Saturday, March 14, 2015

Saturday morning musings about the last week

The snow is smells like spring even though it's still chilly enough for a hat and thin gloves on our walks. But these are a six days difference.

The time change didn't effect Bernie at all. He still woke up at 4am, one day at standard time, the next at daylights saving time. 4:00 on the clock, even though my body knew it was really 3. Why didn't his? My body certainly knew that 6 was 5 when my alarm went off on Monday.

I'm a little in love with one of Bernie's daycare teachers...mostly because of how much Bernie loves him (and how much he loves Bernie).

I ran my first 5k of the season. In 19 degrees. I paced a little over 11 minutes my first two miles, averaged 12 for the race and finished under 38. I can only get faster from there. My next race is at the end of the month.

I bought a new car! It should be in --and mine -- this coming week! More on that next week.

Friday, March 6, 2015

To the woman at the dentist office...

I'm sorry I didn't look up and acknowledge your very adorable, curly/ and red-headed child, I'm sorry if I offended you by not oohing and aahing at what a delight she is. 

She tried to get my attention, I knew that, but she was only trying to make eye contact. She did not talk to to me (I would have said hello), I did not hurt her nor was I mean to her.

So before you sigh loudly, before you tell your older child that I must not like kids, before you think inwardly that I'm a bitch, before you judge me...

You know nothing of my journey. Thirteen IUIs/IVFs...two pregnancies...two miscarriages. Two years trying to adopt.

But I've come to terms with all of that. The trigger....the thing that still is a punch in the the red hair.

What you don't know, what you can't know and what people in my own life probably don't realize...All of my assisted reproductive attempts were made with sperm (and one egg) donors with red hair, in the hopes that I would get my own mini-me. 

So have some empathy for the unknown. Look beyond the nose on your face and think that the expression on my face is not one of annoyance at your child, but sadness for an unfulfilled dream. You don't need to know what the dream is, just have empathy for the stranger who can't make eye contact with a three year old.

xoxo, the girl with the broken uterus