A teacher of mine suggested that if I want to lean all the way into my truest self, I have to declare my truth in a way that makes me uncomfortable. This reminds me of a quote from Buddy the Elf in the film, Elf, “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

Consider these Letters of Rech* as me shouting “Jingle Bells” in the middle of Times Square. In July. With a megaphone. And my face plastered on one of the fluorescent jumbotrons overhead.

What I write about here will be varied, from musings on the learnings I have experienced in my global travels to Baby Recher updates as he grows and changes in real time. I may also offer recommendations of content, healing resources, or teachers to spread hope to each of you. It’s hard to get through this human existence, but when we share what we know, I find it gets a little easier.

For this inaugural missive, I share the story of how we wound up with our non-traditional baby registry. Hopefully it will help you understand my approach and also the kind of life I aspire to build for our new family.

Part 1: Jane

Seven years ago, my dear friend Jane died of cancer. Jane lived in a way that often didn’t make sense on paper yet always forged a path of wonder, magic, and spontaneity. She faced her cancer diagnosis with courage, built a care community around her, and showed us all how to live in the moment. The day after she died, I was left with a new question: “How do I honor your life, Jane?”

I had lost so many people in my life to terminal illness by then that I was used to shutting down my feelings and “moving on” as I had been taught to do. I never moved on, though. The grief remained buried inside my body in a way I did not yet understand.

Holding the question about honoring Jane, I began opening up to new experiences and choosing new behaviors instead of old patterns. Over seven years, and with the privilege to do so, I transformed the grief that had remained unconscious in me. As I healed, I rediscovered my heart’s infinite capacity to love, reconnected to Mother Earth and her wisdom, and re-embodied my human form.

Part 2: Independent Motherhood

In 2019, and before my deep healing work had begun, I heard a question arise within me about motherhood. Jane had undergone IVF fertility treatments before starting chemo and after she died, I wondered about my own fertility. With guidance from Dr. Joan Ball, in her aptly-titled WOMB research program, I mapped my deepest fears about having a baby. The biggest one was: I was afraid of losing a child. I had been taught child loss was the worst grief of all, and having known grief since I was little, of course I hadn’t risked it. I realized the potential of loss had prevented me trying to have a baby. Once that unconscious narrative had surfaced, I heard what I really felt about starting a family of my own: my heart had more love to give than I knew where to put it. That reason flooded me with hope and outweighed my fears. I decided to become an independent mother (please note: I do not identify as a single mother or single mother by choice).

I chose a sperm donor based on a few criteria: medical & family history, age, diversity, height, photos, and interview. As a result, my child will be mixed race with many ancestries to call upon, mostly Western European and West African and a few others blended in across continents.

I first tried a few artificial inseminations with the donor sperm at the end of 2019 to early 2020. They didn’t work despite all the shots, preparations, and time I had invested in those procedures. My first doctor told me my bloodwork and family history had indicated I was quite fertile at age 39. What she and the rest of my doctors failed to understand was the impact of early childhood trauma on my ability to conceive a child. They also didn’t tell me that inseminations have a very low rate of success, around 10% according to one of my doctors.

In 2020, I moved from New York City during the pandemic to be with my family in the San Francisco Bay Area. My intention was to care for my mom and stepdad while they faced health issues that forced them into a total quarantine that summer. What I didn’t know was how that move catalyzed a four-year trauma healing odyssey that I hadn’t planned, one I was able to endure from the safety of my parents’ house and the ability to work remotely. I also explored what home meant to me by traveling internationally to expand my worldview with new friends and lands who taught me new truths about the human and planetary experience.

Over those four years of healing and expansion, I also lost another dear friend, Chad, to cancer, endured three rounds of IVF treatment, created five embryos, and miscarried one of them at eleven-and-a-half weeks. That miscarriage activated my biggest fear of child loss. I was heartbroken I wouldn’t get to meet the baby I’d been carrying, devastated that all the time, effort, money, and love I’d invested in the pregnancy had been for nothing but grief, and ashamed that my female body had failed to make a baby. Inside the excruciating physical and emotional pain, I also received one of my greatest teachings. I realized the miscarriage grief was mine alone to process, feel, and carry and that I wanted to experience it all. I would not move on from it, but I would move through it. That new approach to death accelerated my healing, and I took a pause on fertility treatments to care for myself. I had one fully tested embryo (Baby Recher) that I wanted to give the best chance at life, but I wasn’t sure my body could handle it. Two years later, I heard my body tell me I couldn’t carry a pregnancy inside me. A few months later, I met my surrogate.

Part 3: The Surrogate & The Baby

My blessed surrogate in Dallas, TX, has gestated a son for me. She is a gift from the heavens and my gratitude to her will never cease. I chose her because she is West African and can give my son a connection to half his ancestry in a way I cannot. Through her, he knows the delicious cuisines, beautiful culture, and deep wisdom that comes from Africa, something that I believe we need more of in our Western world. She has taught me the African village approach to community, motherhood rooted in patience and calm, and, like Jane, the creativity required to flow with life. She and I have realized the divine purpose moving through us and this child. We are two independent mothers raising our families across cultures from the depths of our hearts.

This baby is not mine but ours, meaning that he is coming to Earth as a member of our global human family from my egg, a donor’s sperm, a surrogate’s womb, and fertility doctors in NY, CA, and TX. Before conception, he has been a collaboration and connection among many people. I see my mothering job to hold space for everything he’s bringing to us, to listen to his heart’s desires, and to help him navigate this human life form he now inhabits. He is what I have learned is homo luminous, one who brings light, heightens human consciousness, and carries divine wisdom. He’ll also be a totally dependent baby wearing diapers, feeding, crying, and sleeping. I believe it’s all relative; his luminosity will shine even in the mundane. He blesses my life in the exact moment I have been reborn into my truest self essence and freed my heart’s constraints. I am so ready to be his mom.

Part 4: Our Village

The baby and I will move to the tribal lands of the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians (aka Santa Barbara) after he’s born for some mother/son bonding as we connect in secure attachment to one another, our community, and our Earth. Our lifestyle and values will anchor in land rematriation, trauma healing, relational harmony, and social justice until he teaches me otherwise.

To honor my rebirth into my 44th year and the coming of Baby Recher, I invite you to join our village, rooted in the loving connection we hold with each of you. Please explore the options for participation, which range from no-cost (e.g. a playlist) to low-cost (e.g. a birthing candle) to larger impact (e.g. donating to causes I’m involved in). You’ll also learn in more detail about what I’ve been up to during these transformational times before welcoming Baby Recher to the world. I thank you for the love you hold for the baby and me and how you’ve supported me in countless ways as I healed, rebirthed myself, and created this new life. We’re blessed to share our hearts with yours.

If you’re keen to follow our journey into the great unknown, please sign up below to receive these Letters of Rech as I post them. The cadence while I have a newborn is TBD, and I can guarantee it won’t be too often!

*Shout out to my friend Roxanne for the clever title.