100 Words Per Mile: Reflections - 5

There was a time in my life I used to run after work. That feels absolutely impossible right now.

This week, 100 Words Per Mile covered just one run and three shots. When I think about pushing a needle into my wife with zero previous experience, I still feel bad. She bruised. She winced. I fumbled. It was a suffering only she could do, which are the worst, because I would’ve traded places with her if I could.

There’s a line in this week’s entry about drinking two beers in the shower after running. It made me laugh, because I don’t feel that same impulse these days. Thirteen miles isn’t enough to shut me down, not anymore, but there was a time when nine would be it for me. The first time I ran the Gate River Run, a 15k, I thought I’d climbed a mountain. I was a 29-year-old child.

I’m grateful for having written this log. I never really thought much would come of it, but looking back on it is like remastering old memories. No, I hadn’t forgotten my wife’s struggle, but I did forget about the details of the shots, the swirling vs. shaking part of the instructions.

There’s more to come about the success and failures of all this. I haven’t read ahead, though. I want to preserve this feeling of surprise. I want to be thrown by the moments I’ve let fade into the recesses of my memory.

We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, and yet, the two people who went through this process are not quite us anymore. They’re more like previous tenants who, instead of haunting, remind us to check in with each other.

My wife and I are one of those forever couples. We’re one of those “til death” couples. Marriage. Ever heard of it?

And I can say this for certain because IVF reinforced our love and our partnership with something stronger than adamantium. The four-year period from October 2017 – October 2021 was like undergrad for our marriage. We came out with degrees in communication, emotional support, and romantic fortitude.

The four-year period since? This has been graduate school. We’re about to earn our master’s degrees. Next will be our doctorates, and of course, tenure.

Cheesy. Overcooked. I get it. But, as I reflect, it’s how I feel.

Our daughter does this thing, and she learned it from me, where she says, “I missed you when you were …” I don’t tire of it. She’ll say, “I missed you when you were sleeping,” and “I missed you were you at work,” and “I missed you when you were on your run.” It’s wonderful, even if she follows it up with, “I don’t want to talk to you!”

My wife and I have always been united in our desire to grow a family together, and for us, reality is not wildly removed from our expectations. The journey is what we couldn’t have planned for. The uphill climb and missteps along the way were never something we could’ve anticipated.

But the joy we feel today? That was what we’d been chasing. It’s everything we wanted and more. and with each “I don’t want to talk to you,” or “Get away from me!” it’s only getting better.

I miss her when she runs into the other room. I miss her when I’m here, writing to you. I miss her when I’m thinking about life before her.

What a privilege it is to miss.