Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Pardon My Manners

The epiphany came to me just forty eight hours into my husband's nine-day hunting trip:

 Conventional wisdom had not been straight with me.

 Kiss and make up? CHA!

I could suddenly think of one possible reason why it might be JUST FINE to let the sun go down on your anger.

My girls, little guy, and I were out thinking happy thoughts of cinnamon covered soft pretzels and wide open Target isles when my oldest daughter burst everything for me. If I remember right, it was something along the lines of "Yada...yada...yada…when we have our next baby."

Excuse me?!

I tried to remain casual but panic set in and suddenly there arose in me an all consuming need to pee on a stick.

I did not want to seem too obvious and tried to finish out our excursion the best that I could, but don't think for one minute that I actually made it out the front door without verifying if my daughter was on to something.

Surely, this couldn't be why I had been falling asleep so early the past few days?

Okay... then again, maybe it could be.

I had never left a box store so different from when I had walked in. Forget buyers remorse-this was a whole new level of maybe-I-shouldn't-have. Who knew that window shopping could be so perilous?

I kept trying to script the conversation I'd  have with my husband when he got back…and then the one
that I'd have with my mother-in-law…and then the one with my employer, who I was sure would likely note that I had just gotten off of maternity leave eight months ago.

I was planning on taking a few days to wrap my head around the news but before I could do so, I found myself conversing with my obstetrician instead. He was certain that the reason I was spotting, the reason that they were not seeing what he thought they should see on the ultrasound, was because of something called a 'blighted ovum'--a pregnancy that had failed to progress.

 He advised me to come to his office after the weekend to just to be certain.

I know that he thought I was in denial at our next visit, but I was absolutely unimpressed with the picture quality of the office ultrasound. Having lost two babies to miscarriage before, I really was willing to let go if I needed to, but something in me told me that this was not the time.

The doctor that I adored and trusted with my life, wanted to give me something to encourage my miscarriage to progress and I was about to fire him. I decline his offer, assured him that I would call them if I needed anything, and then went immediately to my car and got an appointment for a second opinion.

My 'new hire' had my hormone levels monitored to see if they were increasing as expected and then surprised me by telling me that he was going to just pretend that the words 'blighted ovum' had never been mentioned.

My husband returned from his adventure, not yet realizing that I had another one lined up for him.

(In fact, he still grows nervous when I preface conversations with, Do you want to hear a good story?)

At the twenty-week ultrasound we went in to see what the sex of our newest addition would be, and there our boy was, expressing his own opinion of conventional wisdom. I might have not been so bold about it, but I could not have agreed more!

There is a time to listen and a time to question what you are being told.

I am glad that SO glad that I questioned… I am also thankful that I kissed and made up.

Please join me this week as I honor my big guy on his 5th birthday with a series of posts celebrating his life.

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