by Anna J. Prieto
“Teddy’s gone!” I cried.
My husband, Gus, pulled me into a hug. We stood, surrounded by shattered glass from our back door. While we were at the gym, someone had broken into our house. We’d searched all of the rooms. The only things missing were our wedding bands and some other jewelry—and our seven-year-old toy poodle, Teddy Pooh Bear.
Gus and I didn’t have children, so Teddy was our baby, our little girl. We usually took her everywhere, even to church. But that night, we’d left Teddy at home for just an hour while we went to work out. And now she was gone. Either she’d been scared by the break-in and run off, or she’d been stolen. I didn’t know which was worse. I hated thinking of her out there alone in the dark. Or with criminals who had goodness knows what plans for her. Tears
poured down my cheeks.
The police arrived and made their report. After they left, I shut myself in our room. I just couldn’t bear to see anyone. Over the next few days, a reward for Teddy’s safe return was set up by a local detective who’d seen our story on the news. While our friends and family searched the streets and put up flyers, I stayed in bed, crying my eyes out.
Three days after Teddy’s disappearance, my mother called.
“Mija, you can’t just lock yourself away,” she said. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe God is telling you it’s time for a two-legged baby instead of just a four-legged one.”
Although Gus and I had agreed that we would discuss alternative options if we didn’t get pregnant by the time I turned 40—a fast-approaching deadline—I wasn’t so sure. Truth be told, I worried what becoming parents would do to our dynamic. We were happy now, but our relationship hadn’t always been this strong. Raising the tiny poodle puppy, a gift from Gus, had helped us reconnect...READ MORE
