There is nothing worse than going to the OB/GYN office when you are trying to conceive a baby. That place is full of reminders that, while I am not pregnant, there are currently 8743702867 people that are. Or just had a baby. The waiting room is full of large, round bellies, glowing moms-to-be,and post-partum moms with newborns in tow. And then there is me - the one who is broken. To add injury to insult, I am sitting there on the exam table, dressed in a paper gown, and I hear the Doctor enter the room next door, turn on the doppler as loud as possible, and hear a baby heartbeat through the not-so-thick walls. Throw me a bone here, people.
But as I always do, I deal, and try to find humor in situations that I think suck. Like the fact that I currently know 25 pregnant, or recently birthed women. Twenty five. Hahahaha, I mean seriously? TWENTY FIVE.
But on a lighter note, my son gave comic relief for the day, as he usually does, by INSISTING that he wear his jammies all day. Oh, but not just any jammies. He had to wear the thickest of thick, fleece, green with Mickey Mouse in a Santa Hat Christmas jammies. It was 85 degrees out today. Needless to say, we really didn't venture outside because, let's face it, the kid looked ridiculous. Comfortable, but absolutely ridiculous.
But what made my day really special, was when I got home after 9pm and was greeted by my sweet, tired boy at the door yelling "My mommy's home! Look Daddy, Mommy is home! Mommy I found you! I found my Mommy! I missed you Mommy!". Melt.