TW: child loss, infertility
When I started my little stained glass business, I didn’t imagine I’d be leaving my day job anytime soon. Don’t panic– I’m still not. I love being a librarian by day (with some night shifts and weekends) and I wouldn’t want to abandon all this progress in my career. After ten years in the field, I’m in leadership and staff development. I work with a creative group of very unique people I truly consider family. I get to cultivate community and facilitate story times and programs for children, what could be better than that?
At least, that’s what I thought before we lost our son. It’s harder these days to work with children–don’t get me wrong, I still love it, but every cooing baby and excited toddler reminds me of the struggles we’re facing in our fertility “journey.”
After another difficult year of hoping for results naturally, we finally decided to try IVF, something I initially balked at in fear. Injections? Hormones? A thousand blood draws and doctor visits? How could we afford the time, let alone the expense, for IVF? But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and I was determined to be a mom.
We started IVF in late fall 2025. Months of poking, prodding, needles, appointments, and a non-stop rollercoaster of emotions. Along the way, I’d lost the energy to create anything at all. Stained glass took a back seat, along with almost everything else. The effort was all worth it, though–we have one healthy egg! One perfect little embryo ready for transfer. One chance, really…but at least it’s a chance.
Making art started as a way to cope with grief and loss, but it has become a persistent metaphor for what I’m going through with IVF. All of these disparate pieces of my life are going to come together like a stained glass panel; all these harsh and broken edges will form some sort of picture, eventually. We will put ourselves back together and draw some light back into our home.
I’m officially slowing down and smelling the roses until this transfer happens. I’m taking my sweet time when I’m designing and creating new stained glass pieces. I’m making less art, but better art. I’m enjoying what it feels like to really breathe alongside what I’m making, back to the origins of meditative creation. Because all of this? All of this is therapy. It’s all a part of the bigger picture that I’m hoping is being soldered together right now as I type this.
Sage House Glass 