Bad Experiences Gone Worse

I do not like going to the dentist, but usually it's not such a horrible experience. I walk out with sore gums, squeaky clean teeth and a no cavity report.

This week's appointment, however, was different.

Even though it ended the same with the sore gums, squeaky clean teeth and a no cavity report, I left with a sinking heart.

While laying there with my mouth gaped open at the dental hygienist's disposal, I heard two women in the next room, only separated by a 3/4 wall, discussing their pregnancies. I couldn't understand how a patient could talk so much, considering she should be getting her teeth cleaned, but nonetheless, almost the entire time I was there, they were talking.

One was having a girl.

The other a boy.

The one pregnant with a girl has a 2-year old daughter at home.

The boy is the other woman's first child. She and her new husband were "not trying, but not not trying," and bata boom bata bing. Pregnancy!

They talked about all areas of their pregnancies and I had the privilege to lay there with no means of deafening the joyful conversation between the two women.

While my sensitive teeth were being sprayed with cold water, I was forced to listen to them.

And then today, I had an appointment with my optometrist. I brought Ella with me, and I don't know why people insist on asking if she's my only one, but they do! I don't know why! Perhaps it's a normal question to ask, but I'm just ultra sensitive to it. In any case, I just do a quick, "Yup" response in hopes that they'd drop it.

Anyway, Ella grew fond of the assistant helping me. She started talking about her daughter who did things similar to Ella, so, of course, I asked how old she was. She said, "Oh, well. I have a 2-year old and 8-month old twin girls too."

And, then, like any proud mama would do, she begins talking to me about her three girls. A lot.

She then left Ella and me alone to wait for the optometrist, who shortly came in and performed the eye exam. After the exam, she started talking with Ella and proceeded to ask, "Is she your only one?"

I'm seriously going to start wearing a shirt when I go in public that reads, "Ask if Ella's my only child and it might be the last question you ever ask!" Okay, I'm not violent, but sometimes, screaming does feel like an appropriate release for me.

So, of course, I said, "Yes. She's it!"

Then, my optometrist starts talking about her 2-year old twins.

To both the assistant and optometrist I wanted to say, "Yeah, I was pregnant with twins, but I lost them," but instead, I smiled with my freshly cleaned teeth and acted like I was completely interested and not at all suffering from a broken infertile heart.