I have had a recurring dream about our child for years. In it, my hands are outstretched toward their plump, little, dimpled hands. A deep blue sky is behind us as we first float toward each other, then past each other, just missing the connection.

I did everything right.
I exercised. I ate well. I tracked my cycles. I trusted my body.

So when she didn’t get pregnant, month after month, I took it personally.

As an actress, you have to find a way to exist in a business that does everything in its power to say you don’t exist. You’re not good enough. You’re too fat, too pretty, too quirky. And this can all change on a dime, based on someone else’s ill-informed opinion.

The last blog I wrote—then rewrote (a thousand times)—a year ago was about how showing up for my family in hard times was a blessing. Choosing to “walk through the fire” with the people you love is a privilege—one that made me stronger and awakened every part of me to the very meaning of life.