Ruby it is.

There's a Gap in Los Angeles at the infamous Grove Shopping Center that is a two story mega Gap, with Baby Gap, Boy Gap, Diane Von Furstenburg baby clothes Gap, Body Gap and the creme de la creme, Maternity Gap. It's quite literally a Mecca for pregnant women and moms, and I have had my fair share of melt downs in this store over the years during my own VERY challenging fertility journey. I've witnessed very pregnant women buying yummy cotton maternity shirts, or baby clothes for their child to be, or just walking around in a pregnant daze with their own personal soundtrack and people smiling from ear to ear while holding the door open for them. For the past five years, while trying to get pregnant, I've left the Gap-azon after buying a cute newborn outfit for someone else's child, in all sorts of states that I'm not necessarily proud of: I've left crying, cursing God, and laughing maniacally at the injustice of life while quietly convincing myself that my life is better than theirs because I have freedom and the ability to go to the movies whenever I want. As if a comparison of one person's life to another is ever a way to live. Needless to say, this particular Gap holds a lot of emotions and memories for me.

Well, the most amazing thing happened the other day at THE Gap.

After a lot of literal blood, sweat and tears and some good fortune, I was now one of the very pregnant women shopping for a cotton maternity shirt, for $4.99 on sale, with horizontal stripes, to fit over my 7 month pregnant belly. My internal soundtrack was a mixture of Adele, The Beatles and a groovy chant by Guru Singh. I wasn't in a daze, quite the contrary, this moment was not lost on me. In fact, I had a smile from ear to ear that finally I was having my Gap moment in the sun. Finally, I was going to be the lady who people smile at "just because" and who folks hold open doors for. I was/am seven months pregnant buying maternity clothes and I wanted to soak up this moment and make it last forever.

This lovely sales associate named Tean asked if I was doing okay and if I needed help, and we struck up a conversation.

"How far along are you?", she asked.

"Seven Months", choking back tears of joy.

"And you're having a girl." It wasn't a question, mind you. It was a statement.

"Good guess, Tean. Yes, I'm having a girl."

Tean then said, "Well, I hope you're going to name her RUBY."

I dropped my striped shirt on the floor and became flushed, "What did you say?"

Tean repeated exactly the same words as before, "I hope you're going to name her Ruby."

I literally couldn't believe my ears.

"Why are you saying that?" I asked her as I let the tears fall, "That's my Grandmother's name and yes, Ruby is a name we are seriously considering. One of two names actually. But we were just waiting to meet her to make the final decision." Tean and I talked for the next hour and had an incredible conversation. She's twenty seven and in the process of adopting two boys. Her sparkly eyes and incredibly open heart made me want to stay at The Gap all day and chat. The bottom line explanation, according to Tean, for this 1 in a billion moment happening is that she has always had spirits hanging around her and that the words, "I hope you name her Ruby" was said by "someone" and she just blurted it out.

Whether it was my Grandmother, who I worshipped with all of my being and who taught me card games, manners and the proper way to snap and prepare green beans, or the little spirit that's been hanging around me for so many years and is now in my belly, or the both of them conspiring and imploring us to choose the name that we've always had in our hearts, Lord knows I don't need much more convincing than that moment with Tean to know that Ruby it is.

Jason agrees.

At the end of our chat, Tean and I hugged for a very long time, and we actually said that we loved each other as I left. Who does that? The profundity of this moment will never leave me. It's a story I will share with anyone who will listen and especially with my daughter. It's a story of perseverance and never giving up on a dream, facing the incredibly difficult challenges that life throws us as best we can, and to always be open to the miracles around us, big and small, everyday. It's a theme I've written about, even when I wasn't quite sure I believed it. But now, I'm a believer, and in my darkest moments, I will always have THE GAP.

Note to Self: Expect a miracle. For reals.

