is going to be a-ok!

This is why I can’t commit.

Making New Mom Friends (like dating but worse)

Making friends was so much easier when we were younger. I am 10 years older than my next sibling so I spent a lot of time identifying as an only child and the challenges and loneliness that come with that. I remember hanging out on the beach and digging holes in the sand. Some poor soul would be lurking near by watching me because it never occurred to her parents to bring her a bucket and shovel I guess. I would simply smile and say “Hi! Do you want to build a castle with me?” And that was it. Instant best friends for the day!

If only it were that easy as an adult…

I remember listening to this Cat & Nat #momtruthfriday about how making mom friends is the same as dating. That awkward beginning part where you identify a mom that you think has the same parenting values as you. You recognize that your kids are about the same age and seem to get along well with each other. You hear her on the phone with her husband joking about how she wishes it was appropriate to drink wine out of a water bottle to make sitting in the park in 90 degree weather more bearable. You’re all excited because you’re hopeful that you have finally found a mom friend/soulmate that just gets you.

But then how do you make the first move? You don’t want to seem too desperate and scare her off. And if you do strike up a conversation, when is the appropriate time to exchange numbers so you can make playdate plans? Getting shot down by a potential mom friend is just as awkward as getting shot down by a guy at a party back in college! And if it does go further than that first encounter, you still have that whole getting to know you phase where you only agree to hang out after a sufficient nap and with his hair clean and combed with a nice outfit on. I HATED that part of dating with my husband. I used to tell him all the time how happy I was to never have to date again!

And now having to relive it when making mom friends is even worse. I just want to get to that part where you come to my house, that is probably a mess (no judgments because were best friends), and my kid is in mismatched pajamas and still has syrup in his hair from breakfast. We fill up a baby pool in the backyard and let them do their thing while we hang in the shade drinking sangria and talk about the latest episodes of The Handmaid’s Tale and how stupid Offred was to think she wasn’t going to get caught on that plane!

Well, yesterday I had to laugh out loud because the exact scenario that Cat & Nat talk about happened to me. I was at “Muffins with Mommy” at my sons school. We send our son to Montessori school and we ABSOLUTELY LOVE the sense of community and togetherness that the school exudes! We wanted to surround our child with families that value the same things that we do. We are not super hard core fanatics or anything, but we do try to incorporate the Montessori style of teaching into our home as much as possible and our son is thriving in his school environment.

Up until yesterday, I haven’t really found a mom that I connected with though. I thought when I sent him to this school it would be easy to find moms that I had a lot in common with. After all, we already had a common ground because we all value the Montessori based education. We all get the school newsletter that contains discipline tips, healthy eating suggestions, and upcoming events in the community that are kid friendly and safe, so it should be easy to find a conversation topic or to make plans outside of school. However, I quickly learned there is a wide spectrum for the levels of commitment to the Montessori way. Some delete the educational emails and laugh at the teachings of the school (ummm why do you send your kid here then?), while others swear by the lessons and liken any other learning style to a form of torture.

I usually keep to myself at school functions (if my husband isn’t present) and when I have had a conversation with one of the moms its usually very surface level and I’m thinking of 100 ways to get out of the convo. There are 2 types of moms at his school: the stay at home mom with the super successful husband that talks about their ritzy gym membership and has their nanny come to school functions so they can “enjoy themselves without worrying about the kids and the “granola crunchy” mom who has some weirdly successful business doing I don’t know what, that preaches non-stop about the benefits of a natural parenting lifestyle, still tandem breastfeeding their 5 year old and 3 year old, co-sleeping in a twin bed, and constantly sending social media blasts about an upcoming yoga retreat in a field. I love both of these types of moms and find myself enamored with their lifestyle (especially the passion of the “granola crunchy” mom…I wish I was that hardcore about something). I’m just not like them.

