continue at Brew Crew BallA title like that, I suppose, merits prose better than what you're about to read. Nevertheless, I hope you'll tolerate this very personal reflection on this season.
I told my wife last night that I suspect a guy's favorite season of baseball should take place when he's 10 or 12 years old rather than 27. But regardless of how this season ends--with a World Series title, an ugly sweep at the hands of the D-Backs, or anything in between--I had more fun this year than I ever have watching baseball.
In the first year of our marriage, my wife and I were blessed to have a little boy. We deeply desired a large family, but the last few years we've struggled with infertility and in 2010 the miscarriage of our second child. On Father's Day this year, we were delightfully shocked to find out we were expecting again. Hollywood couldn't have scripted it better.
We were thrilled to go to our first ultrasound. I still remember my son's first ultrasound. For a bewildered 22-year-old, seeing that tiny heart beating away was probably even more powerful and awe-inspiring than the birth. But that July morning, there was no heartbeat. We were told to expect to miscarry a second time within a week. And so began my month-and-a-half long odyssey through the bowels of hell.
After you finish reading this great article by Steve Karlen, check out Fox 6 who did an interview with the Karlens regarding the article.