HAPPY NEW YEAR -- IT'S 20 (GULP) 12

WIPE THE SLEEP FROM MY EYES, STRETCH OUT THE HOLIDAY COBWEBS, TURN OFF THE IOWA CAUCUS RESULTS, AND LET'S DO THIS!!!!

LET'S MAKE THIS YEAR ONE OF:

RADICAL LOVE.
JOYFUL DAYS.
PEACEFUL NIGHTS.
AND PLENTY OF TREATS FOR EVERYONE.

MY 2012 NOTE TO SELF:

WHERE YOUR ATTENTION GOES, ENERGY FLOWS --- FOCUS ON WHAT'S GOOD.

I am Pregnant! You heard me......Pregnant!

Listen up, Good People.

I've waited almost four months to share this exciting news and have almost written to you everyday.

I'm pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Couldn't be more excited and wanting to shout it from the mountaintops.

If you've followed this blog at all, you've been with me through a lot of tears, frustrations, ugly faces, and 100 percent lack of faith in God, myself and anything that has anything to do with babies and me. I've bitched and complained and also found faith again, all while writing in this blog. It's been a place where I could share the almost unexplainable pain and suffering that I've gone through trying to get pregnant and start a family with Jason. And every time I wrote that I got my period again, or IVF didn't work or an adoption fell through, I always felt a sigh of relief at the end of this little box. Somehow, just writing it all down, barfing it out, sharing it, would always make it better and knowing that good thoughts were coming my way, made the days a little easier.

I'm no expert, I'm no scientist, and I'm about as far from a theologian as one can get, but I can sit here at my desk and tell you that sharing this journey with you has been one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences of my life. You, who sits there and reads this, are a witness and many of you have prayed for me, lit candles for me, and I cannot thank you enough. I'm on my knees in gratitude and am weeping as I write this. You are my miracle. That you've cared enough to care, and ask and comment, has been my salvation. Thank you to the ends of the earth and beyond where the sweetness of miracles live.

We are Fifteen Weeks Pregnant and having a Girl. Science worked. God worked. It worked.

God willing, it will all continue working and on June 8th, or somewhere around there, I will give birth to Ruby.

And if I may be so bold, to anyone who is reading this and has been on a long road or journey of your own, without results or what you desire, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP! Take it from me, persistence is the answer to getting what you want in life, no matter what it is.

I'm here if you need me.

XO, Andrea

The miracles of AMMA and the TSA

About one month ago, on my way to NYC, to attend The Joyful Heart Gala, (I'm a proud board member) and I went through TSA security at LAX. Don't you hate traveling these days? I took off my belt, my shoes, (ew) and my watch (that was a gift from Oprah you heard me, Oprah) and a ring that was made by my very dear friend, Robin Renzi the amazing artist behind the jewelry line, Me and Ro. Now, by the sound of this, you might think I have very expensive jewelry, but the truth is, these two pieces are some of the most valuable pieces I own, and both have incredible sentimental value. Oprah/Robin. Oprah/Robin. It wasn't until I was washing my hands in the lavatory that I realized that I was watch and ring-less and I let out a scream that the pilot heard. Short of losing my engagement/wedding ring, losing these two pieces of jewelry was the most devastating (and costly) I could imagine.

For the next five hours I relived the placing of the ring and watch in the plastic bin, beat myself up, couldn't believe I left them behind, tried to think of where else I could have left them. Starubcks? Nah. And then resigned myself to the fact that I will probably never see them again. The ring? I know Robin, and while she no longer makes this design, she's a dear friend and she is the kind of gal that would make me another one. The watch? Oprah. Forget it. Good bye diamond encircled black alligator band, water proof, opalescent face, Phillip Stein. I don't imagine that I'll ever receive another gift bag quiet like the one my friends and I did from Oprah that weekend we spent in Montecito. But that's another story.

