- “How much do you weigh?”
- “Do you have any allergies?”
- “Any issues with IVs?”
- “When was your last period?”
As for that last question, I hesitated. I hadn’t had my period in months, but I was confident there was no way I could be pregnant. After three years of trying, fertility specialists, Clomid, multiple IUIs, rounds of in vitro, and the whole shebang of hormone treatments, I had been diagnosed with a rare cancer in early 2010. Invasive surgeries and a cocktail of radiation and chemo followed, and now, at 41, I had been told I was entering perimenopause. So when the imaging center mentioned a blood test to rule out pregnancy, my annoyance flared. Why did I have to deal with this on what was supposed to be a fun day?
After the test, Jake and I managed to enjoy lunch and run our errands, albeit with me glued to my phone, waiting for updates from a nurse named Lisa, who was shuffling my blood work around. It felt like a chore, and I just wanted to get back to our plans.
Fast forward to my adventure in the yarn aisle at Hobby Lobby, where I was searching for yarn to crochet a scarf for my mom. Jake was off somewhere else, likely pondering the mysteries of decal paper for his latest model car project. Just as I was contemplating the color of yarn, my phone rang. Finally, Lisa was calling to confirm that the results were in!
“Hey, Lisa,” I said, balancing an armful of yarn while cradling my phone.
“Helloooo, Emily,” Lisa sang cheerfully. I chuckled; we were both relieved to be nearing the end of this ordeal.
“Thanks for getting back to me,” I replied, “and for all your help this afternoon.”
“Sure thing! Are you sitting down?” she asked.
My heart sank—something about that phrase sent my mind racing.
“No, Lisa,” I replied, “I’m standing in the Hobby Lobby with a mountain of yarn.”
“Well… we got your results… and you’re over five weeks pregnant!”
I had to replay those words in my head. How could this be happening?
“Are you sure?” I stammered.
“We’re sure!” she laughed.
I remember asking Lisa how this could even be possible, and she graciously answered my flurry of questions. “Congratulations! Go tell Jake!”
“Um, okay…” I said, still clutching all that yarn as I wandered through the aisles, searching for my husband. If you’ve never been in a Hobby Lobby, it’s like navigating a maze, especially when you’re in shock. Thankfully, Lisa stayed on the line until I found Jake, who was still pondering his decal paper options.
“JAKE!” I shouted, which apparently made him think something was wrong. Au contraire, my dear.
I placed my hand on his chest—mostly to connect and partly to steady myself—and shared the news. His face transformed from confusion to disbelief, followed by tears and a warm embrace.
The rest of the day unfolded in a flurry. I eventually bought the yarn (the last time I would ever support Hobby Lobby, mind you), and Lisa managed to squeeze me in for an ultrasound at a nearby hospital. There we were, witnessing our tiny miracle on the screen, not much bigger than a speck, but we could hear the heartbeat for the first time.
If you’d told me that morning how my day would end, I would have laughed. But there I was, feeling that little heartbeat—a stark contrast to the battles my body had fought just two years prior. It was surreal.
“We’re having a baby,” Jake and I kept repeating in disbelief as we navigated the rest of that day, our minds swirling with joy, confusion, and gratitude. “WE’RE having a BABY.”
For more on fertility journeys, check out this insightful blog post about home insemination. If you’re looking for expert advice on your fertility journey, Make A Mom is a fantastic resource. And for additional information on IVF, the NHS provides a comprehensive overview.
In summary, what began as an ordinary day turned into a life-changing moment in the most unexpected of places. A trip to Hobby Lobby not only led to a beautiful discovery but also reminded me that life is full of surprises.