TRACK BABY
Hiring a coach; the Lottery; the 9 Month Race; the Finish Line
Before I begin, I want to acknowledge anyone that has fought or is fighting for a baby of their own. While we have been lucky so far and are due to finally meet our baby girl in just a few days, I know there are many who have struggled, will struggle, and may hope for years for a baby of their own. Our story came with many hurdles, and the pain and fear that come with those will stay with us forever. My heart is with you and I hope to be a resource for anyone who would like to reach out.
Stay strong. Stay brave. Stay the course.
Hiring a Coach
Matt (Track Daddy to many of our NETC runners) and I got married on October 6, 2017. We went on a honeymoon and joked about how we would obviously come back pregnant. The honeymoon came and went—no baby news-- and we felt relief that we could enjoy our newlywed bliss and freedom a bit longer. We enjoyed many parties, trips, wine (lots of wine) and lots of other learning on how to be married in between. That takes time, and we are grateful to have had it. In 2020, we started Northeast Track Club with Mona and James. It felt as if the universe said, “you can’t have your baby right now, but you can build one.” So we did. Week by week and year by year, and today, it is truly our first born child—one that we love as a whole and for every runner in it.
Nevertheless, month after month, and year after year, we quietly wondered when that time would come. 5 years later, we still didn’t have our honeymoon baby.
So we hired a coach. We went to Shady Grove Fertility Center and went through 6 rounds of Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) – which failed one by one. Each time, a month long series of medications that made me crazy and altered my body’s natural state. Each month a phone call from the doctor saying let’s try again next month. And as runners do, we got back on the saddle every time and tried again.
The Lottery
The seventh time we got on the saddle, we tried something new: In vitro Fertilization (IVF). This was a whole new ballgame. Injections (sometimes 3 times a day in my belly), pills, and a 10 week long cycle of growing eggs in my ovaries, surgically removing them, fertilizing them in a petri dish, growing a baby embryo in a lab, transferring that to my belly, and hoping it stuck. It’s worth mentioning that in an ideal scenario, multiple embryos survive. This way if one doesn’t stick, others can be transferred to the mommy’s belly to see if those grow. We only had one embryo survive, but that’s all it takes, just one…so we were all in.
In February, we drove to the fertility clinic and they transferred it to my belly to see if it would stick. There were blog posts on how to increase your chances of making things work by eating McDonald’s French fries, pineapple, and keeping your feet warm. I did it all. We held our breath. And two weeks later, we got our first happy call from the doctor in years. We were pregnant. It didn’t feel real. We got an official bid into the 9 month long race we had been waiting to train for.
During treatments, starting in January, my running had taken a backseat to create a cozy, stress-free home for baby. I drove behind the team and would jump out to cheer for them as they battled the cold. When I was finally cleared to run, I knew I would have to start back up slowly, but my doctor assured me it was safe to run after a certain point because it’s what my body already knew so well. So we settled in, found our pace, and ran our race.
The 9 Month Race
Those first 12 weeks of pregnancy were terrifying (let’s be honest-- every day was and still is terrifying). We had never been so afraid to lose something we didn’t quite yet have. It felt so fragile and delicate, but at the same time we wanted to scream our news from the rooftops. We finally shared the news (including that track baby is a girl!) with the whole NETC team about 13 weeks in. We asked for the team’s help to train for this 9 month long race, and were met with pink confetti canons, so many hugs, and unwavering support. We can honestly say that this support did not wane over time. Week by week, the team ran alongside me. They cheered when I ran by—even as my pace slowed to a walk. They sent gifts, threw a baby shower (complete with watermelon belly races for the guys), and stayed true to their word in helping me train.
As I got further along, I got more confident that she was strong and she would be ok. I was bigger physically as my belly rounded out, but I felt more comfortable running because I knew track baby was getting stronger every day. Each week was a milestone, as I researched the chances that something could go wrong. Week 20, 26, 29, 31, 34, 38. As time went by and I kept running, a voice on my shoulder often asked if I could ever forgive myself if running were to cause something to happen. I pushed away negative thoughts and had faith that I was doing what was right for me and track baby. Strong mama, strong babe. There were days I felt guilt. I would pack for the office, bring a change of clothes for track, and not rest from 7 am til I finally ate Chik Fil A on the way home around 9 PM. The days were long, but I kept my foot on the gas and every day Matt encouraged me that she was ok.
The Finish Line
And now here we are in October. We’re scheduled to be induced this weekend to meet our little fighter. Our little embryo that could. Our track baby. I won’t yet say we’ve made it. But we’re at mile 25 of the marathon. We’re battered, bruised, and have happy tears in our eyes because we’ve almost made it. The crowd-- our team-- has never been louder, and we are so proud of ourselves, our little lady, and every person who helped us get here.
Thank you for the training. For the cheers. And for getting us this far. Across the line we go.