The Story of You

The Story of You

Infertility is a silly little dilemma that will catapult you into some pretty peculiar circumstances. Try, for instance, that time you found yourself deep in the throes of a chia seed overdose. Or how about that time you swore off nail polish and decent hair products for fear of those pesky phthalates wreaking havoc on your body’s ability to sustain new life? But the most peculiar of circumstances is when you suddenly find yourself staring down at a pregnancy test with two pink lines. Because nothing can prepare you for the shock that extra line induces. Nothing.


And that’s why I take no responsibility for my actions that day. Because when you lean over to check the test after praying for God to quell the disappointment you’re sure will ensue. . . again, those cute Pinterest pregnancy announcements you’ve planned to use on your husband go right out of that window.


It’s something I’ll never forget, that shock. And in that moment, all I could muster up were a series of earsplitting, high-pitched screams. They were the type of screams you feel down in your toes, the ones that quake through your body with an urgent need for evacuation. And I thought better of it, I did. “Brittany,” I said sternly to myself, “is this how you want your unsuspecting husband to find out?” But the screams! I couldn’t stop them rising, rising, rising through my body until they found their exit and filled the air with unadulterated chaos. The tears quickly followed after that. And then the flailing — that uncontrollable need to flap your limbs around in a series of rapid convulsions, pee stick gripped tightly in one hand.


Tears. Screams. Flails. They all happened in perfect accord as I bolted through the door to meet my husband with the news. And, the poor guy, his eyes grew ten sizes too big as he tried to make sense of his frantic wife flopping about wildly in complete and utter disarray. The words, I tried to find them as my tear-filled eyes met his fear-filled eyes. And I realized then how silly I must have looked. . . and how terrifying it must have been for my poor husband who did not know why on earth his wife was acting like a complete buffoon. Still, words eluded me as those pesky screams flooded my body in rapid succession — one squawk quickly followed by another. . . and another. . . and another.


And then I saw it. The transition. Though my sight was drowning in a watery blur, that moment was completely clear to me. I watched as my husband’s gaze shifted from my face to that glorious pee stick I was hysterically waving through the air. And then it happened. His fear-filled eyes matched my tear-filled eyes, and there we stood with the knowledge of you, crying like babies. Because at that moment, we became parents. . . your parents.


And there’s nothing in this whole world we’d rather be.  


3 thoughts on “The Story of You

  1. I know I don’t comment much (my apologies if this is the first time), but I had to comment on this. So happy for you and your husband! Congratulations!!!

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