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A newborn baby sleeping.

Popular TikToker Alex McCurry and her husband, Rob, were shocked when they had their third child, affectionately known as Pudge Pudge, because she has blonde hair and blue eyes. Their first two children look like a combination of Alex, who is Black, and Rob, who is white, but Pudge Pudge has the skin tone of someone born to two white parents.

Pudge Pudge was conceived through IVF, so her mother thought that there was a mistake in the lab and she was implanted with an embryo made from a white woman’s egg. "We decided to do the DNA test because she was so white," Alex joked to the Truly Show. However, when the results came back, Pudge Pudge was definitely Alex and Rob’s baby.

Alex has had some very uncomfortable experiences with people who don’t understand or believe that she is Pudge Pudge’s mother. “This lady complimented me on being such a great nanny, and I was like, ‘I'm her mom,’" Alex told People. Another time, she and a friend were followed in a grocery store because someone thought she had kidnapped her baby. “At first, my reaction was like, 'Why would somebody steal a baby? Like, do you know how stressful it is to have kids?'” she jokes.

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In 2020, while she was bored during COVID, Alex created a TikTok channel where she shared her unique family and story, and, although she does get some love on the platform for her beautiful family, she’s also the target of racists. She created her page to remind people that racism still exists even though there’s no need for it. "I should be able to hang out with my child, the way I want to,” she told the Truly Show.

After three years of being forced to explain that she is Pudge Pudge’s mother, Alex has found a way to tell other people about her unique family. “Just a reminder, y'all, genetics do whatever they wanna do, okay? I don't know why my child has blond hair and blue eyes. I don't know why my other two children don't have blond hair and blue eyes. I don't know. I didn't study that much biology,” she admits.

“But what I do know is that these are all biologically my babies. I do know that I love them,” Alex continues. “And I do know that I'm gonna love and educate and teach my children to be the best people that they can be. And that is really all that matters.”

@4thfreshestmccurry2

Replying to @user6631055707588 She is my baby. she is biologically my child. all of my kids are. my husband is white and that's why they're so light.ets move on to suggestions about how to tame this wild baby #pudgepudge #familiesdonthavetolooklikeyouexpect #theyjusthavetoloveeachother

How can a Black woman have a baby that looks white?

There are hundreds of different strands of DNA that work together to determine someone's skin color. A white man and a Black woman both carry gene variants for a lighter skin tone, and if the baby inherits both variants, the baby can appear to be white-looking. Furthermore, in some cases, if the Black parents have lighter-skinned ancestors, those can resurface in their children generations later, something that was a prevalent danger and fear for many white-looking Black individuals who chose to "pass" in the early 20th century America.

Ultimately, Alex has learned that when she is confronted by people who don’t understand her family, it’s not her job to share a lesson about biology, but one about love. “Don't be all asking me those kinds of questions,” she concludes her video. “I don't have time for it anymore. What I do have time for is to remind you that families don't have to come the way that you expect. They just have to love each other.”

Sara Walsh, a former ESPN anchor, recently shared a photo on Instagram of herself enjoying Mother's Day with her twin babies.

It's all sunshine, smiles, and cute onesies as the trio snuggles together in a hammock. In the photo's caption, however, Walsh reveals that her journey to motherhood was anything but a walk in the park.

In her emotional message, Walsh explains that she suffered a miscarriage years ago while hosting a live, televised "SportsCenter" segment.

My mother bought them these onesies because she thought they were funny. For us, they're especially poignant. Finding a good egg didn't come easy for me, and I suspect there are many people out there facing the same struggle. The road down a dark path began while hosting Sportscenter on the road from Alabama. I arrived in Tuscaloosa almost three months pregnant. I wouldn't return the same way. The juxtaposition of college kids going nuts behind our set, while I was losing a baby on it, was surreal. I was scared, nobody knew I was pregnant, so I did the show while having a miscarriage. On television. My husband had to watch this unfold from more than a thousand miles away, texting me hospital options during commercial breaks. It would get worse. Two more failed pregnancies. More than once, I'd have surgery one day and be on SportsCenter the next so as not to draw attention to my situation. We then went down the IVF road of endless shots and procedures. After several rounds, we could only salvage two eggs. I refused to even use them for a long time, because I couldn't bear the idea of all hope being gone. I blew off pregnancy tests, scared to know if it worked. It had. Times two. It was exciting news, but we knew better than to celebrate. So I spent a third straight football season pregnant, strategically picking out clothes and standing at certain angles, using scripts to hide my stomach. There would be no baby announcement, no shower, we didn't buy a single thing in preparation for the babies, because I wasn't sure they'd show up. We told very few people we were pregnant, and almost no one there were two. For those that thought I was weirdly quiet about my pregnancy, now you know why. For as long as I can remember I hosted Sportscenter on Mother's Day, and the last couple years doing that have been personally brutal. An hours-long reminder of everything that had gone wrong. I wasn't on tv today, and I'm not sure when I will be again, but instead I got to hang with these two good eggs. My ONLY good eggs. And I know how lucky I really am. #twins #ivf


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"I arrived in Tuscaloosa almost three months pregnant," she wrote. "I wouldn't return the same way."

"The juxtaposition of college kids going nuts behind our set, while I was losing a baby on it, was surreal. I was scared, nobody knew I was pregnant, so I did the show while having a miscarriage. On television. My husband had to watch this unfold from more than a thousand miles away, texting me hospital options during commercial breaks."

This was only the beginning of Walsh's journey to motherhood.

From there, she and her husband endured multiple rounds of in vitro fertilization (IVF). "After several rounds, we could only salvage two eggs," she explained. "I refused to even use them for a long time, because I couldn't bear the idea of all hope being gone."

Despite the odds, it worked. Twice. Walsh was pregnant with twins. But she struggled to shake the pain from the pregnancy-that-wasn't.

"It was exciting news, but we knew better than to celebrate. So I spent a third straight football season pregnant, strategically picking out clothes and standing at certain angles, using scripts to hide my stomach. There would be no baby announcement, no shower, we didn't buy a single thing in preparation for the babies, because I wasn't sure they'd show up. We told very few people we were pregnant, and almost no one there were two. For those that thought I was weirdly quiet about my pregnancy, now you know why. "

In sharing her story, Walsh contributed to a much-needed dialogue about the unseen pain many women and families carry with them.

Miscarriage and infertility can be great sources of shame and isolation, even though as many as 1 in 5 pregnancies will end in a miscarriage.

The responses to Walsh's post say as much, with thousands of Instagram users from around the world sending support and sharing their own heartbreaking stories of infertility and miscarriages.

While not every person who goes through something like this should have to talk about it — different people cope in different ways, after all — the simple and incredibly important message of Walsh's post is this: You are not alone.