baby development

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Realizations in the OB/GYN Office

I had my annual tootie-cat exam last week. It was uneventful except...

At the intake meeting with the nurse when they ask you tons of questions about any changes, etc...

I got to tell them I have a daughter now.

(Nurse gives a confused look and I grin and say we're adopting.)

And I realize that I don't have to ask about infertility treatments. I have periods fairly regularly now with the Glucophage. But now that I have a toddler, sex isn't the priority it once was. If I was fertile, something more than sleeping would have to happen in order to find out.

The interesting thing is that I realized sitting there that I do not care.

While I was sitting in the waiting room, a happy couple exited and in the young woman's hand she held her ultrasound picture - her partner lovingly held his arm around her shoulder as he gazed at it. Their excitement and her "bump" were a beautiful picture.

I remember being there, in a way.

I remember shopping for a crib, a high chair, a stroller, and baby clothes. I remember wondering when my "due date" was. I remember wondering if it would be a boy or a girl, and if it would be healthy, or brown, or peachy beige. I remember praying for the baby's development.

I remember rushing to the hospital for the baby's "delivery" so to speak. I remember calling everyone with the "birth announcement".

I never missed a thing.

What about breastfeeding, you might ask. Didn't I miss out on that? Well...

The other day I was changing Cookie's diaper - and I happened to be fresh out of the tub and wearing nothing but my underwear. My breasts are...shall we say - "full and pendulous". Well, Cookie reached out and poked me right in the nipple tip - right on target on the little tip that looks like a pencil eraser. And then she pinched it between her thumb and index finger. And I yelped - "Yow! Cookie no!" Well, that just spurred her on even more to the point of obsession. Even in the tub, when we are soaping up together, she has to reach out and rub my soapy breasts (my husband says, "Well, duh. Yeaaaah.") So, anyone who worries that my child did not get enough boob-time can stop worrying now. She likes them plenty.

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