What The Journey Is All About: Those First Days of School

It is difficult to believe that our formerly poor quality embryo has just entered the third grade.

I can still remember the pangs of yearning that I would feel this time of year as I watched the bleary eyed kids lined up at bus stops, nervously chattering with friends, or clinging to their parents for dear life.

I would slow down at the 15 mile an hour zones, wondering when the day would come that I would be making that turn over the speed bumps into the drop off circle to deliver my child into the education system.

This morning was dramatic, heartbreaking, exciting and miraculous all at once.

The drama came when Elliana didn’t get the teacher she had hoped for.  It was exacerbated by the fact that half of the friends from the year before went into that very teacher’s class.  The finishing touch was the principal’s mispronouncing Elli’s name–which wouldn’t been so bad if she hadn’t pronounced a BOY’S name (Eli).

I was heartbroken for her as she cried watching her friends line up in the line she visualized herself in the past few weeks.  I heard the helicopter rotors begin to spin as Lisa planned operation ream the principal’s butt.

The drama of the morning was calmed with heartfelt apologies from the principal, a review of the roster revealing the cause of the “Eli” mispronunciation, and a very loving teacher that by the end of the day, Elliana is absolutely thrilled with.

The excitement in Elliana’s voice as she described the “spy” theme of the class events made me realize how crazy, tragic and wonderful the world can be.

That little chattering former kidsicle in a freezer in New Jersey is a miraculous creation.  I laugh thinking that stubborn little embryo that our reproductive endrinologist struggled to get out of the catheter when she was transferred into Lisa more than nine years ago, is now so independent and brave.

I silently thank God for giving me the wisdom to see beyond my own frustration with all those years of infertility treatments.   If I hadn’t stuck it out, I wouldn’t be taking that turn into the school, easing over those speed bumps, to drop my daughter off for the beginning of her third grade days.








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