Not What Was Said, But What I Heard

One of the reasons I wanted to go into counseling. Too many kids hear this from adults.

EPT

Oh EPT... Further and further proof that I AM NEVER PEEING ON ANOTHER STICK. In fact, I had my tubes tied to confirm this... but that's another story.

EPT has always been delayed. With everything. His birth. Crawling. Walking. You name it. He just does it all in his own time.

The best example with him was walking. At about 13 months, I dropped him off at the church nursery. We have a paid attendant and the boys see her twice a week. She loves those kids and they love her.

Went back to get him and Miss B said, "You didn't tell me he was walking." Um... He's not.

He literally walked for her for two months before he walked for us. Twice a week for 45 minutes at a time, he'd walk in the church nursery. Then come home to crawl. Huh?

What is up with this kid?

And now that he's 3. TODAY he's THREE! We've of course noticed this continued trend. He didn't talk for a long time. Now we're in speech therapy and he's on his own time and terms. The therapist will ask where he wears his shoes.

Correct answer? "Feet." EPT's answer? Deep sigh. Points. "Down there." I just think he thinks we're all idiots.

Fertility Schmertility

When I was about 13 years old, my parents were told that I'd neer have children due to my extreme endometriosis. As a teenager, it never bothered me. I liked kids. Other people's kids. Then when I got married, I was so terrified of the financial burden of having children (can you tell we lived in New Jersey?), that I stayed on the pill "just in case."

When we finally decided it was time to start a family, I got pregnant right away. And then miscarried.

It was horrible. I remember going to the doctor (who was a male OBGYN) and venting my frustration. He told me that he just "knew" how much I wanted a baby. Um.... Really? And that it would happen. Eventually. Plus, it was good news that I had a miscarriage. This meant that I COULD get pregnant, which was the hurdle we never thought we'd jump.

Yes folks. A male OB told me that it was "good news" that I miscarried.

I am still not sure how I prevented myself from bitch-slapping him.

When I eventually did have my first son, affectionately nicknamed Big Love, I was able to reflect on it all in a positive light. I had my child. For me, the fertility battle was over. And I had won. I beat the stupid doctor. I beat my scarred uterus.

But I hope I never forget the bad bedside manner of someone who told me they got it but never really could.