I was sitting on my in-law's couch when I got the call. We had just finished a belated Christmas lunch, four steaming bowls of shrimp, sausage, potatoes, and corn gone in the blink of an eye. My husband and I were goofing around with a remote-controlled toy helicopter his father had received as a gift. A sweet black cat lay at my feet, curled like a comma in the middle of a phrase, as if he already knew we would end up bringing him home. I was in the middle of a laugh when I felt my phone buzz.
The number wasn't stored in my directory, but I knew exactly who it was. I'd committed it to memory involuntarily after seeing it pop up so many times over the course of several weeks. Joy drained out of me like something inside had come loose, and my chest tightened with dread. "I have to take this," I said, pushing the remote control for the helicopter into my husband's lap. He frowned and nodded as I rushed into the kitchen.
My body weighs 330.7 pounds.
That is 15 pounds heavier than the weight I swore I would never reach again four years ago.
That is 150 pounds heavier than I want my body to weigh.
This weekend, I'm going to pick out a paint color for my baby's nursery.
Before anyone gets too excited, no, this is not a pregnancy announcement. Nor is it my way of sharing the good news that we've been chosen to receive a child through adoption. Nothing about our circumstance has changed to warrant this decision.
You might think I'm crazy for painting a room for a child I don't know for sure is coming, and part of me agrees with you. Part of me feels like Liz Lemon buying a wedding dress for a marriage she doubts will ever come to pass.
But this morning, I searched for a passage in Isaiah that has been pricking at the corners of my mind. It's been a long time since I've visited that particular corner of the Bible, so all I could remember was that there was something about barren women rejoicing. When I found it, I burst into tears.Read More
Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). This did not come as much of a surprise since my husband and I have been trying to conceive our first child for almost a year with no luck. I've blogged about our infertility here and there, but have held off on the specifics until we knew more about our situation.
Now, about two months into treatments, I have a better idea of the road that lies ahead. This seems like the best place to share updates, since a mix of family, friends, and readers have reached out to ask for updates.