I wish you could have had a front row seat right next to me for this moment:

Our precious nephew, Easton, had just turned one. The cool evening breeze was perfect as we gathered in the driveway with family to celebrate his first birthday. With chairs set for social distancing, we smiled and gawked as Easton sat up on his own, saying “hi” to all of us in the cutest voice you’ve ever heard. We quickly learned he was a born natural at cake smashing. (I like to think he takes after his Auntie for that skill.)

As the sun began to set, Wes scooped Easton up in his arms and sprawled him out like Superman as he zoomed in figure-8’s throughout the driveway. The “airplane engine” rumble from Wes resulted in giggling squeaks from Easton. It filled the gathering space and every inch of our hearts with pure joy. It was beautiful. I looked around and saw everyone smiling while they watched this scene unfold.

When the birthday boy became squirmy seeing toys to play with on the ground, Wes sat down with him in the driveway to participate. Since the “airplane had landed,” everyone resumed their conversations. Shortly after, I walked over towards the boys and sat down with them. Wes kissed Easton on the top of his head and then lifted his gaze up at me softly smiling. I looked at him for a moment as his smile grew and I tilted my head to the side as if to ask what he was thinking without speaking a word. He proceeded to say 3 words with tear-filled eyes that would change my life forever.

“I want one.”

Oh, my heart. I looked around to see if someone had a mop to clean up the puddle that I had melted into right there in the driveway. For a man who asks for very little, I have wanted nothing more than to give him the world since the day we met.

But a baby? Is that even possible? Didn’t he sit with me when we received the news that I had lost 75% of my follicles during chemo making me almost entirely infertile?

If I’m being honest, I hadn’t allowed myself to even want to have a baby after being diagnosed with cancer. I was fully focused on remaining alive during that time. And with the infertility results we had received 2 years ago, I had come to a place of “acceptance” that this would probably not be part of our future.

For someone who believes in miracles, has lived through one, and speaks on being courageous, this is hard for me to admit, but without fully realizing it, I had spent the last few years building a shield around my heart to protect myself from the hurt of not being able to have a baby. Between the thankfulness I felt for being alive and the probability of having a child being so small, I would find joy in other ways and ignore the now faded cry of my heart that longed to be a mother.

But it appeared in this moment that Wes had found something that I had lost a while ago in this area: hope.

With a loving husband by my side and God’s courage ignited within our souls, we scheduled an appointment at the OBGYN Department at MD Anderson Cancer Center to ask questions and have follow up testing done. With shaking hands and an open heart, we waited for results that had likely remained unchanged.

A couple weeks passed and I received a phone call from the doctor while I was at home.

“Is this Nicole Body.”

“Yes ma’am, this is her.”

“We have some good news for you.”

I froze in my tracks and gripped the kitchen counter to hold myself up. “Good news,” I thought as I awaited her next words. “What good news could she possibly have for us?”

“It seems as though your follicles have woken up,” she said as my jaw fell open. “Your follicle count has tripled since we tested you 2 years ago.”

“How is this even possible,” I muttered through the hand that covered my mouth in disbelief with tears of joy beginning to stream down my face.

“Sometimes, this can happen after treatment,” I could hear her smiling as she replied through the phone. “And it has happened for you, Nicole.”

I could hardly believe it. This could really happen for us. We could be parents someday. I cried in Wes’ arms when he got home, this time with hopeful tears, and we decided that we are going to try to have a baby.

The next few weeks consisted of appointments with my Oncologist and care team, OBGYN, and a Maternal-Fetal Medicine (MFM) Specialist (otherwise referred to as a “High-Risk Pregnancy” doctor).

Even with the potential risks and obstacles we may face to become pregnant, every single provider gave us the thumbs up and clearance to try. And each one smiled with excitement for us to enter into this next chapter.

Oh, the possibilities.

This news is so beautiful, yet incredibly fragile. You may be wondering why we decided to share such a personal and intimate part of our life so publicly. And here is why:

1. We believe in the power of prayer {James 5:16}. For those of you who have walked this journey with us from the beginning or have come alongside us recently, we know that we can count on you to pray. We want you to walk closely with us. We need your prayers. Our heart is to fully trust God with whatever the outcome may be.

2. Life is about journeying with God and others. It’s exciting and nerve-racking. It’s finding bravery amidst uncertainty. It’s challenging and, also, quite beautiful. Through it all, we want to lean into Jesus and walk with you. If a baby girl or baby boy is part of that, we will dedicate our lives to raising a child with abounding faith in God and unconditional love for others. There will be times that we need your encouragement in grief, your smiles and cheers, your shoulder to cry on, or a prayer to uplift us.

3. I want a steadfast heart through this journey. I have 2 very conflicting thoughts in my mind: I want to break down these walls of self-preservation that I built to protect me from getting my heart broken. In letting my walls down though, I don’t want to grip on to motherhood too tightly because it may not be God’s plan for my life. I’ve convinced myself for years now that I wasn’t meant to be a mother to “protect myself” from pain if the answer is “no.” I want a steadfast soul, aligned with the very heart of God that is open, honest, surrendered, and trusting.

One day, if we have a baby girl or baby boy, I want to show him/her this post. So he/she can read that mommy and daddy were brave and were never going to give up. That it’s normal to get scared, but a reminder to never lose hope. That part of growing is facing our fears, which often involves seeking the wisdom of others, getting uncomfortable in exposing our hearts, asking for help/prayers, and taking risks for something wonderful beyond our wildest imagination. 

That one day, he/she could read all of the prayers that came in for him/her. That he/she can see that we had leaned into the Lord for His provision and timing, even when we were nervous and unsure. That even in our brokenness that we fought for him/her and would never cease to love in big ways until our last breaths.

Maybe, just maybe, we could be parents that he/she would be proud of.

However, if this isn’t in God’s plan, Wes and I will always be able to look back at this post for different reasons: It will serve as a reminder that God, friends, and family fought alongside us. That through love, community, and togetherness, the ground we stand upon is solid. That even through cancer, infertility, scars, and heartbreak, that God is still on the throne and He is good. That He is guiding our every step and we can and always will trust Him. That this life will be beautiful no matter what path we travel on.

I don’t know what the next part of this series will be. We have walked many journeys with friends, cancer survivors, and family members that have adopted, experienced miraculous pregnancies, grieved miscarriages, battled with infertility, or continue to try to get pregnant and haven’t yet. We forever walk in the tension of celebration and sorrow with you and love you with our whole hearts. We feel privileged that you have allowed us to journey with you and we would be honored if you came alongside us in a future of many unknowns, too. We were never meant to do this alone, and I thank God each day that we don’t have to.

By no mistake is this being posted on our 6 year wedding anniversary.

To my love: Happy Anniversary, Wes. Thank you for 6 exciting, exceptional, unforgettable, and beautiful years of marriage. Whatever comes next, I’m so thankful that I get to do life with you. I love you.

To be continued…

God bless you!

Sparkle on,
Nicole Body

Today I am asking for something a little out of the ordinary than what I usually do in a blog post. I would like to ask for your prayers in this journey to parenthood for Wes and me. If you can post prayers here in the comments for us to look back on, it would mean the world to us. If you’d like to share your experience with fertility, we would be honored to hear and would like to pray for you as well! Thank you as always! We love you!