Page 83 of Shoot Your Shot

With only a few seconds left on the clock and the Sharks in possession of the puck, the game is over.

As Logan stops in the center of the ice, he looks up at Maci and Amelia and holds his hands up to his mask, blowing them a kiss. She practically bounces up and down with Amelia in her arms.

“Daddy did it!” she squeals.

My eyes find Kolt, who has Ryder and Smith hanging off of him, and yet he’s looking at me.

Wearing his jersey, I jump up and down, waving my corny-ass pom-poms. Because, yeah … they deserved to come out tonight.

“I love you!” I scream, knowing he can’t hear me.

He holds his hand up before tapping his palm to his chest.

Today is one of the greatest days of our lives. Because today, one of his dreams came true. He accomplished something great after enduring so many challenges. I’m so proud that I got to be here for it. Even the thought that I could have missed it if we’d never worked things out guts me.

I like to think that without Kolt’s heart attack, we would have found our way back to each other. But the truth is, how could we know that for sure? The world works in mysterious ways. And even though Kolt having a heart attack is the scariest thing to ever happen to us, it brought me back to him.

I received an email this morning that starting next month, I’ll be able to begin my fertility journey through IVF. And given Kolt’s history and my cycles, it’s our best bet at having a family. So, just when I thought this day couldn’t get better, it did.

Kolt skates toward the plexiglass, and I rush down the center aisle to meet him.

One day, maybe I’ll have a baby on my hip or a toddler’s hand to hold during these times. But right now, it’s just Kolt and me. And I’m going to love and support him, no matter what.

And if that never happens, if I never get the chance to hold a kid up to watch their dad play … it’ll all be okay. Because we have each other. And that will always be the most important thing.

Eight Weeks Later

With shaky hands, I take the top off the syringe and stare down at it, a huge grimace on my face. I’m far from scared of needles—hence why most of my body looks like a canvas—but my wife hates needles. Which makes it even worse that in a few seconds, I’m going to drive this one into her skin. Even though I know this signifies the start of something beautiful, I still feel bad about doing it to her. We could have opted for a nurse to do it, but I hated the idea of that even more. I knew that if she was going to get stuck by someone, I wanted to be in control of it to make it suck less.

Besides … one day, we’ll look back and remember this as part of our voyage. I hope that when we do, we can smile. Whatever happens, come hell or high water, these challenges we have faced have only brought us closer.

After a lot of visits with the fertility specialist, we have a plan in place. A plan that includes shots and maybe egg retrieval at some point. Hopefully, it will one day lead us to having a baby of our own. I think we’re both trying not to get too excited because there never is a guarantee. Even though we talked before we decided to start this journey, it’s impossible not to get our hopes up. We’ve both been waiting for this for so long, and now … we’re taking real action to get there.

“It’s okay,” she promises, her brown eyes looking up at me. “Just like you practiced at the doctor’s office, okay?”

I look at her eyes and back to her bare stomach. This will mark the very first step in our fertility journey. While the nice people at the doctor’s office taught me how to do this correctly, that was on a fake slab of rubber skin.

“Are you sure?” I say, clenching the syringe tightly. “I know you are scared of needles. Maybe you should sit down.”

“I’m too excited to be scared,” she whispers, peeking up at me with reassurance. “And if anyone is going to stick me with a needle, I’m just glad it’s you.”

Her confidence gives me reassurance, and I swallow.

“On the count of three?”

Blinking slowly, she nods. “One …”

“Two …” I murmur.

“Three …” we whisper together.

Pinching her flesh between my fingers, I stick the needle into her skin and push down on the plunger.

Once I pull it from her body and set it down, a rush of emotions floods my body, and I cup her face and bring her lips to mine.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much, baby.”

Tears well in both of our eyes as we stand in the bathroom, holding on to each other.

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