Here's where I get to the point: I landed. I called Jason and begged him to drive to the airport to claim my jewels. He drove on a Sunday. Not fun considering he already drove me to drop me off. They said "sorry sir, we don't give them back to anyone else other than the person who left them behind. Your wife will have to call and file a report." It was Sunday. Did I mention that? I called on Monday. I heard from a guy named Jose on Thursday, while I was still in NYC and all they said was to call back. I called back about 15 times and never heard from anyone again. When I returned from NYC a week later, as I was walking out of the airport and asked if I could claim my jewels, the badged TSA guy laughed and said, "we don't have them. Good Luck. I thought that was the end of my story.

I actually kind of forgot about the jewels. You know how that is: We lose. We Grieve. We forget. But upon further investigation, because there was a nagging voice inside me that said, "Don't give up" I found that there is a TSA lost and found office near the airport that you can physically go to and see if there's a pot at the end of the rainbow.

One month later, almost to the day, a dear friend and I were on our way to see AMMA, the hugging Saint who makes her yearly trek to LA to give out thousands and thousands of blessings/hugs. I'd never heard of her, but I'm in a big need of any blessing I can get and this sounded like a perfect way to spend a Friday morning. AND I could maybe swing by the TSA lost and found (had no idea where it was) and see if by one chance in a million they would have my jewels. We drove to the first address I had and a grumpy, yet helpful police officer said,"Go across the street and the TSA lost and found is there." Well, across the street is where AMMA was. That can't be right. How could AMMA, the hugging saint from India be close to my country's National Homeland Security Lost and Found office?

It was. In fact, I would say, without being hyperbolic that they were about 500 steps apart from each other. I walked into the lost and found at 10:00 am and by 10:15 I was pleading with the sweet woman behind the desk. Told her my sad story, as I stared at about 50 unclaimed laptops. She looked into her computer through her legal pad and then said, "Hey I was the one who got this jewelry that day." I screamed, "What?? YOU have my jewelry." Within Five minutes the sweet, helpful woman emerged with a plastic baggy and inside was the ring and watch. I did a TSA, Homeland Security Dance and hugged the lady behind the desk.

Ten minutes later, we were amidst an AMMA hugging frenzy. It was a good Friday full of blessings, lost treasures and hugs.

Note to Self: Don't give up on yourself. Your Government. And your need to get a hug.

Marrying God on the "end of the world" day.

These two beautiful girls are my twin neighbors, Cindy and Sandy, who I've written about in previous posts. (Can you believe how grown up and gorgeous they are?) As a re-cap, they are from Guatemala, they always seem to ask the most profoundly astute questions at just the right and sometimes the wrong time. Such as "why don't you have babies?" after I've just come back from the fertility doctor. Or when our husky, Newman was ill and we knew our vet was going to come over and send him to doggie heaven, they came over to say good bye and asked "are you going to shoot him?" Or the time they came over and we had a Menorah and a Christmas tree in the window and they revealed they secretly wished they were Jewish, "because Jews are rich."

We first met Cindy and Sandy when they were ten years old and would come to our door dressed as little witches for Halloween, and here they are four years later, at their communion service in a very robust Saint Tomas Catholic church, just a few blocks away from our house. It's an all Latin American church and the entire service was in Spanish. My broken Spanglish got us through some of it, but truth be told, I'm embarrassed I don't speak more of the language. I grew up in Texas, live in Los Angeles and it was my minor in College. I have no excuses. I think I've been waiting for my Exchange Student experience that escaped me in college to happen as an adult. Bucket List: Live in a Spanish speaking country for a year (preferably Spain) so I can fully learn the language.

The communion for the twins was on May 21st, the day that the world was predicted to end by some English speaking radio minister who spent hundreds of thousands of dollars marketing this idea. Cindy, Sandy and the hundreds of other folks in the church, clearly didn't get the message. Maybe it was the language barrier. Their day was not about how the world was going to end and what can I sell before it happens, but more like "this is the day I'm marrying God, and I've got the white dress to prove it."

