Wednesday, June 19, 2013

A Story About a Baby (Part 1)

It’s October 2012.  I’ve been running my heart out all summer, raising money to help find a cure for blood cancers, and trying to get in shape.  I’ve been working extra hard to get my body into a place where I can safely get pregnant and finally join the ranks of the “busy out of their minds” mothers.
            October 13th, I cross the finish line of many victories.  My marathon is over.  My body is exhausted and in pain, but I feel glorious.  I am finally medication free, my migraines are few and far between, and my body feels stronger than ever.   We are finally ready to start our newest adventure.
            Months go by and negative tests fill the garbage can.  Each month gets a little more depressing than the last.  Many babies are born.  I get three new nieces in four months and the tests are still negative.  My sister announces a pregnancy, her first, and I’m still waiting for mine to stick.
            I join Team in Training again, this time as a mentor, and try to take my mind off of the lack of baby.  Amazing people surround me and inspire me.  I am in constant awe of the hard work and dedication of those I have been called to mentor.  My “mentees” work hard, run hard, and keep pushing through.
            One day, I fall down the stairs and sprain my ankle.  There goes my running season.  Rain or shine, once my ankle heals up, I am back with my team, this time riding my cheapy Walmart bike.  This adds to the fun factor because I am now able to spend time with more people than those who can put up with my turtle running pace.  I’ve never been a fast runner, but biking? I’ve got that covered.
            April rolls around.  Alex and I are taking a break from trying for that elusive baby.  It’s been 7 months (but it seems at least twice that long). On a whim, I go to Walmart to purchase more tests.  Not because I think I am pregnant, but because that’s the cycle.  I’m used to testing this part of the month and it feels weird not to.
            It’s April 13th, a Saturday, at 11 pm.  After doing a double take, reality sets in and I realize the stick has two pink lines.  At this point, there is no other option but to jump in the car and drive out to see my husband at work.  I am fairly bursting with excitement, but drive slowly trying to decide how to tell him.
            Alex is sitting at his computer, oblivious to my presence.  I wait for a brief moment, then:
            “Hey, Alex.”
            He turns around, surprised to see me.
            “Hey.  What are you doing here?”
            “I came to show you this!” I say as I shove my used pee stick in his face.
            After a moment of confusion, we move to an area with better lighting, and I remove my thumb from its covering of the second line. Celebrations commence.


  1. Whatever happens in the future, hold on to these good memories. They are good and they are yours to keep.

  2. Hi there Kristy, I was actually just reading up on few of your posts and just had a quick question about your blog. I couldn't find any contact info and was hoping you could email me back when you get the chance, thanks!