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I've interviewed Elton John a couple of times. The occasion? His annual Oscar viewing party. As a reporter here in Hollywood, you stand for hours on the red carpet, dressed to the nines trying to get soundbites for your report at 11. Elbow-to-elbow with your competitors, you are lucky if you get in one or two question before Sir Elton steps and then repeats the process. I'd like to say that my questions for him were clever and unique...but when time is of the essence, and others are screaming for his attention, I was lucky just to get in the obligatory "Who are you wearing?"

I have never been a fan of family reunions (mostly because I have a bunch of weird uncles). But the other day I had a reunion that I will never forget. Instead of getting together with blood relatives...I reconnected with the people who had taken my blood, overseen my ultrasounds, read my charts, held my hand, wiped my tears and shared my joy. I'm talking about the doctors, nurses and technicians at The Southern California Reproductive Center...who over the years, have become like family to me.

Television. I watch a lot of it. Especially these day. As a new mom who decided to embrace breastfeeding… let's just say I tune in while I pump out. I've binge-watched 'Scandal' and discovered why 'Orange is the New Black'. While I anxiously await for 'House of Cards' to unfold in front of my eyes—I am forced to tune in to, yes, basic cable—and that's where I fell in love with 'Modern Family'.

I was never very interested in science. I'm still traumatized by the frog we had to dissect in my 11th grade biology class. As an adult, the closest I got to the Periodic Table was when I talked to my dermatologist about chemical peels. But when you are faced with fertility challenges, science becomes your number one subject.

I've always been a big believer in thank you notes. Not the ones you email or text, but the ones that include handwriting and postage. Right now, I estimate I owe close to 200 of them. I'm hoping to have them all done before my kid starts preschool.

It's January...and more than half of the United States is freezing (as in cold, shivering and shoveling). As I sit here on my deck in sunny Southern California—where the expected high today is 75 degrees—I too, am thinking about freezing: only my frozen thoughts involve your eggs.

I thought it was only right to take a pregnant pause from blogging about my own journey...to discuss why Christmas is not always the most wonderful time of the year for women struggling with issues of infertility.

Every year I buy myself something BIG for my birthday—a gift to me—from me. I always try to make it something memorable. One year I bought a new convertible. The next year I bought a pair of designer sunglasses (which was all I could afford after I overspent on the car). By the time I turned 45, I pretty much had everything a girl could want. Except one thing...a baby.

As a television news reporter, it's not uncommon to be covering some sort of crime in the streets of Los Angeles, and have a devoted viewer come up to say hello. Sometimes these news-junkies want a selfie...other times they just want to ask a question. For the last few years, it seems everyone wanted the same answer from me: "Was I having any luck getting pregnant?" Now, this may seem like an overly personal, inappropriate question for strangers to ask your friendly neighborhood news reporter...but not when you know the whole story.

Google is not a doctor. Don't believe me? Google it, and find out for yourself. I bring this up because if you are trying to get pregnant, it's inevitable that you will spend more hours on Google than you ever will in your doctor's waiting room. You won't be able to help yourself. Websites. Blogs. Chat rooms. Images. They all pop up in an instant. But trust me when I tell you, it's a tangled web.