May is the month of Mary. For many of us, that sentence lands differently depending on the season of life we're in. If you're in the thick of infertility, loss, or grief, the month of May can feel like a quiet ache. And yet, here she is. Our Lady. Waiting. If your relationship with Mary is complicated? Good. You're in the right place. That's where most of us started, too.

May Mary bring you comfort this Lent. Know that she is with you in the desert right now and always. Mother filled with anguish, pray for us. Mary, walk with me in my own Garden of Gethsemane. To help me understand, as you and Jesus did, that it is my “yes” that will bring me peace after the agony.

“Grief is not a state but a process, like a walk in a winding valley with a new prospect at every bend.” — C. S. Lewis From the moment you wake up until your head finally hits the pillow, grief from infertility can feel like a weight you can’t outrun. Some days you come up for air; other days, it swallows you whole. I had known grief before, and it usually passed. But during a difficult adoption process, grief settled in and refused to leave. From the beginning, something abo