Jane

Jane awoke to the sound of an empty house. Graham, always an early riser, planned to take Sam out for breakfast, and the girls were probably still sound asleep. While she needed the time alone to get herself healthy, she loved falling asleep next to her husband. She missed them all so much when they were apart.

She walked into the bathroom and stared at the scale. She hadn’t dared to get back on it since visiting the doctor’s office, but she felt like she’d lost at least a little bit of weight. With the exception of the cheesecake incident, she’d stayed on her diet, exercised every day—she had to be lighter.

A nagging question loomed in the back of her mind.

What if she wasn’t? What if she shed her clothes, stood on that scale and discovered none of this suffering paid off? What if she hadn’t lost a pound? Worse, what if she’d gained?

Jane turned away from the scale and hurried through her morning routine. Contacts in, teeth brushed, workout clothes on. But when she turned around, there it was again, enticing her with the promise of a smaller number than she had in her head.

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, shutting the door to hide her act of rebellion. Her heart raced as she tried to keep from imagining how much she might have lost since she started this journey. If she didn’t envision a number, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

Stripped down to nothing, Jane turned away from the mirror and stood with her toes touching the edge of the scale.

“God, I know You’ve got much more important things to attend to, but if there’s any way You can take this number down a little bit, I’d be really grateful.”

Jane took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She stepped up on the scale, careful to put her bare feet directly in the center of her cold metal enemy.

Before looking at the numbers, she stared at the ceiling, inhaled and then let out her breath slowly. Once she’d worked up enough courage, she glanced down and allowed the numbers to register. Numbers that tattled on her, that represented a measure of her self-control.

Jane stared at the three green numbers illuminated on the digital scale.

It couldn’t be right. She couldn’t have . . .

She hopped off, let the scale reset itself and then stepped back on—cautious so as to not disrupt anything inside the inner workings of the machine.

There it was again. The same number waited for her.

She’d lost eight pounds. Eight. Just like that.

Well, not just like that. She’d worked hard for every one of those pounds. Every one of Adele’s desserts she’d passed up, every long walk she’d trudged through, every grilled chicken breast she’d eaten—had paid off.

She was really doing it.

And while she was terrified to find out what it would be like to try to continue with the distractions of real life looming, for now, she would choose to be thankful for the weeks without anything else to do but focus on getting healthy.

Jane stared at the number until the scale went black again. If she could lose eight pounds, she could lose twenty. And if she could lose twenty, she could lose fifty.

A feeling of elation whirled up within her and she stood in front of the mirror.

“Jane Atkins, you can do this,” she said. A smile lit her face as she hurried back into her workout clothes, a newfound energy welling inside her.

She couldn’t wait to tell Graham.

In the kitchen, Emily sat at the table, eating a cup of Jane’s Greek yogurt.

“What are you doing up at seven thirty?” Jane asked, eyeing the yogurt. “And what are you doing with that? I thought you hated health food.”

Emily looked down at the empty cup. “It’s not so bad.”

Jane smiled. “I put fresh fruit in mine. You can try that tomorrow if you want.”

Emily turned the spoon around in the hollow yogurt cup. “Are you going to the gym?”

Jane nodded and grabbed her water bottle from inside the fridge. She’d learned to chill it overnight so it was just the way she liked it during her workout. So many of her habits had already begun to change in such a short time. Clearly part of the battle was making time to prepare everything. To always have healthy snacks ready. To set out the workout clothes and shoes the night before.

She’d been doing these little things and it had made all the difference.

Emily stood and threw away the yogurt cup. Black yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt covered her skinny frame. “Can I go with you?”

Jane closed the door to the fridge and stared at her daughter. “You want to come walk with me?”

Emily smiled. “You look like you’re losing weight.”

Jane beamed. “Eight pounds as of this morning.”

“Mom, that’s awesome.” Emily’s grin warmed Jane’s heart.

“But you hated everything about this, Em. Why the change of heart?”

Emily shrugged. She’d never had a weight problem, she was built like Graham. Jane had prayed with every pregnancy that if she had a girl she’d be built like Graham, and God had listened, giving her two beautiful, athletic girls who didn’t have to think about what they ate. At least not yet. “It’s changed you, I think,” Emily said.

“What has?”

“Your taking care of yourself—you seem—” Emily shrugged. “Happier.”

Jane let the words settle. She was happier. And her daughter had noticed. For the first time in a long time, she felt like perhaps she’d taught Emily something worthwhile. Something she could carry with her well into adulthood.

“It’s easy to get caught up in what I have to do for everyone else,” Jane said. “I am the mom.”

“And the mom does everything,” Emily said.

Jane laughed. “Well, not everything—but the mom does a lot. And you’re right, Em. Making time for myself has changed more than just the numbers on the scale. It’s changed me from the inside.”

Emily took a step closer. “I’m sorry I was such a brat about all this. When Jenna told me about the doctor I . . .” Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “I just don’t want to lose you, Mom.” She threw her arms around Jane and squeezed her.

“Em?”

Emily buried her face in Jane’s shoulder like she hadn’t since she was a little girl. “We already lost Alex. We can’t lose you too.”

Jane clung to her daughter and let her sob until finally her body stilled and she pulled away. It made sense now. Emily had always lashed out when she was afraid or confused. Why hadn’t Jane seen it earlier? Her anger wasn’t directed at Jane; she was just a little girl who didn’t want to lose her mom.

“I’m taking care of it, Em.”

Emily grabbed a tissue and wiped her face dry. “I’m really proud of you, Mom.”

Tears sprang to Jane’s eyes. “I’m proud of me too.”

Emily straightened, as if to let Jane know she was done with her breakdown. “So are we going to exercise or what?”

“You can come with me, but you better be prepared to work. I’m not slowing my pace for you.”

Emily laughed. “I’m ready for you, old lady.”

Jane grabbed her water bottle, the car keys and a sweatshirt and thanked God that somehow Emily had come around—somehow Jane’s journey had made a difference to her daughter, and that was reason to celebrate.

Only this time, she’d do it trying to break her record at the gym rather than diving headfirst into a pan of brownies.