Almost three and a half years ago, I encountered a neighbor on my walk who was in full pregnancy mode and looking particularly smug about it. I blogged about it here. I expended more energy than I’d care to admit disliking her, her husband and their perfect life.  I scoffed to Mr. X at the name that they chose for their child. I hated that they had what I wanted.

This evening, around the same time of the evening that I had first run into her, I ran into her again. Her three year old son ran toward me, Rex and G to say hi.  We stopped to talk to her.  I complimented (genuinely) how sweet her child was. She asked after Rex and how old he was.  I asked her advice on when she transitioned him to a toddler bed from a crib.  We talked about potty training and day care.  We talked … as moms.  As much as Rex healed a lot of my wounds, this conversation today helped me forgive myself for how awfully I felt towards her all those years ago.


I had a date this morning with an old friend, the Dildocam.  This was not the panic-inducing wand of Dr. Salsa’s office – it was the one at the OB/GYN’s office.  I had gone to see the Lady Doctor last week because I had two annovulatory cycles in a row and was getting concerned that something was going on.  She ordered bloodwork and, not surprisingly, wanted to get a peek on the screen of the lady bits.

It was as uneventful as it could be and the ultrasound tech and I had a few good chuckles.  She didn’t see anything amiss and I agreed since, I’m so good at looking at scans of my lady parts. Still, part of me was almost wistful for the days of searching for a little sac in the uterus.  There was always that possibility of hope, that this would be the time it would work, that was just so addictive.

One thought on “Revisited

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s