And then I found Jen! My son is constantly talking about his 2 best friends at school. All day every day I hear about these boys and their adventures inside and outside of the classroom. They pretend they are dinosaurs together on the playground and crash monster trucks during story time. Jen came over to introduce herself to me since our sons are bonded at the hip. We struck up a conversation that began with us sharing war stories about parenting boys who NEVER stop moving, which led to us commiserating on how hard it is that our friends all have girls! She completely understood the difficulty of keeping our rough and energetic boys from tearing off the baby doll heads of the calm and sweet spirited little girls. The looks of pity that moms of girls give you when you carry your mud covered gremlin child off the playground laughing hysterically and fighting to get away because they somehow found the ONE puddle in the whole place and thought it was wise to roll through it. And the pure exhaustion that comes from constantly trying to protect OTHER children from your child because you can’t be sure he won’t throw a ball at a little girl with enough force to knock the cute little pig tails out of her hair. We agreed that while we love our friends dearly, it’s just become easier to NOT hang out with them. It’s too tiring to have to always apologize because boys don’t sit still and they will always think burps and farts are funny.

It was so nice to talk to someone who understands! We exchanged numbers and left the school with the promise to talk soon and set up a play date where the boys can just wreck shit and we won’t apologize a bit for it! Now I just have to figure out the appropriate length of time to wait before I can text her and not seem needy… #datingsucks

Cycle Day 1…Again!

Cycle Day 1. CD 1. Day 1.

The first day of something is never good. I really hate first days. I mean let’s think about this. Opening night of a play. How many of you have ever gone on opening night? Sure it’s exciting! It’s new and full of promise… but also full of mistakes and missteps. The lighting cues aren’t quite right. Major players forget their lines. In the end, you’re regretting going on night one because it would have been better next weekend when the bugs and kinks are worked out.

What about the first day of school? Or the first day of a new job? So much nervous energy. You don’t know anyone… Are they gonna like you? What should you say? Where do you go? So unsure of yourself and how you ended up back at the beginning again.

My job has very creatively titled the first day at our organization….it’s called…wait for it…wait for it….”Day One” (I know…it shocked me as well with the pure cleverness of it). “Day One” sucks! It’s basically an 8 hour day where they tell you things like the year the hospital was built, the mission and vision statement of the organization, where not to park, and all about the comprehensive benefits package that you will be eligible for after your 90 day probation period is over. “Day One” is just too much for anyone to handle and the only saving grace is that you KNOW that you will never have to experience “Day One” again!

That’s cycle day 1 for me… every time… only there’s no promise that you will never have to live through it again. And let’s be real! We are ok living through it again. All the cramps and icky feelings are fine. We are simply asking for an approximately 9 month hiatus from CD 1 to allow us to do the job we were put on this earth to do. Is that too much to ask? I do not think so!

I remember those days back in college when perhaps I wasn’t quite as careful as I should have been and this feeling of relief would wash over me when my cycle started. It was like being granted a new beginning, a fresh start, another chance to make better choices. How contrasting that is to my feelings now? Seeing that bright red flash of color on the toilet paper fills me with a dread that is so profound I can barely breathe. Here we go again…Back at the beginning…another month of hoping and praying…another month of symptom spotting and thinking “this could be it”…another month of clomid induced hot flashes and bloating, so bad, that you consider pulling out your old maternity jeans for the comfort of that stretchy panel of fabric, but then think twice because “what if I jinx myself by wearing maternity pants and then I don’t get pregnant this month?” Ummm yeah…. cuz that’s how it works. A divine power is looking down on women and keeping their wombs empty because they fraudulently wore maternity pants when not pregnant. Does anyone else worry that the dumbest things will keep you from conceiving a child?

That will most definitely be a topic for a future post… A list of reasons for why I’m not pregnant. It will be like those “reasons why my kid is crying” posts, where the reasons are absolute nonsense and yet you believe wholeheartedly that they could be a factor.

I hate CD1.

Even after hearing the RE tell me on Monday that my pregnancy test was negative; and waiting 3 days for my cycle to start… I still feel defeated by CD1. It’s like the last bit of hope has been taken from me. But why did I even have hope to begin with? The blood test was negative. NEGATIVE. But maybe deep down inside I had myself convinced that ] I ovulated late and so then I implanted late. Soooo MAYBE, just maybe, my period won’t come and I’ll have this amazing miracle story where I thought I was out, but then SURPRISE I’m pregnant. Yeaaaaa…..NOPE! Cycle Day 1 is here…right on schedule. pexels-photo-395196.jpeg

The Journey Begins

So here I am…writing my very first blog post. For years, people have been telling me I should write a blog or a book because apparently I have a knack for posting award winning Facebook posts! Evidently, my ability to spin mundane life events into a witty and laugh worthy Facebook post is the stuff that books are made of. I would always laugh off the suggestion because honestly…what did I have to write about in a blog and who would want to read my book??? Life has been pretty standard so far. Everything moving along by design. I doubted my ability to sustain a blog about a girl who graduates high school, goes to college, gets a job, gets married, and pops out a kid approximately 1 year later. I mean isn’t that the way the life of an American woman is supposed to look?

