As I got ready for my day, I brushed my teeth extra long. And I even flossed.
(Yep, I had a dentist appointment. Is it that obvious?)
I am that horrible patient who flosses once a week normally, but just before my dentist appointment I floss like crazy so I don’t get a lecture. (Shhh, don’t tell my dental hygienist.)
It occurred to me that this was the fourth dentist appointment I’ve had since I went off birth control in January 2010. At the first appointment, the hygienist (Carlee) and I gabbed about trying to get pregnant (she too was off birth control).
At the second appointment, she was sporting a definite belly.
At the third, she was fresh back from maternity leave.
Today was the fourth. No belly today. But there were stories about her adorable little girl, which I actually got a kick out of. She sounds adorable. And Carlee is really sweet.
Tallying up these appointments — Carlee’s pregnancy, maternity leave, and nearly 8-month old daughter — made me realize how long this infertility mission has dragged on. Yet in the world of infertility, 23 months isn’t that long. I’ve read blogs from women who’ve been doing this for four years and then some.
The past few weeks, I been in a persistent funk. A dark cloud just sort of hanging out around me. I have my moments of happy, but the Pigpen-like cloud always comes back. (Except mine isn’t full of head lice and dust mites.)
There’s nothing worse than being sad and not being able to explain why. It feels like something’s empty inside and you need to fill it up. (I would suggest cupcakes and pumpkin bars if available.) You not only feel sad, but foolish as well.
The appointment had an unhappy outcome — I have two cavities. Both are on molars at the very back corner. That part of your chompers is a real treat to have worked on. (“Open please! Wider. Okay not as wide. Close a little bit. Open. Close.” And repeat.)
My filling is scheduled for December 9th. Maybe by the time I get my cavities filled, my gut will feel a little more “filled up” as well.