Holding pattern

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Forgive me if I’m clumsy thumbsy while typing this. I just got back from the infertility clinic and am still a lil woozy and achy.
Apparently I didn’t give an impromptu singing concert. My husband and I did, however, act out a fake makeout session for the elevator cameras on the way to the OR.
He was all like: “if they ask us we’ll say we just wanted to give it one last shot the natural way before y’all take over.”
We cracked up. Then he added slyly at me “unless you ‘gon do it.”
Saved from a public indecency charge by the elevator doors opening.
While sedated I dreamed the kiddo really, really needed some graham crackers and mama needed to stop surgery to get her some. In my dream I hauled myself out of those stirrups and went in search of Teddy Grahams.
In real life, the doc found some uterine adhesions that must be surgically removed before we proceed with the IVF.
So back under the knife I go.
It’s all good.
I’m just grateful our insurance will cover things. Now, if you excuse me, I have a date with some takeout Chinese, frozen yogurt, a heating pad, some pain meds and, of course, my lovely family.

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About domesticpolichick

My life is a crazy jumble of sitcom-level domestic hijinks and fast-paced political reporting in the nation's capital. Breastfeeding while doing a phone interview with a senator...yep, I've done it and no, I won't reveal the name. Toddler calling a member of Congress on the cell..yeah, that really did happen. Pregnant in high heels on Capitol Hill trying to chase down a particularly grumpy senator, yeah...that was nuts. But what can I say? I'm just one domestic polichick trying to figure out the work-life balance.
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