From the Desk of Our CEO 📝 

**Trigger warning… baby talk...

As I sat down to write this, I found myself reflecting on new beginnings—particularly in the context of fertility. I initially thought 2025 would be a year of endings for me. After two challenging pregnancies marked by placenta previa, NICU stays, countless shots, tests, c-sections, relentless morning sickness, and even gallbladder removal, my body had finally done the extraordinary work of bringing two happy, beautiful children into the world in just three years. My body was starting to feel somewhat normal again, yet the physical and emotional weight of pregnancy and IVF lingered. Every time I saw a needle, I was reminded of the scars infertility left behind.

Still, things felt like they were looking up. I was adjusting to life with a toddler and an infant, working on my book, and developing the Oshun Griot app. It felt like a new chapter was unfolding—one I was ready to embrace. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

Over the past few weeks, I had noticed strange, jerking movements in my infant daughter. At first, I brushed them off as just a random quirk or the paranoia of a mom still carrying trauma from fertility treatments, when everything has to be measured and monitored. When the movements became more frequent, I took her to the pediatrician. The doctor assured me it was likely nothing—perhaps a reaction to a recent cold and congestion. I tried to find comfort in that, but my instincts told me otherwise.

A follow-up visit with a different doctor raised more concern, and they suggested seeing a specialist. The earliest appointment was weeks away, so I tucked my worries into the back of my mind and began writing this newsletter, ready to share my thoughts about stepping into a new phase of life. Then, the unexpected happened—I got a call offering an appointment the very next morning.

Bundling up my daughter, we headed to the specialist, where my fears were finally validated. Her jerking movements could point to a range of possibilities: epilepsy, acid reflux, or, perhaps, nothing at all. The next steps include tests, EEGs, and possibly a short hospital stay. The weight of this news was—and still is—overwhelming. As I brace myself for more doctor’s visits this year, an unsettling thought lingers: have I unwittingly passed my health struggles on to the next generation?

To those still navigating infertility, this might sound like sour grapes—and perhaps it is. I know how incredibly blessed I am to have my children. Right now, my baby is snuggled up beside me, and her laughter and smiles light up my world. And comparing any health conditions is always a loser. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t overwhelmed by the prospect of yet another health battle after all we’ve already endured.

I’ve come to realize that life isn’t a series of neat, happy endings. It’s cyclical, a constant process of beginning again, evolving, and adapting. Some chapters are joyful; others are marked by uncertainty and fear. This is simply life, and all we can do is find gratitude for the ride.

As I sat down back at my laptop to continue this newsletter a few days later, I realized, I don’t have profound advice about starting anew. Maybe it’s not about "starting over" at all. Perhaps it’s about continuing—learning, growing, and on the best days, finding moments of joy in the process.

For those of you resetting, starting, or continuing your fertility journeys this year, I want to acknowledge how hard it can be. The path is rarely smooth or simple. It’s okay to feel exhausted or uncertain. It’s okay to pause. Grant yourself grace and remember: progress, no matter how small, is still progress.

Here’s to another year of unfolding, of unexpected turns, and of simply doing our best—because that is always enough.

Xx-

Reniqua

Ok, now on to some more concrete advice…