I think the Clomid is catching up with me. The blissful four days of near normalcy appear to be coming to an end as PMS settles in for the long haul.
I dunno. Maybe it's the rain. Or maybe it's the nearly three and a half years of TTC with only dead babies to show for it. Hard to tell really.
And if you think that's morbid, you should crawl into my head for a few minutes and see what things are really lurking behind this mask of sanity. In fact, My Beloved and I just shared a giggle over an advertisement for a Thomas the Tank Engine Christmas tree train set a few minutes ago.
Editorial note: If you're in the family way, please seriously reconsider naming your child the same name as a very popular toy. Particularly if it's a beloved toy that every store seems to think warrants a TON of display space with that name screaming out at you in all font sizes and colours.
The copy from the ad begs us to consider, "how wide-eyed they'll be to see a battery powered Thomas going around the Christmas tree".
No freakin' kidding. Wide eyed, pale faced, slack-jawed...
Oh how we laughed.
It's weird in our world, but amazingly normal to us. And I have no idea how we got here.
When we were having lunch in Niagara Falls last month, we shared conspiratorial eye rolls as the tourist at a table behind us complained loudly to the waitress that he didn't get the extra olives he'd asked for. He'd only gotten one. ONE olive. Can you believe it? One when he'd clearly asked for extra.
You'd have thought the world was ending.
My Beloved, a sarcastic smirk on his face, quietly told me he should complain to the waitress that he got a dead baby.
I nearly spit my soup all over the table. It was classic.
And something I never in a million years dreamed I'd ever, ever be laughing at.
Seriously, how did we get here?