So now you’re probably thinking um…. why are you writing a blog then? The answer is simple…life suddenly came to a halt, turned around, and bitch slapped me in the face SO HARD that I’m still trying to get myself together. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me back up and tell you about me. Well, I’ll tell you about the me up to this point. The story of me before “Secondary Infertility” took over my google searches, Facebook groups, and every thought in my mind.

My name is Lexy. I am approximately 30 years old. I work full time as a nurse. I am married to a pretty great guy and I have one son who is the closest thing to perfection that has ever walked this planet. He just turned 2 in December and is everything I have ever dreamed of in a child. We also have a pretty adorable fur-baby who will be 3 in September. So far everything has moved right along the path that I laid down one boring day in math class in 7th grade… Yes! 7th grade! That is when I made the “blueprint” for my life in a black leather bound book that I hid in my desk, always available for me to write down my ideas whenever inspiration struck. It’s where I played “MASH” (who remembers that game…you know where you right down three choices in each category like husband, career, car, kids, etc. and then you randomly pick a number to count off by to figure out what your future holds) and where I jotted down the names of my future children, career choices, the name of the college I would go to… It was the plan that my life was meant to follow.

Notice I said future children…not child. I guess I have to add the next chapter of my life. This is definitely not something I had worked into my plan way back in Mr. Edward’s math class. Nevertheless, here I am. Getting poked, prodded, and “pilled” all in the name of love. The love I speak of is the love of being a mother. That raw and primal urge to procreate. That indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach when you watch your child play by himself and ache to give him siblings that he can grow up with, laugh with, fight with, and dream with.

I never imagined that I would be adding the words Clomid, HSG, Letrozole, Trigger Shots, IUI, and IVF into the blueprint of MY life. Those are things that those other women talk about! The ones without children… Certainly not me. Not the girl with the beautiful 2 year old boy who was conceived in an act of love between two people. No fertility drugs needed. I’m not the kind of girl who needs science to help me do what God intended a woman to do. Right?

Oh how foolish that all sounds when I write it out! But that’s what I honestly thought. I assumed the word infertile referred to a woman who could not have a child naturally. But I already did that. So I can’t be infertile can I? Cue Secondary Infertility…

The definition of secondary infertility is  the inability to become pregnant or to carry a baby to term after previously giving birth to a baby. I didn’t even know that was a thing! How do you go through 6 years of nursing school and 10 years of nursing experience and never come across this term? It wasn’t until a random google session while I sat on the bathroom floor, crying and waiting those 3 minutes for that little line to appear. Of course it never appeared. Not then and not the 50 times after.

I chose this Martin Luther King Jr. quote for my very first blog because it really spoke to me. It’s what I think to myself after every negative test. It’s what I think to myself on every cycle day 1. It’s what I think every time one of my close friends announces their 2nd, 3rd, or 8th pregnancy. I just gotta keep moving. If you can’t fly, then run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl. And for goodness sake, if you can’t get pregnant by having unprotected sex like they told you in high school health class, then borrow against your 401K, find the best reproductive endocrinologist, and pump your body full of every drug recommended. You know why? Because my motherhood blueprint clearly depicted me with multiple children and I refuse to let life change my version of happiness. I will keep fighting to have my ideal family unit and I will KEEP MOVING!

I got my results for my pregnancy blood test on Monday. It was negative. I was told to stop the progesterone suppositories and wait for my cycle to start. I haven’t had a glass of wine in 3 months since starting all the medications. Tonight I poured myself a big ole glass of Sauvignon Blanc. I need just one moment to recharge before putting on the brave face and starting again. I’m gonna put down my phone, stop the google searches, and ignore the posts in my infertility support groups. I’m going to enjoy my glass of wine and forget reality by binge watching re-runs of Friends on Netflix. Cheers to continuing to find a new path in the journey of life…

If you can’t fly, then run, if you can’t walk run, then walk, if you can’t walk, then crawl, but by all means keep moving.      – Martin Luther King Jr