Recently, I went out to eat to celebrate a friend’s
birthday. There were four other couples at this dinner, plus Cody and me.
Among those five married couples, there were three children and another on
the way. At some point in the night, I looked down the table and saw three
mothers tending to three children. Oddly, this moment of maternal affection
suddenly made my current baby situation make a little more sense to me. I realized
that in in a group of young, seemingly healthy people there has to be someone
who falls victim to the natural odds of fertility. Out of five couples, I
realized that Cody and I happen to be the one out of however many people who
struggle to have a child. We have fulfilled those odds. In other words, the
rest of you baby-making fools can thank us for your little bundle of joy.
As I continued to sit at that dinner table, I started to
make note of all of the parts of my life that fulfill some meaningless
statistic. I thought about breast cancer and heart disease and depression. I
thought about addiction and above average height and terrible eye sight. I
pretty much threw myself a pity party that started with an innocent glance down
a table and ended with my having eaten approximately half a dozen rolls to
alleviate the pain associated with all of the crappy odds that exist in my
life.
Now, in the past this is where this story would end. I would
have gone home, continued to drown my pity in carbs, and moved on with my life.
However, there is a new Katy Prater floating through the universe these days,
who tries to balance her propensity for “I-hate-the-world”
moments with a much more appreciative and grateful attitude that focuses on all
the goodness around her. In the time after I ran out of rolls, I decided to
make note of all of the positive statistics of which my life consists. I
thought about my family and supportive parents. I thought about my marriage and
college degree and job. I thought about my house and health and happiness. I
thought about how my life is far more privileged and magical than I could ever
deserve, and I realized that we all have to fulfill some sort of odds. Each of
us carries an albatross around our necks, and I suppose it is how we respond to
that stupid bird that ends up being significant.
With the rest of my evening, I held those babies that my
friends care for on a daily basis. I asked questions about pregnancy and child
care and school and deciding to have more than one of those little creatures. I
told my friends that their kids were adorable (because they are) and was
grateful that I get to spend time with sweet babies who were created and are
cared for by the good people in my life.
As I walked away from the restaurant that night with my
husband’s hand in mine, I felt a little more acceptance of my current
situation. I held Cody’s hand a little tighter. I appreciated him being there a
little more. I loved him a little better. I continued to pay attention to all
of the goodness around me because I am slowly starting to accept that we must
revel in who we have right now. I can’t keep focusing on what may or may not
happen after Lupron or after my mom’s chemo quits working or after I get
pregnant. Those are all worries for another day. We must absorb all of the good
in preparation for another day. And we must never, ever let the rolls run out.
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