The proud woman behind them is their Aunt, you can't see their gorgeous Mom to her left. After the service we went across the street to the Catholic store and bought little religious bracelets and book marks about walking with the Lord and we gave them a little money. I had never been to a communion before. It's like a BaT Mitzvah with....wait for it.....JESUS. We went to their house, on the porch, party next door, and took pictures of the family, drank some red wine and listened to very loud Guatemalan Reggae/Rap. It felt good and we were both honored to be included in their celebration.

When I asked the girls what's the most important thing they learned during their communion studies they said, "Finally we get to try the wine and the bread." The twins never disappoint.

Whatever the case may be, while thousand of folks across the nation were preparing for the rapture, there were two young girls who live in a crowded two bedroom apartment with their Mother who doesn't speak English and cleans homes for a living, doing her best to give her gorgeous daughters a relationship with God and a leg up in this world that she didn't have. Jason and I are going to do everything we can to help them along the way.

Note to Self: Be good to your neighbor.

Blizzard cont'd

As you can tell by this photo, the master plan of giving Blizzard away, the white husky who showed up on our front door four months ago, didn't work. I want you to know that I did make the eight hour drive to my friend Cal's house North of San Francisco, to give him to her. The whole way up there, I knew he wasn't going anywhere. As I rounded the sun kissed corners of the Sonoma Coast and with the ocean crashing on my left hand side of my car, I would look back at his face and see the worry in his eyes and the trust in his heart. How could I give this creature away to anyone? Even if the anyone was one of my closest friends. I've never seen a dog so attached so fast. He literally was glued to my side and when we tried to put him in her 1/2 acre fenced yard, he FREAKED out. Started jumping to clear the six foot fence and digging a trench big enough to fit his long white body. He knew that my plan was to leave him there, and he wasn't going to let it happen. Even if she did have a view of the Pacific Ocean and vineyards surrounding her house.

So the next day, I loaded him up in my car and I drove back eight hours and thus began the fun of having three dogs. I can't explain this relationship and how it began or why it works so well. Just like I can't reasonably explain why children have eluded us, but Huskies magically appear on our doorstep. But I can tell you this, that Spring has Sprung and the possibility of life is all around us. Wiley and Blizzard are best friends. They play and kiss and lay with their paws touching. I can't look at them and not smile. I can't help but see magic in their eyes. And even though I thought by taking in another dog I was sending a message that my Love Basket was full, and there would be no room for a baby. That was fear taking over. We will have more one more dog bowl, more dog food to buy and more poop to clean up, but the love won't run out. And there's plenty more where that came from.

Note to Self: when love comes to your front door, let it in.

Blizzard

This beautiful Husky came to our front gate two weeks ago and stuck his nose through the fence to say hello to our other Husky, "Wiley", who also appeared on our front door (two years ago), who we kept and who appears throughout this blog.

Here's the strange thing about this story, besides the fact that we have random, homeless, collarless, starving, Huskies come to us in the night, each time a Husky has appeared we have been close to either having a child or adopting a child. Our eldest Husky, Newman, died a year and a half ago, he was 15 and I really believed and so did all my friends, that when he passed we would immediately get pregnant. Well, that didn't happen, but Wiley appeared on our front door and now this guy. We've named him "Blizzard" and he's turned out to be a majestic and magical salve to a failed adoption and another holiday without kids in our home. He's hilarious and loves Wiley and we want to keep him so badly but we can't. I really believe our heart is open and so is our home for this child, which is why all these other "babies" are showing up.

My plan is to drive him eight hours in a car tomorrow to my friend, Cal's house. She's planning on adopting him and making him her own. She lives in the country and has a 1/2 acre fenced yard. I will miss him, but am thrilled that he will live in her love.

I don't have a reasonable or logical explanation for what this phenomenon is....why these dogs appear when they do and why they happen to be Huskies, but I do know that it feels like magic, it feels like hope, it feels like love.

Note to Self: Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.