Caleb's story begins

Or, how I found out we had made a Proffitt

I left off my previous post talking about my dabble into acupuncture, both to try to fix my stomach and to try to help my fertility. Before each session, the acupuncturist had me take a pregnancy test, because she wouldn't do the same treatment for me if I was pregnant as she would for trying to help me get pregnant. (Again, no idea how this works. I just laid there and tried to find a happy place while needles were being stuck into my toes, ears, and chest.) She said our first goal was for me to get my period back, because that meant my hormones were back on track, and then we would focus on getting pregnant.

By the third session, in early January 2012, I still hadn't had my period yet, and was wondering if the treatments were working or just a waste of time and money. I was used to the drill, so I headed to the bathroom to pee on a stick before going into the exam room. I glanced at the test quickly, then tossed it in the trash. I sat down in the exam room and she asked if I had taken a test. I said, nonchalantly, "Yeah, and it was two lines, so I'm not pregnant." She stared at me, dumbfounded. "Um, two lines means you're pregnant." I looked at her, eyes blinking, equally dumbfounded, and said, "Whaaat?" She in turn replied, "What?!" We both continued looking at each other for a few seconds, suspended in a cloud of disbelief, then she said, "We need to go get that test!" and we made a beeline for the bathroom. As I was fishing through the trash, still in a daze, I thought about all the pregnancy tests I'd taken since we started trying to get pregnant, and wondered how in the world I could have forgotten what two lines meant. I had been longing to see those two little pink lines appear, where up until now only one had stubbornly shown up!

I retrieved that precious little test from the garbage, and we both just stared at it for several moments. We went back to the room, and she told me that in rare instances you can get false positives, but that she would do the treatment that she would do if I was pregnant, rather than the one to try to get me pregnant, since that treatment would be bad if I was, in fact, with child. I think she couldn't believe herself what was happening, and neither of us wanted to get our hopes up just yet. She said, "Well, now we know why you haven't gotten your period back yet!" She loaded me up with a bunch of pregnancy tests and told me to take some more when I got home so I could be sure, and then she and her receptionist, who also knew my story, waved goodbye, big grins plastered on their faces.

I got in my car, still in a daze. How could this be? It was the last thing in the world I was expecting to find out. After all the bad reports I had been getting in doctor's offices, it was surreal to get this kind of good news. I immediately texted John, who was gone all week at his national sales meeting, and told him to call me as soon as he could.

And then I started the drive home, amazed at the fact that this little life had been quietly growing inside me for weeks now, without me even suspecting it, after so many months of anxiously taking test after test, wondering if this could be the month. And here we were, me and baby, on our way home together in the dark, snowy January night. Tears coursed down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop smiling the whole way home. Sure, there were plenty of obstacles ahead of us, like, how was my body going to feed a baby when I couldn't even feed myself? How would my autoimmune issues affect the pregnancy? Had the drugs I had been on harmed the baby in any way? Plenty of questions to ask and concerns to be addressed. But not on that night. That night was a time for celebration. A time to enjoy being with my baby, my best surprise.

During the drive that night, I kept playing a song that up until then I had been avoiding. It's on the same album as the Job song I included in the last post. It's called "Be Born in Me," and it's sung from the Virgin Mary's perspective. Throughout the Christmas season that had just passed, I had been avoiding listening to it, because it had just made my heart hurt, wondering if I would ever get to experience the joy of carrying a child. Obviously, I am no Virgin Mary and Caleb is not the Christ child, but as I listened to the song that night, the lyrics resonated with me, and I just kept saying to God, "I know I don't deserve it, but thank you, thank you, thank you, for this baby you have blessed me with."

The four of us on Christmas Eve, 2011 (Before I found out I was pregnant, so Caleb was like a zygote or something at this point).